The hall did not look like a place meant for monsters.
That was the first thing Elias noticed the moment he stepped inside the Hunter Association branch.
It was… modern.
Uncomfortably so.
Clean white walls stretched endlessly under soft artificial lighting. Polished gray floors reflected overhead lamps with corporate neatness.
Glass partitions separated offices, transparent and orderly, more reminiscent of a technology firm or government headquarters than a frontline against the supernatural.
Uniformed staff moved briskly past, tablets in hand, voices low as they discussed supply chains, clearance levels, and schedules.
If Elias hadn't known better, he would have assumed this was just another large corporation.
And yet—
Some doors were different.
They stood out immediately.
Those rooms were sealed from floor to ceiling in layered talismans—yellow paper saturated with crimson ink, sigils overlapping so densely they obscured the metal beneath.
Silver threads were embedded directly into the walls, etched in ritual patterns that hummed faintly with spiritual resonance. Thick chains crossed the doors like restraints, vibrating softly as if reacting to something inside.
Whatever was contained there was not meant to be seen.
Elias lowered his gaze and followed Celestia in silence.
"Assessment room," she said lightly, already striding ahead. "Standard procedure."
Standard, my ass, Elias thought.
His heart was beating far too loudly. He was certain someone could hear it. Still, his hands remained steady at his sides, posture straight, steps measured. This body did not allow panic to surface—not in expression, not in voice.
Inside his mind, however, everything was unraveling.
Okay. Okay. Crystal assessment. Spirit intermediary.If the rating's too high, I'm in trouble.If the reading's abnormal, I'm in bigger trouble.If the spirit reacts—
No. Stop.
Celestia halted before a massive steel door stamped with bold lettering:
SPIRITUAL EVALUATION HALL.
She glanced over her shoulder, crimson eyes bright with interest. "Try not to faint."
Elias nodded once.
"I won't," he said.
It came out calm. Confident, even.
She grinned. "See? Sarcastic again."
I am not being sarcastic, he screamed internally. This is just my face!
The door slid open.
The chamber inside was vast and circular, shrouded in dim lighting. The ceiling disappeared into shadow, giving the space an almost cathedral-like depth.
At the center stood a towering crystal pillar—translucent, pale, light pulsing within it in a slow, rhythmic beat, like a living heart. Arcane symbols floated around its surface in steady orbit, reacting subtly to the presence of each human who entered.
And behind the crystal—
Elias stopped.
A ghost sat upon a raised stone altar.
Heavy spiritual chains bound his wrists and ankles, each link engraved with suppressive sigils. A blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes, layered with talismans that sealed his senses completely.
Long hair spilled down his back, black streaked faintly with deep green, contrasting sharply against skin so pale it was nearly translucent.
Despite the restraints.
Despite the blindfold.
He was smiling.
"Good afternoon," the spirit said pleasantly, voice warm and gentle. "Another busy day, hm?"
No one responded.
Several Association staff stood along the walls, expressions detached and professional. To them, this was routine. The spirit before them was not a person.
He was a tool.
One hunter stepped forward and placed a hand against the crystal.
Light flared.
"B-rank," the spirit announced lazily. "Combat-oriented. Reckless tendencies. You'll live longer if you stop charging first."
The hunter grimaced and stepped away.
Another followed.
"A-rank. Strong affinity. You hide your fear well, but it's still there. Work on it."
The assessments continued.
Sometimes blunt. Sometimes strangely gentle.
Elias watched without speaking.
His stomach sank.
I know him.
The realization struck with the weight of ice.
This spirit—this examiner—
Chapter one hundred and four.
He remembered reading it late at night.
A spirit who fell in love with a human girl.
The soon to be chief of alchemist unit with big, round eyes and clumsy hands. Always staining her coat with potion. Always laughing too loudly. Always getting into trouble. The spirit had watched over her for years in silence, protecting her without her ever knowing.
Until corruption within the Association surfaced.
She died first.
Framed. Silenced. Disposed of.
The spirit blackened.
Mad with grief, he slaughtered traitors and innocents alike, until hunters were forced to subdue him. Even then, even at the end, he died protecting civilians who screamed and ran from him.
