The receptionist stared at Asura for several seconds before her attention returned to me. There was no fear in her expression, only the mild confusion of someone trying to understand why a black dog had walked into the Hunter Headquarters with the posture of an offended nobleman. Asura held his head high, his chest slightly forward, and his tail perfectly still, as though he had entered the building expecting an audience and was quietly disappointed by the quality of the reception.
There was no registration tag around his collar yet. He hadn’t even been registered.
"Animals aren’t allowed inside unless they’re registered as beast companions," the receptionist said. "Has he been registered already?"
"No."
Asura turned his head toward me.
"I do not require registration."
To the receptionist, it came out as nothing more than a deep, displeased bark.
I sighed. "He has strong opinions about that."
The receptionist glanced at him again before reaching beneath the counter and pulling out a form. "Then you’ll need to fill this out first. We require the companion’s name, species, approximate age, temperament, and owner’s information. Once everything is checked, we’ll issue the registration tag."
I took the form and pen.
"Asura."
"Write my true name properly."
"I know your name."
"And my title."
"No."
"I am the King of Shadows."
"You are currently a dog standing in a government office."
His ears flattened.
"I am not a dog."
"That’s going to be difficult to explain to everyone else."
The receptionist glanced up at another bark and then, apparently deciding that we were simply one more strange pair passing through her workplace, returned to the form.
"Species?"
I paused.
That question was considerably more troublesome than it should have been.
Asura leaned toward the paper.
"Ancient divine beast."
I wrote, Special breed.
He stared at me.
"You have reduced my existence to two words."
"Two useful words."
"I am not a breed."
"Then don’t make me explain ten thousand years of your history to a receptionist."
"I have never hidden my identity."
"I have."
The receptionist looked up again.
"Everything alright?"
"Perfectly."
Asura gave another irritated bark.
I smiled politely. "He’s difficult."
"That much seems clear."
I continued filling out the form.
"Approximate age?"
"Ten thousand years."
"Unknown."
Asura slowly turned toward me.
"You ignored me again."
"Because the truth would be less useful."
"The purpose of a form is to record the truth."
"The purpose of this form is to let you walk inside without causing a bureaucratic disaster."
The receptionist’s mouth twitched.
I decided not to determine whether she was trying not to laugh.
"Temperament?"
I looked down at Asura.
He looked back.
There were several possible answers. Arrogant. Violent. Stubborn. Ancient. Insufferable. None seemed especially appropriate for an official record.
"Complicated."
His eyes narrowed.
"That is insulting."
"It is accurate."
"Do you consider me difficult?"
"Yes."
He looked personally betrayed.
I continued before the argument could grow. "He’s protective if his companion is threatened."
That, at least, was true.
The receptionist nodded and wrote it down.
"And does he have a handler?"
"He travels with me."
"Then we’ll register him under your name. What should I put down?"
I answered without hesitation.
"Kain Hans."
The name still felt slightly strange when I heard it spoken aloud.
Kain Valerian belonged to a family, a house, a title, and an endless number of expectations I had no desire to carry while traveling. Kain Hans was different. It was only a name I had chosen because I needed one. It had no history here, no reputation, and no reason for anyone to look at me twice after I walked away. There was something comforting about that. For once, being unknown felt like a privilege.
The receptionist recorded the name and finished checking the form. She stamped it, then reached beneath the counter and brought out a small metal identification plate with a clasp.
"This is his registration tag. It links him to your Hunter record and confirms that he’s a registered beast companion. Keep it attached whenever he accompanies you on official requests."
I crouched and fastened the tag to Asura’s collar.
The little metal plate settled against his chest.
Asura looked down.
He remained silent for several seconds.
Then he slowly raised his head.
"I have been assigned a number."
"You have."
"I am an ancient existence."
"You’re also officially registered."
"This is degrading."
I smiled.
"Congratulations. You’re somebody’s pet."
The air around him seemed to grow colder.
"I am going to remember this."
"I hope so."
I gave his head a light pat.
His eyes narrowed.
The receptionist wisely looked away and pretended to organize the papers.
"Now for your registration," she said.
I stood and took the next form.
That part was easier. I gave my name as Kain Hans, listed my age as twenty-four, and kept my background as vague as possible. I was a traveler looking for work. Nothing more. No noble family. No estate. No connection that needed explaining.
The receptionist entered the information into the registry, then handed me a plain Hunter card.
"Kain Hans. Beginner rank."
I turned the card over in my hand.
That was it.
No family crest.
No title.
No one asking what House I belonged to or why the third son of a great noble family had decided to register as a common Hunter.
Just a name stamped onto a piece of metal.
I liked it more than I expected.
The receptionist continued explaining how the Hunter system worked. Beginners were limited to basic requests until they accumulated enough successful work to qualify for promotion. Payments were released once requests were completed and verified, and higher-ranked Hunters gained access to more dangerous assignments and greater rewards.
