The road stretched long beneath a pale blue sky.
The wind carried the scent of grass and salt, and the distant sound of gulls still lingered — faint echoes of the coast they had left behind.
Hunnt walked at the front, his long coat shifting with each step, while the twins followed behind him. Their boots crunched softly over the dirt path that wound through the fields.
For a while, no one spoke.
Then, Will broke the silence. "Hunnt," he called. "When will you start training me?"
Hunnt didn't turn around. "That depends," he said calmly. "Show me what you've learned first."
Will blinked. "What do you mean?"
Hunnt stopped and gestured toward a tree standing alone near the trail. "Show me how you use your bow. Hit that tree — and don't miss."
"Alright," Will said confidently, setting his pack down. He drew his bow, notched an arrow, and took a deep breath. His posture was upright, shoulders square, every movement smooth — just like the Guild had taught. He inhaled slowly, held the breath in his chest, and released.
The arrow whistled clean through the air and struck the bark with a sharp thud — dead center.
Willa smiled proudly. "That's my brother."
Hunnt gave a small nod. "Not bad."
Then his expression hardened. "Now, show me how you fight a monster."
Will blinked, uncertain. "What do you mean? That's how I fight. I stay calm, aim carefully, and shoot."
Hunnt's brow furrowed. "So during the Leviathan attack, while your sister risked her life on the front lines, you just stood at the back and fired arrows?"
The words hit like a blade. Willa froze. Will's jaw tightened.
"I—" he began, but Hunnt cut him off.
"Don't misunderstand me," Hunnt said, voice low but firm. "There's nothing wrong with keeping distance — that's how bow users survive. But standing back and waiting while others take the hits for you? That's not survival. That's selfish."
The twins fell silent. Only the wind answered, carrying dust across the path.
Hunnt crossed his arms. "No wonder the hunters struggled in Vaelstorm. The gunners stayed behind waiting for targets, while the frontliners bled to protect them. A bow user should never just stand and wait. You're short to mid-range — that means you move. You adapt. You strike when it matters."
Will looked down at his hands gripping the bowstring, shame prickling under his skin.
Hunnt's tone softened slightly. "If you want to learn, then we start with the basics — not the Guild's version. Mine."
He stepped closer and pointed to the bow. "The weapon's alive when you move with it. Remember that. Now, these are your seven foundations."
---
Basic Form
1. Charge Shot (Lv.1–4)
"Hold the draw, feel the tension build. Power comes with patience. Every level of charge increases your strike — but burns your stamina. Learn to feel when to release."
2. Power Shot
"The follow-up. Quick, relentless. The Guild calls it efficiency. I call it control. This is pressure — never giving the monster a heartbeat of rest."
3. Arc Shot
"Rain arrows from above. Use it when you're outnumbered or when someone else needs breathing room. Crowd control — it keeps the rhythm alive."
4. Dragon Piercer
Hunnt's eyes glinted faintly. "A single arrow through many. Long, straight, devastating. When you fire this, the battle pauses — even monsters listen."
5. Dodge Step
"Your dance step. Evade and move. Keep your rhythm while re-aiming. You're not running — you're adjusting."
6. Backstep
"Your guard without a shield. You pull back, regain distance, and stay calm under pressure."
7. Charging Sidestep
"This one's advanced," Hunnt warned. "You move, charge, and shoot all in one breath. It eats stamina fast — but in the hands of someone precise, it's deadly."
---
Hunnt stepped back. "Alright. Each one — practice, visualize, interpret. Memorize until it becomes instinct."
Will nodded, his earlier confidence replaced by quiet focus.
He started with the Charge Shot.
He inhaled slowly, pulling the string, feeling the tension in his arms.
"Good," Hunnt said. "Don't rush it. Feel where your breath meets your aim."
Next was the Power Shot — a swift follow-up.
The arrow thudded into the tree, shaking loose bark.
"Better. Now again."
They moved through each form — Arc Shot, Dragon Piercer, Dodge Step, Backstep, and finally, Charging Sidestep.
Each time, Will visualized the motion, breathed through it, and released.
Each time, Hunnt corrected his posture or adjusted his breathing.
By the seventh form, sweat dripped down Will's face, but his eyes burned with focus.
"Not bad," Hunnt said finally. "Now you understand movement. But that's only half the bow. The rest comes from here."
He tapped his chest.
"Every hunter breathes differently," he continued, "but for bow users, breathing is your aim. Miss the rhythm, and the shot dies before it's fired."
Hunnt crouched, drawing a line in the dirt as he spoke.
---
Bow Breathing Forms
Steady Breath – Long inhale, steady release.
"Keeps your aim true, even when the world's shaking. Patience before the strike."
Pulse Breath – Short, controlled breaths in rhythm.
"Used in the middle of battle. Keeps your shots flowing, your body moving — the rhythm of the hunt."
Silent Breath – Suppressed breathing for stealth and precision.
"The assassin's calm. You vanish into your aim. The monster never sees the arrow that kills it."
---
Hunnt stood, his gaze steady on Will. "Breathing connects you to the fight — to your weapon, your heartbeat, and the world. It calms the mind, sharpens the hand, and controls fear."
Will looked down at his bow. "So… every shot has a breath."
"Every breath is a shot," Hunnt corrected. "You breathe wrong, you miss. You breathe right, you live."
The young hunter nodded slowly, understanding settling into his bones.
From behind, Willa smiled faintly. "Guess I'm not the only one who's going to have trouble breathing around him."
Hunnt glanced at her, smirking. "Don't worry. You'll both get used to it. Eventually."
The three of them resumed their walk toward Korvan Village, the path winding through rolling hills and quiet woods.
The sun dipped low behind them, painting the sky gold and crimson.
For the first time since Vaelstorm, they weren't running from something — they were walking toward something new.
A new journey.
A new strength.
A new beginning.