Her father had been furious, as had her mother, but by the time she left the house with an overfilled bag, they had already begun mourning.
Aedry was fit and resourceful, but the Hunter Exam was not suited to young women; it was a monster's game. As the couple cleared her bedroom and cried for their daughter, she was sprinting through the streets with a smile, prepared for her new life.
"No more Aedry, no more job, no more parents. Just Quince, the Hunter, and his awesome muscles." He reassured himself, flexing what measly bulk he had grown over the last few months.
His footsteps thundered on the pavement as he began his long journey to the next city over. The moon and stars watched over him, the twinkling lights of his home on the hill faded from sight, his breath visibly washed over him as gravity sped him along. He couldn't help the manic smile that spread across his face.
"Badass adventures, enough money for all the surgeries I need~" The fantasy of a perfect body and luxurious lifestyle flooded his mind, pushing himself to run faster.
Quince was going have it all, or die trying.
The train station was absolutely packed. Gangly men with overconfident smiles, scarred body builders wielding machetes, freaks of all shapes and sizes. There must have been a thousand applicants. The train was going to need fifty carriages to fit everyone from all the cities along the way.
Just like him, they all held a small piece of paper in their hand; a clue from the greeter as to which train to take.
IT MATTERS NOT YOUR ORIGIN
FOR ALL FAME AND GOLD IS NAUGHT
LIKELIHOOD OF SUCCESS IS THIN
AND OPPORTUNITY IS SHORT
YOU HAVE BUT A SINGLE SHOT
SO PRAY TO YOUR NORTH STAR
THAT AT 6AM ON THE DOT
THE RIDE SHALL TAKE YOU FAR
A simple poem that told them the train would arrive at 6am. Platform 2 was the only one that showed a train scheduled for 6am, and it was where everyone had crowded. He thought it was funny, that there was already the semblance of a test.
A sympathetic smile graced him as he watched a man stumble past a trio of sword bearing brutes, wide eyed and gaping. It must have been a nightmare for locals making their daily commute.
As the sun began to rise, the contestants became on edge. Quince did his best to steer clear, and waited on the far side of the platform.
Cheers and chatter erupted as a train pulled into the station, at Platform 2. It was sleek, newer looking than any other train that had passed through thus far. It had at least a dozen carriages, each of which released a ticket collector, who seemed to be checking the names of each person who boarded. It was taking a while. A quick glance at his watch said it was 5:59am. Hm.
ON THE DOT
Well, that's an easy mistake. My watch is probably off anyway.
Then, another train pulled into the station, at Platform 1. It screeched to a halt beside Quince, and he eyed the four rusted carriages. A cargo train. A few other contestants glanced at the train, but when no doors opened, they all turned back, eager to board the correct train.
He checked his watch again. 6am.
Something itched in the back of his head. Something... Something was missing. He reread the poem. Is the first paragraph really only an introduction? That anyone can take the test, but the chances of passing are low. Everyone knows that already.
A SINGLE SHOT
Can't make any mistakes or I'll fail. It all seems fine except for...
PRAY TO YOUR NORTH STAR
I thought the North Star was for following, not praying to? Which way is North anyway...? The stars aren't out, the sun is. Oh. Straight ahead, the sun was rising, clear over a hill the rails passed by. The sun rises in the east, so north is-
Towards the cargo train.
A pit opened up in his stomach. No, he was overthinking this. There's no way that's the train to the exam. Everyone's getting on the other train, and there's even people checking their names.
Quince thought hard. The obvious choice was to go on the nice train, however... his gut told him that the Hunter Exam was a dangerous game for monsters.
It always felt much worse to be proven wrong when your initial guess was correct.
What's the worst that could happen? He wouldn't make it to the Hunter Exam, instead he'd be taken to some warehouse or something a few cities away, and he'd have to find a job instead, and wait for next year's exam. Or just kill himself. Either or.
Besides, being the only one in the class to get the right answer was a drug like no other.
Trusting his gut, Quince wrenched open one of the sliding doors to the rusted train with a great screech of metal.
