The steel door opened with a hiss. Oz stepped out, a little stiff, still holding Coco.
Outside the test room, a man in a dark grey uniform waited by a desk. He didn't smile, but he didn't look angry or mean either,just tired. His badge read K. Danvers, and his jacket had the symbol of the National Hunters Association sewn onto the shoulder: a curved sword piercing a circle, meant to represent a cracked planet.
"You Oswald?" the man asked without looking up from his clipboard.
"Yeah," Oz said.
Danvers handed him a small black card.it was smoother than it looked, with his name written across it in shiny silver letters.
[NHA Cadet Hunter ID]
Name: Oswald
Level: 1
Clearance: E-Rank (Probationary)
Status: Verified Active
The card felt almost weightless in his hand, yet sturdy and unbreakable. It was made using dungeon materials after all. It could track and update his level as he progressed, and it stored records of completed missions. It wasn't just an identity card,it was his way of moving up in the guild.
"Congrats," Danvers said, flipping the clipboard shut. "You're officially a hunter now. If you want to get your skill appraised, head to the Guild building across the plaza. It's free for new registrations."
Oz nodded and slid the card into his pocket.
"Thanks," he said as he walked past.
"And try not to die," Danvers added, pressing a green button on his console.
The big stone courtyard was packed with people. Some were cheering, hugging, even crying. Others looked serious, upset, or straight-up depressed. It was the unfair lottery that was life. Dozens of people Oz had trained with for four months,most of whom he'd never see again.
Oz took a deep breath of fresh air and soaked it all in, looking around, not expecting to see anyone waiting for him.
But standing off to the side, leaning against a short stone wall, stood Mr. Han, the bakery chef. He looked exactly the same as always,apron still on, cigarette in one hand, and a paper bag in the other.
"Thought you'd show up late," Han said, not moving.
Oz blinked, surprised. "Didn't think you'd come."
Han shrugged. "Didn't want you dying without paying off your bread tab."
Oz laughed, not because it was that funny, but because it felt good to know someone genuinely cared about him. When he arrived here with no parents or living relatives, Mr. Han's generosity was the only reason he'd been able to keep a roof over his head and food on the table.
Han walked over and pushed the warm bag into his chest.
"Egg rolls. Still hot. You'll need the energy."
"Thanks," Oz said softly. "Really."
They stood there for a second, saying nothing.
Oz knew Han didn't do hugs or sappy words. He wasn't that kind of guy. But still, he had shown up. Even left work in the middle of the afternoon. Just for him.
"You gonna quit?" Han asked, eyeing the ID card in Oz's hand.
"Yeah," Oz grinned. "I think I'm done with early mornings and flour dust."
Han lit another cigarette and gave him a sideways look. "Then make it count. Don't end up some rookie with a pretty card and a gravestone."
"I'll try."
Han grunted and turned back toward the city. "If it doesn't work out, there's still dough to knead."
Oz smiled. No matter how hard Mr. Han tried to act tough, Oz couldn't help but find him kind of adorable.
"I'll make sure to come tip big when I'm rich!"
"Haha! You're acting like you had a choice!" the baker called back, waving his hand as he walked away.
Oz walked down the main street toward the Hunters Guild building, eating an egg roll straight from the bag. It was greasy, hot, and probably the best thing he'd tasted in months. His clerk salary hadn't allowed him to eat so lavishly,even with the employee discount.
His spear tapped lightly against his back with each step.
Oz still couldn't believe it.
He was a hunter now.
And he had a skill worth something.
As he turned the corner, the tall glass building of the Guild building came into view, sleek and modern, built right in the heart of the district. A few other new hunters were entering already.
Oz slowed his walk.
He was still thinking about what Danvers had said.
"Get your skill appraised."
That's what most people did. The Guild would have a scribe, priest, or another classer use the Appraise skill to reveal what your innate skill actually did, and what rank it was. That, combined with your how your relative combat score for a level 1, would determine how many guilds or sponsors came knocking.
But there were downsides .
Once your skill was appraised, it went on record. Guilds would know. Recruiters too. Anyone with access to the Hunter Network could look it up. And… well… Oz wasn't sure he wanted people knowing he had Swiftstride so early.
It gave him +4 Agility per level.
That was insane. Ridiculous, even.
With just a few levels, he'd be faster than most C-rankers. Maybe even tanky B-rankers. And by the time he got a class, He'd be well ahead of the curve.
But if people knew that, they'd want him, try to use him and if he refused it'd probably end badly.
On the other hand, if he kept it a secret, he might miss out on great gear, better missions, and early support.
It was a trade-off:
Hide the skill, stay safe.
Reveal the skill, rise fast.
Oz chewed slowly, thinking. 'I didn't come this far just to stay small'. But he also hadn't come here just to end up being someone else's pawn.
He looked up at the tall Guild doors and the glowing blue symbol above them.
There was a decision to make.