The night in Vaelstorm was unnaturally quiet.
Not even the sea sang.
Hunnt sat on the edge of the field sharpening his longsword, the faint rasp of whetstone against steel the only sound that broke the silence. The stars hung low over the coast, dimmed by a thin veil of mist that seemed to roll in from the black horizon.
The door creaked open behind him.
"Hunnt," came Will's voice — low, tense.
Hunnt looked up. The young hunter's boots were coated in sand and seawater. His face was pale.
"They're silent," Will said.
Hunnt frowned. "The monsters?"
Will nodded, dropping his bow on the bench beside him. "They've stopped making noise. Morning to night, they were always roaring, calling, splashing. But this afternoon — nothing. Not a single sound. Even the gulls left the coast."
The wind shifted, carrying only the faint, cold scent of salt. Hunnt's gaze turned toward the distant shoreline, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Do you think their boss finally arrived?" Will asked, his voice cracking a little.
Hunnt didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes, extending his senses — not haki, not now, just instinct. The ocean pulsed faintly in the distance, something vast beneath the surface shifting slowly.
"We'll see," Hunnt murmured. "But tonight, you rest. Start packing — it might be too soon before those things react."
Will ran a hand through his hair and exhaled shakily. "Yeah. I'll do that. Tomorrow I'll try again — warn the people, maybe tell the guild. Someone has to listen."
From behind them, Willa's voice cut through the dim light. "But brother… will they even listen to you?"
Will looked at her, the tension softening in his eyes. "Maybe not. Maybe no one will. But even if they don't, at least they'll know. Once the warning's given, it's their choice what happens next."
He forced a tired smile. "I can't save everyone, Willa. I'm still just a student hunter."
Hunnt nodded slowly. "That's enough for now. You've done your part. Go sleep — tomorrow might not give you another chance."
Will gave a quick nod and turned toward the door, Willa following close behind. The night swallowed their footsteps as the mist thickened along the coast.
---
The next morning broke with the distant clang of the city bells. The streets of Vaelstorm buzzed faintly — fishmongers opening stalls with half-empty baskets, guards patrolling the harbor walls. Yet there was an edge in the air, an unspoken tension just beneath the routine.
Will strode through the main road toward the guild hall, his cloak snapping behind him in the cold breeze. He didn't hesitate when he reached the door — he pushed it open, the noise of hunters drinking and laughing cutting short as he entered.
"I need to speak to the Guild Master!" he called.
A few hunters looked up, muttering. "Oh great, him again," one said. "What is this, the fourth time this week?"
"Fifth," another corrected. "Who's betting he gets thrown out again?"
Will ignored them, slamming a rolled-up parchment on the counter. "The coast is silent. That's not migration — it's organization. Something's commanding them."
A clerk behind the desk frowned. "Will, we've told you already — don't start this again. The monsters are just moving with the currents. There's no proof they're preparing to attack."
"Proof?" Will shot back. "When they're tearing through the port, you'll have your proof."
A low murmur spread through the room.
The guild officer stepped forward. "Don't come closer to the coast again, Will. If you provoke them and cause a rampage, the guild will never accept you as a hunter — you'll be banned for life."
Will's jaw clenched. "Then do it," he said. "I'm just here to warn you — if the monsters attack, what's your plan to defend the city? You're already low on hunters."
The officer scowled. "Are you threatening the guild now?"
"I'm saying the truth," Will snapped, his voice echoing across the hall.
Outside, people began to gather — curious citizens watching through the open doorway.
"There he goes again," someone muttered.
"Third commotion this week."
"Bet he won't last till the weekend," another chuckled.
Inside, the guildmaster's door opened slowly. The old man stepped out, his hair silver and his eyes weary. "That's enough."
The room fell silent.
"Will," the Guild Master said quietly, "come to my office."
Inside, the heavy wooden door closed behind them. The master leaned against his desk, looking tired but not angry.
"It's not that I don't believe you," he said after a long pause. "But we need evidence. The monsters could be migrating, not preparing for war. If we send hunters too early and disturb them, they might rampage."
Will shook his head. "And if you do nothing?"
The old man sighed. "Then we'll pray you're wrong."
Will's voice lowered. "Guild Master… what if I'm right?"
The old man looked away, eyes shadowed. "You're stubborn — just like your mother."
Will froze. "You knew her?"
"I led her unit, once," the Guild Master said quietly. "She was brave… reckless. You remind me of her. And you know as well as I do — the guild has its reasons for keeping the truth of your parents' death quiet."
Will's hands curled into fists. "I know."
"Then you also know," the Guild Master continued, "that chasing it won't bring them back. You have a sister now. Stay with her. Protect her. If you die chasing ghosts, she'll lose everything."
Will lowered his gaze, silent, his teeth clenched.
---
While the city argued and debated, back at the field, Willa continued her training. Her blade moved through the air in fluid arcs, each motion synced to her breathing — slow inhale, short exhale, steady rhythm.
Hunnt watched from the side, his arms crossed. Her strikes were beginning to sound different — not forced, but rhythmic, like the faint beat of a drum.
"It seems your body remembers the breathing and rhythm now," Hunnt said, stepping closer.
Willa looked up, panting lightly. "Do I?"
Hunnt nodded. "Good. Then we move on."
He picked up her second training sword, spinning it once before pointing the blade downward. "Now, we'll train the basic combo sequence — the core of every sword and shield user. It's the foundation of flow, not strength. Learn this, and you'll be ahead of most guild-trained fighters."
He demonstrated, every move flowing like a wave into the next.
"Overhead Slash → Side Slash → Thrust → Shield Bash → Rising Slash → Backstep — and repeat."
He reset his stance, repeating it slower. "Every movement follows your breath. Don't think of it as six steps. Think of it as one motion with six beats."
He broke it down piece by piece.
"Overhead Slash — exhale. Begin the flow. Feel the weight leaving your body."
"Side Slash — breathe across your frame. Shift your balance smoothly."
"Thrust — drive with focus, not force. Control your distance, not your power."
"Shield Bash — your guard becomes offense. Turn defense into rhythm."
"Rising Slash — lift your pace, never stop moving. This resets your rhythm."
"Backstep — retreat to reset. Draw a long inhale, then repeat the sequence."
Willa followed slowly, breathing with each motion, sweat glistening along her jawline. Her movements were clumsy at first — timing too sharp, exhale too early — but the longer she practiced, the smoother the flow became.
Hunnt watched carefully. "Good. Don't rush. Feel the rhythm before you think about attack."
Her shield hit the air with a dull thud, her slash cutting forward right after, almost seamless.
Hunnt smiled faintly. "That's it. You're getting there."
He stepped back, folding his arms again. "Once you remember this combo sequence by instinct, you'll move differently than the rest. Faster. Smarter. Stronger. You'll survive where they don't."
Willa caught her breath, smiling through her exhaustion. "Then I'll master it."
Hunnt's eyes softened slightly. "You will. Keep training. When it becomes instinct, you'll understand the rhythm that lives between breath and steel."
The sea breeze brushed against them as the day bled into gold. Far in the distance, the ocean shimmered — calm, silent, waiting.
And though none of them said it aloud, every hunter in Vaelstorm felt it —
the stillness before something vast and terrible finally moved.