I sneakily took a step back. Avoiding fights whenever possible was another important lesson I had learned since becoming a hunter.
Due to their advantage in strength, hunters were prohibited from harming civilians. If they were to be caught in the act by the knights that keep the peace, they would face criminal charges and a blow to their pride. Even the most quick-tempered of hunters made sure to keep to this code.
On the other hand, fights between hunters were overlooked for the most part. So, despite me being as weak as any civilian, no one would rescue me if I found myself caught up in a hunters’ brawl. Worse, they would blame me for not fighting back, and call me pathetic. What had the world come to?
“Everyone here’s ready to kick ass and take names! I mean, come on—the Steps are recruiting! That lot might be new on the block, but they’re gonna be serious stuff in no time. When a dirt-brained rookie like you wanders in, it’s gonna make the whole lot of us look bad!”
Clans were composed of several parties—groups of hunters who (usually) stuck together. There were various benefits to forming a clan: sharing information and exchanging items, to name a few, not to mention lending out party members in times of need. Some parties within the same clan would team up to take on particularly dangerous treasure vaults. Those connections were vital to making anyone’s hunting career as smooth as possible. That was why the Association also recommended parties join or form a clan.
Today’s recruitment drive, too, was hosted by a clan: the Steps, or more officially “First Steps,” one of the most renowned clans in the capital city of Zebrudia and benefactor of many up-and-coming parties. Despite their lack of history in the business, their influence was growing by the day. As far as I could tell, every hunter based in the capital knew their name.
Ordinarily, parties recruited members on an as-needed basis; however, the Steps hosted a grand recruitment event for all of its parties once a year. Anyone who attended, regardless of their birth, age, or level, was eligible to try out for parties at the event. On the condition that a hunter made a good impression on one, they could be welcomed as the next member of that party.
Naturally, parties that belonged to the Steps were of pretty high caliber. Few passed the clan’s rigorous scrutiny, but I could see how, to a talented hunter with no connections, the event could look like the chance of a lifetime.
Ultimately, though, they would be mistaken; the Steps hired only the crème de la crème of the capital. Just like my friends, the gifts of these clan members went far beyond the realm of mere talent. Most applicants ended up having their inflated self-worth popped to smithereens.
“Excuse me?!” Rhuda snarled. “The ad said levels and experience have nothing to do with it. Besides, I’m Level 3, bozo!”
“Oh? Did someone tell you you’d be playing with the big boys when you got to Level 3? Well, that level there’s run-of-the-mill in the Steps!” the big man fired back.
He was correct, in a sense. Level 3 was only middle of the road. Most well-known parties wouldn’t put much stock in the number. On the other hand, Level 3 was only Rhuda’s current status. Seventy percent of hunters ended their careers at that level, but any hunter with the right ability could climb the ladder higher. If she had made it to Level 3 all by herself, gaining experience in a party would soon take her to new heights. Applicants like Rhuda were precisely why the event advertised no level requirement. No matter how talented a hunter you were, you always started at Level 1.
I thought the guy’s excuse was pretty weak to justify him picking on Rhuda, but I kept my mouth shut. This wasn’t the time to be saying anything unnecessary. Even as I silently watched, Rhuda and the guy continued egging each other on as if I weren’t even there. That was a good sign.
The monstrous man, spitting insults at Rhuda, placed his hand on the sword at his waist—a longsword about a meter long. Unlike Rhuda’s self-defense dagger, his weapon had been crafted to take on monsters and phantoms in treasure vaults.
Truth be told, I wouldn’t have put my money on Rhuda. The big guy was by no means less than Level 3. Even so, she showed no sign of backing down.
“You sayin’ you wanna go? All right, bring it on,” she said, completely undaunted. Her well-shaped lips twisted into a wild grin. Mirroring the behemoth before her, she brushed her dagger with her hand. Then suddenly, she drew it in one spectacular motion.
Treasure hunters weren’t really human anyway. If a hunter got into a fight with a civilian, the hunter would be blamed no matter the circumstances, but when it came to hunter-on-hunter violence, the one who drew their weapon first would come under fire. This was no doubt the reason the guy, who was just as riled up as Rhuda, hadn’t drawn his sword before she did; the man was no stranger to a scrap. Now, even if she ended up beaten to a pulp, Rhuda would earn no sympathy. The law spared no mind to disparity in levels when it came to spats like this.
And here I was, minding my own business. How did I get myself into this mess?
As I silently cursed the wind, rain, and the commotion unfolding ahead of me, a man in white uniform stepped out of the stone building at the front of the line. The uniform resembled that of an imperial officer, with the exception of a silver embroidered pair of footsteps on his collar: the insignia of First Steps.
The man looked just as intimidating as the goliath facing off against Rhuda. Accentuated by the scars on his face, he shot killer glares at both parties before shouting as loud as they were. “Cut it out, both of you! If you’re gonna fight, take it somewhere else! If not, I’ll give you the boot before you even step through that door!”
Rhuda’s opponent clicked his tongue and returned his half-drawn sword to its sheath. Rhuda followed suit with her dagger, the corner of her mouth twitching. Then the line resumed its crawl.