Once I’d completed my full rundown of the room, Rhuda looked at me wearily. “You sure know a lot about them, don’tcha, Krai? I’m getting tired just listening.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but where are you looking to end up?”
“Hmm... Nowhere in particular. I’m pretty much useless.”
I had no forte. Forget about jacks-of-all-trades; I was the master of none. That was me. I had neither courage nor strength. The faint flicker of passion I’d had back when I still believed in myself had long since been extinguished.
Needless to say, hunting was dangerous work. Seventy percent of hunters met their ends in treasure vaults. A guy like me wasn’t made for that kind of risk. I’d used my talent as an excuse and all, but maybe my guts were the real problem. Urgh, I was gonna barf.
“Is that so? Then, if you don’t mind, how about forming a party with me?” Rhuda asked, more cheerfully than she had to. I think she meant it. My heart constricted, and I struggled to breathe.
Rhuda was a good egg among the sea of thugs that called themselves hunters. She hadn’t offered half-heartedly nor in jest. For me, though, just the thought of weighing her down was painful.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’m beyond pity. You should join a party that’s a good match for you for the sake of your career.”
“Oh, okay, I guess.”
I reached for the silver chain that hung from my belt. The cool sensation steadied my heartbeat a bit.
As if to clear the air, Rhuda changed the subject. “Hey, I wonder why they let that table out.” She pointed dramatically at a large uninhabited table behind Ark Brave’s.
“You two really ain’t got a clue, do you?” The big guy from before came stomping over with a sardonic grin. His face had reddened, perhaps from the heat, his massive biceps and savage leather armor looking even more menacing in the light. His mood seemed to have improved from before. Maybe he’d had some success.
Rhuda scowled at him. “What do you want? They’re gonna haul you over the coals.”
“Lighten up, kiddo. Your big shot hunting mentor, the Great Greg, is just tryna give you some friendly advice.”
The Great Greg? Hadn’t heard of him. Of course, I only knew the very top percent of hunters that anyone acquainted with the industry would know. There were plenty of tough guys I didn’t know, so maybe the big guy was still making his mark.
“That table’s for the party that started up First Steps along with Ark Brave. Looks like they blew us off again.”
“The party that founded the clan?” Rhuda blinked.
The Great Greg leaned closer, whispering as if imparting classified information. “The Steps have been running this gig for years now, but the turnout from their end’s bigger than usual today. There’s the Braves, who just beat a Level 7 vault without losing a member, the Crosses and Starlights, who don’t usually recruit... And then there’s those guys over by themselves all decked out with the mark of the Steps.”
The Great Greg gestured towards the edge of the room with his eyes, indicating a disgruntled-looking hunter leaning with his arms crossed against the wall. The hunter, like others in the room, wasn’t wearing the same uniform as the clan members recruiting, but even so, his collar and sleeves were adorned with pins and cuffs depicting silver footsteps. Clan members were mandated to make their insignia visible.
“Why’d ya think those Steps hunters showed up when they’re not even recruiting? There’s gotta be a reason,” he added meaningfully.
The Great Greg had done his research, but I knew a little more than he did. “Those guys are solo hunters within the Steps,” I said.
“Solo hunters can join a clan?” Rhuda asked, surprised.
I nodded. “Parties can be as small as you want. Since only parties can join a clan, a solo hunter can sign up as a party to get in. You’d have to be a pretty capable hunter, though.”
That, or they were just like Rhuda, who happened to have a little luck and talent, and had reaped the rewards for their risky choices.
I turned away from the guy leaning on the wall and pointed at a girl who was aimlessly wandering about the empty table. She had short black hair and wore a black leather combat suit and a dagger on her belt, a skintight getup optimized for mobility. She was perhaps a little younger than Rhuda.
“That’s Tino Shade. She’s a Level 4 solo member of the Steps. Pretty famous.”
“That little girl?”
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Don’t let her age and appearance fool you into thinking she isn’t as hotheaded as any other bruiser here.”
Tino was a Thief, just like Rhuda—a sign of what Rhuda could become. She, another freak that belonged to First Steps, could sweep through the White Wolf’s Den on her own.
For the first time, the Great Greg turned his attention to me, with an air of interest, in fact. “You don’t look like much of a hunter, but you sure know your stuff.”
“Reconnaissance is key. Besides, she’s actually the apprentice of someone I know.”
I tugged on my hood down further. To be more specific, Tino was the apprentice to a friend of mine. In other words, my friend was even more of a freak than this freak. What a development.
“Someone you know?” Rhuda asked.
“I don’t know why she’s here, though,” I said. Tino worked alone. Perhaps she’d gotten tired of it all and was here to finally join a party. It was pretty normal for parties to recruit from within their own clans. Of course, there were better ways to get internally hired than coming to an event like this.
The Great Greg crossed his arms and laughed haughtily. “That’s the stuff I’m talking about. There’s a rumor goin’ around. One of the original Steps parties that hasn’t recruited in years will be here...” he said, his eyes gleaming with grim excitement. His voice carried with it a certain tone as if he were retelling a ghost story. Finally, the Great Greg said it. “Grieving Souls.”
My whole body shook. It felt as though I were standing alone on the precipice of an endless void.
Oblivious to my condition, the Great Greg cracked a grin. “The Grievers run a tight ship, and a small one at that. You’d never catch a glimpse of them outside of an event like this, let alone get a chance at joining their party. Those guys over there are dying to make themselves known to them,” he said, excitement creeping into his voice. Rhuda looked on with astonishment.
The Grievers. My stomach churned whenever I heard that name. That was the nickname my friends and I had assigned to our party a few years back when we’d moved from the countryside to the capital. The young-blooded party of five freaks rose up the ranks in no time, a party strong enough to rival Ark Brave. The party’s official name, however, was Grieving Souls.
Before I knew it, I was parched. Cold sweat trickled down my back. I felt the urge to beg the Great Greg to not say that name, but that would have been too suspicious. I tugged on my hood, desperate to hide every last part of myself.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” Rhuda asked with concern as I sunk deeper inside, shivering. I was gonna barf.