The lower districts of Aetherion City always smelled of rust and smoke.
Broken pipes hissed steam through narrow alleys. Sparks fell from dangling cables above. Old mana-lamps flickered on the walls, their glow weak because nobody bothered to replace the crystals down here. If the upper districts were silver towers and shining bridges, then the lower levels were nothing more than rusted bones holding them up.
And Ivan Ceryn had grown up in those bones.
He moved quickly through the crowded street, pulling his hood low. Around him, merchants shouted over one another, offering cheap food, stolen scraps of tech, even fake spell scrolls to anyone desperate enough to buy them. The air was loud, dirty, alive.
In his hand, Ivan carried a bag of broken machine parts. His job today was simple—deliver the scrap to an old mechanic, get a few coins, and maybe have enough left to buy bread for the night.
But as always, fate never let things stay simple.
A heavy voice called behind him.
"Ivan!"
He froze for a moment, then slowly turned. A group of boys stood at the alley entrance. All of them older, bigger, and richer than him. Their jackets were clean, their boots polished—noble brats who liked to wander down here for "fun."
At the front was Lucan Veynor.
His black hair was neatly tied back, his pale face smooth and sharp. Even in the dirt of the lower district, he carried himself like he owned everything around him.
"I was wondering when I'd find you again," Lucan said, stepping closer. "Still crawling in the dirt, Ceryn?"
Ivan clenched his jaw. He'd learned long ago that talking back to nobles only brought trouble.
"What do you want?" Ivan asked flatly.
Lucan smiled. "What I always want. To remind you that people like you should know their place. You still dreaming of being a Hunter?" He laughed. "Don't make me laugh. You don't have the blood, the name, or the skill."
The other boys chuckled behind him.
Ivan said nothing. He shifted his grip on the bag of scrap, ready to leave.
But Lucan stepped into his path. "Tell me, Ceryn. How many beasts have you even seen? You probably run at the first howl. Hunters are nobles. Always have been, always will be. People like you… you're just bait."
Something inside Ivan snapped.
"I don't need a noble name to fight," he muttered.
Lucan's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"
Before Ivan could answer, a deep, bone-shaking sound rolled across the district.
A howl.
The street went silent. Merchants froze mid-shout. Children clutched their mothers.
Everyone knew that sound.
A Resonant Beast was near.
"Impossible," one of Lucan's friends whispered. "The guild's patrols… they—"
The ground trembled. Dust fell from the cracked ceilings above. Then, at the far end of the street, a creature burst through the wall of an abandoned building.
It was massive, half-wolf, half-machine. Its metal jaw glowed faintly with red mana, and its body was stitched together with steel plates and twisted flesh. Its eyes burned like furnaces.
The crowd screamed. People scattered in all directions.
"Run!" someone shouted.
Lucan and his friends immediately fled, pushing past the panicking crowd.
But Ivan stood frozen. His heart pounded in his chest. The bag of scrap slipped from his hand, spilling bolts and wires across the ground.
The beast's gaze locked onto him.
It growled, metal grinding against bone, and began to move.
Ivan wanted to run. Every instinct screamed at him to run. But his legs refused to move.
The beast lunged.
Ivan threw himself sideways, barely avoiding the snapping jaws. He rolled on the ground, pain shooting up his arm. The crowd was gone now—he was alone in the street with the monster.
"No… no, no, no…" Ivan whispered, scrambling backward.
The beast stalked toward him, heavy metal claws leaving deep marks on the ground. Its breath came in bursts of heat and smoke.
Ivan's hand brushed against a broken pipe on the ground. Out of pure desperation, he grabbed it and held it like a weapon.
The beast leapt.
Ivan swung. The pipe struck its jaw, sparking against metal, but barely made it flinch. The creature slammed into him, throwing him across the street. His back hit the wall hard, knocking the air from his lungs.
He coughed, tasted blood. His vision blurred. The pipe clattered away.
The beast crouched low, ready to strike again.
"This is it…" Ivan thought. "I'm going to die here. Like trash in the gutter."
But then—something happened.
As the beast's glowing eyes bored into him, Ivan felt… a pull. A strange vibration deep inside his chest, like a second heartbeat. The world seemed to hum, a low note that only he could hear.
The beast froze mid-step.
Its eyes flickered.