A tragic, beautiful, stupid character.
And now—
He was still here.
Still smiling.
Still greeting humans who would not meet his gaze.
Celestia nudged his shoulder. "Your turn."
His heart dropped.
Elias stepped forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Please be mediocre, he prayed silently. Please be useless. Please let me disappear.
He placed his hand against the crystal.
Cold.
The light flared—then settled.
The spirit tilted his head.
"…D-rank," he said after a pause.
Relief nearly buckled Elias's knees.
D-rank.
Barely above E-rank. A forgettable civilian with just enough sensitivity to be mildly inconvenient.
Perfect.
"Average physical capability," the spirit continued evenly. "Low combat potential. High emotional suppression."
Elias nodded. Yes. Exactly. Suppressed. Good.
Celestia frowned.
"That's it?" she muttered.
Elias turned toward her. His expression was empty, eyes dull, voice quiet.
"I'm weak."
The words sounded almost deliberate.
Celestia stared at him, then scoffed. "You really enjoy saying that, don't you?"
Before Elias could step back—
The spirit stiffened.
The air shifted.
Chains rattled sharply.
The blindfold fluttered.
"Wait."
The single word froze the room.
The spirit lifted his head.
Slowly.
He turned his face toward Elias.
Talismans peeled away.
The blindfold loosened.
And for the first time since Elias had entered the hall, the spirit opened his eyes.
There was no color.
No white. No black.
Only depth.
A vast, endless abyss stared back at him, as if the universe itself had hollowed out and learned how to look.
The crystal flickered violently.
Several staff members reached for their weapons.
Elias did not move.
His heart slammed painfully against his ribs.
"…Interesting," the spirit murmured. His voice was no longer cheerful. "Tell me."
The weight of his gaze pressed down on Elias, peeling him apart layer by layer. Not measuring strength. Not judging rank.
Judging his existence.
"Are you really human?"
Silence swallowed the chamber whole.
If I lie, I die.If I tell the truth, I die.
So Elias did the only thing left to him.
"I am."
The spirit stared.
Then—
He laughed.
Not mad. Not cruel.
Gentle.
"Good," he said softly.
The blindfold fell back into place.
The chains tightened.
The pressure vanished as if it had never existed.
"Assessment complete."
The crystal dimmed.
No one spoke.
Celestia stared at Elias, eyes narrowed, something unreadable flickering behind them.
"…You're really weird," she muttered.
Elias said nothing.
Inside, he was shaking.
As he turned to leave, he did not look back at the spirit.
Because he already knew—
Some tragedies were never meant to be avoided.
The paperwork room was smaller than the assessment hall—and brighter.
White lights hummed faintly overhead, illuminating a long counter lined with terminals and neatly organized stacks of documents.
Elias sat quietly at one of the desks, filling out forms.
Name: Elias Graves.Rank: D.Affiliation: None.Combat Specialty: None.Spiritual Affinity: Minimal.
Each line felt like a small victory.
The clerk barely looked at him. The crystal's assessment had already been uploaded into the system. A few taps of her fingers. A stamp pressed down with a dull thud.
"That'll be all," she said. "Your hunter identification will be processed within the week."
Elias nodded. "Thank you."
He stood, documents stacked neatly in his hands.
Inside, something warm bloomed in his chest.
It didn't reach his face, of course.
But he was humming.
Softly. Quietly. A meaningless tune he didn't even realize he remembered. His steps felt lighter as he followed Celestia down the corridor, shoulders loosening for the first time in hours.
He survived.
No alarms. No restraints. No exorcism circle snapping shut around his neck.
Just… D-rank.
Perfectly forgettable.
Celestia noticed.
She slowed slightly, casting him a sideways glance. His expression remained as blank as ever—eyes dull, posture composed—but something about the way he moved irritated her.
"You're in a good mood," she said flatly.
Elias tilted his head. "Am I?"
"Yes."
"I don't feel it."
She stopped in front of an elevator and pressed the button harder than necessary. The doors slid open with a soft chime.
Inside, the silence thickened.
"…You're strange," Celestia said after a moment.
Elias watched his reflection ripple faintly in the mirrored doors. Pale face. Dead eyes. The same unmoving expression that had followed him his entire life.
