Surprisingly enough, the first thing Damien’s mind shunted to the side in the pursuit of its current primary goal of running away from the bizarre, muscly rat thing was the smell of the sewer. Not that it wasn’t still there, but he didn’t particularly care that it smelled awful in that moment. He needed both his hands in order to keep running, to find the person who was to be his mentor and, hopefully, be saved.

He had no delusions about using the sword in his hand to defend the beast. Damien had only taken the weapon to use as an absolute last resort, and also because Noctis had warned him that Xaunis was a dangerous, though wondrous, world. Still, he rushed onward, unwilling to die at the hands of this thing behind him.

I did not come here just to die again! I know I can’t fight this thing, but... but...

An insane, reckless part of himself wanted to turn around and try to fight the thing anyway. It was a small part, and one that Damien was easily able to drown out with his panic and desperation. But it was still there. Still a part of him. One that he would not be indulging.

Not yet.

He skidded around a corner, his boots slipping as they just barely found purchase against the slick stone walkway, forcing him to scramble forward as the rat thing’s massive claw crashed into where he’d been less than a second ago. Damien kept running, a burn running up through his legs and core and arms as he ran far faster and harder than he ever had before. He was only thirty meters away, now. Twenty-five. Twenty. Fifteen.

At ten meters from his mentor, so close that he could practically feel how close he was, he turned a sharp corner, and saw them. Though he couldn’t see the finer details of their form, he made out a cloak the color of dark charcoal, a humanoid frame, and, most important to Damien in that moment, weapons. Mostly what looked to be throwing knives, but the sight was a relief to him.

He reached out to the figure, shrouded as they were, knowing that they were the person he was looking for, and called out to them. “HELP ME!”

Without hesitation, they reacted. They surged forward, becoming little more than a dark blur across Damien’s vision as they crossed paths, causing the dark-haired teen to stumble and fall to the ground, his grip on the steel jian deathly tight. The figure’s hand dropped to something at their waist, drawing it forth as they stepped into reach of the rat monster’s claws. It swept down at the figure, the claws sounding out like the howling wind of a hurricane as they bit into the stone.

But not the person. Instead, they leapt over the strike, balancing themselves on the monster’s massive arm with a single extended foot, and struck out once with what looked like a sword made of pure, endless shadow. They hopped back less than a second after, the sword’s dark blade retracting into the hilt like a lightsaber as they clipped it back to their belt. The rat monster’s head slowly separated from its body, sloughing off of it as the rest of it toppled to the ground. The figure turned, stepping away from their kill and towards Damien, who was still panting in the humid, putrid air of the sewer around him.

Then, they took off their hood. And Damien really saw, for the first time in forever, undeniable proof that he was in an entirely different world.

He was clearly masculine, with the lithe musculature of someone agile and quick. His dark cloak had concealed black leather armor of what he assumed was masterful quality from the way it snuggly protected much of his figure. A belt of throwing knives ran from his left shoulder to his right hip, suggesting that he was right-handed, and was accompanied by a second belt around his waist, which was covered with various pouches and tools whose purposes Damien could not decipher, though he did see the hilt of that strange sword clipped to it. Most strange and bizarre of all, however, was the man’s face. It wasn’t human. It was the face of a wolf. His fur was mostly black with tasteful streaks of grey, suggesting that he might be in his early middle years, with a long and narrow snout leading up to a pair of brilliant amber eyes. One of them had a thin, straight scar over it, and there was what looked like a scar from a claw gash at the leftmost edge of his lip. But despite his scars, he was, undeniably, not human.

“You okay, kid?” he asked. His voice was rough, and somewhat raspy, but his concern seemed genuine as he kneeled in front of Damien, a kindness in his amber eyes. “Can you stand?”

“Uh... I-I think so,” Damien replied, struggling to stand. He almost fell back to the ground, forced to use the sword in his hand to support his weight, even though the action felt immediately wrong. He shouldn’t be using a sword like that.

Quickly, the wolf-looking man helped him up, dusting Damien off as he gave him a proper once over. Then, he seemed to focus on something beyond Damien, and his expression went slightly neutral. Had he gotten a notification of some kind?

“... you’re a Traveler, yeah?” he asked, his tone still concerned, though he seemed more determined now.

“Yeah. Don’t entirely understand what that means. Or what... any of this means.”