Apart from a single crate on a pallet, the inside was empty and smelled like dust.
Looking back at the hundreds of people boarding the nice train, Quince caught the eyes of a ticket collector. The man watched, and quirked a smile before returning to his work.
Quince felt a spark of confidence as he pulled the door shut again, leaving him in almost darkness, as the windows on the doors between the carriages were covered in grime and dirt.
Only seconds later, the train jolted into motion, slowly made its way out of the station before speeding through the country.
Quince slid down the wall into a sitting position and settled in for a long ride.
"Name?" Asked the bored voice of the young man who burst from the crate.
Quince, ever so elegantly, jerked away, fell on his face, and took fifteen long seconds to retrieve a weapon from his bag.
A large kitchen knife.
The man stared at him, composed, despite the fact he just performed a jack-in-the-box.
"Name?" He repeated, completely unfazed.
"Q-quince Garza." He managed to say, trying to slow his racing heart.
The man made a sound of acknowledgement, then descended back into the crate, the lid broken and forgotten on the floor.
"Wait, oi! Who are you?" Quince calmed enough to stand up and press himself steadily against the far wall, knife held firmly in his right hand.
Slowly, the top half of the man's head peaked over the brim of the crate, his pastel green hair contrasting against dark eyebags.
"I am Hīzuru." He stated, then sunk again.
"You an examinee?"
"What else would I be?" Came the response.
"I dunno." Quince mumbled to himself, feeling slightly insulted. It was a fair question, I'm not stupid.
Despite that, it was an immense relief to hear another person had boarded the train in hopes of reaching the exam.
Though Hīzuru seemed rather neutral, Quince did not allow himself to relax. He paid keen attention to the crate and the sound of the wheels forcing their way along the rails.
After an hour, he began to wonder just how long the journey would be.
"You wouldn't happen to know how long this is gonna take? Or where we're going?"
"I do." Came the immediate response from the crate. After a moment, Quince realised the man was done.
"Uh, awesome, so, could you maybe tell me, please?"
"Perhaps." Yet another non-answer. Quince's social incompetence stumped him.
Should I keep bothering him? It would be good to know, but what if he's just messing with me. Also, I can't read him at all! What if he's really pissed at me right now and I just can't tell?! What if he's upset that I pulled a knife on him? Not that it got anywhere near him... What if he's planning to kill me?! He looks pretty skinny and not that tall but he could easily still be stronger than me oh god oh fuck-
Another stressful, silent hour passed by. Eventually, Hīzuru popped out of the crate and made an announcement.
"You have five minutes to reach the conductor's carriage. Failure to do so will result in the disqualification from the exam. Your time starts now."
Quince's instincts kicked in immediately, stopping the flurry of questions from leaving his mouth. Instead, he stood stock still, stared into Hīzuru's eyes and thought very fast.
Front carriage or fail exam. In fourth carriage. Have to go through doors. The train is moving very fast. Hīzuru is not an examinee. Go.
He pulled open the door and startled at the roar of wind. The train was moving very, very fast.
He encountered his first problem.
"Shit." There was a one metre gap between the doors, and only the metal hook system that attached the carriages as a stepping stone.
Then his second problem.
"Fuck." There was no door handle on the outside of the next carriage's door.
Carefully, he tightly gripped his doorway and attempted to kick the door down. Kick, kick, klunk. The door didn't budge.
He scanned the door carefully. It was far less rusted than the rest of the carriage. Perhaps it was new. Then, the hinges and lock wouldn't break. However, the window on the door... He could probably fit through it, or at least reach his arm in to open it if there was a handle on the inside.
Adjusting his grip, he kicked with all his strength at the window. It didn't break. So he pulled out his knife, went to smack it with the blunt end, but stopped. Does glass break easier with blunt force, or sharp objects?
Hoping not to ruin his only weapon, he stabbed at the window, again, and again and- The window cracked. Another stab and it shattered. Calming his heart from the small victory, he knocked out the remaining shards.
He removed his bag and tossed it through, before pulling himself up and through the frame, legs first.
