The morning sun rose like a blade of molten gold, cutting through the smoky haze above the ruins of the trial grounds.
Ethan stood at the threshold of the stone gates, Shadowfang at his side. Both bore fresh bandages across their wounds, yet their eyes shone with the same fire that had carried them through the night.
Beyond the gates stretched the horizon—vast plains dotted with towers, caravans, and, in the distance, a sprawling citadel that gleamed like iron under the dawn.
Guild City.
The beating heart of the Hunters.
---
"Keep your mouth shut when we get there."
The warning came from one of the escorts, a scar-faced veteran whose armor bore the scars of countless battles. His hawk-beast perched on his shoulder, feathers sharp as blades.
Ethan didn't argue. He simply nodded, one hand brushing Shadowfang's fur to steady himself.
His heart hammered faster with every step closer. He had survived the trial, killed an Alpha, earned recognition—but deep down, he knew the true test began here.
The Guild was no sanctuary. It was a crucible.
---
As they approached, the city walls loomed higher, each stone engraved with runes that pulsed faintly. The gates were guarded by beasts larger than houses, bound in chains of light. Their eyes glowed, tracking every entrant with predatory focus.
Ethan swallowed hard. Shadowfang's growl rumbled low, warning him not to falter.
When the gates opened, the city unfolded like another world entirely.
Cobblestone streets teemed with hunters and their bonded beasts—serpents coiling across rooftops, wyverns perched on spires, armored hounds pulling wagons laden with trophies. Markets overflowed with weapons, beast cores, and enchanted relics. Towers rose like spears, each marked with banners bearing sigils of different Guild factions.
And everywhere Ethan looked, he felt eyes on him. Curious. Judging. Measuring.
It was like stepping into the jaws of a predator.
---
The escorts led them through the streets to the Guild Hall at the city's heart.
The building was no mere hall—it was a fortress carved from black stone, its gates guarded by statues that seemed alive, eyes glowing faintly as if watching all who entered.
Inside, the air was heavy with incense and old blood. Hunters gathered in clusters, their voices low and sharp, their beasts restless.
At the far end stood an obsidian altar shaped like a beast's claw, dripping faint trails of crimson into a basin. Behind it towered a mural depicting the First Hunt—a battle between men and primordial beasts, their blood mingling under a shattered sky.
Ethan's stomach tightened. The air itself seemed to hum with power, thick enough to choke.
This was no ordinary hall. This was a place of oaths.
---
"Candidates," a voice rang out.
The Guild Master emerged from the shadows, silver hair gleaming like steel under torchlight. His hawk-like gaze swept across the survivors, pinning each in place like insects.
"You have proven yourselves in trial. But recognition is not enough. To stand as Hunters, you must be bound."
He gestured to the altar.
"The Pact of Blood."
A murmur rippled among the survivors. Some paled, others clenched fists in grim determination. Ethan felt his throat tighten, though Shadowfang's steady presence calmed him.
The Guild Master's eyes locked onto Ethan for a heartbeat longer than the rest. Then he raised a dagger—its blade black as night, etched with runes that pulsed faintly with crimson light.
"Step forward, one by one."
---
The first candidate obeyed, slicing their palm and letting blood drip onto the altar. Their beast followed, pressing claw against stone. The blood was absorbed instantly, vanishing into the mural behind.
The air shifted, heavy with unseen chains. The bond between hunter, beast, and Guild had been sealed.
Another followed. And another.
Ethan's turn came sooner than he was ready for.
He approached the altar, Shadowfang padding beside him with a predator's calm. The black dagger weighed heavy in his hand.
He cut deep. Blood welled instantly, scarlet against pale skin. Shadowfang pressed its claw against the stone without hesitation. Their blood mingled on the altar, seeping into the mural.
The world shuddered.
---
A voice thundered inside Ethan's skull.
> Do you swear?
He staggered, gripping the altar. The words weren't sound—they were law.
> Do you swear your blood, your bond, your very soul, to the Guild? To hunt when called, to bleed when commanded, to rise when others fall?
Ethan's heart pounded. He felt Shadowfang's presence intertwining with his own, its golden fire burning steadier than his fear.
"I swear," Ethan whispered.
The altar pulsed, crimson runes burning across his skin before vanishing. His bond with Shadowfang flared brighter, sharper, tethered now to something larger.
But beneath the oath, he felt something else—chains, unseen but heavy, locking around his soul.
When he stepped back, his breath came ragged. The oath had taken something from him. He didn't yet know what.
---
The ritual continued until all survivors had bound themselves. At last, the Guild Master raised his hand.
"From this moment, you are no longer wanderers. You are Hunters of the Guild. Your lives are no longer your own. They belong to the Hunt."
The hall thundered with applause, though it felt more like the crack of chains than celebration.
Ethan clenched his bandaged hand, the faint scar glowing red before fading. Shadowfang's eyes flickered gold, wary but resolute.
They had been recognized. They had been bound.
And yet, deep in Ethan's chest, a quiet dread whispered:
What have we given away?
---
That night, the city roared with revelry. Taverns spilled over with laughter, beasts feasted on fresh kills, and drunken hunters sang of glory and death.
But Ethan sat in silence on a balcony overlooking the city. Shadowfang lay beside him, head on its paws, eyes never still.
The bond pulsed faintly between them, stronger than ever after the trial and the oath. And yet, Ethan couldn't shake the weight of the chains he had felt.
A knock on the door broke his thoughts.
Lyra stepped in, serpent coiled lazily around her shoulders, eyes gleaming like twin blades.
"Quite the performance, Alpha Slayer," she said softly, lips curving in that faint smile that never reached her eyes. "But don't let the applause fool you. This Guild doesn't raise heroes. It devours them."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"
Her smile sharpened.
"To see if you survive long enough to matter."
And with that, she turned and vanished into the night.
Ethan stared after her, heart heavy.
The trial had tested his body. The Guild would test his soul.
And something told him the real hunt was only beginning.
---
Chapter End.
---