“That’s understandable,” the wolf-man said. “This is probably all pretty new to you. So, how about we start out with introductions. I’m Corbyn. Corbyn Evershade.”

“Damien Sinclair.”

Corbyn nodded and Damien’s response. “That’s a good name. Anyway, I should mention now that I got a Quest the moment I touched you. It’s not for any real reward, only a few hundred XP, but it is outlined in purple. That’s not typical. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

“Yeah!” Damien replied, recognizing what he was implying. “I have two Quests in purple! One of them was actually to find you.”

Corbyn raised a brow at that. “Me? Really? … why, though?”

“I’m... not sure,” Damien admitted. “Maybe you were the strongest person around here that Noctis could reach, and-”

Corbyn’s hands were suddenly at Damien’s shoulders as he looked him in the eye with a bestial intensity as he asked a rapid series of questions. “You spoke to Noctis?! The Night Wolf himself?! What did he say?! How did you find him?! What did he look like?!”

Of course, it also didn’t help that, in his excitement, Corbyn was currently rocking Damien back and forth like a ragdoll in flight, causing his head to spin with the motion as he tried, and failed, to form a response. It took several seconds for Corbyn to realize that he wasn’t making things easy for the Traveler, and helped sit him down and reorient himself.

“Sorry. It’s just... it’s rare, to hear from the Primordial Spirits. Exceptionally rare. So, I think you can understand why I’m surprised. Again, I’m very sorry for reacting so intensely.”

“It’s fine,” Damien replied, subtly rubbing at his shoulders where he’d been grabbed. “I just wasn’t really expecting that.”

There was a bit of an awkward silence between the two as they tried to find a way to get the conversation going again. Then, Corbyn sighed and got the obvious out of the way. “So, this Quest I have is to make you my apprentice with an official Mentorship Contract. I haven’t accepted it yet, because I don’t know you, but I do understand why Noctis would give me this Quest once I met you. So... why do you think I should be your mentor? Honest opinion.”

Damien... honestly hadn’t considered who his mentor would be beyond the fact that they were strong. That was a mistake. But he also hadn’t considered that he might have to prove himself to them too. That was an even larger oversight on his part. But he didn’t have much of a choice. This was who Noctis had led him to, even if it was a rough attempt. He might as well try to make it work.

“I don’t want to say because Noctis led me to you. While it is true, it also wouldn’t really be fair to either of us. But you didn’t have to save me back there. You still did, though. And you did it without even hesitating. After that, you even tried to make sure I was okay. I... I never knew a lot of people like that, back in my old world. Sure, I knew some, but they were few and far between. You seem like a decent person, from what little I’ve seen so far.”

“Ha,” Corbyn chuckled at Damien’s statement. “Kid, you barely know me. I can’t imagine you got very much with just that brief interaction.”

“No, I did not,” Damien admitted. “But I didn’t lie either. You’re... at least half decent. As far as I can tell.”

Corbyn sighed, standing and dusting off his legs. “Well, as interesting as this all is, it’s still not a reason... to...”

He trailed off as he stared down at Damien, as though realizing something. “You can see in the dark.”

“Uh... yeah. Is that weird?”

“For Travelers? It’s not unheard of, but it’s definitely not common. Then again, we don’t get a lot of you, so it probably varies quite a bit. Hey... why do you have my order’s mark on your hand?”

Damien was confused for only a moment before his attention was dragged down to his own right hand, on the back of which was the outline of a wolf’s head. The Mark of The Night Wolf. Probably the reason he could see in the dark in the first place. And as he looked back up to Corbyn, he could see a similar, but distinctly different, symbol on the back of his own right hand, though his had been done in white to contrast his dark fur.

“I... uh... well, I literally woke up with it. I think. I’m not entirely sure how it got there, but I think it’s related to why I can see in the dark.”

“That makes sense...” Corbyn said, hand on his chin as he thought to himself. After a few moments, he glanced back at Damien and offered him a hand up. “C’mon. I didn’t come down here to kill Vermisca today. Even Alphas are barely cannon fodder to me.”

“Why were you down here then?”

“Well, there was a lot of magical activity down here from an old Conduit Circle, and someone needed to check it out just in case it ended up being dangerous. It wasn’t out of my way, so I came down to see it for myself. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Damien just looked at the wolf-man in complete shock. Silence surrounded them for several seconds before Damien started laughing. Really, truly laughing. Corbyn looked at him in confusion, and that just caused him to start laughing even harder.

