A cold shattered moon shines down on the world with a soft glow as I walk along the old cobbled road, surrounded on all sides by snow-covered pines. A freezing wind howls through the trees as I move along the road, blowing the freshly fallen snow around in the air and forcing me to wrap my heavy cloak even tighter round myself. I can hardly feel my hands and face anymore and for about the 15th time that night, I mentally kick myself for not bringing my proper winter gear on this job, instead of just my regular gear and a heavy cloak. Still, despite the soul-freezing cold, I can't help but feel excited as I struggle along the road, the heavy weight pulling on my back causing me to stumble every few steps. After all, once this job is over, I'll have finished my tenure as a perimeter courier and can finally leave this death-trap and attend Beacon Academy, the school for becoming a great Hunter or Huntress. Well, at least in Vale.
As thoughts of becoming a hunter run through my mind, I can't help but become reminiscent of the past as I move along the road, gradually growing closer to the town where I'm supposed to drop the package off. Memories begin to fly through my mind, flashing images of both good and bad times running through my mind. Life on the perimeter, the remnants of the kingdom's single largest mistake since the Great War, wasn't easy. With record-breaking numbers of Grimm, my family and I had to move around a lot and there were a number of times we thought my dad, a retired huntsman working to maintain safety in the area, wouldn't make it back home. But he always did and we always managed to find a new home every few months where we could live a normal life for a little while.
Though young me didn't truly understand how much danger my dad was putting himself in, he did know that it was only thanks to people like my dad that any of us were even alive today. As my older brother and mom watched on in idle curiosity, I would beg my dad to tell me stories from when he was huntsman, and he, being the wonderful father with a weak-spot for his kids that he is, would oblige me. It actually became a bit of a family tradition. Every time my father was home and in good enough shape to tell a story, I would sit next to him, a little kid in his bright green pajamas with a mop of black hair, and listen to his stories, hanging onto every word and detail. Though my parents didn't think much off it at the time, I was truly inspired by the stories full of adventure and danger even as a little kid. Before I was even 10 years old, I was dead-set on being a huntsman when I grew up.
My parents were, needless to say, concerned. Given that my dad had been risking his life for the last decade with a number of very close calls, both of them were very cautious and tried to get me to change my mind. They tried to scare me out of it with terrifying stories of huge Grimm and terrifying battles, but that only made me more set on it. This was not because of any immature excitement, but instead because around then I began truly realizing that the Grimm were simply monsters, monsters which needed to be eradicated, and that I couldn't stand by and do nothing as they ruined lives. Eventually, around when I was turning 11, they realized that they wouldn't be able to stop me, so instead they worked to give me a good foundation and make sure I was ready. From that day forth, the stories turned into training and when my dad wasn't around, there were a number of others who would teach me. I was taught everything from how to fight, to basic medical techniques, and even advanced Grimm anatomy. They even unlocked my aura as soon as was deemed healthy, and I was found to have a very strong aura, both in quality and quantity. And although, I haven't figured out my semblance yet, unlocking my aura allowed them to increase the difficulty of the training, a fact I may I have bemoaned at the time but am thankful for now. They did their best to prepare me for the reality of being a hunter through this harsh training and by drilling as many relevant skills as they could into my head.
This process of constant training as well as a normal education, continued until I turned 16. At my 16th birthday, I was greeted with a tentative acceptance letter to Beacon thanks to a multitude of letters of recommendation from retired huntsman in the area, including my father. They all believed I was already at the level of an applicant to Beacon, but wanted another year to finish my preparation. The Headmaster agreed to let me take the entrance exam at the start of the next school year, meaning if I passed I would be accepted a year early. And while this news was incredible to me and made it impossible for me to fall asleep for days because I was so excited, the "preparations" they wanted to finish began what has been the most hellish year of my life.
I not only had an increase in both my training and academic rigor to make up for the year I would lose, but they also signed me on to the perimeter couriers, a group of trained individuals who act as messengers and deliverymen between the towns on the perimeter. This meant I hardly spent any time at home and had no people to work with on my training or schoolwork. Instead I spent most of my time travelling in between towns delivering mail and sleeping in cruddy temporary rooms provided by the towns. I struggled to keep up with my schoolwork and did my best to make time for regular training. Though there were a few rough patches, I really grew in this new independence and I grew used to the unpredictable schedule, an important part of being a hunter. However, it was the final, and most important part of this job which ended up terrifying yet exciting me the most. The Grimm.
As a courier, it was not uncommon to run into Grimm, and although I was given safer assignments due to my age, I still encountered them. This was the perfect chance to make use of my training and although it was incredibly dangerous, especially since I was alone, it was a risk my parents knew I would have to get used to if I was going to become a hunter. I've suffered quite a few injuries throughout the year, most of them from smaller Beowolves, but I've thankfully avoided any truly life-or-death situations thanks to my strong aura. Through the independence, hard-work, and real-life combat experience of this last year, I believe I've grown more in this one year than I did in all my years of training before now. My father even said that he believed I was stronger than he was when he entered Beacon at the age of 18, a statement I take a lot of pride in.