Ivan's body trembled. He didn't understand, but somehow… he could feel it. The beast's heartbeat. Its anger. Its hunger. Its pain.
Resonance.
He wasn't resisting the creature—he was resonating with it.
The beast let out a confused growl and staggered back. Its claws scraped the ground, but it didn't attack. It just stared at him, head tilted, as if recognizing something.
Ivan gasped for air, sweat pouring down his face. His hands shook violently.
"What… what is this?" he whispered.
The hum inside him faded. The connection broke.
The beast roared again, louder than before, and reared back to strike.
A flash of light split the street.
A spear of glowing steel shot past Ivan and pierced the beast's chest. The creature screamed, thrashing violently, before collapsing into a heap of smoke and sparks.
Ivan blinked, stunned.
From the shadows of the alley, a tall man stepped forward. His armor was black and silver, etched with rune-lines. On his back glowed a resonance core, pulsing with faint light. He pulled his spear free from the beast's corpse with a sharp twist.
A Hunter.
The man's eyes flicked to Ivan. For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to figure something out.
"You're alive," the Hunter said finally. His voice was low, steady.
Ivan swallowed hard, forcing words out. "I… I don't know how…"
The Hunter crouched, studying him. "That thing didn't kill you. It stopped. For a second… it stopped."
Ivan had no answer. He could barely breathe.
The man's eyes narrowed. "What's your name?"
"Ivan," he managed. "Ivan Ceryn."
The Hunter stood, glancing at the beast's corpse. "Ivan Ceryn… You don't realize what just happened, do you?"
Ivan shook his head.
The man's hand tightened on his spear. "You resonated. With the creature."
Ivan froze. The word echoed in his mind. Resonated.
The Hunter straightened and turned away. "This changes things. You'll be coming with me."
Before Ivan could argue, the man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down the street, away from the corpse, away from the ruins.
Ivan stumbled, heart still racing. His thoughts spun wildly.
He had survived a Resonant Beast.
Not by fighting it.
But by resonating with it.
And that was something no Hunter was supposed to do.
The Hunter finally stopped in front of an old steel door. He knocked three times.
A small window slid open, and a woman's tired eyes peeked out.
"Another stray, Darius?" she muttered.
"Not a stray," the Hunter said. "This one's different."
The door creaked open. The woman glanced at Ivan, then stepped aside.
Inside was a dim workshop filled with tools, broken weapons, and faintly glowing shards. The air smelled of oil and smoke.
Darius released Ivan's arm at last. "Stay here. Say nothing. Not a word about what happened out there."
Ivan rubbed his wrist, staring at the floor. "And if I refuse?"
Darius's gaze sharpened. "Then you'll be dead before morning. The guild doesn't forgive what you just did."
Ivan's chest tightened. He didn't even know what he had done—only that his life had already changed forever.
The woman shut the heavy door behind them. The lock clicked, sealing away the noise of the district outside.
Ivan stood awkwardly, his eyes scanning the cluttered workshop. Weapons lay on tables—half-swords, broken rifles, blades etched with runes. Strange machines hummed in the corners, powered by faint blue crystals.
The woman folded her arms. "He looks weak. Can he even swing a blade?"
Ivan glared at her but stayed quiet.
Darius set the spear against the wall. "He survived a Resonant Beast. Not with strength. With something else."
The woman frowned. "What do you mean?"
Darius looked straight at Ivan. "Tell her what happened."
Ivan hesitated. His throat felt dry. The memory of the beast's burning eyes returned—the hum inside his chest, the strange connection.
"I… I felt it," he said quietly. "Like its heartbeat. Like its thoughts were inside me. And then it… stopped attacking."
The woman's eyes widened. "That's impossible. Hunters resonate with weapons, with mana, not with beasts."
"That's why I brought him," Darius replied. His voice was calm, but heavy. "If the guild learns of this, they'll kill him. But if we keep it quiet…"
Ivan's hands clenched into fists. "Why me? I didn't ask for this."
Darius studied him for a moment. Then he said, "The world doesn't care what you ask for. You either use what you've been given… or you die with it."
The workshop fell silent. The hum of machines was the only sound.
Ivan lowered his eyes. His life in the slums had always been about survival. But now… it felt like he had stepped into something far bigger.
He didn't know if this power was a curse or a gift.
Only that it had marked him.
And from this night on, nothing would ever be the same.