The silver pouch clinked with every step Aryan took.
The weight of his hard-earned money felt almost as satisfying as the weight of the serpent's corpse he had dragged through the wasteland. He had survived another battle. No—he had won it. But in Drezan, the line between survival and slaughter was razor-thin.
He kept his head low as he exited the BLADE Exchange, careful to avoid the sharp glares from older hunters. Many of them bore scars older than Aryan's entire life
His thoughts raced ahead: new gear, more training, a hot meal, maybe saving a few chips this time. He turned toward the path leading to the sleeping quarters.
Then he stopped.
Five figures stood in his way.
They wore ragged armor and carried gleaming weapons. Their eyes studied him like wolves watching a lone cub.
Aryan's fingers slipped toward the knife at his belt. "What do you want?" he asked, voice steady despite the tension. "Move."
The one in front stepped forward.
He was tall, tan-skinned, with crimson-dyed spiked hair and a curved sword strapped across his back. He raised both hands in a calm gesture.
"Easy," he said with a half-smile. "We're not here to rob you."
Aryan didn't relax. "Then what?"
"Name's Kat," the boy said. "These are my teammates—Reno, Kira, Dust, and Mal."
Each gave a silent nod. They looked young—maybe nineteen or twenty—but experienced. Like they'd seen death and smiled back.
Kat continued, "We saw you earlier. Dragging that serpent out of the lake. Alone. That's not something most people pull off. Especially someone your size."
Aryan's jaw tensed. "Get to the point."
Kat grinned. "Straight to business. I like that. We want you to join us."
Aryan blinked. "Join… your team?"
Kat nodded. "Just for a mission. Tomorrow morning, 7 a.m. sharp. We're headed beyond the southern edge of the wastelands. Got intel about a few B and C-rank beasts hanging around a collapsed outpost."
His grin faded. "It's dangerous. We'll need every blade we can get. And you've got guts, I'll give you that."
Aryan frowned. "You don't even know me."
"No, we don't," Kat agreed. "But I know strength when I see it. You killed a water serpent in its own territory. That takes more than luck—it takes instinct… and desperation."
Aryan glanced down, his fingers tightening around the coin pouch.
He wasn't wrong.
"Why would I trust any of you?" Aryan asked quietly. "What's stopping you from killing me after the fight?"
Kat's gaze hardened. "Same reason we haven't killed each other. We split every hunt fair. No backstabs. No lies. That's the only reason we're still breathing."
Kira, the only girl in the group, spoke up. Her voice was cool but honest. "We're not saints. But we're not trash either."
Aryan looked at them. They could be a trap. Or a chance.
I've nearly died twice already. I can't keep going alone forever.
He took a breath. "Alright. I'll come."
Kat's grin returned. "Good. Meet us at the main gate. 7 a.m. sharp. Bring whatever gear you've got."
Aryan nodded once. "I'll be there."
Without another word, the group turned and disappeared down the narrow alley, their footsteps echoing into the distance.
Alone again, Aryan stood in silence.
Was this the start of something more?
Or just another gamble that might kill him?
Either way, he had made a choice.