In a tavern sitting pretty close to the city gates, there was this old bartender, you know? He'd just started packing things up, figuring the night was well and truly done, when he hears the creak of the door starting to open.
"A customer now? Man, it's gotta be pushing 3 in the morning," the old guy thought to himself as the door swung open slow, real slow. "Sorry, friend, but we're closin' up for the…" His words just kinda died in his throat when he got a proper look at who stepped through that doorway.
It was a young fella, hair black as pitch, eyes this weird, unsettling gold colour. Dressed head-to-toe in black gear that matched his hair like it was meant to be. Just one glance, and the old man, with all his years behind the bar reading folks, knew right off the bat this wasn't your average Joe walking in. This was someone you really didn't wanna piss off, no matter what. Could feel it in his bones. What also snagged his attention was this huge, bulky sack the guy was lugging in his hands.
"Hey there, pops," the young man said, a grin spreading and one of those gold eyes giving a deliberate wink. "No time left for even one quick beer? Tell ya what, I'll make it worth your while with a real good tip." His voice had this easy, confident kinda drawl to it.
The bartender snapped out of his little freeze real quick. "Oh! Uh, right, of course, sir! No problem at all!" he stammered, maybe a touch too loud. "In this town, two things you never run short on: ice and beer! Please, come on in, take a seat right here." He gestured kinda frantic towards a stool.
"Much obliged," the young man – Kael, he'd called himself – said smoothly. He slid onto the stool and dumped the heavy sack onto the seat right next to him with a soft thump.
The old man couldn't help himself. His eyes flicked down to the sack. Something was poking out the top, loose and kinda… feathery? "Feathers…?" The word escaped him, barely more than a breath, a whisper really.
Kael heard him anyway. He chuckled, that easy smile still there. "Hope they ain't botherin' you none. Just my pay for a hard night's work, is all."
The bartender swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "I see… You… you're a Hunter, then?" He said it with this hesitation, like he wasn't quite sure he wanted the answer.
"Oho! Got it in one!" Kael sounded genuinely amused, maybe a little impressed. "Heard tell bartenders got sharp eyes for sizing people up. Seems like that's true, huh?"
"You're… you're overestimatin' my skills there, sir," the old man mumbled, focusing real hard on pouring the beer into a mug, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He slid the full mug across the worn wood of the bar.
Kael grabbed it fast, didn't even hesitate. He lifted it straight to his lips and knocked back damn near half of it in one long, deep gulp. "Haaaaaa!" He let out this satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Man, beer always hits the spot after trekking through that damn snow for hours on end, don't it? Freezin' your bones out there."
"Sure does, sir. Absolutely," the bartender agreed, nodding maybe a bit too much. He was still trying to place this guy. Black hair, gold eyes… rang a faint bell, way back in his memory, but he couldn't quite snag it. Probably just nerves.
"Old timer," Kael said, setting the mug down with a soft clunk. "What's your name?"
"Calio, sir. Name's Calio."
"Calio, eh?" Kael tilted his head, seeming to taste the name. "Interestin' name. So, Calio… take a wild guess. What beast you reckon these feathers in my sack here came from?" He tapped the sack beside him with a finger, that grin turning kinda playful, almost challenging.
Calio frowned, thinking hard. He rubbed his chin, looking from the feathers to Kael and back. "Well… knowin' the kinda critters we get roam'n round these parts… maybe a Niffler?" He ventured it carefully.
"Hmmmm, Niffler…" Kael mused, stroking his own chin like he was considering it seriously. "Not a bad guess, actually. Yeah, those are big bird-type beasts, Rank C they reckon, right? Can grow taller than a house easy. And yeah, plenty of 'em up in the mountains, true enough." He paused, then shook his head, that playful glint back in his eyes. "But nah. Sorry, my friend. Wrong answer."
"Ah. I see…" Calio felt a bit deflated, but also more curious. If not a Niffler… what then? Something nastier?
"See, what you're probably thinkin' of," Kael continued, taking another, slower sip of his beer, "is like, a little fledgling chick or somethin'. Nah. These here? Plain ol' chicken feathers."
"Chicken?" Calio blinked, confusion plain on his face. That made zero sense. Why carry a sack of chicken feathers like some kinda prize?
"Yep," Kael confirmed, popping the 'p' sound. He seemed to be enjoying Calio's bewilderment.
The old bartender stared at the sack, then back at Kael. His brain felt like it was grinding gears. A Hunter, carrying chicken feathers? Paid for work? It didn't add up. Unless… maybe it was a joke? But the guy didn't seem the jokin' type, not really. He thought harder, running through the local beasts again, the rare ones, the dangerous ones… nothing fit. He sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "Sorry, sir… I'm afraid I just plain don't have a clue."
Kael chuckled again, a low, rumbling sound. "Hey, no worries at all, Calio. No problem, really. Simple mistake." He paused for effect, swirling the beer in his mug. "It's just a Drakarys."
The words hung in the air for a second. Then they hit Calio like a physical blow. He actually staggered back a step, his hand flying out to grab the edge of the bar for support. His face went bone-white. "A DRAKARYS?!" The name came out as a strangled shout, way too loud for the quiet tavern, echoing off the empty bottles.
"Shhhhhh!" Kael hissed, holding a finger up to his lips, though he still looked more amused than annoyed. "Easy there, old timer! Keep it down, yeah? It's late. Folks tryin' to sleep, probably."
