The next morning, Yamato followed the map on his phone, weaving through the busy streets until a towering building with a black-iron emblem came into view.
The Bounty Association Headquarters.
His heart thumped with excitement as he stepped inside.
Behind a long desk, a row of registrars sat with stacks of parchment and glowing tablets.
Yamato approached one of them, a young woman with a warm smile. "Good morning," he said politely. "I'm here to register as a bounty hunter."
Her eyes lit up. "Another newbie, huh? Welcome on board! Please, write your name and details here." She slid a form across the desk.
Yamato nodded and quickly penned his information.
She read aloud as her eyes scanned the sheet.
"Hmm… Yamato Ishida.... cool name. Wait.... " she froze, then gasped. "You're seventeen?! That's way too young! Is your mom even aware of this?"
A twitch formed at the corner of Yamato's eye. He leaned closer, voice flat. "Sorry, is that a problem?"
She laughed nervously, waving her hands. "Not at all, young man!"
("Now she calls me young man," Yamato thought, suppressing a sigh.)
The registrar's smile softened as she leaned forward to explain.
"Alright, Yamato Ishida. Welcome to the world of bounty hunters. Registration is simple, no exams. Once you're in, you're in. You'll receive the hunter's ranking paper, showing the top bounty hunters from strongest to weakest. There are four layers of rank. As a newbie, you start at the first layer. To rise, you must surpass the bounty of the current highest hunter in your layer."
Yamato's eyes narrowed with interest. "Sounds like a game."
She nodded. "It'll feel like one… until your life's on the line."
Her voice grew serious. "Hunters can work in groups or alone... it depends on your strength and preference. If a hunter defeats another in combat, he can claim the money on the loser's head… and inherit their bounty amount. The same goes for Koruzan members... they have prices on their heads too. And here's the kicker: if you occupy land and declare it yours, the Association will pay you a million dollars every week."
Yamato leaned back, a grin tugging at his lips. ("So money's on the line with every move, huh? Now this is getting interesting.")
The registrar smiled politely as she brought forward a glowing crystal orb mounted on a bronze pedestal.
"Sir, please place your hand on the crystal. If it glows green, your starting rank will fall between one thousand to fifty thousand dollars. Blue means fifty thousand to five hundred thousand. If it shines red… that means you'll start between five hundred thousand to ten million dollars."
The hunters in the hall stirred with curiosity. "Another newbie test, eh?" someone muttered.
The registrar continued, "Remember—this only measures first-layer potential."
Yamato's eyes gleamed. His pulse quickened.
This is it.
I'll blow them away.
He pressed his palm against the crystal. A smile stretched across his face as he closed his eyes, waiting for the brilliant red glow.
But when he opened then....
Nothing.
The crystal stayed cold and dull. Not a flicker. Not a spark.
"…Huh?" Yamato blinked. He tried again, pressing harder, focusing his energy. Still nothing.
The registrar scratched her head nervously. "Uh… maybe it's broken. One moment." She rushed to bring another crystal, brighter and newer.
Yamato placed his hand down again. Silence.
Her smile faltered. "This… this can't be right. According to the scan, your bounty value is…" she gulped, "…zero."
The entire headquarters erupted with laughter.
"Zero?!"
"Even farmers score higher than that!"
"Worst newbie in history!"
Yamato's face burned. He clenched his fist, trying not to explode.
A tall bounty hunter swaggered forward, slapping a heavy hand on Yamato's shoulder. "Kid, you're pathetic. But don't worry... come with us. We'll make you our errand boy. Maybe you'll be useful shining our boots."
Yamato's jaw tightened. He brushed the man's hand off. "Thanks, but I'll build my own team."
The hunter scowled, voice rising. "You're a punk. A zero-dollar punk. Hey, everyone! Who needs a punching bag?"
The crowd howled in agreement.
Yamato's head tilted slightly, his blue eyes sparking with light. He whispered, his tone sharp and calm:
"Come and see if any of you can bring me down."
The hall fell silent for a heartbeat. Then tension crackled like lightning.
The taunts echoed through the hall. Dozens of bounty hunters at the first layer surged forward, eager to make Yamato their laughingstock.
"Get him!"
"Let's crush the zero-dollar kid!"
Boots thundered across the stone floor.
Yamato didn't move.
His arms hung loosely at his sides, his eyes glowing with a fierce blue light.
The moment the first fist swung at him, a burst of energy pulsed outward—sharp, invisible, like a ripple through the air.
In an instant.....
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Every hunter who leapt at him was thrown back, crashing to the ground in a heap. Dust filled the hall.
Groans echoed as one by one they realized they'd been floored without Yamato even shifting his stance.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The registrar's jaw dropped. "He… he cleared them all… without even moving."
Up on the balcony, where the veterans sat, one of the stronger bounty hunters leaned back with a grin. His eyes glinted with amusement as he watched the scene unfold.
"This kid…" he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. "He might actually have what it takes. Let's see how far he can climb."
The registrar, still trembling from shock, hurriedly gathered Yamato's registration papers. She slid them across the counter, along with the most recent ranking magazine.
"You've… you've just defeated the highest-ranked present here. That hunter's bounty was fifty thousand. So…" She stamped the form with a shaking hand. "…fifty thousand dollars is now your official bounty."
Yamato glanced down at the crisp numbers on the paper.
His lips curled into a small, satisfied smile.
He took the documents, bowed his head slightly, and said, "Thank you."
As he walked out of the hall, whispers followed him like shadows.
"The zero-dollar kid…"
"…took them all down in one strike."
"Fifty thousand already…"
But Yamato didn't look back. His steps were steady, his mind already set on something greater.
Yamato rented a cramped little room not far from the guild hall, dropped his bag on the floor, and collapsed onto the thin mattress.
