Hunnt hurried through his breakfast, hardly noticing the flavors, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the forest and the hunters. He felt that today, he could no longer just stand by and watch — he needed to take action.
After finishing, he faced his grandparents, his small fists tightly clenched at his sides. His voice, quiet but firm, broke the stillness of the kitchen.
"I… I want to be stronger," Hunnt said, his sharp eyes fixed on the old couple. "I want to be a hunter too!"
Mel's eyes widened, worry flashing across her face. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Hunnt… you're still so young. Being a hunter is dangerous. You don't know what you're asking for…"
Dom, leaning back slightly in his chair, studied Hunnt's determined expression. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes softened with nostalgia. "This reminds me of your father," he said quietly. "He had that same fire in his eyes. Always striving… always wanting to protect, always wanting to grow stronger."
Mel looked at Dom and then back at Hunnt, a sigh escaping her lips. "I know you're brave, Hunnt. But promise me, at least for now… stay safe. Learn slowly. Don't rush into things you can't handle yet."
Hunnt nodded seriously, his determination unshaken.
"I understand… but I can't just wait. I need to prepare. I want to survive, and I want to be strong enough to protect you two and the others someday."
Dom reached over and ruffled Hunnt's hair. "Just like your father. You've got his spirit, boy. But remember — strength isn't only about fighting. Patience and wisdom matter too."
Hunnt smiled faintly, appreciating his grandpa's words.
Hunnt then went to the area where the hunters trained, keeping a careful distance. His eyes scanned their movements, noting the precision in every swing, every stance, and every adjustment they made to their weapons.
Hunnt tried to replicate the hunters' actions with makeshift tools. A branch became a sword, and an old scrap of wood served as a buckler. At first, the swings were awkward, uncoordinated, and heavy. His small frame struggled to mimic the hunters' speed and strength.
But Hunnt didn't give up. He repeated each motion, adjusted his stance, and focused on the timing and angles. Each attempt improved slightly. The clumsiness faded, replaced with smoother movements, sharper reflexes, and a subtle sense of flow.
He noticed something else too — a strange awareness that guided his body. When he swung, his muscles responded faster than expected. When he dodged an imaginary attack, his reflexes felt instinctive. Hunnt didn't understand it yet, but the sensation excited him.
Hunnt thought, I'll try practicing sword and shield first, see if it still feels like my body knows what to do.
To his shock, the fluid motion, the balance, the swing of the weapon — it was exactly the same as in the game. But something felt off. His face shifted to a frown.
Something's missing…
He shook his head. It must be because what I'm holding is just a makeshift tool.
He picked up a hammer next. The same feeling — correct, fluid, precise — but still incomplete. Then a bow, and again, the sensation remained accurate, yet something intangible was absent.
Hunnt practiced the sword and shield, the hammer, and the bow repeatedly, until he almost memorized every movement. The swings, the stances, the timing — all ingrained in his mind and body.
But still… the feeling of each weapon was not there. Each swing felt slightly off, as if the tools were resisting him in subtle ways. The weight didn't settle naturally in his hands, the impact lacked the feedback he expected, and the flow he could imagine never fully matched reality. It left a hollow sensation in his chest — a quiet frustration mixed with curiosity. Hunnt couldn't put it into words, but he knew something essential was missing, just beyond his grasp.