The roar came like a wave — deep, deafening, alive. It rolled across the harbor and through the narrow streets of Vaelstorm, shaking the earth and silencing every sound in the city. Even the gulls vanished from the sky.
Then the sea split open.
From the black water rose Thalazur, the Abyssal Conductor, its colossal form illuminated by bursts of crackling blue lightning. A Leviathan-Class Wyvern, scales like polished sapphire, fins pulsing with electric veins. Its eyes gleamed with a cold, intelligent light. Each breath it exhaled sent waves crashing against the harbor walls, and behind it came a flood of lesser monsters with fins, gills, and fangs, spilling out of the sea and into the docks.
For a moment, all of Vaelstorm stood frozen. Then came the screams.
"RUN!"
"It's a Leviathan!"
"THE GUILD — CALL THE GUILD!"
"No, we're doomed! The hunters here are all C and D ranks!"
"LEAVE THE CITY!"
The first lightning bolt struck the port — a blinding blue flash that split a ship in half, sending burning wood and seawater through the air. The wave of thunder that followed shattered windows and dropped people to their knees.
---
Inside the guild hall, panic erupted.
Hunters scrambled for their weapons, shouting over one another. The sound of falling furniture and clashing steel filled the building.
"The docks are gone!"
"The monsters are in the streets!"
"There's hundreds of them!"
Doors burst open as the Guildmaster, an old, broad man with silver hair and a scar over one eye, marched out of his office. He carried a Heavy Bowgun, already loaded with armor-piercing shells. His voice boomed over the chaos.
"ENOUGH!"
The room froze instantly.
"All hunters — ASSEMBLE!" he roared. "We defend this city or die trying! Evacuate civilians! Form the defense lines at the plaza and near the guild hall! MOVE!"
The hunters hesitated. Some were too scared to move. Others looked sick. One drunken hunter fell to the floor, muttering nonsense.
"Guildmaster," a young archer stammered, "that's a Leviathan! We can't—"
The old man leveled his bowgun at the ceiling and fired a single round. The explosion silenced them all.
"Then you'll die as hunters," he said coldly. "Now MOVE!"
His command broke the paralysis. The C- and D-rank hunters scrambled, forming teams as best they could.
Gunners took to rooftops and balconies.
Medics packed salves and antidotes.
A pair of Hunting Horn users began tuning their instruments, preparing their songs of recovery.
The Guildmaster muttered under his breath, "That boy Will was right. I should have listened…" then stormed outside to lead the defense himself.
---
Across town, in the small stone house near the outer streets, Will and Willa stood ready.
Will tightened his bowstring and checked his quiver. Willa locked the straps on her leather armor, shield strapped to her arm, sword in hand. Their faces were pale, but their eyes were determined.
Across from them, Hunnt stood calm, his Iron Longsword slung across his back, the steel gleaming dull silver under the flickering lantern light. His gauntlets clicked into place as he spoke in a low, steady voice.
"You two should evacuate," he said. "The Leviathan can't come inland, but the city will fall before dawn. Go while you can."
Will shook his head. "We can't. This is our grandmother's home. We're not leaving her behind."
Hunnt's eyes narrowed. "If you stay, you'll die."
"Then we die standing," Willa said firmly, planting her shield into the ground.
Hunnt exhaled slowly through his nose, the faint flicker of armament haki pulsing beneath his gauntlets. "…Then fight with purpose."
He turned toward the door. "You'll help with the evacuation. Leave the fighting to me. Move!"
The twins nodded.
---
By the time they reached the main square, the chaos was overwhelming.
The water monsters were everywhere — coral-scaled lizards crawling over the walls, fin-backed raptors tearing through market stalls, eel-like serpents slithering across the cobblestones. The air stank of salt, fish, and blood. Screams echoed through every street.
"HELP!"
"MY CHILD — SOMEONE HELP US!"
"They're everywhere!"
Hunnt's voice cut through the madness like thunder.
"SNAP OUT OF IT!" he roared at the twins. "You wanted to fight? Then HELP THEM!"
Will and Willa rushed into the crowd, guiding people toward the safer routes leading away from the harbor. Hunnt stepped forward, drawing his longsword in one clean motion.
The Iron blade gleamed dull gray — no flame, no enchantment. Pure steel.
A smaller wyvern lunged at him, its teeth flashing. Hunnt stepped aside and cleaved it in half with an Overhead Slash, the movement so clean that water and blood misted in the air.
Another beast struck — Hunnt twisted into a Right Slash, parried with his gauntlet, and countered with a Thrust straight into the monster's throat. His rhythm flowed like water: precise, calm, without wasted motion.
His Spirit Gauge flared white. He shifted seamlessly into his Spirit Combo, ending with a Roundslash that carved through three creatures at once.
Hunnt exhaled, the blade dripping seawater and blood. "Come on then," he muttered.
More monsters surged forward. Hunnt advanced to meet them, cutting down the front lines before they could reach the civilians.
---
He spotted a group of young hunters struggling — disorganized, swinging wildly, shouting conflicting orders. Another pair cowered behind crates, terrified to move.
Hunnt jumped onto a broken wagon and roared, "ALL HUNTERS — LISTEN TO ME!"
The noise dulled. Dozens of frightened eyes turned toward him.
"If you're defending — DEFEND! If you're fighting — COOPERATE! Stop running like cowards!" he shouted. His voice was thunder and fire.
He pointed toward the crowd of evacuees.
"Those helping civilians — organize! Prioritize children and women! Keep the main roads clear!"
He turned back to the hunters.
"MELEES — front line! Great swords, hammers, longswords, duals — cover each other's flanks! No one fights alone!"
The hunters shifted positions, forming a shaky line.
"GUNNERS — bows and bowguns, hold the second line! Support fire only! Don't hit the civilians!"
Arrows and explosive rounds flew overhead, slamming into the advancing monsters.
"HEALERS!" Hunnt bellowed. "Patch the wounded fast — salves for light injuries, horns for crowd recovery! Move between units, don't stay still!"
The Hunting Horns began to play — deep, resonant tones of recovery echoing across the square. Medics rushed between fighters, applying salves and wrapping wounds.
Hunnt's orders cut through the panic, turning chaos into rhythm. The city's defense began to breathe again.
Then, through the haze of smoke and lightning, Hunnt raised his sword high. The faint white aura of Spirit energy flickered along the blade's edge.
"This is why you're hunters!" he shouted. "Not for coin, not for glory — but for this! To protect your people! Your home!"
He slashed the blade downward, the sound echoing through the streets.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"
"YES!" voices shouted back, trembling but united.
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
"YES!!"
Hunnt's eyes glinted. "Then fight like hunters!"
He leapt from the wagon, cutting down the nearest beast in one motion. The front line surged forward with him.
The Gunners supported, arrows whistling through the air.
Healers moved with precision, pulling the wounded from danger.
The melee line tightened, shields locking, swords flashing, hammers crushing.
Hunnt's Iron Longsword gleamed under the firelight as he fought through the tide, his movements flowing like water, every strike deliberate and fatal.
Lightning split the sky once more — but this time, the hunters didn't scatter.
They stood. They fought. They roared.
And for the first time that night, Vaelstorm roared louder than the Leviathan itself.