Cogs whirred to life and activated a mechanism that hadn’t been used for decades and the metal gate lazily pulled itself up. It was snappy, often stopping in place before starting its movement moments after. In front of it stood a duo: one was everything you’d see in a classic ‘hunter’, with a broody demeanor, black trench coat over a shirt with a duffel bag in his hand, and evidently in his early forties or late thirties from the slight amount of wrinkles on his face and beard. The other was more mundane, dressed in a dark blue hoodie and jeans, as was the case with most teenagers. That, and he had round glasses.

“This is where all the old tools are,” said the older one and walked into the dark casually. The moonlight didn’t do much, only lighting up the first few steps of the stairway that descended into the abyss. It was made of cold, hard rock. He then turned back and stared at the other, “Come in, quick. The door will close by itself.”

The boy’s hesitation disappeared, the fear of staying in a dark forest in the middle of nowhere with no one to keep him company far eclipsing his fear of the dark —especially now, when the world was infested with monsters. He’d pull out his smartphone to light his path, but it was gone now, fried. Instead, he turned on the flashlight he held in his hand and shed light on the everlasting darkness of the cave. The constant sound of him gripping the handle of the hand crank flashlight and then letting it go always accompanied him, resulting in a rather shaky source of light.

“So you… hunt them?” asked the boy as he walked down the stairs. His hesitation had faded with the light there.

“Me, your mom, your dad before he died, all your uncles and just about everyone and their grandma. It’s a family business,” said the older one. He walked down far too casually as if he could see in the dark.

“Did he die killing monsters?” asked the boy, again.

“No, he died the good ol’ way. Not something a lot of us is blessed with. Write that down, Chris. If you’re dying on a comfortable bed in a hospital, with your family by your side, you’ve fulfilled your dream,” said the old man, who was most definitely not Chris’s father, “You’ll be living the life, whether you want it or not. The normies can’t keep themselves safe.”

“I see. Somehow, I’m not surprised,” said Chris and chuckled. He could remember it all too well —the feeling of having his gut ripped open by a rusty sword, courtesy to the Goblin Stage. Needless to say, he’d been thrown out on the first day after a swift death, and had managed to make his way home. Uncle Jeremy had been waiting there.

“Pfft, at least this System’s helped you transition, but your family’s eccentric,” said Jeremy and shook his head, “You ought to have seen your dad’s face when he found out about monsters. Didn’t even question it and started thinking about how he could create effective weapons. Too bad cancer took him away early.”

“Well, if you asked me whether I wanted to be a doctor or a monster killer, I’d choose the latter any time,” said Chris. They were at the bottom and a smell that was quite similar to his room's when he got back from the military wafted through the air —it was a mandatory, one-year service, “But still, I can’t believe even guns are all broken. It doesn’t even make sense.”

“You’re trying to make sense of it?” asked Jeremy with a chuckle and pulled out a lighter. It wasn’t a cheap, plastic one, but a cool, silver zippo with an insignia on it. It roughly depicted a revolver crossed with a dagger, one that could easily be mistaken as some pirate jolly roger or a Wild West shop sign, “We’re seeing holographic game screens. I think it’s about time to suspend our disbelief.”

Jeremy then pulled a torch from a sconce and lit it on fire. He didn’t put it back, though. He paced around the room, torch in hand, as he lit the other ones. Only then did he put it back in its place. And soon enough, the need for flashlights disappeared. Then he said, “They’ll last about fifteen minutes, so we’ll have to make it quick. See the chest at the entrance? That’s where the torches are. Well… the materials. Grab five sticks and pieces of cloth from there and prep them for the next lot, will you?”

The room itself wasn’t all that large. The height was around 3 meters and the width and length of the room were about ten meters. Not as grand as he expected, but larger than most basements. There were a total of 4 shelves with 4 levels each near the center, but they were evidently not used for books. The walls were lined with short pillars —twelve in total— and upon them were weapons encased in glass boxes that reached the ceiling. But two were empty.

Chris squat down and pulled open the chest. There were around fifty sticks and far more cloths neatly rolled into pieces, ready. As a former boy scout, he knew how to survive. He was almost disappointed when his knowledge didn’t get used in the military. So he pulled out a stick and started to wrap up the tips with the cloth.

“So what are we here to pick up?” asked Chris as he prepared the torches and Jeremy fiddled through the many long boxes lying on the shelves before he finally found the ones he wanted.

“Some Cruciform Damascus daggers, crossbows, and a load of silver-tip bolts,” said Jeremy and finally found whatever he was looking for. He zipped open the duffel bag and threw the aforementioned daggers into it.

