Halren had discovered many unusual things about Kael since the young-looking man entered Greyhaven.
He had learned that Kael considered the deeper regions of the Hollow Depth an acceptable place to live, possessed monster materials that regional appraisers couldn’t identify, could apparently exist in multiple places simultaneously, and had recently discovered a creature so large that he had once mistaken part of its body for an underground geological formation.
None of those discoveries, however, had prepared Halren for the piece of paper currently sitting on his desk.
He read it again.
Then once more.
Finally, he looked toward the assistant standing across from him.
“You’re certain?” “Yes, Director.” “Check again.” “We already checked three times.” Halren leaned back.
There was no record of Kael.
None.
No registered birthplace.
No citizenship.
No Guild membership.
No hunter license.
No expedition permits.
No known family.
No record of entry through any recognized border crossing.
As far as every official archive available to the Greyhaven Guild was concerned, Kael simply didn’t exist.
Halren rubbed his forehead.
“How has he been in Greyhaven this long without anyone noticing this?” His assistant hesitated.
“Sir…he’s been here less than two weeks.” Halren slowly lowered his hand.
It felt considerably longer.
“Send someone.” The messenger found Kael exactly where Rhea expected him to be.
Standing in the training yard.
Rhea, meanwhile, was blindfolded and attempting to cross the increasingly complicated obstacle course Kael had constructed for her.
She moved carefully, listening to the faint creak of ropes and the subtle changes in air around the hanging wooden blocks.
Her foot avoided the first obstacle.
She ducked beneath the second, turned around a swinging weight, and continued forward.
The opposite wall was only two steps away.
A wooden block brushed her shoulder.
Rhea stopped.
“No.” Kael stood nearby.
“Again.” She ripped off the blindfold.
“That was almost perfect.” “Almost.” “That should count for something.” “It counts as almost.” Rhea opened her mouth to argue when someone knocked at the front gate.
One of Kael’s occupied positions opened it while the Kael beside Rhea remained where he was.
The Guild messenger stood outside.
“Sir Kael, Director Halren requests that you visit the Guild.” Rhea immediately looked suspicious.
“What did Master do?” “Nothing.” “Then why does Halren want him?” The messenger looked slightly uncomfortable.
“Apparently…he doesn’t legally exist.” Rhea slowly turned toward Kael.
Kael considered that.
“That sounds inconvenient.” “It is,” the messenger replied.
After the man left, Rhea explained the problem while Kael gathered absolutely nothing for the trip to the Guild.
Identification wasn’t something he had thought about since entering civilization.
A century in the Hollow Depth had given him very little reason to care about paperwork.
“If you want to own property, maintain certain accounts, accept official contracts, use Guild transport, cross controlled borders, or enter some restricted territories, you’ll need recognized identification,” Rhea explained.
Kael looked at her.
“Do I need identification to walk across a border?” Rhea stopped.
“Technically…no.” “Then why—” “Because sometimes not walking through every problem is easier.” Kael considered that.
Rhea waited.
“Fair.” She blinked.
Arguments with Kael became considerably easier when she framed civilization as a matter of convenience rather than authority.
Halren was waiting when they arrived at the Guild.
“The easiest solution is hunter registration,” he explained after they entered his office.
“The Guild has provisions for people from remote settlements, undocumented regions, and isolated communities.
A Guild identity is also recognized across most neighboring territories.” “Can I cross borders with it?” “Yes.” Kael nodded.
“Fine.” Halren had expected considerably more resistance.
The registration clerk hadn’t.
She sat behind a desk with several forms arranged in front of her.
“Name?” “Kael.” She wrote.
“Surname?” “Don’t have one.” The pen paused briefly before continuing.
“Place of birth?” Kael thought about Earth.
“Far away.” The clerk looked up.
Halren sighed.
“Mark origin as unverified.” She did.
“Age?” Kael became quiet.
Rhea’s attention immediately sharpened.
The clerk waited.
“Your age, sir?” “Around one hundred and twenty-five.” The pen stopped.
Rhea stopped breathing.
The clerk looked up.
Halren didn’t move.
Kael waited.
Rhea’s head slowly turned.
“What?” Kael looked at her.
“One hundred and twenty-five?” “Approximately.” “You’re one hundred and twenty-five years old?” “Approximately.” Rhea stared at his face.
Kael looked no older than twenty-five.
Her mind raced backward through every conversation they had shared.
Longer than five years.
Longer than ten.
Her joking guess.
A hundred?
The half-second pause.