He spotted a crate and briefly panicked, assuming it would contain another person, but after several moments, nothing happened. He didn't waste time worrying about it and made his way to the next door. Opening it revealed that the second carriage didn't have a door to enter. Instead, there was a ladder.
Quince wrestled his breathing into a calming pattern, and climbed. Travelling at a speed that was most definitely not safe for civilians, the wind burned his face and forced his eyes closed. He slowly pulled himself onto the curved roof and began crawling like a very scared starfish. After far too long, his fingers reached the edge, and he peaked over it to see the final carriage had an open doorway.
Shaking with fear and adrenaline, he carefully lowered himself onto the carriage coupling, then desperately pulled himself inside. The room was smaller than the others, had a crate against the right wall as the others did, but was otherwise empty. There was a note stuck to the door to the conductor's room.
DISEMBARK WHEN YOU HEAR THE HORN
He read it several times, and wondered if there was yet another trick in the wording.
Disembark. I have to get off the train.
When. Exactly at the moment of.
You. Me, not anyone else.
Hear. The signal is a sound, not a sight, not a person.
Horn. The horn of the train, or perhaps another kind of horn. The horn of an animal?
The note didn't say when they would arrive at the stop. It could've been seconds, it could've been days. Nor did it say how to get off the train.
A quick look around revealed that, behind the large crate, there seemed to be another sliding door. He quickly set to moving the crate out of the way to prepare for when th-
The train horn blared, reverberating in his skull. He jerked his arm in reflex and smacked his elbow so hard on the crate that he teared up and had to muffle a scream.
I have to get off the train! But- The train hasn't stopped; it's not even slowing down...
It's not going to.
His muscles burned with excessive strain as he pushed the crate far enough that he could open the sliding door.
The wind whipped his hair wildly as he stared out into a lake, hundreds of metres below.
He didn't think. He jumped, reflexively hugging his knees and hit the water like a cannonball.
The force of it knocked the breath from his lungs and it took a choking gasp of lake water to jump-start his brain into swimming. The water was too thick, his bag was too heavy and the surface was too far away, but somehow, he made it, spluttering and coughing and hacking.
His black hair stuck wetly to his face as he collapsed onto pebbled shore, utterly soaked and weighing a ton.
He looked up at the cement bridge that reached to the sky. Too far. He fell all that way. What if he had dived? Was the lake deep enough? If he had belly flopped, he could have knocked himself unconscious and drowned.
To his right, a lone fisherman in the distance stared at him, and gave a small wave. Quince glared, and took his time recovering, wringing out as much water as he could from his clothes, before trudging over to the woman.
"Have a nice swim?" She asked, a wicked smile gracing her face.
"No."
"Oh? You looked like you were having a lot of fun. You made quite the splash."
"I wasn't."
The lady rolled her eyes, and returned to her fishing.
"Are you an examinee?" He asked. The woman gave him a very unimpressed side eye and did not deign the question with an answer.
Quince felt anger rising.
"What should I do now?"
"Sit. Wait." She ordered, pointing him to the patch of grass a few metres behind her. He wanted to ask why, but thought better of it; her thousand-yard-stare was too intense for comfort. She was probably an instructor, like Hīzuru.
He collapsed back to the ground and tried to calm his racing heart. His body was sore and his mind was exhausted, and the exam hadn't even started! I might be better off just drowning myself now...
Then, the bridge began to rumble. He sat up suddenly, eyes wide and ears straining to decipher the steadily growing sound. A train? A horn sounded, like the one that had blown his eardrums out just minutes ago. Then a train burst through the foliage that concealed the other side of the track, a door was wide open and small figures inside held onto each other. They passed half of the bridge before he panicked.
"JUUUMP!" He screamed as loud as humanly possible, a reflex he hadn't felt coming but was proud of, despite the resulting coughing fit. Not a moment later, two figures, three- no, five people jumped out of the carriage, fell for a very long time and crashed into the lake with mighty splashes.
