The elite monster lunged.
Aren twisted just in time, claws slicing through the air where his neck had been a second earlier. The impact cracked the stone wall behind him, dust raining down as the creature landed with a snarl.
Elite-class.
Thicker hide. Faster reaction. Smarter eyes.
Aren exhaled slowly, steadying his breath.
Too slow, he thought. I hesitated.
The rift around them pulsed, warped terrain bending unnaturally, the air heavy with pressure. This wasn't a place for mistakes.
The monster charged again.
Aren raised his hand.
The ground beneath the elite exploded upward as jagged slabs of stone tore free, driven by sheer telekinetic force. The creature dodged two, smashed through a third, but that was all Aren needed.
"Got you."
The stone fragments stopped mid-air.
Then reversed.
They slammed into the elite from every direction, pinning it for half a second. Not enough to kill it.
Enough to finish it.
Aren clenched his fist.
The pressure spiked.
The elite let out a strangled roar before its body collapsed inward, crushed by invisible force. The glow in its eyes faded, and its massive form hit the ground with a heavy, final thud.
Silence.
Aren stood there, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping down his jaw. His arms trembled, but he stayed upright.
Cleaner than last time, he noted. Still inefficient.
A faint shimmer appeared where the elite had fallen. Energy dispersed into the rift, dissolving like mist.
Aren straightened, eyes sharp.
This wasn't yesterday's Aren.
This was someone who had made a choice.
And this rift?
It was just the beginning.
The rift hadn't been on any public alert.
No sirens. No evacuation notices. No Convent perimeter.
That alone told Aren everything he needed to know.
He stood at the edge of the fracture now, the elite's corpse already dissolving behind him. The rift pulsed slowly, like a living thing pretending to be asleep.
Restricted access, he thought. Off-the-books.
He remembered the message from earlier that morning.
A single location pin.
A single line of text.
"Mid-depth. Controlled environment. You go in alone."
No explanation. No encouragement. No warning.
Just expectation.
Aren had hesitated back then, standing in the alley behind his apartment, staring at his phone. This wasn't like the accidental rift near school. This was deliberate.
Someone had opened this rift.
And someone had decided he was ready to step inside it.
So this is how you train people, Aren thought, flexing his fingers. Throw them in and see if they crawl back out.
He glanced around the warped landscape. The rift was stable, unnaturally so. Terrain arranged to funnel movement. Enemies spaced out, escalating in strength.
This place was designed.
That elite hadn't been random. It had been a test.
Aren exhaled slowly.
"Still C-tier," he muttered. "And you send me something like that."
As if responding, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
No signal bars. No network.
Still, the message came through.
"You're late."
Aren snorted. "You didn't say there was an elite."
A pause.
Then:
"I knew you'd manage."
Aren looked down at the fading remains of the monster. His arms still ached. His mana was lower than he liked.
"Next time," he said quietly, "try trusting me after I survive."
Three dots appeared. Disappeared.
Then one last message.
"Clear the rift. We'll talk when you're out."
The screen went dark.
Aren slipped the phone away and looked deeper into the rift, where heavier pressure twisted the air and something far stronger waited.
His jaw tightened.
"So that's the deal," he said to no one. "You push. I survive."
He stepped forward without hesitation.
Because whoever was guiding him now wasn't interested in excuses.
Only results.
The rift collapsed behind Aren with a low, thunderous sigh.
The warped landscape folded inward, light draining away until only the cracked asphalt of an abandoned industrial zone remained. Aren dropped to one knee, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his chin.
His phone vibrated.
This time, it wasn't a message.
Footsteps echoed.
Slow. Unhurried. Confident.
Aren looked up.
A man stood a few meters away, hands in his coat pockets, eyes sharp enough to feel like pressure on Aren's skin. He didn't look battle-ready. No visible weapons. No active Manifestation.
He didn't need them.
Every hunter in the country knew that presence.
"Good," the man said calmly. "You killed the elite faster than expected."
Aren pushed himself to his feet. "So you finally decided to show up."
The man smiled faintly. "I wanted to see the result first."