"I hear that often."
"Tch."
The elevator descended.
When the doors opened again, the scent of food washed over them.
The Association cafeteria was… unexpectedly lively. Long tables were crowded with hunters in varied uniforms—some wrapped in fresh bandages, others laughing loudly over trays piled high with food.
Conversations faltered the moment Celestia entered.
Some stiffened. Others subtly shifted away. A few avoided eye contact entirely.
Elias noticed immediately.
She's avoided.
Celestia didn't seem to care.
"Sit," she said, grabbing a tray and shoving one into Elias's hands.
"I didn't say—"
"Eat. You look like you'll faint."
"I won't."
"That tone again."
They settled at a corner table.
Celestia's food was… aggressive. Spiced meat, heavily seasoned vegetables, a thick soup that steamed ominously. Elias's tray was simpler—rice, soup, bread. Safe. Neutral.
He took a bite.
Chewed.
Swallowed.
It tasted… edible.
Barely.
Still, he kept eating.
Celestia watched him with narrowed eyes.
"You really don't react to anything, do you?"
Elias swallowed. "I do. Internally."
She snorted. "Sure."
She stabbed her food with unnecessary force. "You know how ridiculous that assessment result is, right?"
"I think it's accurate."
"It's not." She leaned back, arms crossing. "D-rank can barely sense spiritual residue. They see ghosts sometimes, at best. You didn't flinch. Not once. Not in front of the examiner."
"I'm used to unpleasant things."
"That's not the point."
Her gaze sharpened. "You're an Evan."
Elias froze—for less than a second.
She caught it.
"You have their blood," she continued. "Even the useless ones hit B-rank minimum. And you're telling me you're weaker than random civilians?"
"Yes."
She laughed, sharp and humorless. "You expect me to believe that?"
Elias took another bite. "You don't have to."
The words were calm. Flat. Unremarkable.
With that face—
They sounded like provocation.
Celestia slammed her chopsticks down. "You think this is funny?"
"No."
"You look like you do."
"I can't help that."
She stared at him for a long moment.
Elias said nothing.
Around them, whispers spread.
"That's her again…"
"Blaze Witch's in a mood."
"Who's the guy with her?"
"D-rank? Seriously?"
Celestia ignored them all.
"You know," she said more quietly, "if you were a normal civilian, I'd call this lucky. Seeing ghosts without resonance usually doesn't end well."
"But you're not." She tapped the table once. "You're Evan blood. Which means either you're hiding something… or something went very wrong with you."
Elias thought of the umbrella tattoo hidden beneath his sleeve.
Of the red butterfly.
Of the abyssal gaze of the chained spirit.
"I hope it's the first," Celestia said.
Elias finished his meal.
"I hope it's neither."
They left soon after.
The sun was already sinking when they stepped outside, the sky washed in pale orange and muted gold. Celestia tossed the folded documents toward him.
"I'll drive you home."
"You don't need to."
She walked to her car anyway.
The ride passed in silence.
The city blurred by in streaks of light and concrete. Gradually, Elias noticed the change—the pressure lifting, the shadows thinning, the whispers dissolving until nothing remained.
Peace.
Celestia broke the quiet.
"Don't go out at night," she said. "Jackal's active. They hunt weak links."
"I'm not worth hunting."
"That's exactly what makes you one."
He didn't respond.
The car stopped in front of the funeral parlor.
Celestia cut the engine. "If anything strange happens—anything—call this number."
She handed him a card.
Elias accepted it.
"…Thank you."
She scoffed. "Don't misunderstand. I don't trust you."
"I know."
"But," she added, eyes narrowing slightly, "something about you feels… dangerous."
Elias met her gaze calmly. "I'm just tired."
For once—
She didn't laugh.
He stepped out.
The door shut.
The engine started.
Celestia drove away.
Elias stood there for several seconds, staring at the quiet building before him.
Then he unlocked the door.
The moment he stepped inside, his legs gave out.
He collapsed onto the couch, expression unchanged, body utterly spent.
Inside his head, he screamed.
Hard day.
Very hard day.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would do nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And for once—
He hoped the world would let him.