The first light of day streamed through the cracks of the old wooden window, which was coated with a thin layer of dew. It touched the coarse blanket that held a pocket of warmth against the biting cold. The smell of dust and dry wood still clung to the fabric, but the firmness of the old mattress offered a warmth like a silent embrace, warding off the early winter chill for a moment.
For James, such a feeling was a rare luxury in a world filled with shadows and danger. There were no screams, no smell of burning, no corpses. There was only his own breath and the sunlight filtering through the thin wooden blinds. For a moment, he almost believed that all the horrors he had endured were just a nightmare.
The morning sounds of Felnia slowly began to rise. The grinding of wagon wheels on stone roads, the sound of merchants opening their shops, and the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith from a nearby alley came in waves—the signs of a city that was still breathing. But what woke James from his reverie was not these sounds.
Clang! A sharp impact sounded from downstairs, followed by the alternating heavy and light footsteps of a combat rhythm. James pushed himself out of bed, his eyes still clouded with sleep, but instinct drove him to the small window, which he pushed open.
Below, in the wide yard behind the bar, Ann Felhart, the sixteen-year-old girl as agile as a shadow, was lunging at Brack Cranewold, the giant of a man with short gray hair and muscles as solid as a stone wall.
Ann's movements were incredibly fast. She moved from left to right in the blink of an eye, her feet touching the ground for only a split second before launching off again, as if gravity had no hold on her body. As she attacked, a faint, silver aura radiated from her skin, like a mist covering her shoulders and arms whenever she moved with inhuman speed.
James frowned. This isn't just skill, he thought. It's some kind of power.
Brack stood still in the middle of the yard in a simple stance, his hands empty, without weapon or armor. His movements were much slower than Ann's, but every step was as firm as a mountain. Even as Ann attacked from all directions, he would simply turn his body or raise an arm to block her strikes with ease, like a dragon dealing with a sparrow—an impossibly swift sparrow.
Suddenly, information floated up in James's vision, as if etched onto a transparent screen of light:
[Bloodline Detected]
Name: Human
Bloodline Sequence: Primordial Warrior (Noble)
Awakening Level: 1 – Blood Awakening
Strengths: Excellent evasion in dark areas, Sharp senses
Weaknesses: Low resistance, Sensitive to the strong scent of blood Evolution
Potential: High, if frequently in near-death situations
::
James's eyes widened. What is this? He had never seen information like this on another person before.
Not on Grant, not on Elen, nor on anyone he had passed by. He immediately looked at Brack, hoping to see the same screen of light, but nothing appeared. No text, no data. He blinked, as if to confirm that what he had seen wasn't an illusion.
As the training session ended, Ann let out a long breath and collapsed onto the ground, while Brack turned and walked back into the bar without even panting. At that moment, the information about Ann slowly faded away, as if it had never been there.
James stood motionless, a mix of excitement and questions in his mind. Why only Ann?
He thought.
Because she was using her power?
Or does it have to be in a combat situation?
He thought of Brack, who had moved with such stability but without any trace of power.
Or has Brack not used his bloodline yet?
The doubt grew in his mind like a thick fog with no end in sight.
The power of the Void-Born Apex Bloodline... does it only work when another bloodline's power is activated?
Knock, knock!
A soft knock on the wooden door pulled him from his thoughts. "Wake up, new kid! Any later and the bread will be hard as a rock!" Frey's voice came through the door, as bright and cheerful as the morning sun.
James walked over and opened the door, revealing Frey, who was smiling. On the wooden tray in his hands were two loaves of bread, a bland soup with the faint scent of herbs, and a glass of milk with a thin wisp of steam rising in the cold air.
"Good morning. How was it? Sleep well?" Frey asked, his voice soft but with a playful smile. His eyes, shadowed from hard work, still shone with a brightness that seemed to have never known despair.
James took the tray silently. The touch of the rough wood brought a memory of Lime—hands that had once held carpentry tools—to his mind. He nodded in place of an answer, his gaze falling to the simple meal. A small kindness in a cruel world. The warmth from Frey's gesture took root in his heart, fragile but beginning to feel firm.
The two sat down at the small wooden table. The soft clinking of a spoon against a bowl sounded in the morning quiet. James sipped the warm soup, his eyes glancing at Frey, who was tearing a piece of bread with hands stained with kitchen grease. The peace in this room felt like a brief respite from a world full of danger.
"Frey…" James looked up, the question that had been circling in his mind since last night finally escaping. "If someone wants to become a hunter, what does it take?"
Frey paused, the spoon in his hand hanging in mid-air for a moment. His light brown eyes showed a mixture of surprise and delight. He put the spoon down, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. "You sure are quick to ask."
He shrugged, dipping a piece of bread into his soup. "It starts with the basics: body and mind," he said, his tone casual but firm. "The Hunter's Association tests for stamina, speed, strength, and agility. Sometimes you have to fight wild animals or low-tier demons. If you're not ready…" He paused, his gaze becoming serious. "You won't just get hurt. It could be worse."
James went still, his heart beating faster. The memory of the Minotaur Demon was still etched deep in his bones. Am I ready? he thought, his gaze dropping to hide his worry.
Frey glanced at James from head to toe. His gaze was like a hunter assessing prey, but it was filled with friendliness. "You… look a bit too thin. In this condition, I don't think you'd pass the first stage," he laughed softly, his tone not belittling, but direct. "But if you build up some strength, train well, that's something you can fix easily enough."
Frey's words made James feel the weight of reality, but his smile kept it from being too heavy.
Frey is right, James thought. His body was still too weak to face any real danger.
"That's just for a Level-One Hunter," Frey continued, pointing towards James's chest. "What takes you further… is your bloodline." He paused, his eyes twinkling as if he saw something in James.
"Many hunters stop at the first level. But the ones who become legends… must have a bloodline that grants them power beyond the ordinary." He smiled faintly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I used to dream of it. But people like me don't have that kind of luck. If you have a good bloodline, and you know how to use it… you might reach a place I can only dream of."
Void-Born Apex Bloodline. The words echoed in James's mind, a secret heavier than the walls of Felnia. He lowered his head, hiding the storm of feelings under a placid expression.
Frey stood up, gathering the empty dishes from the table. "Alright, let's talk about today's work," he chuckled. "This afternoon, you'll help with cleaning, preparing kitchenware, setting tables, and water barrels. Basic stuff. Brack and Varena will handle the rest."
James nodded, committing every word to memory like a map in a world he still didn't understand.
Frey walked to the door, then turned back with a smile. "There's a washroom behind the bar. The water might be cold, but it's clean. Use it well. Hygiene is important. If Brack catches you smelling of sweat while serving drinks, he'll throw you out of the bar." He winked, his eyes full of friendliness.
James managed a small smile, the first of the morning. Fragile, but sincere.
"If work tonight isn't too heavy," Frey continued as he walked out of the room, "I'll take you for a walk through the market. There's a lot of good stuff to see."
James watched Frey's shadow disappear down the stairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet. He turned to look at the empty tray, the warmth from the morning meal still lingering in his chest.
Bloodline, potential, Hunter's Association. These words swirled in his mind like a thick fog with no end in sight. But this time, he felt a small light—a hope beginning to form amidst the weight of a new dawn.