The sky over Elandor was not blue; it was a bruised, terrifying canvas of smoke and thunder. At the city's western gate, the Gale-Horned Chimera—a beast of nightmare that had terrorized the northern trade routes for a decade—bellowed a sound that shook the very foundations of the guard towers.
Then, there was a flicker of gold.
Erin moved not like a soldier, but like a sunbeam. His Academy blade, etched with the holy filigree of the High Priests, hummed a high-pitched note of divine resonance. With a single, vertical leap, he bypassed the beast's venomous tail. In mid-air, he pivoted, his mana flaring into a blinding crescent of white light.
"Aurelian Strike!"
The blade didn't just cut; it purified. The Chimera's roar was cut short as the golden energy severed its mana-core. The massive beast collapsed, turning into shimmering ash before it even hit the cobblestones.
The silence that followed was broken by a singular, deafening cheer from the battlements.
An hour later, the Great Hall of Elandor was filled with the scent of lilies and expensive incense. King Alaric, draped in robes of royal crimson, descended from his throne to place a hand on Erin's shoulder.
"You have done more than save a gate, Erin," the King's voice boomed. "You have proven that the Aurelian Academy produces legends. Today, we record your feats in the Eternal Ledger—the youngest graduate to ever achieve a Perfect Mark in Combat and Theory."
A chest filled with platinum coins and a ceremonial mantle of white fox fur were presented. The feast that followed was a blur of music and laughter, a sea of "Goddess-blessed" perfection. But as Erin sat at the high table, he looked at his hands. They were steady, yet he felt a hollow chill. He remembered the necrotic purple corpses in the woods. He remembered the red eyes in the mist.
Elandor felt like a cage of gold. He didn't just want to be a hero; he needed to be a hunter.
"I'm leaving, Father. Mother."
The words hung heavy in the small, warm kitchen of his family home. His father, a man of few words, looked at the sturdy travel boots Erin had packed.
"Elandor is safe," Erin said softly. "But the world outside… it's changing. There is a coldness spreading from the north. I need to go to Riveria. I need the Great Guild's resources. I need to be stronger than a 'Top Student.'"
His mother hugged him, her tears dampening his travel cloak. "Come back to us, Erin. Don't let the shadows change who you are."
The week-long journey to Riveria was a transition of worlds. The manicured roads of the capital gave way to the jagged, grey stone of the mountain passes. On the fifth day, three carriages were blocked by a fallen tree. From the treeline, a dozen bandits emerged—wild-eyed men wielding rusted steel.
To an ordinary traveler, this was a death sentence. To Erin, it was a chore.
When the leader lunged, Erin didn't even draw his sword fully. He used the scabbard, moving with such precision that he struck the pressure points of four men in three seconds. Within a minute, the entire horde was on the ground, groaning and bound in their own hemp ropes.
"You're lucky," Erin told the trembling leader as they reached the massive, black-iron gates of Riveria. "The guards here will take you. In the woods… there are things much worse than me."
Riveria was a city of iron and grit, a place where the air tasted of coal and old blood. The Grand Guild Hall stood at its center, a cathedral of stone dedicated to the art of the hunt.
Erin stepped up to the mahogany counter. A receptionist with tired eyes and a sharp quill looked up. "Registration? Name and origin."
"Erin. Aurelian Academy, Elandor."
The woman paused, scanning his pristine gear. "Another academy brat. Right. Place your hand on the Mana Crystal. Don't force it, just let your intent flow."
The crystal was a jagged, sapphire-colored stone the size of a human head. Erin closed his eyes. He thought of the Chimera. He thought of the empty grave of Arkin. He felt the golden mana in his veins surge, not with the "politeness" of the academy, but with a desperate, raw hunger to grow.
CRACK.
A sound like a lightning strike echoed through the hall.
The blue crystal didn't just glow—it turned a blinding, incandescent white. It hummed a note so low it vibrated the floorboards, and then, with a violent fracture, it disintegrated into a cloud of shimmering dust.
The entire Guild Hall went silent. Veteran adventurers dropped their mugs. The receptionist stared at the empty pedestal, her jaw slack.
"I… I'll pay for that," Erin stammered, his face flushing.
A heavy door behind the counter creaked open. A man with a scarred face and an aura of absolute authority—the Guild Master—stepped out, looking at the dust. He looked at Erin's card, then back at the boy.
He picked up a stamp and slammed it down with finality.
"D-Rank," the Master grunted.
Erin stared at the card. "D? Sir, I just… the crystal… I killed a Chimera in Elandor!"
"In Elandor, you're a god," the Guild Master said, his voice like grinding stones. "In Riveria, you're a liability. You've got the power of a disaster and the experience of a child. You're D-Rank until someone teaches you how to use that light without blinding yourself."
He pointed toward a corner of the tavern where a man with green hair was napping against three swords.
"Go find Zoro. If you're lucky, he won't kill you before the monsters do."