“What’s so damn funny?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

“Th-that’s... ha ha! That’s where I woke up! That’s where I fucking woke up!”

“... pfft! Ha!” Corbyn laughed right along with him, if only at the sheer irony of it all. It continued on for several more moments, forcing them to lean into each other for balance.

“Spirits, kid, that is fucking ironic as hell!” he said, grinning at him. “I think I like you! Now, let’s go see this Conduit Circle you woke up in, yeah?”

It didn’t take them long to find the place Damien had woken up in. Still, what surprised Damien was the fact that the place was an old base for the order that Corbyn worked for: The Order of the Night Wolf, to be specific. He also happened to be wearing clothes that would have been worn by new recruits in the older days of the order. Corbyn didn’t begrudge him for wearing them, though, since it wasn’t like he was strapped for choice.

“I suggest keeping the sword too,” he’d said as they walked down the narrow cave passageway, the cold of the stone making itself apparent. “If you’re going to be my apprentice, then you’re going to learn swordplay at some point. Even if we end up going our separate ways, it’ll be good to have a weapon of decent quality in your hands. The jian is a pretty good choice, actually. You don’t see it very often nowadays, since weapons like katanas and daos are so much easier to use, but you’ll get more mileage out of it in the end.”

“Right. Uh, speaking of swords... what was that thing you used earlier? To take out that Vermisca Alpha.”

“One thing at a time, my prospective student,” Corbyn said. “One thing at a time.”

The circle was the exact same as it was when Damien had first entered Xaunis: dark, dormant, and incredibly ominous. Corbyn seemed intensely fascinated by the thing though, taking several minutes to examine each pillar and individual rune. He even managed to sketch out a rough outline of the Conduit Circle for later reference.

“Well, that’s all she wrote for this place. C’mon, let’s get above ground.”

It took them almost an hour to find the place where Corbyn had entered the sewers, consisting of a ladder set into the concrete leading to the top. Surprisingly, they had been forced to go uphill for much of it, meaning that the Order’s old base was deep, deep underground. Damien had no idea exactly how far that was exactly, but it had to be pretty far.

But when he followed Corbyn out to the light of the city above them, everything came at him in a rush of sensory information. The scent of wood, food, and garbage mixed together in a sickly-sweet aroma that practically smacked him in the face. The lights all around reminded him of a sunset in Los Angeles, though he had only ever seen the city’s skyline in photos and movies. It almost blinded him. The ground was rough, but relatively clean, for a street, with several pedestrians walking up and down its length, dodging past slow-moving stage coaches that looked to cater to either the wealthy or the commoner, depending on how ostentatious they were.

Damien shook himself out of his daze, rising from the manhole and allowing Corbyn to cover it back up again. He placed a hand on the hilt of his plain jian, thumbing at the pommel as it rested in a sheath on his left hip. Luckily, they’d found a matching sheath and sword belt for the weapon before departing the underground base, so he didn’t have to keep carrying it out in the open like a jackass.

“Welcome to Lamora, kid,” Corbyn said as he stretched, his jaw opening to reveal long rows of sharp, canine fangs as he yawned. “Now, how about we go get something to eat? I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had anything since noon.”

And that was when Damien’s stomach growled rather loudly, answering Corbyn’s question before the Traveler could muster up a single word. He flushed in embarrassment as the wolf-man chuckled, waving him over as he hailed one of the less flashy stagecoaches. It was painted mostly black, with a checked yellow pattern wrapping around the top and bottom of its main body, and was drawn by a well-muscled horse with a neatly uniformed driver just behind it. Huh. Apparently Xaunis had taxis, though they were less advanced than the ones he was used to seeing in a city.

The two sat on opposite sides of the stagecoach, Corbyn sitting comfortably with his legs crossed while Damien attempted to find a way to sit without undoing his sword belt. In the end, he relented, placing the sheathed jian next to him while his prospective mentor chuckled at his helplessness.

“Take us to Fortune’s Rest, please,” Corbyn asked the driver, the taxi’s movement serving as an answer. Then, he turned back to Damien, his gaze curious and discerning. “I imagine you have several questions. I have some as well, but I think yours are more pressing than my own. You are from an entirely different world, after all.”

