The clerk made a small choking sound and covered it with a cough.Allen glanced at the open register. "No challenge fee?""You're not challenging for B," the evaluator said. "The branch is correcting a record after verified field work."The clerk's hand shifted away from the fee column. "Fee waived."Allen nodded once. She left the column blank and moved on."Badge," she said, holding out her hand.Allen removed the C-rank badge from his left chest and slid it across the counter.The clerk took it, marked the register, and carried the stale credential behind the counter. Allen watched her set the C badge into a shallow staff tray before she crossed to the badge rack. When she returned, a B-rank badge lay in her hand.B-rank.She set it down in front of him.Allen picked up the badge and pinned it back onto his left chest.The evaluator watched until the pin was secure. The clerk pulled another register closer, crossed out the C beside Allen's name, and wrote B in its place.That matte

Allen nodded. "Resilient spring-tempered high-grade steel core through the full tang. Dense mana-stable alloy jacket over the spine and blade body. Hard edge strips so I don't have to make the whole thing brittle." Corven scratched another mark. "And shock-binding runes through the blade, tang, and hilt. Passive. They spread load. They don't swing for you." "Keep it that way." Corven glanced up. "You want anything else? Fire? A screaming spirit? Something that drinks blood and tells you who to kill?" Allen stared at him. "I want a sword." "Best answer you've given me." "I don't want it thinking. I don't want it hungry. I don't want it deciding I'm unworthy because I had a bad morning." Corven snorted and wrote again. "Then don't buy a legend. Buy steel." Allen looked down at the bent test blade. "How much steel?" "Enough to cost you." "Number." Corven finally put the charcoal down. "1,200 Star Gold." Allen let the figure sit for a heartbeat. He had 451 St

Seraphina held his gaze. Then she nodded. Her hand lowered from his chest. She released him herself. Allen turned back to the table, took the folded map in his right hand, and went to the front door. The Hunter Guild had already stopped pretending it was a normal morning. Runners moved through the hall with rolled sheets tucked under their arms. Hunters stood instead of sitting. A clerk near the stairs was shouting names over the scrape of boots and furniture. Allen followed the noise to the emergency briefing room. The door was open. A large perimeter map covered most of the table inside. Team slips sat around its edges. An older Guild officer with his sleeves shoved up was arguing with a runner about wagon order while an armored woman at the table's far end listened to a different report. The woman's badge marked her A-rank. Allen stepped to the near side of the table. The Guild officer looked up. His eyes caught the B on Allen's chest, the crimson in Allen's eyes, then t

He dragged in a breath through his teeth. "Wall came across from the left. Clipped my side and put me down." His eyes flicked toward his partner. "He turned back for me. Next shift threw him into the corner. After that? Stone in my face." Allen looked at the man's leg. "That leg carrying you?" The pathfinder tried to shift his hip and stopped with a hiss. "No. I tried. Went straight down." The commander rose. 2 Hunters from Cell 4 moved at her gesture. The nearer Hunter ducked under the injured pathfinder's left arm and locked a right arm around his waist, keeping the bad leg light. The other stepped to the bleeding man's right, draped the man's right arm over his shoulders, and braced him at the waist until his feet found the floor. The second man's focus drifted, returned, drifted again. No one asked him for a report. They moved slower after that. The first support Hunter had to match the injured man's hopping pace. The second kept the bleeding pathfinder close enough that a lat

The flame vanished. Everyone froze. The crack crept a little farther, then died before reaching the ceiling. "Hold," Allen said. "Wasn't planning to hug it," somebody muttered behind him. Allen flexed his fingers. The tremor had reached his upper arm now. His right shoulder felt hard and hot under the joint. He waited for the seam. Red light pulsed through the buried mechanism. The slab shuddered. The opening held. 'Good enough.' Allen rolled his wrist a fraction and resumed. Fsssh. Crack. Tik-tik. The hole became a narrow breach. Soon a person could squeeze through without touching either edge. Heat poured from the cut stone. Dust coated Allen's sleeve and the back of his hand. He stopped before the opening looked comfortable. Allen had enough room to move a body through without touching the cut. He lowered his arm. The black flame disappeared. Nobody approached while the cut shed its heat. Hot grit pattered from the edge. A fist-sized fragment dropped, struck the f