Snow Fall City.

A high tech central city in the western hemisphere of Gaia's super ice world. Massive in both size and height, its towers pierced the pale sky, their metallic spines casting long shadows that spilled into the jagged ice crevices surrounding it. Light refracted off glass and steel, turning the frozen air into a haze of silver and blue.

It was not only a magnificent work of art. It was a living artery. A business hub that linked countless smaller cities, trade routes threading through it like veins beneath the ice. Energy hummed through the streets, constant and alive, as transports drifted overhead and data streams pulsed unseen.

"Halt. Government PID please?"

At the main gate, Enzo was stopped by a pair of towering snow beasts. Their bodies were carved from dense frost and plated armor, breath fogging the air as they spoke in clear human tongues. Their eyes glowed softly, cold and watchful.

"Oh, here."

Without hesitation, Enzo handed over his ID. The beasts scanned it in silence. Records flowed, judgments made in seconds. Criminal history, debt status, affiliations. Everything he was reduced to data. Fortunately, the verdict came clean, and the gates parted to let him through.

Inside, the city swallowed him whole.

Crowds surged along wide avenues, people of every shape and origin moving with purpose. Voices overlapped, machines chimed, and towering structures loomed overhead. Enzo wandered through it all, trying to find his bearings. He was a slum rat at heart. He had never seen such magnificence up close before. Walking here felt like moving through a city of giants, where even the streets seemed to look down on him.

Fortune Fell Shop.

Cling.

A small bell rang as Enzo pushed a door open. Warm air rushed out to meet him, carrying the scent of metal, oil, and something faintly sweet. The noise of the city dulled behind him as the door swung shut, leaving him standing at the threshold.

Inside the shop were several hides of creatures, hunted and preserved, their thick skins stretched across the walls. Some were scarred, others bore strange patterns or faint residual glows. They hung like trophies, silent proof of danger survived and battles won. The air carried a faint mix of treated leather, chemicals, and old blood, giving the place a heavy weight.

"Good day. Welcome to our gracious institution. Would you like to look at some exhibits, or would you prefer our artificial echoes and equipment?"

An attendant approached Enzo with an easy smile. His attire was neat, practical, and marked with subtle insignias that spoke of rank and experience. His eyes, however, were sharp, always measuring.

This was a hunter's shop. They dealt in game, corrupted creatures hunted across distant stars. Flesh, bone, cores, and rare byproducts were brought here, catalogued, and distributed to those who could afford them or needed them badly enough.

"I'm here to sell some materials."

Enzo shook his head lightly as he answered. His voice was calm, practiced. He had said these words many times before.

Yes, he was here to sell everything he had gathered over the past year and more. Every fragment earned since he stepped into the dangerous world of high level weaving, each one paid for in blood, exhaustion, and near death moments.

"Sell? Oh, then you're a noble hunter. That's great."

The attendant's face lit up, genuine excitement breaking through his professionalism. He gestured for Enzo to follow and led him past the main floor, through a secured door, and down a narrow flight of stairs.

The basement was just as brightly lit, white lights reflecting off reinforced walls and steel tables. Yet the atmosphere shifted. Here, everything felt precise, efficient, serious. Enzo noticed several figures entering through side passages, depositing sealed containers, then leaving without a word.

"May I ask if you have a hunter's license?"

The attendant asked casually, still smiling.

Enzo did look young. Too young, in fact. But there was something about him that made people hesitate. A weight behind his eyes, a stillness in how he carried himself. One did not gain such a demeanor by simply existing.

""Hunter's license? No, what's that?"

Enzo frowned, suspicion creeping in. For a moment, he thought he was about to be ripped off. All he had ever heard was that hunter shops bought materials from anyone. In fact, they were known for paying higher prices than the Federation and for accepting virtually anything, no questions asked, as long as the goods were genuine.

But this license.

This was the first time he was hearing about it.

"It's just a formality," the attendant said smoothly. "The alliance requires everyone who does business with us to have one. In return, we offer certain exclusivities and protections."

The Hunter's Association was a vast alliance of hunting enthusiasts that had come together at some distant point in the Federation's history. No one truly knew who led it or where it had originated from, but its influence was impossible to ignore. If even one affiliated shop was wronged or targeted, hundreds of weavers would descend upon the offending world and hunt down the perpetrators without mercy.

It was strange, almost unsettling, but it worked. It always did.

"I'm not sure that's allowed. I'm already affiliated…"

Enzo's frown deepened. The institute had promised him freedom to join any force after graduation, but the truth was he had not graduated yet. The events at Galafray had blurred many lines, changed many rules, yet he could not say with certainty where his current status truly stood.

"Oh no," the attendant said quickly. "Having a license doesn't mean you're part of the Hunter's Association."

He lifted a hand, reassuring.

"That takes far more than an application. You'd need to be recognized, your skills tested, and then you'd have to pass a trial."

He paused before continuing.

"The license itself requires none of that. You only need to prove your rank, and I can issue one for you."

The smile never left his face, but his eyes watched Enzo carefully, as though already trying to guess what kind of hunter stood before him.

"Okay, I'll apply" Enzo nodded.

He needed (time) money so he could hire an investigator to look into ravens dissappearance and from the way master White spoke he would need a lot of money to get a good investigator.

The institute was currently going through some challenges so even though they could help it was extremely limited

"Good. Come with me then."

The attendant turned and entered a side room, gesturing for Enzo to sit on the lone chair placed at its center. The room was bare, clean, and faintly humming, walls lined with dormant equipment that watched more than it spoke.

Reading a person's star level by sight alone required special techniques. One could feel pressure, sense weight, but true certainty only came if one stood at a higher realm. The attendant was merely a weaver. Whatever Enzo was, it surpassed him by far.

So he relied on the machine.

[Running scan…]

[name: Enzo Malvaran]

[Rank: Exalted]

[Star core: Great star]

[Stage one]

The device finished its report aloud.

The room went silent.

Enzo felt it then. A subtle shift in the air. The attendant's posture stiffened, his breath catching just slightly. The words Exalted Star Core still echoed faintly against the walls, as if the room itself had heard too much.

"Let's go. Quickly."

The attendant sprang from his seat, seized Enzo by the hand, and pulled him toward a concealed panel that slid open at his touch. They slipped through and rushed down a narrow staircase hidden behind false walls, steps taken two at a time.

Master Inkous, after ascending to godhood, had erased the tracking signatures of the Weavetech demigods that hunted him. Still, rumors of a great star had long since spread. If anyone reported such a sighting, they would know exactly who it was and act without hesitation.

This danger was not limited to Gaia. Large scale mobilization was forbidden, but a handful of sanctified were more than enough to deal with Enzo if they caught him unprepared.

"Hold on. Where are you taking me?"

Enzo snapped out of his thoughts and yanked his hand free, eyes narrowing. His instincts flared. He barely knew this man. For all he knew, this descent led straight into a trap.

"Ah, that's fair."

The attendant slowed and scratched the back of his head, embarrassment creeping into his expression. He had panicked, and it showed.

"It's actually fine. The shop keeps a tyrant down below. I thought it would be safer there, considering a target was just placed on your back."

"A target?" Enzo raised an eyebrow, confusion mixing with caution. News spread fast, yes, but not this fast. Not instantly.

"Oh, you don't know?"

The attendant winced slightly.

"There's a high profile member of Weavetech in the shop today. I was afraid he heard the scan. But it should be fine now. Master Rosac is already looking this way."

He let out a small breath, clearly flustered by his own reaction, as if only now realizing he had dragged Enzo halfway underground without explanation.

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