The Hunter Association's processing center smelled like disinfectant with a touch of desperation.
Azrael sat in a plastic chair that was slightly too small for his frame, watching humans shuffle through their bureaucratic rituals.
Forms. Signatures. Identification checks. They'd built entire systems around the simple act of determining whether someone could kill demons effectively.
Three thousand years of civilization and this is what they've achieved. Paperwork.
"Mr. Azrael?" A tired-looking woman in her forties peered at him over thick-rimmed glasses. "Just Azrael? No family name?"
"Just Azrael."
She frowned at her computer screen. "I need a legal name for registration. It's required by law."
"Then put 'Just Azrael' as my legal name."
"That's not – " She sighed, the sound of someone who'd fought this battle a thousand times and lost every one. "Fine. Date of birth?"
He considered telling her the truth: I was formed from divine will approximately three thousand, two hundred and forty-seven years ago during the reign of the Sumerian Empire. Instead, he said, "March 15th, 1998."
Making him twenty-seven in mortal years. Young enough to be a late awakener, old enough to avoid questions about his apparent competence.
More typing. More frowning. "Current address?"
"Don't have one."
"Emergency contact?"
"Don't have one."
"Previous employment?"
"Don't have one."
The woman looked up at him, really looked, and Azrael saw the moment her professional irritation collided with his face. Her pupils dilated slightly. Her breathing changed. The pen in her hand tilted at a different angle.
Mortals are so predictable.
"Are you..." she swallowed. "Are you homeless, Mr. Azrael?"
"As of approximately forty-five minutes ago, yes."
Something shifted in her expression. Pity, perhaps. Or that uniquely human combination of attraction and maternal instinct that his appearance seemed to trigger in women of a certain age.
"There are resources," she said gently. "Shelters for awakened individuals. The Association has programs – "
"I'm fine."
"You just said you're homeless."
"I'm fine with being homeless." He tilted his head, studying her. "Does it bother you? My situation?"
"I – well, yes. Everyone deserves a safe place to sleep."
How noble. How utterly meaningless.
"Your concern is noted and disregarded," he said pleasantly. "Can we proceed with the testing?"
She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head and stamped a form. "Down the hall, third door on the left. They'll run your baseline measurements and assign your rank."
Azrael stood, noting how her eyes tracked the movement.
He was tall in this form – 186 centimeters, the System had informed him. Taller than average for Korean males. Combined with the face and the inherent grace of angelic nature, it created an effect that humans found... distracting.
"Thank you," he said, because somewhere in his ancient memory, he recalled that humans appreciated such courtesies.
Her face flushed. "You're welcome. And Mr. Azrael? Good luck."
Luck. As if random chance has any bearing on divine essence measurements.
---
The testing room was sterile white, dominated by a crystalline pillar in its center that pulsed with soft rainbow light. A measurement artifact, calibrated to detect the Nine Gods' blessings and assign ranks accordingly.
Azrael recognized the divine energy signature. Chronath's work, most likely. The God of Time/Fate had always been fond of measurement and categorization.
Three technicians waited, along with Captain Yuna Park, who leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. She straightened when he entered.
"Mr. Azrael." She nodded. "This won't take long. Place your hand on the pillar and channel whatever energy you awakened with."
"And if I haven't awakened?" he asked mildly.
"Then you survive falling from the sky through sheer dumb luck and we send you home with a warning not to walk near spatial tears." One of the technicians, a young man with nervous energy, gestured to the pillar. "But Captain Park seems to think you're hiding something, so here we are."
Azrael approached the pillar.
This would be interesting. The device measured divine blessings from the Nine Gods. He had none of those. What he had was the fading remnant of true divinity, the kind that predated the Nine Gods by eons.
Would it register at all?
He placed his palm against the crystal.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the pillar flickered – not with rainbow light, but with something else. Something that made the technicians step back and Yuna's hand drift to her spear.
Pure white radiance, cold and absolute.
Then it sputtered out.
The pillar's display flickered through various readings: S-Rank. A-Rank. C-Rank. D-Rank. F-Rank. Error. Error. Error.
Finally, it settled on: F-Rank.
The room fell silent.
"Huh," the nervous technician said. "That's... that was weird. The pillar glitched out."
"Run it again," Yuna ordered, her eyes narrow.
They ran it three more times. Each time, the same cascade of confused readings before settling on F-Rank.
"Equipment malfunction," one technician muttered, making notes. "I've never seen it do that before."
"It's not malfunctioning," Yuna said quietly. "It's confused. His energy doesn't match any of the Nine Gods' signatures."
She was smarter than he'd given her credit for.
Azrael removed his hand from the pillar. "So. F-Rank?"
"Apparently." Yuna stepped closer, studying him with an intensity that might have been uncomfortable if he'd cared about human scrutiny. "What god blessed you, Azrael? And don't say you don't know. Everyone knows which god chose them."
"None of them," he said truthfully.
"That's impossible. You can't awaken without a divine blessing."
"And yet." He spread his hands. "Here I am. F-Rank. Weakest classification. Barely above civilian level." He met her eyes. "Disappointing, I'm sure."
Yuna's jaw tightened. For a moment, he thought she might press the issue. Then she exhaled and stepped back.
"Fine. Keep your secrets." She nodded to the technicians. "Process him as F-Rank. Assign him to waste management detail."
"Waste management?" Azrael repeated.
"Low-level rift cleanup. Collecting mana stones from cleared dungeons, disposing of low-threat demon corpses, that sort of thing." Yuna's smile was sharp. "It's where we put all the F-Ranks who can't fight. Safe work. Boring work. Pointless work."
She's testing me. Trying to provoke a reaction.
Azrael smiled back, and he saw her blink at the expression. "Sounds perfect."