The final page was filled with ink. Hunnt leaned back in his chair, the lantern's flame flickering over parchment covered in careful script, diagrams, and annotations. His hand ached, fingers cramped from weeks of writing, but he couldn't stop staring at the work before him. What had begun as scattered notes during long nights had grown into something far greater than himself.
Two books sat on the table, bound in leather by Grandma Mel's steady hands. The first was thick, its spine creaking with the weight of countless pages. On the cover, the title gleamed in bold letters, etched carefully with black ink:
Core and Weapon + Fist Style Mastery
The second was thinner, but its words cut sharper, honed like a blade for clarity and focus. Its cover bore a simpler title:
One Piece
Across both, Hunnt had drawn the same emblem — a black circle forming the base. At its center sat a geometric design, a triangle pointing upward, overlaid with the faint outline of a clenched fist. Around the outer edge, small dots and spiral flourishes curled outward, evoking both discipline and flow. It was more than art; it was a declaration. A symbol.
Hunnt traced the design with one finger, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "iAmElder," he whispered. His chosen name as an author, carved not from vanity but from intent. Hunnt the boy would fade. Hunnt the hunter would one day die. But iAmElder — the teacher, the writer, the voice of legacy — would live on.
He stood, gathering both books in his arms. The weight was not heavy, but it pressed on him like destiny itself. He stepped into the courtyard, where Corwin and Elara waited, their expressions steady, though their eyes betrayed the gravity of the moment.
Hunnt extended the books. "These are yours now," he said, voice low but certain. "For the village. For the hunters who will come after us."
Corwin accepted them with both hands, as if holding something sacred. His usually stoic face softened, and he bowed his head. "I'll guard them with my life," he vowed.
Elara touched the covers gently, her gaze never leaving Hunnt's. "And we'll pass them on only to those who deserve it. The fist style, the techniques, Haki, Rokushiki… these will not fall into unworthy hands."
Hunnt's gaze hardened. "Good. Remember this — Rokushiki and Haki are not playthings. They are secrets of this village, born from blood and sacrifice. They don't belong to the world. If anyone betrays that trust…" He left the rest unsaid, but the silence was heavy enough. Corwin and Elara both nodded solemnly.
From the side, Pyro hopped onto a railing, tail flicking, his golden eyes shining with determination. "Then I choose!" he declared, raising a paw high. "I'll go with you, Master! A hunter needs his palico, nyaaah!"
Hunnt blinked, caught off guard. Then he laughed, warmth blooming in his chest. "I wouldn't want to go without you."
Elara smiled softly, though her eyes glistened. Corwin clasped Hunnt's shoulder, silent but firm, his grip carrying more than words could.
---
That night, beneath the stars, Hunnt gathered them around the fire. The flames crackled, sparks dancing upward into the dark, endless sky. He spoke of his vision — not just of hunts or battles, but of something greater.
"An organization," he said, his voice steady, though his heart thundered with the weight of the idea. "A brotherhood. Hunters bound not just by weapons, but by ideals. Not only to fight, but to teach. To protect. To endure threats no one village could face alone."
Pyro's ears perked. "Like… a guild? Nyaah?"
Hunnt nodded. "Yes. But more. These books are the cornerstone. They hold the techniques, the philosophy, the lessons we bled for. And one day, they'll be more than just guides — they'll be the foundation for an order that spans beyond this place. Hunters who will stand together, wherever the world trembles."
Elara listened intently, her hand finding Corwin's. Corwin, ever the realist, frowned slightly. "It will take time. Discipline. And not everyone will be worthy."
Hunnt smirked. "That's why we'll be the judges. That's why these books will stay safe here. You'll guard the village, Corwin. Elara. Together. While Pyro and I… we carry the first steps outward."
The firelight glowed in their eyes, sealing the unspoken pact.
---
Before dawn, Grandma Mel and Grandpa Dom came quietly to see him off. Mel's hands trembled as she straightened his collar, brushing away imaginary dust. "You've grown into a man," she whispered, her voice caught between pride and sorrow.
Dom rested his heavy hand on Hunnt's shoulder, the weight firm, grounding. "You've grown strong," he said, pride cracking through his rough tone. "But strength means nothing if you forget where you came from."
"I won't," Hunnt promised. His throat tightened, but his eyes didn't waver.
Behind them, Elara and Corwin stood together, married and steadfast, their vow unspoken but clear: they would remain, protect the village, carry the flame. While Hunnt — and Pyro — walked into the unknown.
Hunnt looked at them all. His family. His comrades. His teachers. His brother and sister in battle. He looked at the books in Corwin's arms, the symbol etched on their covers, and felt the weight of more than ink and paper. He felt the weight of destiny.
"This," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the lump in his throat, "is only the beginning."
The words echoed softly, carried by the dawn breeze.
As the sun rose, Hunnt walked down the path beyond the village walls, Pyro perched proudly on his shoulder. The books stayed behind, their knowledge entrusted to those he loved. But the vision — the Eternal Wanderer, though unnamed yet — traveled with him, carried in his fists, his heart, and the black steel of his will.
The boy who had once bled against monsters with broken gauntlets was gone. In his place walked iAmElder — hunter, teacher, wanderer. And his legacy had just begun.