The crowd erupted in cheers.
Joy washed over the square as the three boys stood at the center of it all, framed by banners and sunlight. Each wore a different expression. Ojiro looked openly overjoyed, unable to keep the grin from his face. Takumi stood tall, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. Yukito tried to smile—but his thoughts were elsewhere, caught on the faint, unrecognizable images that had flashed through his mind the moment his hand touched the orb.
As the Elder stepped toward the entrance of the temple, another figure joined him on the stage—a short, round man dressed in fine robes: the mayor of Havencrest.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Havencrest!” the mayor boomed, throwing his arms wide. “Your new hunters!”
The cheers swelled even louder.
“Let me be the first to say how proud we are of these three!” he continued with a laugh. “Even if some of us didn’t think they’d all make it… ha-ha!”
His eyes flicked briefly toward Yukito, smile never wavering.
“Let the festivities begin!”
Music surged back into the square as the Elder turned to the boys and gestured for them to follow. Without another word, they did.
The applause followed them inside.
Not the sound itself, but its echo—muffled through thick stone walls, distant and distorted, like a memory that hadn’t yet realized it was supposed to fade. The temple doors closed behind them with a deep, resonant thud, sealing away the brightness of the festival and replacing it with cool shadow and the faint scent of incense.
Yukito felt the change immediately.
Outside, they had been something to look at.
Inside, they were students again.
“Congratulations, all three of you,” the Elder said, motioning toward two hunters waiting near a side doorway. “Follow them.”
As the Elder turned and disappeared toward the temple’s main chamber, the senior hunters escorted the boys down a long corridor carved with ancient symbols—archons etched into stone so worn they barely resembled figures anymore. Their boots echoed with each step. No one spoke.
Takumi walked with squared shoulders, posture perfect out of habit. Ojiro glanced around with quiet curiosity, respectful of the space. Yukito kept his hands in his pockets, fingers flexing against nothing, the faint hum of the orb still lingering beneath his skin like static that refused to fade.
They were led into a preparation chamber just off the main sanctuary.
Cloaks lined the walls. Training weapons rested untouched on racks. A long stone table sat at the center of the room, scarred by years of use.
A large man stood waiting.
He was imposing—broad-shouldered, wrapped in dark armor draped with a cape lined in red felt. A jagged scar cut across his forehead and down past one eyebrow, giving him the look of someone who had stared into hell and seen something stare back.
Amber eyes locked onto the boys.
For a heartbeat, none of them spoke.
Then the scowl cracked.
“Well,” he said, voice rough with familiarity, “if it isn’t the trio of idiots the village insists on celebrating.”
Takumi stopped immediately and bowed. “Sir.”
Ojiro followed. “Mr. Renshō.”
Yukito hesitated half a second longer than the others, then bowed as well. “—Sir.”
Mr. Renshō studied them in silence.
Not the way the crowd had.
Not as symbols.
As boys he had trained.
“You completed the Hunter Program,” he said at last. “Every trial. Every evaluation.” His gaze passed over each of them in turn. “You earned that stage today.”
Then, more quietly:
“I’m proud of you.”
Takumi’s posture tightened just slightly.
“You stood well out there,” Mr. Renshō continued, looking directly at him. “Didn’t rush. Didn’t freeze.”
Takumi nodded. “I did what you taught me.”
Mr. Renshō gave a short, approving hum. “Good. Hold onto that.”
He shifted his attention to Ojiro.
“And you,” he said. “Havencrest has always spoken highly of you. Today just confirmed why.”
Ojiro blinked, caught off guard. “…Thank you, sir.”
Finally, Mr. Renshō turned to Yukito.
His expression changed—not softer, but more personal.
“And you,” he said. “Don’t think we don’t hear things.”
Yukito stiffened.
“Especially about a certain little scuffle in an alley before the ceremony.”
Takumi glanced at Yukito. Ojiro’s brow lifted.
Yukito winced. “It wasn’t—”
“I know,” Mr. Renshō cut in, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And I know who started it.”
Yukito paused. “…You do?”
Mr. Renshō nodded once. “Still.” His tone turned firm, but not unkind. “Picking fights hours before a ceremony meant to reassure the city isn’t exactly good timing.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Yukito rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Fair.”
Mr. Renshō exhaled slowly.
“You’ve always been quick to step in,” he said. “That instinct is why you’re here. But instinct without control gets people hurt.”
He met Yukito’s eyes, steady and knowing.
“Sometimes the hardest part isn’t acting,” he continued. “It’s knowing when you’re ready to.”
Yukito swallowed. “I’ll work on it.”
“I know you will,” Mr. Renshō said.
He stepped back and addressed all three of them now.
“Listen carefully,” he said. “You are hunters in name. But you will not be sent on missions—alone or otherwise—until you can use your virtues responsibly.”
His gaze sharpened, not threatening, just honest.
“That means without hurting yourselves. And without putting others at risk.”
No hesitation in his voice.
No doubt.
“This next phase isn’t about proving you’re strong,” he continued. “It’s about proving you can be trusted while being strong.”
Takumi nodded immediately. “Understood.”
Ojiro followed. “Yes, sir.”
Yukito hesitated, then nodded as well. “Got it.”
Mr. Renshō studied them one last time, then gave a single approving nod.
“Good,” he said. “Enjoy what’s left of the festival. Training starts soon enough.”
He turned to leave, then paused.
“And Yukito?”
Yukito straightened. “Sir?”
“…Try not to start any more fights before sunset.”
Yukito snorted before he could stop himself. “No promises.”
Mr. Renshō let out a low chuckle and disappeared down the corridor.
