**Chapter 1: The Hollow Awakening**

  The air in the Blackmire Swamp clung thick with the scent of decay. Corin Duskbane crouched low in the muck, his twin daggers slick with monster blood. His breath came in controlled bursts—each exhale a silent prayer that the **Ghoulfang Stalker** lurking in the shadows wouldn’t hear him.

  It had been three days since he’d last slept. Three days since he’d stumbled upon the remains of **Dusk Hollow**, his village, swallowed by a tide of chittering, ink-black horrors. The guild scouts had called it a "rogue migration." Corin called it **murder**.

  A twig snapped.

  The Ghoulfang lunged, jaws gaping wide enough to sever a man in half. Corin twisted, driving a dagger into its underbelly. The beast screeched—then collapsed, dissolving into foul smoke.

  **"Pathetic,"** a voice drawled from the trees.

  Corin spun, blades raised. A man leaned against a rotting oak, arms crossed. Tall, draped in a **black-and-silver guild cloak**, with a rapier at his hip and a smirk that made Corin’s skin crawl.

  **"Sylas Mournweave,"** the man said, flicking a coin between his fingers. **"You’re either very brave or very stupid, hunting Ghoulfangs alone."**

  Corin didn’t lower his weapons. **"What do you want?"**

  Sylas’s grin sharpened. **"Recruitment. Nightveil Squad needs a survivor. And you, Corin of the Dead Hollow, reek of potential."**

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

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  ### **The Guild’s Crucible** The Hunter’s Guild of **Veldros** was a fortress of stone and ambition. Corin followed Sylas through its towering gates, past initiates sparring in the yard, past merchants hawking monster pelts, and into the **Hall of Trials**—where the Nightveil Squad waited.

  1. **Garrik Ironhide** – The bruiser sat on a bench, sharpening a **maul the size of a door**. He glanced up, snorted. **"Hmph. Scrawny."** 2. **Lira Frostshot** – Perched on a rafter, she twirled an **ice-tipped arrow** between her fingers. **"Oh good, another liability."** 3. **Talis Emberwind** – The mystic stood apart, his staff pulsing softly. His voice was quiet. **"Your pain is loud. It drowns out your soul."**

  Sylas clapped his hands. **"Welcome to your new family. Assuming you survive initiation."**

  A bell tolled. The gates to the **Proving Grounds** groaned open.

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  ### **The Trial of Blood** The rules were simple: **Retrieve a Wyrmling’s fang from the pit. Don’t die.**

  Corin dropped into the darkness—and the **monsters came**.

  - Garrik charged first, his body **swelling with muscle** as Titan Core ignited. He crushed a **Stoneback Lurker** bare-handed, roaring. - Lira’s arrows **froze three beasts mid-leap**, shattering them like glass. - Talis wove barriers of light, murmuring prayers as claws raked against his shields.

  And Sylas? He **watched**, arms crossed, as if this were a puppet show.

  Corin fought like a man possessed. His daggers flashed, his **Arc Vein humming** as he siphoned mana from fallen beasts. But when a **Wraithfang Wyrm** erupted from the shadows, jaws aimed for Talis’s throat—

  **Corin moved.**

  He **plunged a dagger into the Wyrm’s eye**, riding its thrashing body to the ground. The fang snapped loose. He caught it.

  Silence.

  Then—

  **"Hah!"** Garrik boomed. **"Maybe not so scrawny!"** Lira rolled her eyes but **tossed him a healing vial**. Talis placed a hand on Corin’s shoulder. **"You burn too brightly. But… thank you."**

  Sylas smirked. Welcome to Nightveil."