The next few weeks settled into a comfortable routine. Fin spent time exploring his new house with Meg, getting used to having space and clean water whenever he wanted.
He trained lightly, practicing channeling mana into his limbs, recalling the feeling from the dungeon. The five million credits sat safely in his bank account, a constant, almost unreal presence.
Life was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos he'd experienced since awakening his power.
Then the notification came—a crisp message on his Guild-issued device: Annual Hunter Training commences, 0800 hours.
"Guess the vacation's over," he said to Meg over breakfast (burnt eggs again, though slightly less so this time).
"Training? Like, push-ups and running laps?" she asked, stealing a piece of his non-burnt toast.
"Something like that," he replied, pulling on his new gear.
