PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

Chapter 2: Chapter 2 But the cliches are real.

Have you ever wondered why there are such annoying things as clichés in movies or s? Colliding with the love of your life who has a toast in her mouth or stuff like that?

I realized that these clichés exist because they happen too often in real life.

As for why I bring all of this up, it’s actually quite simple. Just yesterday, some idiot (who would come being me) was calmly thinking that nothing could go wrong with our little moving and new living environment.

That idiot is in the middle of a primal forest with nothing but a bow, arrows, a steel dagger, and a backpack with supplies. One might think that I just got lost in the back mountain of my house, and I would think the same if it weren’t for the only other thing that accompanies me besides everything else mentioned above.

It is difficult to describe the object, but it is pretty similar to a leather notebook with a texture like jade and a pretty impressive hardness. Sure, if that were all, there wouldn’t be much problem; the real problem lies in what I can only describe as a ridiculously complex magical formation that you would only see in a magical girl anime.

It is still not clear how strange my situation is. Well then, let’s go a few hours in the past.

.....

(a couple of hours in the past)

¨ what do you think, Claire? You like the new. . . I mean the old house. “I said with a bit of embarrassment in my voice.

And I can’t be blamed, although the property is quite large, as is the house, adding that it is pretty safe and discreet; the problem is that it was the terrible condition.

¨ Mmmmm, I think it will be a beautiful house with a few repairs, some furniture, and other garden arrangements, perfect for raising our children, “Claire exclaimed excitedly.

Although the last part was spoken in a voice low enough to be mistaken for a mosquito flapping, I could still hear it; I just decided to pretend to be straightforwardly deaf to her statements.

I bet many people might be cursing me for my attitude by now, but they would have to know a little about us in my defense.

With her wavy brown hair, short but incredibly vivacious, and her eyes green as emeralds, Claire is a little tall for a girl. Her face is perfect in every way; of course, she is of the cute kind, her red lips are enough to seduce a monk, and her figure leaves nothing to be desired; actually, her curves are not natural for such a young girl.

The problem is that we are three years apart; because Claire began to mature physically at a very young age, I was involved in several situations that put my moral compass on trial. Even though I was victorious, my poor sanity suffered greatly. To avoid making an unforgivable mistake against the girl I swore to protect after the death of our parents, I was forced to take drastic measures. In simple terms: I became a womanizer. . . well, ok, I will be honest. I was a womanizer before that, but it still is part of the problem.

Although it is wrong to say it myself, the truth is that I am very handsome. I’m 6.2 feet tall, have an athletic body, somewhat unruly straight black hair, blue eyes, and a face that seemed blessed by the gods themselves.

I dated different women to quench my thirst but never anything serious as it interfered with my responsibilities as Claire’s brother and guardian. Unfortunately, about a year ago, I made a small mistake in my calculations, which ended with Claire witnessing me quench my “thirst.”

The discussion that followed was truly monumental, too long to be described. Still, it ended with the following astonishing exclamation from my dear sister: ¨ If you needed someone to warm your bed and satiate your body, why didn’t you come to me? ¨

Things have been a bit weird between us since then, Claire has become more and more honest with her feelings for me, and I find myself trying to assimilate the fact that my foster sister is in love with me, well, add the fact that It seems I will have to give up my life as a womanizer. Although Claire is probably more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever slept with, I don’t think she can keep up with intimate relationships.

But it was evident in our monumental discussion that day that that particular topic is not open for debate or seems that way. We are not dating yet, and I am already a domesticated husband; sad indeed.

While all these mental monologues were going on, we entered the house and began cleaning; and this is where my tragedy began.

¨ So this is the legendary vault of the ancestors. . . it’s damn empty. What the hell am I supposed to do with such a gigantic and open vault ¨ I exclaimed as I entered the basement.

As if to answer my question aloud, a strange glow caught my attention; on the central shelf of the entire vault, there lies a peculiar notebook-like object.

I got closer to taking a better look and finished by taking it with my left hand and right at that moment.

“Brother? Where are you?” Claire exclaimed, apparently trying to find me upstairs.

Unfortunately, her voice distracted me enough to drop the notebook that I barely held in my left hand.

And then it happened, the damn thing opened and hung in midair; some glowing rune-filled diagram materialized above it, and a buzz filled my mind, after which I heard the following:

(Descendant of Hunter detected... Adjusting language... Performing analysis of physical, mental, and energy affinity... Individuals with tremendous untapped potential... Initiating protocol for training novice hunters... Searching for a suitable world for the subject to Perform training missions ... world found ... starting transport in 3 ... 2 ... 1).

First, that strange book begins to levitate and project a peculiar image. Now this voice in my head is not telling me anything that makes any sense to me, energy? Hunter? Another world? It has to be a joke . . . Right?