Rhea stood so quickly that her chair scraped across the floor.
“You were in the Hollow Depth for ONE HUNDRED YEARS?” Several people outside the registration room looked toward the door.
Kael remained completely calm.
“Approximately.” Rhea pointed at him.
“You said you were there for a while!” “A hundred years is a while.” “No!
A few months is a while!
Maybe two years is a while!
A CENTURY IS NOT ‘A WHILE’!” The clerk looked between them.
“Is this a joke?” “No,” Halren said.
The clerk looked toward him.
Halren’s expression made it clear that he had stopped assuming anything about Kael was a joke.
“Do you have proof of age?” “No.” “Birth certificate?” “No.” “Family records?” “No.” “Any document issued before arriving in Greyhaven?” “No.” The clerk stared at the empty sections of the form.
Halren intervened.
“Use the declared-age provision.” Eventually the form was completed.
Name: Kael.
Age: Approximately 125.
Origin: Unverified.
Previous Residence: Hollow Depth.
The clerk stared at the final line for several seconds.
“One hundred years?” Kael nodded.
She stopped asking questions.
Unfortunately, registration created another problem.
Rank.
Normally, new hunters entered the Guild through the lowest classification and advanced through examinations, completed contracts, and demonstrated combat ability.
Halren knew perfectly well that assigning Kael the lowest rank would be ridiculous.
Kael didn’t care.
“Lowest is fine.” “It really isn’t,” Halren replied.
“Why?” “Because low-ranked hunters aren’t authorized to enter certain regions or accept higher-level contracts.” Kael looked at him.
“Who’s going to stop me?” Halren closed his eyes.
Rhea stepped forward.
“Master, we’re trying to make you legal.” “I am legal.” “Officially legal.” Kael looked toward Halren.
“What’s faster?” “Special evaluation.” “Do that.” The evaluation hall occupied a reinforced section behind the Guild’s main building.
Several examiners were summoned after Halren personally requested the test.
Before entering, Halren stopped Kael.
“One request.” “What?” “Please don’t destroy the testing facility.” Kael frowned.
“Why would I?” Halren stared at him.
Rhea stared at him.
Kael sighed.
“Fine.” The first test measured physical strength.
A reinforced impact device stood against the wall.
The examiner gestured toward it.
“Strike as hard as you can.” Rhea immediately stepped between Kael and the machine.
“NO.” Everyone turned toward her.
The examiner frowned.
“Miss?” “Give him a number.” “What?” “A target.
Tell him exactly how hard you want him to hit.” The examiner looked toward Kael.
Kael waited calmly.
Halren nodded.
“Do what she says.” The examiner adjusted the device.
“Strike with enough force to reach eight hundred units.” Kael walked forward.
One punch.
The display stopped.
800.
Exactly.
The examiner frowned.
He recalibrated.
“One thousand.” Kael struck.
1000.
Another machine was brought out.
A stronger one.
“Two thousand.” 2000.
Finally, they brought Greyhaven’s strongest available measuring device.
The examiner looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“Maximum safe reading is five thousand.” Kael punched.
The machine shook.
5000.
Not 4,999.
Not 5,001.
Exactly five thousand.
Halren’s expression became more serious.
Destroying the machine would have been impressive.
Stopping precisely at its limit was worse.
The speed test went similarly.
Mechanical targets appeared around Kael in randomized sequences.
He touched every one before the examiner could properly follow his movements.
The speed increased.
Same result.
Again.
Same.
Eventually the machine reached its highest setting.
Every target activated almost simultaneously.
Kael touched all of them.
He looked toward the examiner.
“Is it broken?” The man stared at the control panel.
“No.” Rhea folded her arms.
“It wishes it was.” Then came perception.
The examiners placed objects behind barriers.
Kael identified them.
They used sealed boxes.
He identified those too.
A soundproof compartment changed nothing.
One increasingly competitive examiner secretly placed a copper coin inside his left shoe.
Kael looked at him.
“Left shoe.” The examiner froze.
“How?” “It’s there.” Kael pointed beneath the evaluation desk.
“There’s also a knife under that.” The examiner looked toward Halren.
“That’s the emergency weapon.” Kael nodded.
The perception test ended shortly afterward.
The final examination was combat.
A veteran evaluator named Corven entered the arena.
Unlike Garron, he showed no arrogance.
He greeted Kael respectfully and explained the rules before drawing a blunted training sword.
“I’d like to evaluate combat skill rather than unusual abilities.
