"God dammit, why am I skulking through these overgrown weeds like some common assassin?" Daisuke hissed under his breath.
He picked his way through the brush behind the perimeter of the house, thorns catching on his suit jacket. "I'm supposed to be observing the kid, not playing commando."
Impatience flared. He shifted his weight, a twig snapping beneath his shoe. "Maybe I should just walk up and ask him. Direct. Professional." He shook his head immediately. "No. Counterproductive. If I take the straight route, Hiroshi gets nothing but a blank stare and a lie. I'll just stay in the dirt."
He continued his trek, trying to move with the silent grace of the hunters he admired. He didn't see the shadow move behind the frosted glass of the side door.
Renji was already there, positioned in a low, coiled stance. His weight was on the balls of his feet, his breath shallow and rhythmic. He didn't feel fear, only the clinical necessity of defense.
Daisuke reached the door. He crouched, squinting at the gap at the bottom to see if a light was on or a shadow was moving.
"Excellent. Coast is clear." He straightened his tie and gently eased the door open. He stepped over the threshold, closing the door with a soft click.
The blow caught him before he could turn his head. A concussive, heavy strike landed squarely on his cheek. Daisuke's teeth clacked together, a spray of spittle hitting the floor as his vision swam. He hit the wood hard, his knees buckling.
"Wait! Hold on! It's me!" Daisuke gasped, clutching his jaw. He looked up, seeing Renji looming over him, arm cocked for a follow-up. "It's Daisuke! From the guild!"
Renji's brow furrowed, the silver light in his eyes fading into the dull brown of his "Kurozawa" persona. He relaxed, his face returning to that unnerving, placid mask. He stared down at the investigator with a detached sort of curiosity.
Daisuke rose gingerly, his cheek already beginning to puff and purple. "Why the hell did you hit me? And how did you even know I was out there?"
Renji didn't answer. He turned his back and walked toward the sagging sofa, letting out a heavy, deliberate exhale as he sat. "Never mind that. Why are you in my house?"
Daisuke froze. He hadn't expected to get past the door, let alone have to explain himself while his face was throbbing. Should I tell him Hiroshi sent me? No. Idiotic. He scrambled for a thread. "Um, well... I... we're friends."
Renji offered a faint, sardonic smile. They had spoken for perhaps three minutes at the office. He rose, retrieved a glass, and poured a measured amount of water from a plastic pitcher. He returned to the sofa, crossed his legs, and watched Daisuke.
"Friends," Renji prompted. The corner of his mouth curved with a cold amusement.
"So... I thought I'd visit," Daisuke finished weakly.
"A friend. Right." The teasing edge in Renji's voice was like a razor. "In that case, you've visited. You can leave now, friend."
Daisuke's neck turned a deep, angry red. He clenched his fists, his jaw tight. The arrogance on this kid. Abhorrent. God forbid I'm ever actually his friend.
"Fine. I'll take my leave." Daisuke forced a stiff, plastic smile. Renji was already focused on his water, ignoring him completely.
Daisuke turned and made a hasty, mortified exit.
"Fool was spying," Renji murmured, the glass clicking softly as he set it on the crate he used as a table.
[Daily Quest Activated]
Objective:
* 250 push-ups
* 345 sit-ups
* Run 5 km
Rewards:
* D-Rank Dungeon Gate Key: Grave-Fanged Strider.
* Unlock: [Shadow-Forged Dagger] and [Aether-Weave Buckler]
* Skill Enhancement: Bone Grasp (Level 2).
Government Briefing — Prime Minister's Office
"Mr. President, NHB teams are en route to Akasaka," Ryo Hoshino reported. He stood at attention, his eyes fixed on the map of Tokyo's shifting ley lines.
"We need to purge them," Prime Minister Ishikawa replied. He looked older than he had on the news this morning, the weight of the invisible borders pressing on his shoulders. "I just hope an S-Rank doesn't decide to show up."
"Sir, Shibuya remains dark," Hoshino stated. "White Claw hasn't signaled. I suspect they're gone. Total annihilation."
"Rank?" Ishikawa asked.
"Zero data. No records of that gate existing before it opened."
The Prime Minister went silent for a moment. "Dispatch Special Ops. I want an assessment, not a fight. Not yet."
Akasaka Street — Inside the Gate
The NHB hunters stood in a cluster, their breath visible in the biting, unnatural cold. The dungeon was a jagged throat of stone, lined with rhythmic holes that looked like open wounds in the rock.
"Colder than the last one," a hunter whispered, his hand tight on his spear.
"Look at the walls. Holes everywhere."
"Stay sharp. That's where the Stingers nest."
"I thought we cleared the one that escaped?"
"There's never just one."
They moved deeper. The silence was thick, broken only by the scrape of boots on gravel. In one of the wall cavities, a smooth, rubbery surface caught the light of a glow-stick.
The youngest of the group, a man with more ego than sense, stepped forward. He reached into the hole. "Hey, look. Is this rubber?"
Before his fingers could touch the surface, the "rubber" moved. A Kironis Stinger dropped from the ceiling of the hole. Its barb flashed—a blur of black chitin. In an instant, the hunter's head was gone, severed cleanly at the neck.
Blood sprayed the stone before the body even hit the ground.
"Kironis!"
"You bastard!" a veteran roared, swinging a heavy axe. The blade sheared through the creature's midsection, green ichor painting the walls.
But then came the clicking. From every hole, every wound in the rock, they emerged. One. Four. Six.
The hunters fell back into a defensive circle, blades flashing as they met the swarm. They fought with the frantic precision of men who knew they were being measured. One by one, the insects died, piling up until the floor was a graveyard of broken carapaces.
"Is that it?" someone panted.
"No. We're nowhere near the boss."
They pushed on. They killed fifty. A hundred. Two hundred and nine. The numbers didn't seem to matter. Every time they cleared a corridor, the holes behind them began to hiss.
"Is the whole mountain a nest?"
"Push forward! Don't let them flank!"
Slash. Hwep.
Two more hunters went down, dragged into the dark holes by their ankles. The Stingers were getting faster, their movements shifting from random aggression to a coordinated, predatory pattern.
"Stay in formation!" the captain screamed.
Crack.
The last of the swarm finally lay still. The silence returned, heavier than before.
"Finally..."
"Don't get comfortable," the captain warned, wiping his blade. "We're in the territory now."
They crossed the threshold into the final chamber. A wave of oppressive energy washed over them, a physical weight that made it hard to draw air.
"The hell is this?"
They scanned the floor, the corners, the shadows. Nothing. Then the ceiling began to vibrate.
"Look up!"
High above, clinging to the jagged stalactites, was a nightmare of biology. Seven sharp, hooked legs. Twelve eyes glowing like embers in the dark. It was a Kironis, but it was the size of a tank.
The ground trembled as it let go of the ceiling.