Calio clapped a hand over his own mouth, eyes wide with terror and embarrassment. "I… I'm so sorry, sir! So sorry!" he gasped out from behind his hand, his voice trembling. "I just… the shock…"
"S'alright, s'alright," Kael waved it off casually, taking another drink. "No harm done."
But inside Calio's head, it was pure chaos. (A Drakarys?! That's a Rank B beast! And there's barely a handful of those monsters left in this whole damn country! If this guy really took one down solo… and look at him! Not a scratch on him that I can see, no rips in his clothes even… Holy hells. This man… he's gotta be ranked in the Top Thousand globally. At least!)
The thought was staggering. See, in this huge world they called Siron, being a Hunter was one of the biggest, most common jobs around. Dangerous, yeah, but popular. So popular there were something like two million active Hunters registered. Being ranked in the Top Thousand? That put you in a whole different league. That made you a powerhouse, someone who could walk into most countries and command instant respect (or fear). Because Hunters weren't just tough guys; they were combat masters, experts with weapons, and wielders of Mana – that internal energy inside folks who trained hard enough. Mana let you do crazy, extraordinary things… things that were also incredibly dangerous to regular civilians like Calio.
Without even realizing it, Calio found himself staring fixedly at Kael's face. The strong jawline, the sharp gold eyes, the black hair falling just so… He was searching for something, some sign, some recognition.
Kael noticed, of course. He raised an eyebrow, that faint smile playing on his lips again. "Wondering why I ain't wearin' my mask, huh?"
Calio flinched, snapping his gaze away, heat flooding his cheeks. "Oh! Sir! Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare! It's just… rude of me!" He busied himself wiping an already clean spot on the bar.
"Nah, it's fine. Reasonable question, actually," Kael said, surprisingly nonchalant. "Yeah, we Hunters tend to stick to the masks. Hides our faces, keeps the daily hassle down, you know? Folks recognizin' you everywhere gets old fast." He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Thing is, Calio… if I did put my mask on right now? Folks'd probably recognize it. Know exactly who I am. And this nice, quiet little country we're in?" He shook his head slowly. "It'd flip upside down. Seriously. Total chaos. You get me?" He gave Calio another one of those knowing winks.
That just slammed the confirmation home for Calio, hitting him harder than the Drakarys news. (Top Thousand. Definitely. Has to be. Only the ones ranked that high get famous enough for their masks to be known worldwide. Everyone knows that. The mask is the Hunter, far as the public cares. Course…) a cynical thought followed, (…that also means there's plenty of fakes out there, scammers tryin' to cash in on a famous mask's rep. But this guy… the power just rolls off him. Ain't no fake.)
"Jaaaah," Kael stretched, draining the last of his beer with a final, satisfied gulp. "All done. Hit the spot perfectly. Thanks for stayin' open long enough for me to finish it. Appreciate it."
"Wasn't a problem at all, sir. Happy to," Calio managed, his voice still a bit shaky. He meant it, though. The sheer presence of this Hunter was terrifying, but also… fascinating. Like seeing a legend walk into your bar.
"Here." Kael flicked something small and gleaming through the air. Calio fumbled but caught it instinctively. A gold coin. A single one of those could easily pay for five beers, maybe more with the tip implied.
"Keep the change," Kael said casually, already sliding off the stool and hoisting the heavy sack back onto his shoulder. He moved with that same easy, dangerous grace.
"Thank you, sir! Thank you very much!" Calio called after him, clutching the coin tightly. It felt warm in his palm.
Kael just gave a final, nonchalant wave over his shoulder without looking back. He pushed the tavern door open and stepped out into the cold, dark street beyond, the sack a dark lump against his back. The door swung shut behind him with a soft thud, leaving Calio alone in the suddenly much quieter, emptier tavern, his heart still pounding like a drum against his ribs.
Kael took maybe three, four steps away from the tavern's warm, glowing windows into the deeper shadows of the street. The icy wind bit at his face, sharp after the warmth inside. He paused, his golden eyes scanning the seemingly empty, snow-dusted lane. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face, completely different from the easy grins he'd given Calio.
"Uh-huh," he murmured to himself, the sound barely more than a breath misting in the cold air. "Yep. No doubt about it now. Got myself a tail."
He shifted the sack on his shoulder, the feathers rustling faintly inside. "Wasn't entirely sure back there, before I ducked into the tavern. Felt somethin'… off. Figured I'd step in for a few minutes, have that beer, see if that itchy feelin' at the back of my neck would fade once I stopped movin'." He chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound. "Which it did. Went nice and quiet while I was inside."
He tilted his head slightly, listening intently, his senses stretching out beyond the normal, fueled by the Mana coiled within him. "And wouldn't you know it? The second I set foot back out here… bam. There it is again. That same damn pressure, watchin' me." He grinned wider now, teeth glinting faintly in the dim light filtering from a nearby window.
"Hah. This guy… he's actually not half bad. Gotta give him that. Keeps himself hid real well. Couldn't pin his exact spot even now, just know he's out there. Even had me second-guessin' my own senses for a bit back when I first felt him. Made me wonder if I was just imaginin' things after that long walk."
The smile on Kael's face turned sharp, eager. It wasn't friendly anymore. It was the smile of a wolf catching a scent. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar, comfortable weight of the weapons hidden beneath his dark coat.
"Seems like the real fun part of tonight," he whispered, his golden eyes fixed on a patch of deeper darkness between two buildings across the street, "is only just about to start."