Would you mind avoiding whatever you used on the Vale hunters?” “Decay.” “Yes.
That.” “Fine.” “And the multiple positions?” “Fine.” Corven smiled.
“Thank you.” Kael entered the ring.
Rhea watched carefully.
For once, Kael stood alone.
No Decay Domain.
No additional occupied positions.
Corven moved first.
His technique was excellent.
Rhea could see why the Guild trusted him as an evaluator.
His footwork was controlled, his guard compact, and his first strike transitioned naturally into a second.
Kael moved one step.
That was all.
His finger touched Corven’s shoulder.
The veteran’s balance vanished.
He landed on his back.
Silence.
Corven blinked.
Then laughed and stood.
“Again.” He attacked differently.
Kael shifted half a step.
One finger touched Corven near the elbow.
The man’s own momentum turned against him.
Ground.
Corven stood again.
The third attempt lasted slightly longer.
Four seconds.
Then Kael touched his wrist.
Corven’s sword dropped.
Kael touched his shoulder.
Corven fell.
The veteran remained on the ground for a moment before laughing.
“I surrender.” Kael offered him a hand.
Corven accepted.
“You weren’t overpowering me.” “No.” “You knew exactly where my balance would fail.” “Yes.” Corven shook his head.
“I’ve been fighting longer than you look old.” Rhea made a strange choking sound from outside the ring.
Kael looked toward her.
She pointed at him.
“Don’t.” The evaluation results created another administrative problem.
Every available machine had reached its limit.
The perception examination had become meaningless.
The combat evaluator had voluntarily ended the test.
Halren couldn’t assign Kael a normal rank with any confidence.
Eventually he returned carrying a dark identification card.
“This classification is rarely used.” Kael took it.
Across the front was his name.
Beneath it: UNMEASURED HUNTER Rhea leaned closer.
“What does that mean?” Halren answered.
“It means available Guild procedures cannot establish the upper boundary of his capabilities.
It grants permissions equivalent to our highest standard hunter classifications without pretending we’ve accurately measured him.” Kael examined the card.
“Can I cross borders?” “Yes.” “Restricted regions?” “Most of them.” “Buy food?” Rhea stared at him.
“MASTER.” “What?
That’s useful.” Halren laughed despite himself.
They left the Guild shortly afterward.
The main hall was considerably busier now, and Rhea noticed the attention almost immediately.
Hunters were watching her.
Some whispered.
Others simply stared.
Word had spread.
The Silver-ranked hunter who disappeared into the Hollow Depth and returned with an unknown master had become interesting.
Rhea shifted uncomfortably.
“They’re looking at me.” Kael glanced around.
“Yes.” “They’re looking because of you.” “I’m not you.” Rhea stared at him.
“That isn’t how reputation works.” Kael had already stopped listening.
Something on the contract board had caught his attention.
He walked toward it.
Rhea followed.
Hundreds of notices covered the enormous board: extermination requests, escort missions, material collection jobs, exploration contracts, missing-person searches, and expedition recruitment.
Kael ignored most of them.
Then he stopped.
A merchant caravan was preparing to leave Greyhaven for the northern city of Veyrun.
The journey would take several weeks by ordinary roads, passing along the edge of a vast wilderness region before connecting to the major northern trade routes.
The payment was substantial.
Kael barely looked at it.
He studied the route.
For a century, his world had been the Hollow Depth.
Now he had seen Greyhaven.
One city.
One tiny part of an enormous world.
Kael removed the contract from the board.
Rhea’s eyes widened.
“Master.” “Hmm?” “You’re not thinking about accepting a contract, are you?” “Maybe.” “Why?
You don’t need the money.” “I know.” “Then why?” Kael looked at the destination again.
Veyrun.
Beyond it were more cities.
More territories.
More places that didn’t exist anywhere in his memories.
He folded the notice.
“I haven’t been there.” Rhea became quiet.
That answer was enough.
Kael hadn’t taken the notice because the Guild needed him.
He didn’t care about advancing his new hunter classification.
He certainly didn’t need the reward.
He simply wanted to see somewhere new.
After nearly a century spent inside the Hollow Depth, the world had finally become larger than the forest around him.
Kael slipped the contract into his pocket and walked toward the registration counter.
Rhea watched him go.
Then she looked at the northern destination written on the board.
Her quiet life in Greyhaven had apparently lasted exactly as long as her master’s curiosity allowed.
And judging by what she had learned about Kael so far, she suspected the road to Veyrun was unlikely to remain a normal road for very long.