“Religious tools? Really?” asked Chris as he finished the five and put them in the bucket of oil. At least that’s what he assumed it was from the smell, “And a Damascus? Come on.”

“Iron and silver in one. Kills all the monsters,” said Jeremy. He zipped the bag closed and pulled open another box. They were all wooden, and as they opened, the smell of old wood wafted across the air. From within, he pulled out two round, black cases that could be worn on the thigh, so he promptly put it on. Next, he was handed a neat bunch of arrows kept together by a rope, most certainly to put into the quiver. He counted twenty, “And no idea about the crosses. It’s just an ancient tradition from the Vatican. Apparently, it helps.”

Then he got the dagger, complete with a sheath with a belt that could be tied around the waist, and so he did. It was twice the size of a combat knife, so he wasn’t used to it. It had a good balance, and as promised, it was Damascus Steel —at least in design. He didn’t expect the crossguard, though, which was a circle with a plus sign shape in the middle, made of steel. It made it look like those ceremonial circles with too many extra things on them.

Chris threw it from hand to hand and then slashed air a few times, and the sound that accompanied was great. He brought it near his finger and poked it slightly. It drew blood and was sharp. He didn’t dare touch the blade, “Sweet. Does the Vatican make these? They’re cooler than they look, then.”

“Did. We’re on limited supply now,” said Uncle Jeremy as he finally brought out the crossbows that resembled an old rifle, with a wooden buttstock and all. And the curve near the edge made it look antique as if he was touching a historical artifact. This one, Jeremy didn’t throw and placed in Chris’s hands. The body was metal, and cold to the touch. It reminded him of that one time he touched a gun —they didn’t shoot guns in the military much. Not enough to go around, they said, and only let them practice with it once, or twice for the lucky ones. It was basically a way to enlist able-bodied men for free labor, “But the crossbows and the bolts. We make them.”

It wasn’t loaded yet.

What Chris noticed was that there were two trigger holes, one slightly in front of the ‘comfortable’ zone. It was too far close to the front.

“The front trigger’s for pulling the string in. Just pull the front trigger, load your arrow and shoot with the back trigger. As simple as that. Ah, don’t shoot it empty. It breaks easier,” said Jeremy, “But don’t worry. Not that easily. Just don’t make it a habit and you’re fine.”

He then gestured at the pillars with his head, “They’re where our most important weapons are. All of them used by the greatest hunters of our family. See that knife there? They say that it’s the one used to kill Dracula —the single greatest accomplishment of hunters. Well, modern ones anyway.”

“Do they get used?” asked Chris as he prowled closer to them, crossbow in hand, “Are they special?”

“Not any more than the other weapons. They’re just cooler,” said Jeremy, not even bothering to lie, “And more or less they’re only ever used to trade with the other hunter families. See those empty ones? My grandfather lost one in a bet with the Helsings. The other one was given to the werebeasts as a token of trust a year or two ago.”

“Yeaaaah, I’m lost,” said Chris and shrugged. The torches were running low. He placed the new ones there and grabbed the old ones, and one by one, he threw them to the ground. They would burn out and get snuffed out on the cold stone floor. The room was barely illuminated now, and only the ground part could be seen, with the upper part completely dark.

“You have years to learn. Let’s get back to the others,” said Jeremy and pulled the duffel bag over his shoulder. Over a dozen knives were somewhat heavy, he supposed.

***

The only trace of modern society were the people that used to live in it who were returning from the Calibration Stage and the humongous skyscrapers that reached the sky. It was night, and the city was dark. Even on the worst of days at 4 AM there was at least a single-window with lights on, whether that be a high-school student playing games far too late or an office worker trying to meet a deadline.

Monsters prowled the streets, both those of the shadow and the System, but not many knew the difference, shivering in their boots, hoping their walls would protect them. But amidst all this despair, there were those who took joy in it —the gangsters that knew nothing of the terrors of the night and the few stray gamers that thought they were ready for the world.

“Did you see that?! Two hits!” shouted a man. His rather underdeveloped chin made it apparent he was somewhat young —an older teen or a young adult. With a leather jacket, a buzz cut and all, he looked like the typical gangster. There was a hearty smile on his face, the tip of the metal pipe in his hand bloody, “I’m getting better!”

There was a trail of bodies near him and his fellows, four in total. One of them held a lantern flashlight which attracted the giant mosquitoes —System monsters. They came in groups of at least eight and swarmed most helpless ones to turn them into husks. That explained the bloody clothes of the group and the pool of blood on the ground. Not many of them had empty stomachs, and what would fill their stomachs was obvious.

