The registration building downtown was nothing like the polished facilities seen on holoscreens. No high-gloss doors. No pristine white lights. It looked more like a repurposed military checkpoint, complete with armored guards and scanners at every entrance.
Akio stepped inside and handed over the envelope. The clerk barely looked up.
"Newbie?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Name?"
"Akio."
The man typed, hummed, and finally nodded. "You've been cleared for assessment. You'll be shipped out today."
"Today?"
"Hunter policy. No delays. You pass orientation, you get your trainee badge. Fail it? You go home."
Akio signed the digital form and was guided to a holding room. Inside, a handful of other teens and young adults waited. Some looked nervous, others cocky. One girl was spinning a small dagger in her hand like a fidget toy.
A tall boy leaned against the wall near him, headphones in, eyes closed. He had the air of someone already used to this. Like he'd been born to swing a blade or toss fire from his palms.
Akio sat quietly, absorbing it all.
So this is it, he thought. The start.
After an hour, their names were called. A bus—heavily armored, marked with Hunter Bureau symbols—waited outside. Snow flurried in the wind as Akio stepped aboard. He found a seat by the window, his iron hand resting on his lap.
The city faded behind them.
The ride was long and mostly quiet, broken only by the occasional murmur or cough. Akio stared at his reflection in the window, watching the faint shimmer of mana particles swirling in the air. Ever since that night, he saw things differently. Literally. His senses were sharper. His perception slower. As if the world had shifted gears and he'd stayed moving.
The bus finally pulled into a massive Air base on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by dense woodland and hidden from public sight. The base stretched out with towering walls, obstacle fields, a lot of mana choppers and jets what appeared to be a wyvern.
"Welcome," barked a voice through the speakers.
Akio stepped off with the others. The air smelled like gunpowder and pine. Instructors in black-and-gray uniforms waited near.
"Move," the soldier barked. "Into the birds. No talking."
Akio filed out with the others. The heat hit first—heavy and sharp, like breathing through cloth. Then came the wind, kicked up by spinning rotors. He ducked low, following the line toward the open bay doors of the closest chopper.
The cabin was cramped. Long benches lined the walls. Seatbelts hung loose, clearly optional. No windows, just narrow slits and a growing, echoing thrum as the engine roared louder.
Akio took a seat near the rear, his back straight. His iron hand gripped the edge of the bench tightly. He watched as others climbed in.
Akio's breath fogged in the air. He adjusted his prosthetic hand and clenched it into a fist.
"I'm ready," he whispered.
No one heard him. But that didn't matter.
He wasn't saying it for them.
He was saying it for himself.
The hum of the chopper's blades pressed against Akio's eardrums like a rhythmic heartbeat, steady and unrelenting. He sat near the rear of the cramped interior, knees drawn close, iron right hand resting in his lap like a piece of armor bolted to his body. The chill of the metal seeped through the fabric of his cargo pants, grounding him. His eyes scanned the sea of faces—some taut with focus, others clearly trying too hard to look relaxed.
He could smell oil, leather, and faint sweat. Everything here felt tight—physically and mentally. Like a storm waiting to break.
"Yo," came a quiet voice beside him. Akio turned to see a lean boy with a narrow jaw and unruly black hair. His accent was local, his tone casual.
"First flight?" the boy asked.
Akio nodded. "First everything."
"Same. I'm Lian. My cousin was here last year. Said it changes you. Said nothing prepares you for it."
Akio gave a small smile. "What happened to him?"
Lian hesitated. "He came back different. Quieter. Smarter. Still hates this place though."
Akio looked back out the small round window. The clouds outside were thin now, revealing glimpses of rugged terrain below—an island surrounded by cliffs, half-swallowed in mist.
"Akio," he said softly, more to himself than anyone.
On the opposite bench, an older man caught his attention. His hair was silver, trimmed short and swept back. He wore the same black uniform as the other trainers, but something about him stood out—not in authority, but in posture. Calm. Like he'd seen it all and found it amusing.
He met Akio's gaze with a friendly glint and raised a brow. "Don't overthink it, kid. The first step's always the hardest. After that, it's just steps."
Akio gave a polite nod. The man didn't look like a philosopher or a killer—but something in his voice felt balanced between both. He gave off the kind of peace only the dangerously experienced ever had.
"Name's Marcus," the man added, turning his attention to a tightly fastened rucksack near his feet.
Before Akio could say anything back, a sharp chuckle came from the front end of the chopper. A tall recruit with short ash-blond hair leaned back in his seat, arms crossed confidently. His uniform sleeves were rolled up just enough to reveal lean muscle and two distinct scars.
"I swear," the recruit said, loud enough to turn heads. "You trainers always have something cryptic to say. Makes me think you're just trying to sound important."
Marcus glanced up, smiling slightly, but said nothing
The recruit smirked. " I've seen trainers who can't run a kilometer without choking. Most of them hide behind whistles and quotes."
Someone nearby snorted. Akio could feel Lian tense beside him.
Marcus didn't react. He didn't argue. He just laughed—a quiet, easy laugh like someone amused.
The recruit let the silence linger a beat longer than necessary, then turned his head to Marcus fully. "No offense, sir. Just tired of being told to 'respect the process.' Some of us came to Obsidian 07 to get stronger, not to write haikus in the jungle."
That drew a few snickers from nearby seats. The tone was teasing, not hostile. Even Akio found himself smirking a little.
Marcus just gave a soft laugh—warm, almost fatherly. He didn't look ruffled in the slightest.
"That guy," Lian whispered, leaning closer to Akio, "his name's Rell. He got picked in the first batch. People say he took down a mana beast on his own last year. Volunteered for training here."
Akio watched Rell as he talked idly with another recruit. He moved like someone used to being watched, used to being taken seriously. There was no neediness in his confidence—just the kind of energy that made people listen.
Akio respected that. A small part of him envied it.
"Don't let it get to you," Lian added. "Some people were raised with strength. Some of us are here to earn it."
Akio nodded slowly. His iron fingers tapped against his thigh. He'd been through plenty, but he didn't feel like he belonged yet. His dreams were slow, calculated things. He didn't move like a soldier. Not yet.
But he was here.
The chopper started to descend. The shift in altitude was immediate—gut-dropping and sudden. Outside, the cliffs loomed like stone giants, parting just enough to reveal a vast compound nestled between jungle ridges and plateaus.
Obsidian 07.
As the skids touched the platform, dust kicked up in a spiral, coating the windows. The bay doors opened with a hiss, letting in the sound of wind, shouted orders, and distant thuds—weights being dropped, bodies hitting dirt, boots stomping in sync.
A voice boomed from the landing pad: "OUT. NOW. MOVE."
Recruits scrambled. Marcus remained seated for a moment, then rose slowly and adjusted his collar with lazy precision.
Akio stood, iron hand gripping the overhead rail as the rotor wash blasted across the cabin. He stepped out behind Lian and Rell, boots crunching gravel as heat, noise, and reality hit all at once.
Everything here felt alive—and watching.
Trainers stood like statues across the landing zone. Soldiers jogged in formation. Sirens wailed somewhere distant. At the far end of the platform, a tower loomed, its windows darkened.
A figure waited near the tower entrance. Not yelling. Just standing.
Watching.
Akio didn't know who was who. Didn't know which of these people would be his teachers, or his tormentors. But he did know one thing: this place wasn't built to protect anyone.
It was built to strip them down