"Ha! No way. You really saw that girl walk in?"
The worker leaned against a stack of rebar, wiping grease onto his orange vest. His companion chuckled, a dry, raspy sound.
"Yeah. And get this Minobe tried to talk to her last night."
"Tatsuya? That slob?"
"The very one. She didn't even let him finish. Told him he smelled like a wet dog and wasn't her type. Walked right past him."
The group erupted. It was a sharp, ugly sound that echoed off the half-finished concrete walls. They were loud, comfortable in their numbers, oblivious to the way the air had grown heavy.
"Hey! Shut it," a man shouted from the edge of the pit. He looked toward the nearby Gate, a shimmering tear in reality that made the light around it look bruised. "You want to talk about girls, do it at the bar. We're working a live site. You have any idea how fast things go wrong?"
One of the men sneered, stepping away from the rebar. "Listen to him. Think you're a Hunter now, do you? Gonna tell us how to—"
He stopped. His jaw stayed open, but the words died.
"What?"
"Up there."
The laughter didn't just stop; it was deleted. Heads tilted back. High above, something was cutting through the grey sky. It didn't glide; it thrashed, its wings beating with a low-frequency hum that vibrated in their teeth.
"Is that a bird?"
"Too big for a bird."
The hum became a roar of displaced air. The Kironis Stinger dived. Six eyes, burning like road flares, locked onto the group.
"Beast! Move!"
The screech was like metal grinding on metal. The Stinger hit the ground, its mandibles snapping open. One man, panicked and thinking of nothing but the wallet his co-worker had dropped in the dirt, lunged for the leather. He never touched it.
The Kironis's head shot forward, and the man's scream was cut short by a wet, crunching sound.
The site turned into a slaughterhouse. Speed was the creature's weapon. It moved through the dust like a shadow, tearing limbs and heads with a mechanical, insectoid efficiency. Blood soaked the dry earth, turning it into a dark, iron-scented slurry.
Only three men broke away from the initial carnage. One stumbled, his boots slipping on the slick moss of the construction path.
He tried to crawl, his fingers digging into the gravel, but the Stinger was on him in a blur. It didn't kill him instantly. It began to feed, piece by piece.
Of the two left, one vanished into the alleyways. The other, his lungs burning, ran toward the only place that mattered: the Hunter Association.
National Hunter Bureau (NHB)
"Is that all you've got?"
The training floor was a slab of reinforced concrete, now cracked and scarred.
Masahito stood in the center, his chest bare and glistening with sweat. His muscles were etched with old battle scars, and his grin was a taunt.
Across from him, a younger hunter spat a mouthful of blood. He wiped his chin, his hand shaking. "No. I can't match your lightning, but I'm not done."
Masahito barked a laugh. "Guts. I like guts. Prove it!"
Masahito moved. He didn't just run; he exploded. Every step sent a shockwave through the floor. The younger man anticipated it, slamming his foot down to trigger a localized quake. The floor heaved, launching him into the air, but Hayato was already there. A heavy blow sent the kid sprawling into the dust.
"You've got nerve," Masahito said, his voice booming as he offered a hand.
The onlookers, other hunters waiting for their turn watched in a silence that bordered on reverence. A supervisor nodded from the sidelines. "Well done, Masahito."
The session broke up minutes later. As they were grabbing water, the association President's assistant hurried in, clutching a tablet.
"Sir, we have a report. A survivor from the Akasaka site. He says a beast took the whole crew."
President Saitō rose. He didn't look like a warrior, but his presence was absolute. He walked to the entrance where the worker sat, huddled in a shock blanket.
"Tell me," Saitō said, his voice low and steady.
"It... it looked like a bird at first," the man stammered, his eyes wide and fixed on nothing. "Then it was a beetle. Huge. Six eyes. It just... it swallowed Todashi's head like it was nothing."
Saitō stroked his beard. "Kironis Stinger. It's an acid-spitter. Dangerous if you let it keep its distance." He looked at the man, then turned to his hunters. "Don't worry. We'll settle the debt."
In the training yard, the mood shifted. Gear was buckled. Blades were checked.
"Tired of killing bugs," one hunter muttered, checking the seal on his gauntlet.
"You were born for it, weren't you?" his partner replied.
"Nah. I was meant to be a doctor. Look at this face. Handsome, right?"
"You're a hunter, idiot. Grab the spear."
"Roger that."
[Breaking News: Twelve confirmed dead at Akasaka site. Citizens advised to remain indoors. White Claw Guild remains MIA in Shibuya C-rank. New Gate manifestation reported near Sakurabashi...]
Iron Fang Guild – 4:34 PM
Hiroshi Tanaka watched Renji through the glass of the briefing room. The boy was standing with the others, his posture relaxed, almost too relaxed for an E-rank.
"Daisuke," Hiroshi said, not turning around. "Dig deeper. I want everything on Kurozawa."
Daisuke paused, his pen hovering over his clipboard. "Sir? The system flagged him as E-rank. We ran the biometric and the mana-pulse check. It's a locked reading."
Hiroshi turned, his eyes narrowing. "Don't question me. The system reads the output, not the source. His aura... it feels like a basement with the lights turned off. Just do it."
"Right. Sorry, sir." Daisuke scurried away, muttering to himself.
Inside the room, Renji scanned the faces of his new team. He didn't care about their power, but he liked to know the names of the people he might have to raise from the dead later.
"Renji Kurozawa," he said.
Hiroshi walked in then, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Introductions. Make them fast."
He pointed. "Takeshi Minamoto. B-rank, your captain. Yuto Aizawa, Rika Fujimoto—both C. Then the D-ranks: Kenta, Sora, Akari. Daichi, Rin, and Toru are your C-rank backbone. And finally, Renji. E-rank."
Renji nodded. He didn't miss the way some of the C-ranks looked over his head, dismissive. It didn't matter. He just needed the payout.
When the meeting broke, Renji headed back to his squat on the outskirts. The wooden house smelled of old rain and dust. He collapsed onto a salvaged wooden couch, the joints groaning under his weight.
"Tired," he whispered.
He opened his hand. The interface flickered to life in his palm, the blue light casting long, skeletal shadows against the wall.
[System initializing...]
[Vitality: 67/100]
The number was too low. The evolution and the gate walk had drained the marrow from his bones. He needed rest, or a soul core, and he needed it soon.
Outside, the dry weeds rustled. It wasn't the wind. The sound was rhythmic, the sound of something heavy dragging itself through the brush.
[Unwelcome presence approaching.]
Renji didn't move his head, but his silver eyes shifted toward the door. "Huh."
He reached for the hilt of his blade, his fingers closing around it with a slow, deliberate finality.