The legs of the ones that had been squashed to death often moved, as if asking for help. And help, it wouldn’t get. The city had been infested with these not-so-charismatic bloodsuckers ever since people started to come back from the Calibration. No one knew if they were simply larger versions of the local wildlife or an all-new species. Nerea was notoriously known for the abundance of mosquitoes in the area, due to the river it was near.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, they’re probably some fodders!” said another one of them, this one held a sword he’d brought from the Calibration and swung it ceaselessly. If there was a mosquito near them that had been slashed in half, then they’d be his victim, as the other ones didn’t have sharp weapons. He was the only one that wasn’t visibly sweating despite the plate mail he wore, giving off the image of a warrior, “We might run into another type.”

As for the frozen ones, they would be the prey of the group Elementalist, slinging balls of cold energy that froze whatever it touched upon impact. While it would only cause frostbite to humans, insects were far too weak against the cold. Said mage wore a uniform, with stockings and a skirt and all. And she was the newest member of the group who’d run into them moments after finishing her Calibration, and also the holder of the lantern.

The others had been out for a bit longer.

The last member held two daggers in his hand, but he didn’t get a chance to kill any, his teammates doing most of the work, but having an extra member helped. If one focused hard on him, they could notice a dark green tint on his daggers, clearly poison —a rarity, having gone for the Serpent Stage. But it wasn’t a lethal one, instead only able to paralyze someone, and it was finite, for he only had a bottle of it.

“Is it over?” asked Jason, the brute. No one knew his Class, but he beat things to death. That’s what mattered. He slumped to the nearest chair and lounged on it, “About time. I’m exhausted.”

“We have to go back to the house,” said the Warrior who’d taken up the duty of commanding the group, “More might come, and we aren’t exactly in tip-top shape. We’ll get some levels later.”

“I agree,” said the assassin who knelt next to a mosquito, only his bleached blond hair visible. Those things had a foot-long stinger for a mouth. He squeezed it and poured the bit of transparent liquid that poured out into a glass jar he kept in a pouch tied to his belt, “We don’t want to be swarmed.”

“Umm… I think I leveled up,” said the girl, evidently a high-school girl from the uniform. It was a dark blue color, and her hair was tied to a ponytail that reached her neck —not all that long, “And what the hell is going on? What happened to everyone?”

There was a bit of silence, but then the warrior started, “They’re home, for the most part. They just rarely come out. It’s dangerous out at night nowadays. You’re lucky you ran into us. Wait, I don’t mean you’re weak or anything. You’d probably turn us into ice statues within seconds. It’s just that you might have been caught off guard, yeah. It’s shocking to see them for the first time is all.”

“Surprised? Come on, I’m not some fifth-grader. I just came back from killing goblins,” said the girl, “You think that some overgrown critters can scare me after I got over a dozen new holes in my body?”

“Never hurts to be sure,” said the warrior, but their merry talk was interrupted by claps. It was lazy —the kind villains from movies did when they wanted to be dramatic.

“My my, it’s rare to see such adventurous blood bags running around,” said the voice, clearly female, with a thick accent that seemed to resemble Russians. The darkness made it difficult to see her figure. But her tone was powerful and confident, akin to actresses. Then she added, “I want them.”

Almost instantly, the group found themselves pinned to the ground —figures cloaked with a dark red robe were over them, somehow there almost instantly. And from the shadows, she herself appeared, with everything you’d expect from a vampire. Pale skin, golden eyes that glimmered in the little moonlight that was provided, and slight fangs visible from her current smirk. She wore a thick, white fur coat and a Russian fur hat.

“Who the hell are you?” almost shouted the leader of the bunch, the warrior, with a far-too-rebellious tone, “Let go!”

The female vampire simply snapped her fingers, and the one that had been keeping the young Warrior restrained was flung sideways like a rag doll. And then he felt the most oppressive feeling he’d felt in his life, his entire body contorting in manners that he didn’t know was possible. It wasn’t moving, but he could do nothing, and even his heart seemed to have stopped beating. That was when he was pulled closer to her.

Skill ‘Indomitable Will’ has been activated!

You have partially resisted the special effect ‘Telekinesis’ with pure willpower. You may move your body slightly.

He glimpsed at the notification and had it disappear. Even his go-to resistance skill couldn’t fully resist it? Who the hell was she?

Before he could activate Appraisal, a cold, icy hand grabbed his chin as the Telekinesis pulled him ever so closer, and their faces almost touched. Then she spoke, “You will obey.”

The Warrior could feel his consciousness slipping, but once again, his Skill activated, protecting him from the effect. He willed with all his might to not succumb, keeping his consciousness afloat.

Skill ‘Indomitable Will’ has been activated!

You have resisted the special effect ‘Influence’ with pure willpower. You are not affected by the Skill.

