Kael stood beneath the shadow of the Hunter's Guildhall gates, a soft breeze tugging at the hem of his coat. The building rose like a stone colossus, etched with sigils and reinforced with mana-threaded crystal veins pulsing faintly in the daylight. Above the arched doorway, the spear-and-beast emblem loomed proudly. Inside, noise drifted outward, laughter, clinking armor, the rumble of voices.
He adjusted the mask in his hand.
White. Blank. Featureless, save for the slight smile carved into its smooth surface. Just enough to unsettle, not enough to provoke.
With a quiet breath, he slipped it on.
Illusion magic flowed over him like silk. His clothes shimmered and shifted, dark slacks, crisp shirt, waistcoat and coat. The same noble, ghostly appearance from before. Elegant. Clean. Anonymous.
The Ghost.
Kael walked through the doors.
Inside, the guild hall was loud and alive. Dozens of hunters lounged in the tavern-like space: some sharpening blades, others arm-wrestling or playing card games. Long noticeboards posted missions and bounties along one wall. Crystal lanterns hovered mid-air, illuminating wooden beams and velvet banners bearing local hunting crests.
As Kael stepped in, conversations faltered, just slightly. A few eyes turned toward him. A masked figure in formal wear didn't exactly blend in.
He moved forward silently, toward the reception desk.
The receptionist, a dark-haired woman in uniformed robes, looked up from her paperwork with polite professionalism, until she saw the mask. Her eyes narrowed.
«Welcome to Myrefall Hunter's Guild,» she said evenly. «Are you here to post a request… or register?»
«Register,» Kael replied simply, his voice altered subtly by the mask's enchantment, slightly muffled, but calm, even warm.
She blinked. «...You'll need an ID card. Local or regional.»
«I don't have one.»
Silence.
A few nearby hunters paused mid-laugh. Conversations dulled. Heads turned.
The receptionist's eyes shifted briefly to the glowing runes carved discreetly into the floor beneath them. Mana flickered. Lie detection, anti-mind control, and reality anchors. She couldn't be deceived by illusion or glamor. Not here.
She leaned forward slightly.
«No ID, and you're wearing a full-covering illusion and a mask.»
«Yes.»
«You're aware of current safety protocols? Due to recent Void Rift surges?»
«I am.»
«And you still walked in like this?»
Kael tilted his head. «I intended to follow the rules. That's why I'm being honest.»
The room shifted around him.
Chairs scraped. Footsteps. The air grew tense.
From all corners of the hall, hunters, mostly low and mid-ranked, rose from their seats and began surrounding him in a loose semicircle. Hands hovered near weapons. Magic auras flickered. It wasn't a coordinated maneuver, but instinctual, tribal. One of them didn't belong.
The receptionist's fingers hovered above a hidden switch under the desk. «You'll have to answer a few questions.»
«I understand.»
«Are you, or have you ever been, associated with known criminal guilds?»
«No.»
«Have you participated in or enabled any forbidden magic experiments?»
«No.»
«Are you a Voidkin mimic, creatures that wear human shapes?»
Kael's head did not move. «No.»
«Why the mask?»
Kael paused for only half a breath.
«To protect others.»
She narrowed her eyes. «From what?»
«My past.»
Whispers rippled through the crowd. One of the hunters, a younger man with twin daggers on his belt, snorted.
«Cryptic bastard,» someone muttered.
The receptionist kept going. «Where are you from?»
Kael stared at her behind the mask. His mind raced, but not from panic. He couldn't lie. Not here. But he didn't need to tell everything.
«Somewhere very far from here.»
«That's not an answer.»
«It's the only one I can safely give.»
That wasn't a lie. It simply wasn't helpful.
The tension deepened. Mana currents shifted. Hunters closed in, forming a rough perimeter around him now. Kael didn't move.
Then came the voice.
Sharp. Arrogant. Drenched in entitlement.
«Take off the mask.»
Everyone turned.