As I'm struggling along the road, my head in the clouds, a loud howl tears through the night air, drowning out the weak howl of the wind. It snaps me out of my daze and for a moment I stumble, confused as to what just happened, but as I hear more and more howls erupt from around me, my blood runs cold as the truth settles in. Howls mean Beowolves, and this many howls means a pack. And worst of all, a pack means there's a leader, an alpha, among them. I know that if they've begun to howl, they've already surrounded me, so I don't run, but as I begin to see them appear in the forest, slick black forms skulking through the trees, the urge to just run grows like a fire in my heart. Images of these beasts tearing through my aura and armor to the soft flesh underneath fill my head. All of the good memories, the hopes and dreams, disappear from my mind as my heart fills with a primal fear. My breaths become panicked as I turn in place, trying to count them all. I lose track after 20.
My hearts beating like a jackhammer in my chest as they grow closer, the stench of blood and their gravely growls growing more and more prominent as they close in. I've fought groups of Beowolves before, but never anything like this and certainly not with an alpha among them. For a while, I'm frozen with terror, the panic and fear I must be radiating only making the Beowolves bolder as the pass through the last few trees and begin to encircle me at the center of the road. With them this close I can see the bare white of their bony masks and the blood already dripping from the open mouths, filled with dagger-like teeth. At that sight, my fear is replaced by anger and I'm snapped out of my petrified state with a simple realization.
They've already killed someone else.
In a single moment, the whole reason I want to become a huntsman, an urge to protect others disperses, all of the fear in my heart. I can't afford to just do nothing and die here! I have to help save people! I'm going to become a huntsman and make sure no one gets killed by Grimm ever again!
I drop the heavy pack off my shoulders with a heavy thud, bringing my arms up to grab my weapons. One of the closest Grimm sees this and rushes forward hoping to kill me before I can fight back, but in a single smooth motion, I sidestep around its charging form, lift my left-hand, which holds a large sleek metal pistol, and fire it. It hits point-blank into the creature's bony skull, breaking through one side and exiting the other, dying the nearby snow red with its blood. As the harsh sound of the gunshot echoes through the forest, the Grimm watch in momentary stunned silence as the body of their fallen brother slumps to the ground and fades into nothingness, a black vapor dispersed by the wind. This pause, however, only lasts for a second, and before I can take another breath several more are bearing down on me, growling and barking with murderous rage.
I quickly throw off my jacket, the freezing cold forgotten due to the hot panic and anger rushing through my veins, and use my right-hand to draw one of the swords on my back. Putting my aura behind the move, I swing the sword in a wide circle all around me, slicing through the neck of the Beowolf nearest to me and forcing the others back. Blood from the severed neck sprays over my blade and glistens red in the moonlight as I aim my pistol at the head of the nearest monster and blast it right between its eyes, killing it instantly.
These rapid kills halt the ravenous hunger in the Beowolves eyes as they all back away, studying how to best deal with me without dying. Thanks to this, I have a few seconds to breath and calm down and the anger and fear fade away slightly. With a more rational mind I note that most of the Beowolves are very young, their bodies thin and lacking any bony protrusions associated with age in Beowolves. This fills me with a hope that the group does not have a proper alpha and I realize that taking the initiative and trying to scare them off is my best chance. Taking some deep breaths, I ready my weapons and prepare to fight.
The Beowolves must sense my change in mentality and behavior because a group of them immediately burst forward. Except this time, they seem more intent on dodging as they dart left and right as they move towards me. With practiced speed and precision, I put the pistol in my left hand back in its holster and draw the second sword on my back just in time to impale it through the mouth of the Beowolf which reaches me first. With a heavy tug, I am able to pull it out of the now-dead Beowolf, but I immediately have to duck a claw from another Beowolf from the opposite direction.
Instead of trying to build distance between us and running the risk of getting attacked by another, I add aura behind a heavy elbow to its chest. With a satisfying crack the Beowolf crashes backwards and I greet the next one that leaps at me with a low slash along its stomach from underneath it, which splashes blood all over me and leaves it dead as it hits the ground. I defeat the next few Beowolves who charge at me in a similar fashion of quick and fatal slashes to vital points of the body. Once seven young Beowolves lay at my feet, disappearing from existence, the group backs off as a whole. They are still circling me as if to hunt me, but I swear I can see a fear in their eyes as they realize this may not be fight they can win. Despite the freezing numbness which has begun to creep along my arms and the loss of energy from using my aura to strengthen my blows, I can't help but smile as I realize that I'm winning. Even more than that, I haven't even suffered any real hits yet.