The work itself was broader than I had imagined. Hunters gathered herbs, searched for missing livestock, helped merchants, escorted travelers, delivered goods, and dealt with wild beasts when necessary. It wasn’t a profession built entirely around killing monsters.
In reality, the Hunter Headquarters felt less like a gathering place for legendary adventurers and more like an employment office where everyone happened to carry weapons.
That suited me perfectly.
I wasn’t looking for glory.
I wasn’t trying to become famous.
I certainly wasn’t planning to risk my life every morning just because somebody had pinned a dramatic-looking request onto a board.
Getting paid without getting stabbed sounded like a respectable career.
I walked toward the request board with Asura beside me.
There were dozens of notices pinned across it, some neatly arranged and others hanging at awkward angles where someone had apparently run out of room. Herb gathering offered eight rums. Merchant assistance offered six. A lost livestock request promised five. There was a short escort for ten and a low-level beast extermination for fifteen.
Then I saw the delivery request.
Bellwood Village — Twelve Rums.
My eyes stopped there.
Twelve.
My hand drifted toward the pouch beneath my coat.
Twenty rums.
That was everything I had left.
The rest of my money was somewhere in the Ghost Forest, probably buried beneath leaves or forgotten beside one of the paths I had fled through while being chased by a mythical wolf. Twenty rums had seemed acceptable when I first counted them. It felt considerably less impressive now that I had a room to pay for, food to buy, and absolutely no idea when the next decent job would appear.
Twelve more would bring me to thirty-two.
Thirty-two wasn’t wealth.
It wasn’t even comfort.
But it was enough to make the next few days feel less uncertain.
I pulled the delivery request from the board.
"This one."
Asura read the notice.
"A delivery?"
"Yes."
"You traveled through a cursed forest, entered a dungeon, consumed the heart of a dead King of Wolves, and survived whatever that place was."
"And now I’m delivering a package."
He regarded me in silence.
"Your ambitions are strangely modest."
"My ambitions are alive."
He seemed to consider that.
"That is a fair standard."
We returned to the receptionist, who checked the request against my Hunter card and entered it into the system. A clerk soon came back carrying a small package wrapped in brown cloth. A neat red wax seal held it closed.
"The recipient’s information is on the request," the clerk said as he handed it over. "Keep the seal intact. When you arrive, the recipient will verify the package and sign the confirmation slip. Once you return that confirmation, the payment will be released."
I slipped the package carefully into my shoulder bag.
Asura leaned closer and sniffed.
I moved the bag away from him.
"What are you doing?"
"Investigating."
"With your nose?"
"That is one of its purposes."
"You’re not opening it."
"I didn’t say I was."
"You were thinking about it."
"I often think about many things."
"That’s the problem."
Asura sat down with an expression of offended innocence.
We left the headquarters shortly afterward.
The difference between the building and the street outside was immediate. Inside, there had been the constant movement of Hunters coming and going, clerks arguing over paperwork, and the low murmur of people discussing jobs. Outside, the town felt warmer and less organized. Merchants called to customers from their stalls, carts squeezed through the crowded roads, and people crossed in every direction without paying us much attention.
I liked that.
Nobody looked twice at me.
Nobody knew Kain Valerian was walking through the street.
Nobody cared who my father was, which house I belonged to, or whether I had any right to the name on my Hunter card.
For the first time since coming to this world, I was simply a traveler with a black dog and a delivery to make.
There was a quiet freedom in that.
We gradually left the busier streets behind. The buildings thinned, the roads widened, and before long the sounds of the town faded into the softer noises of the countryside. Fields stretched beneath the afternoon sky, broken by scattered trees and narrow fences. The road ahead was plain and dusty, but there was nothing threatening about it.
We walked in comfortable silence.
My bag rested against my side.
The Hunter card was in my pocket.
The delivery was secured.
Twenty rums remained in my pouch, and twelve more were waiting for me at the end of the road.
For once, I could imagine the shape of an ordinary life.
It wouldn’t be impressive.
I might never become important.
That sounded wonderful.
I had just started thinking that perhaps nothing would happen during this trip when the road ahead revealed a broken cart.
It stood slightly off the roadside, tilted awkwardly because one of its wheels had come free. Several wooden crates were scattered through the grass around it.
At first glance, there was nothing strange about it.
Carts broke.
Wheels snapped.
Goods fell.
People had accidents every day.
We would probably have walked straight past it if there had been a horse.
There wasn’t.
I slowed.
Asura did the same.
I looked around the cart.
The road was soft enough to hold tracks, but I couldn’t see any fresh hoofprints leading away from it. The wheel had broken, but the cart itself hadn’t collapsed in the way I would have expected. One crate had tipped onto its side, while another sat almost upright several feet away, as though someone had placed it there rather than thrown it from a moving vehicle.
I took another step.
Something felt wrong.
Not dangerous.
