"Alright, I'll just have to confirm…"
The receptionist's words cut off as she finally looked up and froze.
"…Sir, did you say, perfect run?"
Adam responded with a simple nod.
And in that moment, silence swept through the mission hall.
The receptionist's eyes widened as the weight of his response sank in.
In the entire history of Sector 516, only seven perfect runs had ever been recorded, including this one, if it proved true.
A run itself was no small feat.
It meant reducing a rift's monster saturation by at least 0.5%, enough to force an exit.
Given the vastness of most rifts, the unpredictable terrain, and the brutality of the monsters that roamed within, a single run could take days, sometimes weeks, even for a group of skilled martial artists.
But a perfect run, a run completed in under twenty-four hours was a feat bordering on the impossible.
Only those whose martial ranks surpassed the rift itself, or those with high talent, could ever hope to achieve it.
The receptionist finally gathered herself and stood, her chair scraping against the floor.
"I'll… I'll get the manager to confirm it."
She turned and hurried off, heart pounding.
False claims of such a feat were punishable by severe penalties, leaving only the manager capable enough to handle it.
By now, the commotion had drawn every nearby martial artist's attention.
They whispered among themselves, eyes flicking between Adam's blood-soaked figure and the retreating receptionist.
"Did he really say perfect run?"
"Impossible. He's not even a martial apprentice yet…"
"But look at him, does he look like someone bluffing?"
Disbelief rippled through the hall.
Even the fact that Adam hadn't yet stepped into the Martial Apprentice Rank faded from their minds.
Talent came in many forms and if he truly achieved this, then they were witnessing a legend in the making.
Meanwhile, the receptionist dashed down the corridor, her heels click-clacking against the polished floor.
A perfect run, and from someone like him?
She couldn't shake the image of his earlier visit that morning, his calm request for a re-entry permit, the way he'd left for the rift soon after.
Now, less than a day later, he'd returned drenched in goblin blood, his gaze steady and unshaken.
What kind of fortuitous encounter did he receive? she wondered, quickening her pace.
No normal man could have changed this much in a single day.
She pressed on faster, clutching the records in her hand, her steps echoing down the hall.
The commotion from the mission hall's reception had spread far, so far infact that it reached the Martial Market on the left wing of the building.
The noise drew several curious salesmen and onlookers from their, but among them, one figure stood out.
Juli, the fox woman.
Her fox-like ears twitched as she heard the words perfect run whispered through the crowd.
A feat like that wasn't just rare, it was legendary, the kind of achievement written into a sector's history.
"I have to see this for myself," she murmured, stepping out into the hallway.
The moment she laid eyes on the blood-soaked figure standing calmly before the receptionist's desk, her breath caught.
Menacing.
That was the only word her mind could conjure.
The man's posture was relaxed, almost casual, yet his very presence carried an oppressive stillness and a silent authority that made the air feel heavier around him.
Blood dripped from his jacket onto the tiled floor, each drop echoing faintly.
Even without lifting a hand, he exuded a killing intent so sharp it prickled at her skin.
Juli swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry.
But then her eyes caught something.
A familiar black backpack slung over his shoulder.
Her foxlike pupils constricted as recognition dawned.
Her jaw nearly dropped.
"Is that the handsome cheapskate from this morning?"
She blinked, as if her mind was trying to reject what her eyes saw.
This morning, she'd written him off as a good-looking fellow trying to cause trouble.
And now, that same man was standing here, claiming to have completed a perfect run.
"What in the world is happening?" Juli muttered under her breath, her tails flicking in agitation.
Before anyone could voice another thought, a sudden hush swept through the hall.
The air grew tense.
Even the whispers died.
All eyes turned toward the grand staircase at the end of the corridor.
The manager had arrived.
His heavy boots echoed with deliberate steps, and his sharp gaze cut through the crowd like a blade.
The murmurs, the doubt, even the awe, all fell silent as his presence filled the room.
Adam studied the manager as the man approached, his sharp eyes following every deliberate step.
The receptionist trailed behind him at a respectful distance, counting her steps like a cadet walking behind a commander, careful not to overstep her boundaries.
The manager was an aged man, broad-shouldered and towering, his grey hair slicked back with streaks of silver catching the light.
He wore a uniform similar to that of the Acolytes, being black and gold instead of black and silver, his chest adorned with a badge of authority.
Every movement of his radiated control and strength, his aura heavy with the kind of intent that could only be forged through years of combat and command.
Adam's gaze sharpened.
So this is a Martial Warrior.
But after a heartbeat, his brow furrowed.
Is this the standard, or is this one just below average?
Sensing that someone was talking about him, the manager's eyes narrowed slightly.
Why do I feel like somebody's talking bad about me?
Then another, more troubling thought struck him like a stray dart.
Did the lady find out about my affairs?
The intrusive thought made him blink once, but his face remained a mask of calm professionalism as he reached the reception desk.
His eyes swept over Adam from head to toe before he asked,
"How did someone as young as you manage to achieve such a feat?"
Adam met his gaze without hesitation.
"Talent." he said simply, then added inwardly, His star power matches that of an elite goblin... I thought a manager would be stronger.
It wasn't arrogance, not entirely, just ignorance born from inexperience.
To the current Adam, elite goblins were little more than obstacles to slaughter, but to most martial artists, they were nightmares.
Even a group of 4 Martial Apprentices would struggle to take one down.
That Jerome's team had 'survived' an elite goblin horde was a miracle.
But Adam didn't see it that way.
To the current him, those monsters were nothing but fodder.
The manager blinked once, taken aback by Adam's tone, but he chose to let it slide.
"It's good to be confident, boy," he said evenly, "but don't let it get to your head."
Adam's gaze softened a little, his expression turning contemplative.
At least he listens, the manager thought, mildly surprised.
This wasn't the first perfect run the manager had witnessed.
Back in the upper sectors where he'd been raised, such feats weren't unheard of, they were rare, yes, but not legendary.
Still, for a lower sector like this one, this was history in the making.
The boy will have a bright future.
Perhaps a prodigy will finally rise from Sector 516.
He'd already confirmed most of it himself.
The time of entry and exit, the mission log, and the sheer pressure Adam exuded were proof enough.
The formality of verification was just for the record.
"Mr. Adam," the manager said finally, his tone polite but authoritative, "if you don't mind, please hand over the granulites for confirmation."
Adam nodded.
Without a word, he swung his bloodstained backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it.
The hall fell quiet, the sound of shifting leather echoing faintly as he tilted the bag forward.
A cascade of transparent crystals spilled across the desk.
The crowd leaned in.
The receptionist's eyes went wide.
Even Juli, standing at the back, held her breath.
The manager stared at the table.
Then his brow creased.
"Is this all?" he asked directly, confusion tightening his voice.
****
{Author's Note}
Adam didn't become arrogant; the reason he thought the way he did was that he actually expected the manager to be stronger. After all, the manager was supposed to be among, if not the strongest martial artists in the sector.
Also, his line of thought was this: with his trash talents (he was initially the weakest trash out there), anyone with better talent was undoubtedly stronger than him. However, he might overstate how strong they actually are.