However, just as I'm considering drawing my pistols and picking them off from this short distance to scare them off, an even louder, deeper howl than those from before echoes through the forest. I watch, frozen in place, as an Alpha Beowolf, emerges from the trees, in between me and my destination. It stands a good meter and a half taller than me, with numerous bony protrusions from its body, sticking out like armored barbs or spikes from its muscled form. Its face, a far larger, sharper, and darker bone mask, glares down at me with an insidious hunger, freezing me in place. Even the other Beowolves are petrified with fear, the difference in the sheer presence between them and the alpha being almost laughable. Its claws are almost the size of my swords and I have no doubt they're almost as sharp.
With a slow, almost methodical rhythm, the Alpha walks forward on its hind legs, never taking its eyes off of me. Frozen in fear, I can only watch as it comes closer and closer to where we are. Once it reaches the first Beowolf in between us, it takes a moment to look down and with one quick swipe, claws the Beowolf in half and sends its halves flying into the trees. At the sight of blood and flesh flying through the air as the Alpha looks back to me, whatever terror held me in place fades and I stumble backwards, not caring about the Beowolves behind me. Thankfully, the Beowolves are similarly freed from their frozen state and quickly retreat into the woods, not caring about me as they run past. For a few moments, The Alpha and I lock gazes and I steel my will as I plan out how I'm going to either kill it or simply move past it and outrun it. However, before I can even begin to conjure up a plan, the Alpha unleashes a deep and ghastly howl and rushes towards me, its slower two-legged gate from before abandoned for a far faster four-legged charge.
At the very last second, I manage to leap to the side of the road to avoid having my head bitten off, but before I even land on the ground, the monstrous Alpha has pivoted around and is observing me with a hungry eye. I quickly realize, as I push myself up off the snowy ground and move back into the trees, that this monster sees this hunt as a game. It quickly follows me into the trees, where it again reaches it gaping maw forward in an attempt to bite off my head and shoulders. Instead of leaping this time, I quickly jump backwards, narrowly avoiding the clashing teeth, and sheath both of my swords. I realize that given this monster thick hide and armored protrusions, swords would not only be ineffective but too slow given the Alpha's speed.
As it swipes at me with one of its claws, I duck under it and reach behind my back to grab both of my pistols. With their familiar and reassuring weight in my hands I dart to the left side of the beast, whose left arm is still outstretched and fire at its face with a short volley of shots. One of them lands cleanly on the Alpha's left eye, bursting it immediately in a small fountain of blood. This causes the beast to scream in pain and thrash about holding its wounded eye. I fail to move in time and am battered away by its right hand, my aura completely dissipating as I slam into a nearby tree with a disturbing crack and fall to the ground. White hot pain shoots up from my back, filling my vision with darkness as I struggle to remain conscious.
Meanwhile the Alpha, whose thrashing caused quite a bit of damage to the trees around it, is struggling to get out from under a quite large tree which landed on its back. However, the Alpha quickly pushes the trunk of the tree off of its back and locates me with its one good eye, now filled with a murderous hate that even in my pain-filed state I can feel down to my very bones. I struggle to move as the Alpha walks menacingly forward, its claws clenching and unclenching with a sickening crack. I can feel tears streak down my face as I struggle desperately, thoughts of my family and friends rushing through my mind as the Alpha reaches its claws down towards me. "No…" I rasp with a desperate and raw voice "… I can't die… Not… yet!". Pouring everything I have; aura, life force, consciousness, anything, into my right-hand, I raise it outstretched towards the alpha as it stretches its claw down towards me.
As its claw comes closer to me and the thoughts and emotions in my head run faster and faster, my hand begins to glow with a steely-blue light. Focusing everything on that light, I continue to push everything I have into the unknown power as the Alpha's claw lowers onto my back, preparing to pick me up and tear me apart. Thoughts of my hopes, dreams, and desires, left unfulfilled, swirl about in my head, gradually being enveloped by this strange light. The light swirls around my hand and begins to stretch into the air around me, swirling and dancing as if it were alive. As the light grows brighter and brighter, the Alpha's hand pulls back as it is obviously confused at the light, and in this short moment a single thought rings clear in my head. A single idea. A reversal. A chance. And as the light grows even stronger, enveloping the Alpha, and the area around us completely, I utter the phrase which will begin this failing world's next journey, be its destination Salvation or Destruction.
"I, Alexander Sterling, am your master now."
Author's Note
Hello Everyone! Thank you for taking some time to read the introduction to my new story, I hope you enjoyed it. I do hope to continue this series, though I will admit I do not have any concrete plans for it in place yet, so I would appreciate any and all feedback you guys may have. Please leave a review with any thought or suggestions, be they positive or negative. Thank you again, and have a nice day.