You have succumbed to the special effect ‘Telekinesis’. You cannot move your body.

“Interesting indeed,” said the vampire and snapped her finger. The Warrior dropped to the ground and could feel his body again, and his heart could once again beat. He huffed and puffed, exhausted beyond compare, “Escort the boys to my chamber. The girl… you may have her.”

And with that, she disappeared into the shadows, not figuratively, but literally. She simply melted into the darkness. Another dozen cloaked figures followed her into the shadows, only the four that had been pinning the group left behind.

The moment she left, one of the cloaked figures pulled off his hood, revealing snow-white hair —it was the one that had been thrown away, who then appeared out of nowhere, as fast as they had when they were restraining them. He had a square chin and broad stature, what most women would want in a man had been condensed into one.

“Alright. I’m on the woman next time. Your turn next, Nikolai,” he said, and the others pulled off their hoods one by one. Just like them, there were three men and a single woman, and all of them seemed to be the epitome of beauty in different manners. Perhaps there was a thing about vampires that automatically made them more beautiful, “Thank god I didn’t hit anything.”

“No fair. I broke a nail!” shouted the sole female of the group, the one who had been restraining the assassin. She was petite and had a small round nose, and more evidently than the others, her white eyelashes could be made out, “Ugh… whatever. It’s my turn to take her, right?”

“Nope, it’s mine,” said Nikolai, this one the one who had been sitting on the brute. The group was more or less released now as the vampires bickered amongst themselves. The Assassin had the right idea and tried to escape in the meantime, only to find the girl in front of him, blocking his path. When he accidentally ran into her, he felt as if he’d run into a pole despite their difference in size, completely unable to push or move her in any manner, only to feel a sharp pain near his eyes.

A wet, sickening sound sounded out as the assassin flailed around, but the hand of the female vampire that had been tightly fastened around his neck. She pulled the two fingers she inserted into the Assassin’s eyes out as he fell down to the ground —holding his eyes— and licked it, “Mmm, tasty.”

“You broke the toy,” said Nikolai sternly and slapped the back of her head, appearing almost out of nowhere as well. This time, they could make out the fact that they were moving fast, but the darkness was hiding them well, “Stop cheating.”

“He was trying to run!” retorted the girl, “We’re allowed to kill them if they’re too rebellious.”

“Enough!” shouted the square-jawed one and he started to speak, but before he could even finish his first word, a whoosh sounded out, followed by a thud. He’d fallen, an arrow aimed right at the back of his neck. It was visible from the front, and the fact that he had instantly died could only mean one thing.

“Hunters!” shouted out Nikolai and flitted in a zig-zag manner to grab the woman, but he felt his hand burn. The sun?! No. It was still night. Regardless, he grabbed the Elementalist by her neck and hid in an alley. The female vampire dragged the Assassin into the same alley. The other vampire, who was more of a ‘pretty boy’ than anything dragged the warrior into the shadows —he was the most valuable one.

There was panic evident on their faces. The very first time a monster met a hunter was often their last, and in their land, there were no more hunters. No active ones, at least, and it was their first time running into them. Steel bullets did nothing and could be healed within seconds with a few pints of blood, but silver arrows and bullets were far too deadly.

And that’s what hunters used.

Something dropped to the dead-end side of the alley —not that it was a dead-end for a vampire who could easily hop over it, but still, it was one. Frantically, Nikolai appeared next to it and swung his claws, and noticed that the hand was frozen. The claws didn’t appear, so he used the other one, and hit nothing. There was nothing there.

“Hello there,” said a gruff voice from the balcony next to him, and that was the last thing Nikolai heard before a silver arrow traveled straight through his brain and made a hole between both his temples. And helplessly, he fell down.

The female vampire frantically tried to escape the alley through the blind end, jumping across the wall, not even caring about the hostage, but realized far too late that the bottom half of her body —the part where her legs were, had landed half a meter away from her. And an unearthly screech was released from her mouth as she vengefully stared at the bloody, silver string that had been stretched across the valley, but her plight didn’t last long. An arrow was shot right through her forehead.

The last vampire had the common sense to hop between the two buildings that made up the valley to make it up to the rooftop and managed to run away. The Hunters didn’t chase, ironically. They simply killed them where they stood.

Uncle Jeremy hopped out the first-floor balcony and stretched his back, a series of cracks sounding out. It wasn’t the painful variation, though. Almost out of breath, Chris appeared from the other side, crossbow in hand and loaded —he'd shot the first vampire.

“It’s already done here. Scare tactics. Always works,” said Jeremy with a cheeky grin. And then he turned to the group, “So… want to be cool like me?”