Quarrel

Noah still remembered the scene when they set off, all spirited and resolute.

Eight demon hunters had gathered at a place called Pea Mill. Noah and Denver, being the youngest, were tasked with clearing the tables, fetching candles and provisions. After, Noah stood beside the table, awe-struck, as they solemnly swore to the Roman gods to send Blade demon, who had descended into their world, back to the depths of hell. The gravity of the moment was overwhelming; he couldn't imagine a greater calling than hunting demons.

"I can't stand this," Oliver's complaining snapped Noah out of his reverie. "We don't even have a chair to sit on to make plans?"

"This is Camp Stone, not an inn," Master Frederick's voice was one of the few that could subdue Oliver. Clad in black, his appearance was impeccable: lean with neatly swept-back red hair and orderly beard. Despite days spent hunting, he looked pristine compared to the rest, who were visibly worn.

The six surviving hunters stood before Camp Stone, each bearing a countenance laden with thoughts.

Noah felt a chill, the forest wind cutting through his thin clothing. Without armor, his short shirt bore spots of mud and leaves.

"So Julius is gone," Frederick glanced at the empty space beside them, "...what a regret." His eyes then fell on the emerald necklace around Noah's neck. "You took his necklace?"

"Yes," Noah nodded to the master.

"Good, carry on his legacy," Frederick sighed, "There's something Julius once said that I'll never forget, 'Be meticulous in your actions so others can rely on you.'"

Noah internalized the words, the necklace feeling heavier around his neck.

"Now you're the only novice hunter in the Upper Roman region," Frederick focused on Noah, his gaze more intense. "You must understand what that implies..."

The insinuation filled Noah with dread, a sense of huge responsibility that he didn't fully grasp but knew to be significant.

"I will..." His voice wavered, so he repeated, stronger, "I will do my best."

"We all must, especially in these dark times. Our country faces unprecedented turmoil. As you know, the king neglects politics, leaving envoys with peculiar methods to oversee. So, elves, barbarians, dragons, ancient threats... chaos and malevolent forces grow unchecked. The sooner we destroy Blade demon, the sooner we can return to civilization to alleviate other potential crises. That's our mission as hunters; the gods bear witness," Frederick spoke evenly.

"We're a step away from failure," Logan spoke unexpectedly, and Noah thought he might wait to size up the situation before uttering a word.

"You're right, we're at risk of failing. But have we already lost? Even if our chances are one in ten thousand, we must fight for that slim probability. You don't realize the peril facing our Hunter's Hall; without achievements soon, we'll be crushed by our debts," Frederick spoke with an unquestionable authority, a mannerism Noah aspired to emulate for its persuasive power.

"We've already lost because the demon is among us," Dalton spoke up, his face ashen.

"A rare accusation. What do you mean?" Frederick frowned.

"It's him." Dalton pointed a trembling finger at Oliver. "Are you all so dull to not feel the evil emanating from him?"

Oliver's laughter was a rough burst of derision, and he stepped forward towards Dalton.

Frederick intervened, his cold presence a barrier between them, "Better not act foolishly, either of you."

Noah indeed felt an unpleasant air about Oliver, his violent demeanor and unsavory reputation unsettling. More than once, Noah questioned how such a person came to be ranked among demon hunters, yet Oliver indeed had a place listed among them. If the Hunter's Hall ever chronicled history, scribes would tally Oliver's accomplishments in hunting demons.

"Is Oliver a demon?" Noah asked Logan.

"Silence," Logan mouthed, a whisper barely audible.

"Do you believe such nonsense?" Oliver glared at Frederick, his expression fierce.

"Frankly, I've received numerous accusations against you... They say you—" Frederick turned to Noah, "Noah, leave us."

"Why?" Noah was both shocked and puzzled. Why would he be dismissed from a hunter's meeting?

"We're about to discuss matters that require the utmost confidentiality," Logan urged. "Go. If you overhear something you shouldn't and fall into the hands of witches or demons, they would torture you to extract secrets."

Disheartened, Noah stepped outside. Did they truly not trust him, seeing him still as an outsider to the hunters? Or did they consider him too fragile to withstand interrogation, likely to spill all secrets?

Nevertheless, Noah knew they were serious. Ignorance would be his best shield if he ever fell into enemy hands.

He moved away from Camp Stone, speculating about the discussions within. Were they about the accusations against Oliver? There were rumors of his nocturnal habits and ability to communicate with animals, easily fueling suspicions of his involvement with dark witchcraft.

He found Oliver's stern visage suspicious indeed.

"Humanity is a beast driven by desire," Oliver had once said. Could that one line explain everything? Weren't there selfless acts of noble sacrifice, transcending primal urges?