Damien gave Corbyn a sheepish but thankful look, scratching at the back of his head with his left hand. “Uh... don’t take this the wrong way, but... what exactly are you? My world only has humans, so this is pretty new to me.”

Corbyn, rather surprisingly, gave a loud laugh at Damien’s question. “I was wondering when that would come up! I am a Canis, young student. We’re primarily a people from the western forests of Errenyl, but that’s an ocean and a half away from this continent. And I don’t have a map on me anyway. The last one got burned up by a... dissatisfied client. Still need to get a new one...”

It sounded like there was an interesting story there, but definitely for a time when they had the aforementioned map in hand. So, he decided to ask the next and slightly more obvious question on his mind. “Where are we? You said this city was called Lamora, right?”

“That’s right,” Corbyn confirmed. “We're in Lamora, the capital of the Republic of Ulys. It's one of the largest cities on Xaunis as a whole, and it’s also got some secrets of its own that we should probably get into later, when we have the time. But, most importantly for you, it’s also where the Adventurer’s Guild has its primary base of operations. That is going to be particularly important going forward.”

“Adventurer’s Guild? Like... a place that gives out quests and generally exists for the betterment of the world at large?”

“... now how did you know that?” Corbyn asked, looking genuinely curious.

“A lot of stories from my world had something... similar. At least in concept. I don’t think there actually was one, where I came from.”

“I see.”

“So... uh... what is a Shade Hunter, exactly?” Damien asked, genuinely confused.

“You know that term?”

“Sort of. It appeared in one of the Quests I took as a reward. That I would get some mentorship down that path. It seems important, but I have little context for it.”

The Canis leaned back against his side of the taxi, looking contemplative for several moments. Eventually, he seemed to come to a decision, nodding to himself as he leaned forward in his seat, looking Damien dead in the eye.

“Listen to me well, Damien,” he said, his voice unflinchingly serious in that moment. “I would not ask you to do anything you did not wish to. It seems that you truly do want to become a Hunter, if only because it is the only path in front of you. But I want to give you some time to explore your options first, to get a feel for Xaunis in general and how you might fit into it. Because the life of an Adventurer, and especially a Hunter, is not always a good one.”

His words gave the Traveler pause. Because he’d hit the nail right on the head. This was the only path in front of him, and because it was the only one he saw, he assumed that it was the only one he could walk. But just because he could not see other paths did not necessarily mean they did not exist. They just needed to be searched for.

“... I’d still like to know what a Hunter is, exactly,” Damien said. “If you say that I should take the time to consider my path forward, I’d rather have all of my options out in front of me.”

Corbyn nodded, and began with the explanation. “A Hunter is many things. Protector. Warrior. Mage. Scholar. But more than anything else, a Hunter is one who slays monsters in all their myriad forms. The Adventurer’s Guild does indeed allow for far more diversity and a much greater quantity of fighters than any of the Hunter Orders can... but we were the first. The first, and the best. They were based around the teachings and philosophies of the Primordial Champions, who saved Xaunis from a terrible threat long ago. It’s a long and complicated story, but suffice to say that those teachings still live on, even thousands of years in the future. Our training is not soft, and it is not pleasant. Hell, normally I’d say you were too old to properly begin. But given your special circumstances, if you do choose to take the path of a Hunter, then I can ensure that an exception is made for your case.

“We are not a great presence in the world, but we are a notable one. Being a Hunter, in addition to an Adventurer, can lead to a life you never dreamed of. But it also comes with a great deal of responsibility. I’m sure you can understand why I’m hesitant. That’s not to say I won’t guide you as best I can; I will, but... well, like I said, I want you to be sure that this is the path you want.”

Damien nodded silently at Corbyn. He did understand where the Hunter was coming from. The hesitation meant that he didn’t want to see him come to harm. But Damien couldn’t help but feel as though, out of all the paths he could take, the Shade Hunter seemed to resonate with him the most. He wasn’t sure why. But he could be sure of one thing. Corbyn had a point. He would take some time. Get used to Xaunis as a whole. Maybe consider other options and expand his horizons a bit.

And yet, the mark on his right hand seemed to call to him like the distant howl of a wolf. Not immediate, and not threatening. But imminent. Imminent... and right.