Not yet.
Just wrong.
My gaze moved to the grass.
There were marks there.
Bootprints.
At first they looked random, but the farther I followed them, the clearer the pattern became.
They didn’t lead away from the cart.
They disappeared into the trees.
I stopped.
The afternoon breeze moved through the branches overhead, sending a soft rustle through the leaves. For a moment, everything looked completely natural.
Then a patch of grass several yards away shifted against the direction of the wind.
Only slightly.
I watched it.
Nothing happened.
I waited.
Again, the grass moved.
This time I noticed a faint depression beside it.
Someone had been standing there.
My heartbeat quickened.
The change in my senses since consuming Muse’s heart had been subtle. I wasn’t suddenly capable of seeing through walls or hearing whispers from across the kingdom. The world simply seemed sharper around the edges now. Sounds separated more easily. Small movements caught my attention before they should have. Things that once would have blended into the background occasionally stood out with uncomfortable clarity.
This scene had too many details that didn’t belong together.
The missing horse.
The broken wheel.
The scattered crates.
The footprints.
The grass.
Someone wanted travelers to stop here.
And we had.
I slowly moved my hand toward the strap of my bag.
"Asura."
He had already stopped looking at the cart.
His head was raised, his nose turned toward the wind.
"How many?"
He took a slow breath.
"Six."
A knot tightened in my stomach.
I looked back at the road behind us.
Empty.
The silence suddenly felt different.
A moment ago, it had been peaceful.
Now it felt like the countryside was holding its breath.
I didn’t run.
Running without knowing where the danger was would have been stupid.
I simply stood there and watched.
Nothing moved.
Then a man’s voice came from the trees.
"You can stop pretending you haven’t noticed us."
A figure stepped onto the road.
He looked ordinary.
Worn leather armor.
A sword at his waist.
A face weathered by too many days outside.
Another man emerged near the broken cart.
Then two more from the trees on the left.
I turned slightly.
A fifth stood behind us.
The sixth remained hidden until a faint movement in the grass gave him away.
They had surrounded us without making enough noise for me to notice.
That realization was worse than the weapons.
The man in front seemed to be their leader. His eyes moved directly to my shoulder bag.
"Hand over the package."
I said nothing.
"And your money."
My fingers tightened around the strap.
Twenty rums.
Everything I had.
I wondered, briefly, whether I had made some terrible mistake by choosing the cheapest possible career.
"I don’t have much," I said.
"That doesn’t matter."
"How much do you think I have?"
"Enough."
"Twenty rums."
The leader smiled.
"All of it."
"Yes."
He extended one hand.
"Then hand it over."
I looked at him.
That was surprisingly direct.
One of the bandits glanced at Asura.
"What about the dog?"
"He’s registered."
The man laughed.
"I don’t care."
He stepped toward Asura.
Asura didn’t move.
"Cute little thing."
The man crouched and reached for his collar.
I felt the shift in Asura before he moved.
"Don’t."
The man ignored me.
His fingers brushed the fur near Asura’s neck.
Asura’s jaws snapped shut around his hand.
The man shouted and staggered backward.
Asura released him immediately and returned to my side.
"He touched me."
I stared at him.
"You could have moved."
"I chose not to."
"That was obvious."
The wounded man cradled his hand and began swearing.
The leader’s expression hardened.
"Kill the dog."
Weapons came free.
And just like that, the strange little tension I had been carrying dissolved into something much simpler.
Danger.
Real danger.
Asura lowered his body.
He wasn’t boasting.
He wasn’t announcing himself.
He wasn’t telling them that he had once ruled the Great Sea or that gods had feared his name.
He was simply watching them.
His eyes moved from one weapon to another, from one pair of feet to the next. Every bit of laziness had disappeared from his posture. There was something unsettlingly calm in the way he measured the men around us, as though the joking creature I had spent the last several days arguing with had been pushed aside and something far older had taken his place.
I shifted my stance.
My senses stretched toward the trees.
The six men were still there.
Six ordinary bandits.
That much I could understand.
What I couldn’t understand was why Asura wasn’t looking at them.
His gaze had moved beyond the men.
Toward the forest.
His ears twitched.
Then froze.
"Asura?"
No answer.
He took another breath.
His expression tightened.
I followed his line of sight into the trees.
Nothing.
No movement.
No figure.
Only branches, leaves, and deepening shadows between the trunks.
The leader raised his sword.
The men began closing in.
I tightened my grip on the bag.
This was supposed to be a twelve-rum delivery.
A simple job.
Walk to Bellwood Village.
Hand over a package.
Come back.
That had been the plan.
Then Asura looked at me.
"Kain."
His voice was low.
"What?"
For the first time since I had known him, I heard no irritation in his voice.
No arrogance.
No joke.
He was afraid.
Not of the six men.
Of whatever was beyond them.
"Run."
I froze.
The bandits charged.
And I ran.