At the far end of the room sat an elven man with long silver hair braided back into warrior's knots. He was draped in a custom high-collared hunting cloak, fingers adorned with gem-encrusted rings, and a badge gleaming at his chest: [Rank A].
The elf didn't rise from his chair. He merely swirled his wine in its crystal cup and gestured lazily.
«I said remove the mask. Now.»
Kael didn't flinch.
«No.»
Gasps echoed across the hall. Even the receptionist looked up, stunned.
No one refused a Rank A. They weren't just powerful, they were city-level protectors. Pillars of the guild. Local legends.
The elf's expression didn't change. «I wasn't asking.»
Kael's voice turned cold.
«And I wasn't explaining.»
The elf's brow twitched. The cup hit the table with a sharp click.
«You dare, ?»
He raised his voice. «Remove his mask.»
Four low-ranked hunters moved.
Kael didn't.
But his mana did.
It surged from him in a silent roar.
Not flashy. Not explosive. Just... pressure.
The weight of death.
Bloodlust spilled from him in waves, dense, suffocating, ancient. The air turned to ice. The light dimmed. A primal chill swept the hall, curling into the spine of every man and woman present. Weapons clattered to the ground. Knees buckled.
The four who had stepped forward froze mid-motion, eyes wide, skin pale.
Kael took a slow step forward.
«I did not come here to make enemies,» he said softly. «But if you strip me of dignity... I will strip you of existence.»
He turned slightly. «Decide.»
No one spoke.
Even the A-ranked elf faltered. His hand hovered above his blade… then retreated. He sat back down with a scowl, trying to mask his unease.
A long silence stretched.
Then,
A new voice entered.
«Enough.»
Calm. Controlled. Deep, but gentle.
Everyone turned.
Two men stood in the entrance hallway.
The one who had spoken was tall, broad-shouldered, and older than the others, his silver-streaked hair tied back in a low knot. He wore no visible rank badge, only a long black coat and a broadsword slung casually across his back.
But Kael didn't need a badge to feel it.
This man was strong.
Very strong.
Stronger than everyone else in the room, except Kael himself.
Next to him stood someone Kael recognized instantly.
The bandit.
Cleaned up, wrapped in fresh bandages, seated in a floating mana-assisted chair. Both his legs had been replaced with gleaming mechanical limbs, intricate runes etched into the artificial bone.
The man saw Kael and flinched slightly, but not in fear.
In awe.
«That's him,» he whispered hoarsely. «That's the one who saved me. The Ghost.»
The silver-haired man stepped forward, expression calm.
«My apologies,» he said, facing Kael directly. «Tensions are high. There have been three rifts in less than a week. People are scared. We're watching for shapeshifters. I hope you'll forgive their reaction.»
Kael didn't move.
«You are…?»
«Dren Volkar,» the man said simply. «Guildmaster of Myrefall. Former SS-ranked hunter.»
A quiet murmur rolled through the hall. The tension cracked.
Dren glanced at the receptionist. «He passed the lie detection?»
«Yes, sir. All answers clean. Vague, but not false.»
Dren turned back to Kael. «Then you're free to register.»
He extended a hand.
«No one here will force your mask off. But… understand that you've made an impression.»
Kael stared at the offered hand.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
And took it.
The crowd relaxed, one collective exhale. Weapons were re-sheathed. People returned to seats, conversations restarting in hesitant whispers.
But no one looked at the masked man the same way again.
Dren gestured toward the inner offices. «Come. We'll get your registration started. We'll call you Ghost for now, unless you wish another name.»
Kael shook his head. «That will do.»
As he followed the Guildmaster into the heart of the guildhall, he passed the wounded man again.
The man looked up with watery eyes.
«Thank you,» he said quietly. «For saving me.»
Kael paused.
Then gave a slight nod.
«No one deserves to be devoured alive.»
The man smiled, weak, but grateful.
Kael walked on.
Behind him, whispers followed.
The Ghost.
Polite.
Deadly.
And absolutely real.