There was no need for introductions.
Kael Veyran.
S-tier hunter.
Strongest in the country.
The living symbol of the Aegis Convent, the largest and most powerful convent in the nation.
The man other convents measured themselves against.
"The Convent doesn't usually recruit students," Aren said. "Especially C-tiers."
Kael's eyes flicked over him. Not dismissive. Evaluating.
"You're not a normal C-tier," Kael replied. "And this wasn't a normal rift."
He gestured lazily to the sealed space. "Private rift. Controlled difficulty. Designed escalation. Something only a top convent can arrange."
Aren exhaled. "So this was an audition."
Kael nodded. "Yes."
"And if I'd died?"
"Then I would've been wrong about you," Kael said plainly.
No apology. No hesitation.
Aren huffed a quiet laugh. "You're insane."
Kael's smile widened slightly. "That's what people say right before they join my Convent."
He stepped closer, aura finally leaking out. It wasn't violent. It was absolute. The kind of power that didn't need to prove itself.
"You want to reach B-tier," Kael continued. "Then A-tier. Then strong enough to walk back into a sealed rift and kill something that's waiting for you."
Aren's eyes sharpened.
Kael met his gaze head-on. "I can take you there. Not safely. Not comfortably. But faster than anyone else."
Silence stretched.
Aren straightened.
"…What's the price?"
Kael turned away, already walking. "You belong to the Aegis Convent while you train. You follow my rules. You survive my methods."
He paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"And you stop pretending you're small."
Aren stared at him for a long moment.
Then he smiled. Just a little.
"Guess I should stop skipping leg day too," he muttered.
Kael laughed once. Low. Approving.
"Welcome to the real climb, Aren."
KAEL's POV
I didn't recruit Aren because he was strong.
If strength were the requirement, I could have filled ten convents with monsters stronger than him. People with cleaner records. Better numbers. Powers that looked impressive on paper.
That wasn't why I was there.
I watched him from the edge of the rift as he stood over the elite's corpse, chest heaving, hands shaking not from fear but restraint. He didn't celebrate. Didn't smile. Didn't look relieved.
He looked annoyed.
That was the first sign.
Most hunters who survive their first elite fight cling to the moment. They replay it. They build their identity around it. Aren did the opposite. He treated the kill like unfinished business.
As if it wasn't the one he wanted.
I've seen that look before.
Once.
It was in the mirror, years ago, when I was still weak enough to be ignored.
Aren doesn't chase power for recognition. He doesn't even chase survival. He's moving forward because something behind him refuses to stay buried. Whatever waits for him inside that sealed rift isn't just a boss.
It's a promise.
And promises like that don't fade.
I could feel it when I let my aura slip. He noticed instantly. Not consciously, but his body reacted. Spine straightened. Weight shifted. Defensive instincts kicked in.
A real C-tier wouldn't have sensed me at all.
The Convent thinks I'm building weapons. That I'm scouting assets.
They're wrong.
I'm searching for successors who won't flinch when the system breaks. Hunters who won't hesitate when the rules stop protecting them. People who can look at overwhelming authority and still think, I'll climb anyway.
Aren is reckless. Overconfident. Barely held together by stubbornness and bad habits.
Good.
Those flaws can be carved.
Fear can't.
When he asked me the price, I almost smiled.
Because he already knew.
Power always demands ownership. Either you own it, or it owns you.
I'll break him down. Strip away the arrogance. Teach him how weak he actually is. Make him curse my name every morning he wakes up sore and still alive.
And when he finally reaches B-tier, then A-tier…
I'll show him the truth.
That the strongest hunters aren't born.
They're cornered.
And Aren Vale is already trapped.
Whether he realizes it or not.
I was nineteen when I learned what power really costs.
Back then, there were no titles attached to my name. No S-tier. No strongest hunter. Just a number stamped on my file and a Convent that barely remembered I existed.
There was someone else with me then.
Her name doesn't matter anymore. The system erased it long before I stopped saying it out loud.