Despite his aching muscles, Quince abandoned his bag and ran to the edge of the lake, searching the waters for any sign of struggle. One after the other, five heads broke the surface and gasped for air, flailing and cursing. Quince rubbed his throat empathetically, recalling the sensation of drowning.
He backed up as they began to swim his way and readied himself to assist, when he finally realised, they were other applicants. As in; very dangerous people attempting to take a very dangerous exam. He backed up all the way to his bag and sat his butt firmly on the grass.
He was starting to feel the strain of the last few days pulling on him now. The emotional exhaustion from leaving home, physical exhaustion from walking to the city, mental exhaustion from these weird pre-exam tests.
Quince wanted a nap in his comfy bed, in his safe home. Maybe he could just...
"Come on, Bellamy, we have to keep up." A distant voice ushered, and that wakeup call - though not meant for him - was the only reason Quince didn't get left behind.
Eyes forced wide open and balance askew, he leapt to his feet, snatched up his bag and made a mad dash for the group of examinees lingering on the edge of the forest. Adrenaline forced the tiredness from his mind and he felt a maddening blush take him over when the group finally noticed his presence.
"Thought we lost you." The fisherwoman jeered.
"Hah, yeah. Power nap." He mumbled through his embarrassment. Did he seriously get that far just to ruin his own life by falling asleep? Unbelievable.
It was a fair trek to the next destination. The fisherwoman supplied them with a pocket map each, that had very tiny and vague directions written on it. Then she had disappeared. Literally. It was like magic. One woman pulled out a sniper rifle as if her leaving meant they were going to be ambushed.
Thankfully that hadn't been the case. Instead, their little group of strangers had argued briefly over where we supposedly were on the map, before splitting into two groups.
The walk was long, boring and increasingly cold. Quince had dried off in places, but his socks continued to squish noisily in his boots. His only consolation was the echo of squishing from his two travelling companions.
Eventually, beyond the bush and trees, a clearing emerged as their destination, bearing a large airship.
"Ah here they are." Mumbled a broad man perched on a stool near the ship. He stood up shakily to meet us half way. Quince twitched at the sight of the woman reaching for her rifle.
"No need for that. You won't be getting to them exam sight without a navigator."
"Navigator?" Asked the androgynous companion who hadn't spoken once. Their voice was... robotic sounding.
"That's me. Navigators are part of the preliminary exam. You have to find one and prove yourself to them, and they'll transport you to the location of the Hunter Exam."
"How must we prove ourselves?" Asked gun girl.
"Oh! By getting here of course. If you're good enough to hike through the local fauna and flora around here, that's plenty."
"Hm. So, it wasn't just a rat I shot." She surmised.
Right, they had heard rustling and she shot a bush. No one bothered to check the damage, they just kept moving. So, there were actually dangerous animals out there? Thank God for miss trigger happy.
"It appeared to be seven times the average size of a rat, and distinctly bright coloured. I believe it was a magical beast." The cyborg person said. The woman nodded in agreement and the navigator smiled appraisingly.
"A what?" Quince choked out. Magical? Beast? What the fuck are they talking about?
"Any who, I doubt we'll be seeing anyone else. Come aboard and we'll make our way to Zaban City." The navigator said, and went about grabbing his stool. The other two made their way over and Quince - still mumbling to himself about magic and myths - hesitantly followed.
The elevator was a strange surprise, and the underground tunnel was extremely uninviting. Cyborg was approached by a walking green bean who offered them a large white badge labelled '78'. Quince got '79' and gun girl got '80'.
The underground tunnel was enormous but strangely warm, and the air tasted stiflingly stale. If his chances had seemed grim before, the cold stares and meaningless chatter only reassured him that he was outclassed. The small green person seemed cheery enough, but the littered applicants were nothing short of austere and unapproachable.
Quince opted to casually investigate the area before leaning against the wall and pulling out his phone, pretending to look bored. His heart thumped painfully for several long minutes as he continually met eyes with others, who were far bulkier, taller and more menacing than him. Then, his heart practically stopped altogether when a man called out.
