Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Dreams Of Fighting Back
Rhian made his way through the area, weaving past homes and scattered belongings until he stopped in front of a large shipping container.
Unlike the rest of the settlement, this one was solid, reinforced with welded steel and thick panels.
It was one of the safest places around, and that made sense. It was the local clinic.
He stepped inside.
The air smelled like old metal and disinfectant. Inside, a woman stood near a counter, adjusting a bandage on someone's arm.
Her black hair was cropped short, and she wore a white coat over a simple shirt and pants. Gloves covered her hands.
Her voice was rough, it sounded tired from years of shouting and late nights. A half-empty mug of coffee sat on a nearby crate.
Rhian's eyes drifted down to her leg. The prosthetic was metal, simple but sturdy. She moved around easily despite it.
She used to be a Monster Hunter, one of the good ones. Everyone knew that.
She didn't notice Rhian at first. She was finishing up with a middle-aged man sitting on the bench. His arm was freshly wrapped.
"You'll need to clean that twice a day," she said, sipping from her mug between words. "Don't scratch it. I know it itches. Let it scab."
The man nodded, shifting awkwardly. "Feels better already."
"Good," she said, placing the roll of gauze aside. "But come back if the swelling returns. If it starts turning purple again, I'll have to cut deeper. You don't want that."
He winced, then gave a small chuckle and stood up. "I'll behave."
"See that you do," she muttered, waving him off as she took another drink of coffee.
The man passed Rhian on his way out, giving the boy a short nod. He didn't comment on the scratch across Rhian's cheek.
Doctor Calista turned and noticed the injury. Her tired smile faded. She sighed, stepped forward, and pulled Rhian gently toward the chair.
"I told you to stop going out there," she said, her tone scolding but soft. "Did you at least do anything?"
Rhian cleared his throat. "No... it got scared off by birds."
She chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. "You really need a break."
She leaned in and examined the cut. Her gloved hand touched his cheek, and with a soft glow, the wound vanished.
She rarely used her abilities. Only when it was serious. Or when it was Rhian.
He smiled once he felt the pain leave his face. Then he stood, brushing himself off.
"Thanks," he said, turning toward the door.
But Calista called out before he could leave. "Wait... I have something for you."
He paused and looked back, eyes narrowing. She was smiling wide.
Curious, he stepped back in as she patted the chair. He sat down again, this time without protest.
"You've grown up so much," she said warmly. "I meant to give this to you yesterday–your birthday, but today's fine too."
She walked over to a cabinet and took out an envelope. Her movements slowed as she looked at him again.
"Your parents would be proud of the young man you've become."
The air shifted. The moment turned quiet.
Rhian didn't say anything.
Like many others who lived out here, his parents had died to monsters. They weren't elite hunters, but they were good enough to protect the outskirts. The people here respected them for that. Called them guardians.
One day, after endless begging from nine-year-old Rhian, they took him along to watch them fight.
At first, everything went well. A few creatures had slipped through a breach, but his parents handled them. Then something else came. Bigger. Stronger.
Rhian didn't remember much, but he remembered the monster.
It had no face. Its skin was like stretched muscle.
His parents died that day. And when Rhian woke up, the only thing he felt was the searing pain in his left hand. The skin was burnt, twisted like it had been scorched and frozen at once. It never healed.
Doctor Calista had taken him in. She tried everything to fix his hand.
Nothing worked.
To this day, he kept it covered with a glove.
She noticed Rhian's expression shift and gently touched his face.
"Come on, cheer up," she said with a small smile.
It was hard to believe this was the same boy she had raised. Eighteen now, though he barely looked it. He still had that lean frame and young face, like time hadn't caught up to him yet.
She handed him the envelope and motioned for him to open it.
Rhian took it slowly. His eyes stayed on the seal for a moment before he slid a finger under it and unfolded the letter.
"You are hereby accepted by the Eclipses Academy..." he read aloud, but stopped halfway through. He didn't need to hear the rest. Those words were enough.
He stared at the page, stunned.
The Eclipses Academy was no ordinary school. It was a Divine Blood academy, built for those who carried power in their veins, descendants of warriors, guardians, and rumors saying even gods.
Entry was strict and elite. Only those born from proven bloodlines or cores were chosen.
Rhian knew he had divine blood. His parents had been Monster Hunters, after all. But he never believed he'd be admitted.
He had asked Calista for years to train him seriously, to let him fight like they did. But she always refused. Said it was too dangerous. Said he needed more time.
"I know you've always wanted to be a Monster Hunter like your parents," she said, her voice soft. "But I think it's time you went and learned everything properly. Meet people your age. Live a little. You can't spend your life chasing rats through the forest."
Rhian didn't say anything.
Instead, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.
She hugged him back tightly, giving him a small pat on the back.
"Come on, pack up and prepare," she said, stepping back with a smile. "You leave the day after tomorrow. School starts soon. Go say your goodbyes."
Rhian nodded, his heart racing. He couldn't hold back the excitement, though it wasn't the kind most people might expect.
He didn't dream of being a hero. He didn't care about fame or recognition. What he wanted was power, one that let him fight back.
Power that let him face the monsters that had stolen everything from him. This wasn't about glory. It was about control.
About venting the frustration and trauma that had followed him since childhood.
Still, part of him also wanted to protect this place. The small community. The people who raised him.
The kids who shouted his name when he came back. If he could keep them safe, that was enough.
So, just as Doctor Calista said, he left the clinic and headed out.
It was time to pack.