The doors opened, and Havencrest spilled out around them.
The festival had grown while they were inside.
What had once been a crowded square was now a living thing—streets glowing with lantern light, banners strung from roof to roof, colors dancing as the floating village drifted beneath the setting sun. Music poured from every direction: drums beating in layered rhythms, flutes cutting bright and playful through the air, voices raised in song and laughter. The scent of roasted meat, sweet fruit, and spiced sugar clung to the wind.
The entire town was moving.
People danced in the streets—young and old, arms linked, feet stomping in time. Lanterns bobbed overhead like fallen stars, casting warm light across stone and wood. Vendors shouted cheerfully over one another, hawking skewers glazed in honey, bubbling drinks in glass flasks, and candied apples shining red beneath torchlight. Carnival games lined the outer lanes—ring tosses, spinning wheels, tests of strength and balance—each booth lit brighter than the last.
Yukito stopped short, taking it all in.
“…Wow.”
Ojiro laughed. “Told you. Havencrest doesn’t do small celebrations.”
Takumi exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the crowd—not for danger, but for detail. “I’ve never seen it like this.”
“That’s because you’re usually training while everyone else is having fun,” Yukito said, already being pulled toward a food stall by the smell alone.
They let themselves drift with the crowd.
Someone shoved a warm skewer into Yukito’s hands before he could protest. Ojiro somehow ended up with two drinks and no memory of how. Takumi tried to decline a candy apple and failed miserably when the vendor insisted, smiling too warmly to refuse.
He stood there for a second, then turned back toward them, holding the apple out like it was something rare.
“…Guys,” he said. “That sweet lady just gave me this. For free.”
Yukito blinked. “No way.”
“I didn’t even ask,” Takumi added, genuinely baffled. “She just smiled and said congratulations.”
Ojiro laughed.
Takumi shook his head slowly. “I don’t understand how festivals work.”
Yukito lost it. “This is incredible.”
Ojiro laughed again. “Absolutely historic.”
Takumi glanced between them, then finally took a bite—eyes widening just a fraction.
“…Okay. This part I get. Festival food is amazing.”
That did it.
They laughed—loud and unguarded—drawing a few curious looks from the crowd.
Laughter came easier than it had all day.
They were halfway through the square when they noticed they were being watched.
Two girls stood near a lantern-lit booth, whispering furiously to one another. They looked about the boys’ age—one with dark hair pulled into a loose braid, the other with lighter hair that caught the lantern glow. The braided one nudged her friend forward.
“No—you go,” the other hissed.
“I’m not—why do I have to—”
Too late.
They’d been spotted.
The lighter-haired girl straightened, smoothing her clothes before stepping toward them, confidence stitched together by determination.
“Um—hi,” she said, smiling at Ojiro. “You’re… Ojiro, right?”
Ojiro blinked. “Uh—yeah.”
Her smile widened. “I thought so. I’ve seen you around. You helped my little brother last winter when he fell through the ice.”
Ojiro scratched the back of his neck. “Oh. Is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” she said quickly. “He talks about you all the time.”
Yukito leaned subtly toward Takumi. “I give it ten seconds.”
Takumi didn’t look away. “Five.”
The girl took a breath. “I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to—”
Ojiro smiled gently, cutting in before she could finish. “That’s really kind of you. Truly. But… I don’t think I’m the right person for that.”
Her smile faltered—not hurt, just surprised.
“Oh,” she said.
Ojiro continued, still kind, still honest. “I think someone out there deserves your attention more than I do. Someone who needs it.”
The girl studied him for a moment, then laughed softly. “Figures,” she said. “You’re exactly as nice as everyone says.”
She stepped back, giving a small wave before rejoining her friend, who immediately began whispering again.
Yukito grinned. “You handled that way better than I would’ve.”
Takumi nodded. “Agreed.”
Ojiro shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed. “Just didn’t feel right.”
They moved on, laughter folding back into the noise of the festival.
Time passed without any of them really noticing.
They wandered from street to street as the sun dipped lower, trying games they had no business winning and food they absolutely didn’t need. Yukito lost coins at a ring toss and blamed the wind. Ojiro somehow succeeded at everything he touched and apologized every time he won. Takumi pretended not to care, then quietly adjusted his stance and sent a weighted hammer flying farther than anyone else at the booth.
The music shifted as evening settled in—faster rhythms giving way to steadier ones, drums replaced by strings and voices. Lanterns were lit one by one, until the village glowed warm and gold beneath the darkening sky.
For a while, they were just part of the crowd.
Just boys enjoying a festival.
Then, near the edge of the square, a group of children spotted them.
“Hey!” one of them shouted, pointing straight at Takumi. “You’re the hunter!”
Takumi stiffened instinctively.
The kids rushed him anyway.
“Is it true you fought a spectral archon in training?”
“Do your eyes glow all the time?”
“Are you allowed to fly?”
Takumi blinked. “…No.”
They groaned in unison.
“But,” he added after a beat, “I can teach you how to stand your ground.”
That got their attention.
Yukito watched, surprised, as Takumi crouched slightly to meet them at eye level, demonstrating foot placement with careful patience. A nearby shopkeeper leaned over his stall, smiling.
“Good to see new blood,” the man said warmly. “Havencrest sleeps easier tonight.”
Ojiro nodded. “We’ll do our best.”
Night crept in slowly, the sky deepening to indigo as lanterns brightened in response. Music carried farther now, echoing across rooftops and bridges.
Eventually, the three of them drifted away from the crowd, following a familiar path up a grassy hill overlooking the village.
Thank you so much for reading.
