2 days ago
I lean forward, elbows on the table, my eyes locked to his. It's not curiosity that drives me, it's calculation. "I need to know what you are," I say. "Are you a government dog or a Hunter?" Something in the air shifts. Not much... A small tightening, like an invisible wire just got pulled taut.
Kael doesn't answer right away. His eyes don't shift, but the weight behind them does, like he's deciding how much of himself I deserve to see.
Finally, he says: "I was a government dog once."
The words are sharp but not bitter, like a wound that's stopped bleeding but still knows the shape of pain. His jaw flexes once, as though he tastes the old leash still caught in his teeth.
"I followed their orders. I went where they pointed. Did what they didn't want their clean hands touching. And when I saw too much, when I learned what those orders really meant, I walked away."
Something in his tone makes the air shift. He's not bragging. He's not confessing. He's stating a fact, the kind that leaves no room for disbelief.
I lean back, folding my arms. "And now? You want me to wear the collar you tore off?"
Kael studies me. Then, without flinching, he says: "No. I want you to take my surname."
The words land heavier than I expect. My breath stalls for half a second. He doesn't mean it like possession. I can see that in his eyes. He means it like he's handing me a weapon.
"My surname is King," he says. "That's what I give you. Until you choose your own, you carry mine. Not to bind you. To anchor you."
A low laugh slips from me, rough around the edges. "People are given names to personify them in their lives. So you want to personify me?"
His gaze doesn't waver. "No. I want you to live. And life starts with being someone, because no one is easier to erase than no one."
The silence after that feels sharper. I'm not sure if he's trying to build me or chain me. Maybe both.
Finally, I tilt my head. "Fine. You've given me a name. Now tell me what you want me to walk into."
Kael leans forward, elbows resting on the table, fingers steepled. His voice lowers, steady, deliberate.
"The Hunter Academy. On paper, it's training. A place to build specialists for contracts too dangerous for soldiers. The truth? It's a crucible. The Academy takes people the colonies can't control: young people, drifters, criminals, soldiers who disobeyed. It throws them together, strips them down, and rebuilds them into weapons."
His fingers steepled. His eyes never left mine.
"You'll have housing, food, medical care. You'll be watched every hour. You'll learn to fight what the colonies pretend doesn't exist. Creatures. Syndicates. Secrets. And when you're ready, or when they decide you're ready, you'll be sent into the unclaimed zones or into shadows inside the colonies. Some come back. Some don't. Failure isn't discharged. It's dissected. Every mistake becomes data for the next recruit."
The air thickened. I could almost feel the walls leaning closer to listen.
I asked quietly, "And those who survive?"
Kael's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "They become Hunters. Independent, but never free. Hired by governments, colonies, private syndicates, to do what no one else will admit needs doing."
He leaned closer still, his voice almost a growl now, meant for me alone. "Hunters don't wear colors. They don't swear to colonies. They survive. And if they live long enough, if they learn enough…" His mouth tightened, like the next words tasted wrong. "…they stop being just Hunters."
My pulse ticked sharper. "And what do they become?"
Kael's gaze cut straight through me."Monsters such as witches, krakens... The kind people whisper about. The kind the government can't control."
Kael's eyes didn't move from mine. The silence stretched, but it wasn't empty, it was full of the things he hadn't said yet.
Then he leaned back, his chair creaking. "One more thing."
His voice had shifted. Not softer but heavier. "If you go to the Academy, you'll fight. You'll kill. That much is certain. But I need something from you now, before you take one step closer to that place."
He paused, studying me like he wanted to see the answer in my face before I gave it in words.
"Swear you won't hurt anyone if it's unnecessary."
The air sharpened. A strange kind of silence pressed against my ears, thick enough to notice.
I let the words turn over in my head. Unnecessary. The definition wasn't his, wasn't mine — it lived somewhere in the gray space between.
Slowly, I leaned forward, elbows on the table, meeting his gaze without flinching.
"Unnecessary," I repeated, my voice quiet but edged. "That's a matter of perspective. Yours. Mine. Theirs."
Kael didn't blink. "Then make it yours. Swear that if you draw blood, it's because survival demands it. Not habit. Not want. Not because it's easier."
The words hit something buried in me, a place that remembered the motion of a knife sliding between ribs as naturally as breath. A place that hadn't hesitated, hadn't questioned.
My fingers curled slightly against the table.
"I don't make promises lightly," I said.
"I understand you more than you think," Kael replied. "That's why I'm asking you for this one."
The hum of the light above deepened, a low buzz like an old machine straining under its own weight.
Finally, I gave a single nod."I swear."
Kael's shoulders eased. His eyes stayed locked on mine, measuring the weight of the words, testing whether they would hold.
"Good," he said at last. "Because in the Academy, you'll have to decide what's necessary every single day. And if you get it wrong… You know how this will end."
Yes, I knew how this would end. I would be eliminated.
I hold his stare. The hum of the light above us feels louder, sharper, like it wants to cut the air between us. He finishes quietly: "You asked me what I am. I'm what's left when you stop being their dog but still can't stop hunting. And if you step into the Academy, Anna King, you'll be walking that same road."
The name lingers in the space between us. Anna King.
Present
No one in the room risked answering. So, the man left without another word, the echo of his boots dissolving into the hall. The envelope stayed behind on the desk, its corners squared neatly as if it hadn't just been dissected into lines and signatures. The silence he left in his wake felt heavier than his presence had, like the air was waiting to see what I would do with the weight of those words.
The old man cleared his throat and said: "For the record, all candidates present are passed the strength exam. Now, all of you, prepare for the psychological exam."