The first incident wasn't called an attack.
The Ministry made sure of that.
They used words like disturbance, civil unrest, localized awakening event.
Kael heard a different term whispered through the Freezer's walls.
Mass casualty.
It began in a C-tier city near the southern coast, one that rarely saw dungeon breaches and prided itself on stability. A recruitment rally—ostensibly a mental health outreach program for families affected by Hunter deployment—had drawn a modest crowd.
The Awakened were there.
They didn't wear uniforms.
They didn't chant.
They smiled.
Footage streamed across the observation screen in Training Hall C. Kael stood alone, arms folded, eyes fixed on the images.
A woman with silver-threaded hair stood at the center of the crowd. Her posture was relaxed, her expression serene.
"Fear is a symptom," she said gently. "Cold is not cruelty. It is clarity."
People listened.
Parents. Teenagers. Even a few low-ranked Hunters.
"They're not forcing anything," Kael murmured. "That's the worst part."
The gray-haired man stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back. "They're offering relief."
The woman on screen raised her hand.
Fire bloomed around her—not wild, not destructive. It shimmered softly, refracting light like crystal.
Unrankable fire.
But altered.
"This isn't natural," Kael said.
"No," the man agreed. "It's refined."
The woman's voice grew warmer. "Those who endure the cold awaken to truth. Those who resist suffer needlessly."
She gestured—and the temperature dropped.
Not globally.
Precisely.
Kael watched people gasp, clutching their arms, their breath fogging in the warm coastal air. Some screamed. Others laughed hysterically.
Then came the fire.
Uncontrolled. Panicked. Explosive.
The Awakened didn't flinch.
They absorbed it.
Kael's heart pounded. "They're imitating Unrankable assimilation—but without limits."
"Exactly," the man said. "No restraint. No anchors."
The screen cut to static.
"Casualty count pending," the voice announced.
Kael turned away.
This is what happens when sanity is returned without identity, he thought. They didn't heal them. They emptied them.
---
The Freezer reacted within hours.
Security protocols escalated. Training intensified. Observation became constant.
And for the first time since Kael entered the program, a new presence appeared.
They arrived without ceremony.
Three figures in matte-black combat suits, faces obscured by angular visors etched with faint red sigils. The air around them felt… wrong. Suppressed. Muted.
Post-Rankers.
Kael felt it instantly.
His fire recoiled.
Not extinguished—but constrained, as if invisible hands were pressing down on it.
"Active deployment unit PR-07 through PR-09," the woman announced. "Field-tested."
One of them turned its head slightly.
Kael stiffened.
He couldn't see the eyes—but he felt attention lock onto him.
The system message flared violently.
[SYSTEM STATUS: LOCKED]
[THREAT DETECTED—COUNTERMEASURE REQUIRED]
Kael's breath hitched.
"So this is it," he whispered.
The Post-Ranker stepped forward.
"Subject F-117," a distorted voice said. "You are identified as a priority variable."
Kael met the visor's gaze. "What did you do to make yourselves like this?"
The Post-Ranker paused.
"Removed inefficiencies," it replied.
Kael smiled coldly. "Then you removed everything that mattered."
The temperature dropped.
Not from the Freezer.
From them.
---
The loss came quietly.
That was the cruelest part.
F-087 sat beside Kael during a rare shared meal interval, picking at her food with unsteady fingers.
"You remember my brother?" she asked suddenly.
Kael nodded. "You said he used to sneak you sweets before training."
She smiled faintly. "I can't remember his face anymore."
Kael felt the words like a blade.
"That's okay," he said gently. "I remember it."
She looked at him with sudden intensity. "Tell me."
He described it—crooked grin, scar on his chin, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.
She listened, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Thank you," she whispered. "If you hadn't… I think he'd be gone forever."
That night, F-087 didn't wake up.
No alarms.
No screams.
Just silence.
The report came in the morning.
SUBJECT F-087:
COGNITIVE COLLAPSE—TERMINAL
Kael sat on his bed long after the notice faded.
He'd anchored her.
But not fast enough.
Something inside him cracked—not fractured, not lost—but set.
Resolve hardened into something dangerous.
---
The government moved fast.
Publicly, they blamed the Awakened incident on a rogue department. Internally, they authorized full-spectrum countermeasures.
Post-Rankers were unleashed.
Across the country, Unrankables disappeared.
Some were killed.
Some were captured.
Some fought back.
Kael watched the feeds in silence.
Then the order came.
"Subject F-117," the voice announced. "You are to participate in a live suppression exercise."
The doors opened.
A dungeon gate shimmered in the hall—unstable, violent.
Beyond it, fire roared.
And standing at the threshold—
A Post-Ranker.
PR-09.
The visor turned toward Kael.
"Engage," the voice commanded.
Kael stepped forward.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the system detonated into clarity.
[EVENT UNLOCKED: POST-RANKER NULLIFICATION]
[CORE FUNCTION: AUTHORIZED]
The world sharpened.
Kael felt it—not power added, but restrictions removed.
The Post-Ranker attacked.
Its fire was inverted—cold-flame, suppressive, designed to cancel Unrankable properties on contact.
Kael didn't dodge.
He reached out.
And understood.
It's not fire, he realized. It's authority.
He broke it down in real time.
Structure. Intent. Limitation.
Then he rewrote it.
Kael's fire didn't clash with the Post-Ranker's.
It passed through.
The suppressive field shattered like glass.
PR-09 staggered.
"What—" it began.
Kael struck.
One precise, controlled surge—dense, layered, personal.
The Post-Ranker slammed into the dungeon wall, armor cracking.
Silence followed.
The system pulsed once more.
[CONFIRMATION: POST-RANKER COUNTER—VALID]
Kael stood over the fallen figure, chest heaving.
For the first time since the Freezer—
He felt warm.
Behind the observation glass, panic erupted.
"That shouldn't be possible," someone shouted.
The gray-haired man stared, pale.
"We've lost control," he whispered.
Kael looked up at the cameras.
At the people who had decided what was acceptable to lose.
"This," he said quietly, "is where you made your mistake."