The day's noise faded behind the window; for the first time since he left the shrine, he felt the city's pulse settle into a steady hum.
He eyed the ranking magazine the registrar had shoved into his hands and muttered, "I'm not really the type to stare at lists… but just a peek at the top ten won't hurt."
He flipped it open.
The Lust — a group bounty: 10,000,000. Led by a woman named Kara Michael. Yamato frowned. A whole group with that kind of money meant influence and firepower.
Lone Wolf — single hunter: 8,500,000. Just one man. Yamato's eyes widened. One person with this much bounty… he could wipe me out in a heartbeat. Avoid him—don't cross paths.
Raven — group bounty: 7,000,000. Led by Jackson Luke, an American roughly Yamato's age. A young prodigy with a cold reputation.
Military — group bounty: 5,000,000. Led by Absalom Kevin (also American). They wore uniforms like soldiers; each member carried a one-million-dollar price on their head.
The Unknown — single hunter: 30,000,000. History whispered about him as if he were a shadow incarnate.
Yamato's thumb froze on the page. The numbers punched the air differently than the order implied, how could the fifth be thirty million when number one was only ten? He frowned, but the confusion didn't last long.
One name leaped out like a knife.
He remembered the face from school.. the nightmare who'd caused riots, the bully-turned-legend who'd forced Yamato's power awake.
The Unknown. Thirty million. A hunter who didn't play by the rules, who'd attacked first-layer newbies for sport. The memory of that day flared hot in Yamato's chest.
He slammed the magazine shut, breath short and hot. Anger and something colder..... fear... coiled together.
That bastard… I'll kill him.
The words tasted like iron and resolve.
Outside, the city thrummed on. Inside the tiny room, Yamato's hand curled into a fist above the magazine.
He wasn't just a number anymore. He had a bounty, a target, and a promise carved into his bones.
Tomorrow, he would start hunting.
Day after day, Yamato hunted, not for fame or rank, but for cash.
He picked targets carefully: first-layer hunters with tidy fifty-thousand-dollar bounties.
In a single day he could take down a dozen, sometimes twenty, stacking his gains until he walked away a millionaire before dusk.
Weeks blurred into a rhythm. The city learned his name. Graffiti in the alleys read "50K" in jagged letters; tavern gossip whispered "the 50,000-dollar psycho." Some shortened it to "Fifty".
The label stuck because of how he fought: clinical, silent, and terrifyingly efficient.... he never stuck around to gloat. He claimed the money and disappeared before the next rumor began.
Folks who'd once laughed at the zero-dollar kid had to recalibrate.
At a crowded market stall two men watched as Yamato walked past, his scarf drawn up, a satchel thumping with coin.
One spat and muttered, "That damn kid. If he's got the guts, he should take someone with a real bounty."
His friend shrugged, calmer. "You don't get it. He's not chasing rank.... he's stacking cash."
The first man sneered. "Saving up? For what, a new pair of shoes?"
The friend leaned in, voice low. "He's multiplying his bank, man. Bounty's the same, but his wallet's growing. He ain't playin' like the rest."
The sneer softened into a reluctant respect. "Huh… maybe he ain't a wanna-be after all."
By the time the sun sank low each night, Yamato counted his take and tucked it away. Reputation had followed; danger had grown. But for him, the goal was simple: every contract, every 50K, one step closer to whatever war he was really preparing to win.
The city buzzed like a hive... people moving hurriedly, whispers tangling in the alleys.
Yamato had just finished claiming the day's take when he slipped out of the bounty hall and collided with a mountain of a man.
He didn't even get to apologize before the man's fist connected with his cheek.
Yamato flew back like paper, skidding across the cobblestones.
Dazed, he tried to pull himself up, but the giant's shadow loomed over him.
"Don't even think about it, boy," the man growled. "Today you die."
Panic rippled through the square.
Even the registrars ducked for cover; no one moved to help. A mutter drifted from the crowd: "Bye, 50K.... it was nice knowing you…"
Absalom Kevin of the Military had a reputation for crushing newbies and taking trophies.
He raised his hand for the final strike.
Yamato's blue eyes flared, just for a second, then, like a cut in the air, a new presence stepped between them.
Gasps hushed the crowd.
People parted as a woman approached: Kara Michael, leader of The Lust, the top-ranked group.
Her aura was sharp and cold, a predator's poise. Absalom froze, scowling.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped.
"Business," Kara replied, voice even.
She didn't need to shout; her presence said all that was necessary.
For a heartbeat the two titans stared each other down.
Then Absalom snorted, let his hand drop, and slunk off. "Whatever. I'm out. Today's not worth it."
Relief crashed over Yamato so hard it made his head spin. He had expected to die... and instead, he was breathing.
Kara turned to him, unreadable expression softening ever so slightly.
"You're fine. Stand up."
He staggered to his feet, still shaking.
Up close she was even more imposing, fame and danger wrapped into one person. "How can I… repay you, ma'am?" he managed.
She gave a small, almost amused smile. "Easy. I'm moving up to the second layer soon. I want to see your name there before I leave. That's how you pay me back."
Her right-hand man, a hulking fellow named Dave Edensor, started to object.... "But ma'am... "..... but Kara shook her head and stepped away.
Yamato cut in, voice steady despite his racing heart. "You can count on me."
She nodded once, then left with Dave at her side, whispers and stares trailing them like smoke.
A man from the headquarters shrugged to someone nearby, "Kid got attacked by the best and saved by the best. Lucky."
Yamato clutched his head, half in disbelief, half in a new kind of focus. That night, alone in his little apartment, Kara's words wrapped around him like a promise.
He smiled into the dark. "Don't worry, ma'am. I'll be there. I'll reach you... no matter what."