The sterile white walls of the Hunter Bureau training center gleamed coldly under harsh fluorescent lights. Juan Taraki's boots echoed down the hallway as he followed Agent Roco through a maze of corridors filled with other trainees, some sparring in small rooms, others running obstacle courses.
This is it, Juan thought, his heartbeat quickening. From porter to hunter. No turning back.
"Welcome to your new home," Roco said, glancing over his shoulder. "Training starts tomorrow. We'll test your limits, break you down, then build you back up."
Juan swallowed the lump in his throat. The events in the S-rank portal haunted him still. The metallic golem. The overwhelming power surging inside him that he barely controlled. If I can't master this power... what use am I?
In the dormitory, Juan was assigned a sparse room with a metal bed and a locker. Across the hall, he overheard snatches of conversation.
"So, that's the guy who survived the S-rank dungeon?" a voice whispered.
"He's just a porter, right?"
"How does a porter survive an S-rank?"
Juan clenched his fists, frustration flaring. They didn't understand. They didn't know what he'd faced—or what was waking inside him.
The next morning, the training hall buzzed with energy. Rows of trainees stretched, warmed up, and practiced techniques under watchful instructors.
Roco led Juan to a testing chamber, a large steel room lined with metal plates and embedded sensors.
"Let's see what your 'Metalbound' skill can do," Roco said. "Remember, you control the metal, not the other way around."
Juan nodded, heart pounding. He extended his hand.
The metal plates shimmered, faintly vibrating.
"Focus," Roco urged.
Juan closed his eyes, envisioning the metal bending at his will.
Suddenly, a jagged shard rose from the floor, hovering midair.
"Good," Roco said, eyes narrowing. "Now try shaping it."
The shard twisted into a crude blade, wobbling unsteadily.
Juan's breath hitched. I did it.
But the shard cracked, falling apart.
Roco shook his head. "Your control is weak. You're forcing it."
Juan swallowed his frustration. "I'm trying."
"Try feeling it, not commanding," Roco corrected.
Juan lowered his hand, relaxed his grip, and let the metal respond.
This time, the shard moved smoothly, morphing into a sharp dagger.
A grin cracked Roco's stern face. "Better. Now, prepare for the endurance test."
During breaks, Juan found himself the subject of stares and murmurs. Some trainees were openly hostile.
"Hey, newbie," sneered a muscular man with a dragon tattoo. "Don't get cocky just because you got lucky in that portal."
Juan met his gaze steadily. "I'm not lucky. I fought to survive."
"Yeah? Show us what you got then," the man challenged.
Juan's hands twitched involuntarily. Metal from a nearby locker door slid silently off its hinges, forming a spinning shield in front of him.
A hush fell.
The man's eyes widened. "Hmph. Not bad... but don't think that means you're better."
Juan's chest tightened. He wasn't here to prove himself with fights, but survival demanded strength.
Days blurred into weeks. Juan's control over metal grew stronger. He crafted weapons, reinforced armor, even built rudimentary traps.
Yet, the pressure weighed heavy. He pushed himself beyond limits, driven by the memory of Althea, the lost parents, and the horrors in the portals.
One night, while training alone, his body trembled violently. Metal fused to his skin, transforming his arm into a shimmering iron gauntlet.
Pain seared through him.
"System warning: Metal Integration progressing."
Juan staggered but forced a smile. "I'm not giving up."
Back in the dormitory, whispers grew louder.
"He's some kind of freak."
"He's dangerous."
Juan knew the rumors could kill him just as easily as a monster.
But deep inside, a fire burned.
He was no longer the failed student or the porter.
He was forging himself into something new.
Something powerful.
Something unstoppable.