She was better than me at first. Faster reactions. Cleaner control. When a rift opened, she stepped forward without hesitation and dragged me along because she believed potential meant something if you nurtured it.
I believed her.
We entered a deep rift that was marked mid-depth. The Convent signed off on it without blinking. Standard procedure. Acceptable risk.
They were wrong.
Inside, the rules bent. The monsters adapted. The boss wasn't waiting at the end. It was watching us the entire time, learning.
I felt it before she did.
Fear is quiet when it's real.
She smiled at me, told me to stop overthinking, told me we'd clear it together like always.
That was the last mistake either of us made.
When the boss finally moved, I froze for half a second too long. Not because I was weak, but because I was still thinking like a hunter who trusted the system to be fair.
That half second was enough.
She pushed me out of the way.
I remember the sound more than the sight. Bone doesn't break loudly like people imagine. It gives. Like wet wood snapping under pressure.
The rift sealed itself minutes later.
The Convent declared the boss eliminated. Filed her under casualties. Paid compensation. Moved on.
I didn't.
I crawled out of that rift with blood on my hands and a truth burned into my spine.
Power doesn't arrive when you're ready.
It arrives when you're late.
I climbed after that. Ruthlessly. Not to protect people. Not to be a hero.
But so that next time the system lied, I would be strong enough to answer back.
That's why Aren caught my attention.
Because he already knows something is wrong.
Because he left a boss alive and didn't tell anyone.
Because he's walking the same path I did, just earlier.
And this time, I won't look away.
Not again.
NARRATOR's POV
Aren was halfway through cooldown drills when Kael spoke.
They were alone in the Convent's lower training wing. Concrete walls. Dim lights. No cameras. The kind of place meant for things that didn't make it into reports.
"Stop," Kael said.
Aren froze mid-motion, breath uneven. "What now?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. He walked past Aren, boots echoing once, then stopped a few steps ahead.
"You left the boss alive," he said.
The words were calm.
Too calm.
Aren's muscles tightened before his mind caught up. "What are you talking about?"
Kael turned.
There was no accusation in his eyes. No anger. Just certainty.
"You exited a mid-depth rift with an elite kill, a closed boundary, and a key that shouldn't exist unless something is still sealed inside," Kael continued. "You avoided post-clear scans. Gave minimal answers. And you looked relieved when the rift collapsed."
Aren swallowed.
"That's not how hunters look when they've won."
Silence stretched.
Aren laughed, sharp and defensive. "So what, you're guessing?"
Kael stepped closer. "I've stood where you stood."
That did it.
Aren's smile vanished. "You don't know anything about that rift."
"You're right," Kael said. "I know worse."
He raised his hand slightly. Not threatening. Just enough.
"The Convent believes the boss is dead," Kael went on. "The public record agrees. And it will stay that way."
Aren's eyes widened a fraction. "Why?"
"Because if they learn a C-tier walked away from a sealed boss," Kael replied, "they won't ask why you survived."
He leaned in just enough for Aren to feel the weight of his presence.
"They'll ask how to use you."
Aren looked away.
Inside his chest, something twisted. Fear. Relief. Anger. All tangled together.
"…It's still in there," Aren said quietly. "Waiting."
"I know."
"You're not going to report it?"
"No."
"You're not going to make me go back?"
"Not yet."
Aren snapped his head up. "Not yet?"
Kael met his gaze fully now. No shadows. No lies.
"When you return," Kael said, "it won't be to survive."
Aren's fingers curled into fists.
"…You're certain I'll go back."
Kael nodded once.
"People don't leave promises unfinished."
He turned and walked toward the exit, voice steady as stone.
"Train properly, Aren. Reach A-tier."
At the door, he paused.
"Then we'll see what's been waiting for you."
The door closed.
Aren didn't ask how he knew.
It didn't matter.
Only one thing did.
Strength.
Enough to stand above everyone who had ever existed.
Aren stood alone, heart pounding, the image of the sealed rift burning behind his eyes.
He wasn't hiding the truth anymore.
Someone else was carrying it with him.
And somehow… that was more terrifying.