Noah climbed onto a stone wall, its stones scarred by burns and melt. He believed they were once straight and sturdy, the surface now rippled like waves, rough and uneven.

From Camp Stone came boisterous arguing, drawing Noah's attention. The hunters' silhouettes huddled closer, seemingly shouting and scolding each other face-to-face, even pushing and shoving, with only Logan's solitary figure standing apart, seemingly above such quarrels.

Moments later, Jaffney emerged near the stone walls and greeted Noah, "Newbie."

Noah hopped down and greeted her, "Did you send for me?"

"On the contrary, I couldn't stand their bickering and stepped out myself," she shrugged. "I don't like it."

"What are they arguing about?" Noah asked.

"Squabbles. Oliver's trying to prove his innocence but making matters worse. Dalton's on the brink. Frederick wants to understand what happened before making a decision, and your master doesn't want to get involved," Jaffney climbed onto the wall to sit.

She was striking, with emerald eyes and hair in a long braid, wearing a snug leather cuirass for mobility, carrying a pack and with a thin silver sword at her waist.

"Oliver says Master Logan has lost his emotions."

"Did he now? Do you know why all hunter incantations cost us our souls?" she asked.

A pessimistic thought arose within Noah.

"Because we have nothing else left?"

She chuckled at his response, "Don't think like that. We have plenty, like companions, gear, and skills. In fact, burning our souls can be advantageous."

"Is it worth exchanging our souls for?" Noah wondered incredulously.

"Absolutely. Demons don't see the world as we do. To them, all beings are just vessels carrying souls. The stronger the creature, the brighter the flame of the soul, prompting them to pursue at all costs. The weaker our souls, the less we register to them, almost invisible to their senses."

"Then I should use spells more often, reducing my soul sooner," Noah mused.

"That's a different matter. At different stages of life, we do different things. Once you reach my age or become as old as your master, our life paths are set. We have nothing else but to hunt demons, then we become truly fearless. Since every day ahead is no different from today, we live each day as if it's our last, devoted to the hunter's cause."

Noah felt uneasy. Was a demon hunter's life just about hunting demons? Such a bleak existence.

"You see, don't you think it's not so good? That's the beauty of youth. You're still young, free to chase any dream you desire—wealth, status, food, sex. Only after fully experiencing every worldly pleasure will you understand what's precious about life, worth trading your soul to protect," Jaffney smiled.

"I understand," Noah nodded solemnly.

"How many spells do you know?" Jaffney inquired.

"Just the Aether Flame."

"Ah, the Aether Flame... a powerful spell. I respect your master for inheriting such legendary magic. Now, let me teach you a new spell. It's simple but important, and not as draining as the Aether Flame. Pick up a stone and throw it at me."

Excitement surged within Noah at the prospect of learning a new spell.

He picked up a stone, plentiful among the ruins, and tossed it gently toward her. She recited an incantation, and the stone seemed to bounce off an invisible barrier before falling to the ground.

"Once a demon tempted a hunter in the woods, inviting the hunter to summon a demon into this world. The hunter agreed, but also made a request, asking the demon for wisdom," Jaffney signaled for another stone. The second one also fell short, unable to reach her due to her spell. "...The demon consented, gifting the hunter with cunning beyond any mortal, then, with the hunter's help, entered this world. Using the wisdom shared by the demon, the hunter discovered methods to manipulate the world's fundamentals and created a powerful incantation to seal the demon within a secret hall, foreseeing that more demons would continue to assault the world, thus founding the order of demon hunters."

"The secret hall?" This was the first Noah had heard of it.

"It's in a distant place," Jaffney spoke with an air of mystery. "No one knows where because it imprisons the most terrible demons. The original hunters feared that others would enter the hall, accidentally releasing the demon."

"What if the demon escapes on its own?"

"Indeed, like in our hall. If we all gather to chase Blade demon, the demons inside might seize the chance to flee. There's no helping it; a great person offered Frederick a substantial deal... we need to defeat Blade demon," Jaffney explained. "But that's a trifle for us to worry about. Anyway… mimic my tone, cadence, and rhythm exactly as I cast this spell. It commands the air to flow in a predetermined direction—'Phantom Force.'"

The air shimmered subtly, and this time Noah observed it closely.

He memorized the spell, echoing Jaffney's exact inflection.

"Phantom Force!"

Noah peered around, seeing no apparent reaction, unsure if it worked. Precise control over a spell's application range, duration, and potency required daily practice. He probably only stirred a small gust in his attempt.

"Come on, let me try tossing a stone at you..." Jaffney suggested.

But the commotion by Camp Stone grew louder until a harsh curse cut through the noise:

"To hell with it! I'm done!"