Jihoon's boots scuffed the city pavement, the training facility card in his pocket feeling heavier with every step. The Hunter Bureau's gray bulk faded behind him as he navigated the city's maze of gleaming towers and buzzing streets. Kwangsoo had split off after handing him the card, muttering about errands, leaving Jihoon alone with his thoughts and the address scrawled in faded ink. The city was a whirlwind—vendors hawking relic blades, holo-screens flashing hunter rankings, and sleek cars zipping past. He'd never been this deep in the urban sprawl, and the directions on the card were vague at best. Turn left at the "big statue"? What statue? He squinted at a towering bronze figure of some S-Rank hunter, then checked the card again. Wrong turn.
"Great," he muttered, dodging a kid on a hoverboard who nearly clipped him. His new jacket, courtesy of Seoyoon, kept him warm, but it didn't help him feel less lost. He wandered another block, passing a neon-lit ramen shop and a gear store blasting music, before spotting a narrow street with a sign: Blade's Edge Training. The faded fist-and-blade logo matched the card. His pulse quickened. This was it.
He approached the entrance, a heavy steel door tucked between two buildings, nothing flashy but solid. A scanner glowed red beside it, and Jihoon fumbled the card out, holding it up. The scanner beeped, green light flashing, and the door slid open with a hiss. "Guess Kwangsoo's name still carries weight," he said to himself, stepping inside.
The facility was massive, a sprawling arena of polished floors and high ceilings, lit by bright overhead lights that made his eyes squint. Training rings dotted the space, some with hunters sparring, their fists and blades a blur. Holo-dummies flickered, mimicking beast movements, while weights clanked and treadmills hummed. The air smelled of sweat and metal, with a faint buzz of energy from relic-infused gear. Jihoon's jaw dropped. This was worlds away from the slums' rusted pipes and alley fights. The equipment looked like it belonged in a sci-fi movie—sleek, glowing, way out of his league. He tugged at his jacket, feeling like a kid sneaking into a place he didn't belong.
He wandered past a ring where a hunter dodged a holo-beast's swipe, her movements fluid, almost inhuman. Another lifted a barbell loaded with plates that could crush him flat. Jihoon's stomach twisted. Two weeks to the exams, and he was supposed to compete with people like this? His hitbox control—focusing to avoid hits—had saved him against the Blade Mantis, but here, it felt small, untested. He stopped by a rack of training swords, their edges dull but gleaming, and ran a finger along one, wondering if he'd ever hold something like it.
"You lost, kid?" A voice jolted him, deep and rough but not unkind. Jihoon turned to see a man approaching, maybe in his late twenties, built like a tank with a shaved head and a scar across his chin. His tank top was sweat-soaked, and his arms were corded with muscle, but his grin was easy, almost friendly. "You've been staring at that sword like it's gonna bite you."
Jihoon flushed, pulling his hand back. "Uh, no, just… looking around. First time here." He fumbled the card from his pocket, holding it up. "Kwangsoo sent me. Said this place could help me train."
The man's eyes flicked to the card, his grin widening. "Choi Kwangsoo, huh? That old dog's still kicking? Name's Han Taeyang. Used to run with him back in Iron Fang." He offered a hand, his grip firm enough to make Jihoon wince. "So, what's your deal? You here to lift weights or just sightsee?"
Jihoon hesitated, his throat tight. Taeyang's ease made him feel smaller, but the guy's grin was encouraging, not mocking. "I'm Park Jihoon," he said, standing straighter. "Got the hunter exams in two weeks. Trying to get ready."
Taeyang's eyebrows shot up, and he looked Jihoon over, taking in his scrawny frame and new-but-cheap jacket. "Two weeks? Damn, kid, that's a tight timeline. Exams are no joke—physical test, skill test, and a dungeon sim or duel. You're not giving yourself much room to grow." His tone was blunt, and Jihoon's shoulders slumped, disappointment sinking in. He'd known it was a long shot, but hearing it stung.
Taeyang tilted his head, catching Jihoon's expression. "Hey, don't look like I kicked your puppy. Physical stuff, yeah, you might struggle—no offense, you're kinda built like a noodle. But the skill test? That's where you can shine. What's your ability? Gotta be something decent if Kwangsoo's vouching for you."
Jihoon shifted, his face warm. "It's called Hitbox Control," he said, voice low. "I focus, and… I don't get hit. Like, attacks go through me if I concentrate hard enough. Saved me from a D-Rank beast once, but I'm not great at it yet."
Taeyang's eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle, then laughed, a booming sound that turned heads in the gym. "Hitbox Control? That's a video game term, isn't it? What, you got a power named after some old arcade game?" He clapped Jihoon's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "That's hilarious, but damn, it's cool. You're like a ghost, phasing through hits. That's rare, kid. Really rare."
Jihoon blinked, his disappointment fading. "You think it's good?" he asked, a spark of excitement in his chest. Seoyoon had called him Ghost too, and hearing it from this guy—a real hunter—made it feel real.
"Good? It's better than good," Taeyang said, crossing his arms. "Most abilities are brute force—fire, strength, speed. Yours is evasion, pure and simple. If you can master that, you'll run circles around beasts, maybe even other hunters. But two weeks?" He scratched his chin, frowning. "You gotta focus on that skill test. Physical's a grind, but if you ace the skill part, you've got a shot."
Jihoon nodded, his heart racing. "So… how do I train it? Just dodge stuff?"
Taeyang grinned, jerking a thumb toward a training ring with a holo-dummy flickering inside, its claws swiping in programmed patterns. "Exactly. You practice not getting hit. Get that focus down, make it second nature. Exams'll throw D-Rank sims at you, maybe worse. You gotta be untouchable." He paused, his grin softening. "Tell you what, kid. I like your vibe. I'll help you out."
Jihoon's jaw dropped. "You serious? You don't even know me."
Taeyang shrugged, his scar catching the light. "Name's Han Taeyang, B-Rank hunter, Iron Fang Guild. My ability's Kinetic Burst—short-range force blasts, good for smashing beasts or breaking walls. Kwangsoo sent you, so you're worth a shot. Plus, anyone with a power named after a game term's gotta be fun." He laughed again, clapping Jihoon's shoulder. "Come on, let's get you started."
Jihoon's chest swelled, a mix of nerves and excitement. A real hunter, helping him? He hadn't expected this, not in a place like this, surrounded by gear he couldn't dream of touching. "Thanks, Taeyang," he said, voice thick. "I won't waste your time."
"You better not," Taeyang said, pointing to a locker room across the gym. "First, ditch that jacket. You need training gear—something light, easy to move in. There's spare stuff in there, grab what fits. Meet me at the ring in ten."
Jihoon nodded, gripping the card like a lifeline. He headed to the locker room, the gym's hum fading behind him. Inside, the air was damp, smelling of sweat and rubber mats. Racks held training clothes—sleek vests, padded shorts, all marked with the facility's logo. He grabbed a black vest and pants, both lighter than his jeans, designed for movement. He changed quickly, the fabric cool against his skin, and caught his reflection in a mirror. Scrawny, sure, but in this gear, he looked like he belonged. Maybe he could be Ghost, like Seoyoon said.
He stepped out, the training ring in sight, Taeyang waiting with a grin, tweaking the holo-dummy's controls. The exams were two weeks away, and Jihoon's power was raw, untested, but for the first time, he felt ready to try. The city's buzz, the slums' weight, his mother's smile—they'd wait. Right now, it was him, his focus, and a chance to become something more.