The lead Devileater let out a silent, psychic snarl of fury, its featureless face turning from me to the new threat on the ledge. But it didn't pounce. None of them did.
The man with flames wreathing his arms didn't just jump down. He stepped off the ledge, landing with a casual grace that sent a puff of dust billowing around his boots. The fire around him flared for a second, not with heat, but with palpable authority.
The Devileaters didn't attack. They recoiled. They took steps back, lowering their bodies in a gesture that wasn't quite submission, but was definitely wary respect. Their silent communication was a buzz of agitated energy I could feel in my teeth. This guy wasn't prey. He was management.
He ignored them completely, as if they were just mildly annoying dogs. He walked right through their midst, his eyes locked on me. Up close, I could see he wasn't much older than me. His face was sharp, with a confident smirk, and his eyes held a glint that had seen way too much for someone his age.
"New meat always finds the worst places to take a nap,"
he said, his voice laced with amusement. He stopped a few feet away, looking me up and down.
"No gear. No sigils. Just a dumb look and a death wish. You just wake up on the beach?"
I just nodded, my mouth too dry to form words. I was still braced against the slope, my heart trying to punch its way out of my chest.
He chuckled, a short, sharp sound.
"Figures. The fresh ones are either shufflers... or runners. You look like a runner."
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the watching Devileaters.
"Lucky for you, I'm on collection duty. These things are worth more alive. You? Not so much. They'd have just gotten a tiny snack out of you."
He reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a small, black disc. It looked like polished stone with a single, glowing rune etched into it.
"Look, you've got two choices,"
he said, flipping the disc in his hand.
"Option one: I leave. And you become about forty-seven different nutrient pastes for the local wildlife."
He paused to let that sink in. It did.
"Option two,"
he continued.
"You take this. It's an E-Rank license. Bottom of the barrel. But it means you work for the Guild. It means you're off-limits to the organized predators. Mostly. You'll get basic training, a cot that doesn't try to eat you, and a chance to work your way up from being complete cannon fodder."
He tossed the disc to me. I fumbled and caught it. It was warm from his touch, and the rune pulsed with a faint, steady light.
"E-Rank?"
I finally managed to croak.
"Welcome to the big leagues, kid,"
he said, his smirk widening.
"You're a Devil Hunter now. Don't let it go to your head. It basically just means you're officially allowed to get killed for profit instead of for free."
He turned and started walking back the way he came, the Devileaters parting for him without a sound. He glanced back over his shoulder.
"You coming, E-Rank? Or you wanna stick around and see if your new license is edible? I hear they taste like regret."
...
"Im Zay, by the way."
I looked down at the black disc in my hand. It felt like the heaviest thing I'd ever held. A license to die. But also... a license to live. A purpose.
I pushed myself off the slope, my legs still shaky, and followed the flaming hunter out of the pit, leaving the hungry eyes of the Devileaters behind. I had no idea what I was getting into.
But for the first time since I woke up here, I had a direction.
"O-okay... I-Im Leith."
I mumbled.