"Hey, your first time here?" He bellowed from across the tunnel. Strangely, his disruption drew less attention than Quince's arrival.
The man focused directly on him, but no, no way, Quince didn't know him or even look at him, he can't be talking to- The man made a straight line towards him, and Quince had to stop himself from reflexively pressing into the wall and sinking.
"Well, dark tunnels aren't exactly my favourite place to hang out." He opted for humour instead of a direct answer.
"Hah, me neither. 79th here? That's pretty good for a rookie."
"Yeah? Well, it's no 16th, that's for sure."
"Mah, I happen to be a bit of a veteran here, so I usually turn up pretty early. This will be my 35th attempt."
"Holy shit."
"Haha, I know. I might be getting a bit old for this stuff! I'm Tonpa, by the way."
"I'm Quince. And no way, if you're anything over 50, you're looking great for your age. Surviving thirty-four exams... That's gotta be a record or something!"
"It's enough that I feel I owe it to rookies to give them some advice."
"Aw, so you're the dad of the Hunter Exam? That's cute."
"Mah, something like that. Hey, the journey here must have been rough, let's have a drink." The man offered with a smile, rummaging through his shoulder bag before revealing two orange cans.
Red flag! Red flag! Red flag!
"Oh, um, thanks Tonpa-san. But I really shouldn't. I really appreciate it, but I've got my own water."
"Oh, please, it never hurts to have something spare for when it runs out. Take it, I insist."
Panic alarms, sirens, cop cars whizzing by. This is a trap; THIS IS A TRAP!
"Ah, okay. Thanks." He said, taking the can with an awkward smile, hoping he would leave.
Either a good guy with good intentions, but doesn't understand boundaries and stranger danger... Or a motherfucker trying to kill me with juice. Quince hoped it was the former.
The man followed up the offer with brief explanations of his experience with previous exams and warnings of danger. The conversation ended with a "Come see me if you ever need help!" from the stout man.
Then finally, Quince was alone again. He quickly realised why Tonpa had abandoned him.
A young boy stepped out of the elevator. He couldn't be much older than 13, had the palest skin Quince had ever seen, and had nothing with him but a skateboard.
Tonpa made his way over to the boy, a friendly smile plastered on his face.
Yes, that smile looked forced. Oh god, this kid is gonna get drugged. Panic rose in his chest but Quince couldn't bring himself to interfere, lest the man turn to more direct approach of harming them.
Quince forced himself to look away, but the moment the boy was alone and all eyes had turned away, he hurried over to him.
"Oi, kid." Quince whisper shouted. The boy turned and lifted an eyebrow, bringing his can of juice to his mouth.
"I- I don't think that's safe to drink." He sounded like such whimp. Stop stuttering! What are you, a school girl?!
"Oh," The boy relaxed, eyelids heavy and mouth turned into a slight smile.
"It's definitely not." He announced and downed the rest of the can.
Quince gaped and the boy casually exited the conversation, seemingly off to explore the tunnel.
Okay... So... If a child can get this far, maybe don't assume they need your help, idiot. Quince scolded himself, and elected not to talk to anyone else before the exam started.
Applicants began pouring in by the dozen, people of all shapes and sizes, some foreign looking whilst others reminded him of home. After an exhausting wait, a plump man with a laptop announced to a friend that the exam was "guaranteed to start within the next ten minutes". The elevator opened for what would be the last time.
A nondescript little boy, a young androgynous blonde, and a very overdressed man entered the underground. Quince reflexively searched the room for Tonpa, who sat upon a large vent that lined the wall. He watched the latest contestants shrink in on themselves, with an eerie smile. First timers, then.
Like all of the others, Quince turned away from the newcomers and continued to brood.
After one magic trick, three spilled cans of juice and the introduction of yet another well-dressed man, the first phase of the exam begun.
"I am an examiner, my name is Satotz." The man explained, moustache twitching and mouth non-existent.
"To pass the first phase of the exam, you must follow me to the location of the second phase. I will not tell you where to go or how long it will take. You must simply follow."
Running. I can run. I can do this.
