The engines of the Light Devils' vessel roared softly as it lifted off from the rugged terrain of Planet Khalis. Inside, silence loomed—not from fear, but from exhaustion. Fifty newly recruited hunters, ten E-rank fighters, and the seasoned D-rank elites all sat scattered across the main deck. Some leaned back with arms folded, others tended to their wounds. A few exchanged hushed words, smiles barely breaking through the weight of fatigue.
Mike sat where he had earlier—at the rear of the eastern wing, resting his back against the cold panel. His body ached. His knuckles throbbed from the brutal close-range fight, and dried black beast blood stained parts of his armor. Yet despite everything, his eyes carried a calm resilience.
He had survived.
As the spacecraft approached the teleportation gate back to Earth's sector, Mike stared through the reinforced window. The swirling white vortex shimmered ahead, a rippling dimensional fold. Seconds later, the ship plunged through it and was gone, swallowed by light.
They emerged back near Earth's orbit.
Below them, the familiar blue hue of the atmosphere grew larger, and soon, the sharp white outline of the Light Devils base came into view—its crest of a glowing-winged angel shimmering in the sunrise. After everything, that sight felt different. Calmer. More grounded.
Homecoming always did—especially after battle.
The vessel descended onto the landing pad behind the main facility. The doors hissed open, and everyone rose from their seats, boots clanking softly against steel.
David turned briefly. "All of you—well done. You've made it back alive. Report to the East Wing building in thirty minutes. Return your gear to the armory staff."
Everyone nodded and filed out of the ship.
Mike remained quiet as he followed the others. At the armory adjacent to the docking bay, recruits handed back their armor and weapons. The undamaged sets were sorted into one side. Those with light scratches or damage were stacked elsewhere. Weapons were returned to their designated racks.
From there, the group proceeded to the East Wing, where David and Bron stood near a long table with two Light Devils admin officers.
David addressed the group with a calm authority. "This mission was commissioned by the Peace Valley Corporation. Payment has been processed. Each F-rank hunter will receive 600 credits. The rest of you will be compensated according to your ranks. Good job. Perform this well in future hunts, and there's a place for you here."
The payout process began. Names were called, wrist-pad transfers confirmed. Hunters filed in one by one to collect their rewards.
Mike stood quietly in line, observing.
As his name was called, he turned slightly toward Alex. "Hey, Alex. You know why Peace Valley handed the mission to Light Devils? Don't they have their own hunting squad?"
Alex smirked. "Of course. But even corporations outsource missions when they need specific crystals or beasts with certain elemental traits. If one of their planets hosts the beast, they open it up to major factions. And Peace Valley? They specialize in bulk low-tier equipment and recycling old gear. Makes sense they let the Light Devils handle this."
Mike nodded. That cleared a few things up.
"Jason, Michael Connor," the officer called.
Mike stepped forward.
"Human Grade Level 2. First hunt. One confirmed kill. Total reward: 600 credits."
The transaction completed instantly, the credits deposited into his account. It wasn't much by elite standards, but it meant something to him.
Some others—especially E-rank hunters—walked away with as much as 1000 credits. The D-rank team had a separate share reserved for faction logistics. Mike didn't mind. This was only the beginning.
Afterward, a light meal was offered near the rear barracks. Mike quietly accepted a ration pack and sat with Alex for a few minutes. A few handshakes, a loud high-five from Alex, and general laughter followed.
But Mike slipped away soon after.
He didn't return to the main barracks.
Instead, he walked toward the eastern perimeter of the Light Devils compound. Beyond the walls, a small trail curved toward a quiet hillside. Up there, near an old abandoned watch post and a sparse patch of trees, was a view worth every credit—distant mountains touched by the golden light of dusk.
Just below the hill, nestled near the slope, stood the Light Devils' internal marketplace: a compact cluster of food stalls, armor shops, tool vendors, and even a few mages-for-hire. Hunters often stopped here to rest, eat, and gear up before the next mission.
Mike showed his ID and stepped through the side gate, walking slowly through the cobbled market trail. He bought a protein bar and a flask of water from one of the corner stalls, then climbed up to an empty bench resting beside the old post.
He dropped down with a sigh.
The wind was soft, brushing past him with the scent of mountain air and burning coal from a distant food stall. He chewed in silence, eyes fixed on the fading light.
This—this quiet, this moment—it was more valuable than the credits.
He leaned back, stretched one leg out, and allowed himself to relax. Slowly, drowsiness overtook him. He slumped gently to the side, his head bobbing, occasionally jerking upward again. After a few tries, he stopped resisting—and slept.
Some time later, a figure walked past him.
A woman in sleek black clothing, face partially obscured by glasses and a travel hat. She paused for a brief moment, noticing Mike sleeping on the bench. Her gaze lingered. A soft smile crossed her lips.
Then, without a word, she walked away.
An hour passed.
Mike stirred, groaning slightly. He touched his neck and winced—it ached from the awkward angle.
"Damn... I really slept here?"
He stood, stretched, and wandered back down toward the market.
He entered a weapon shop tucked near the corner—an old-looking stall run by a bald man in a long coat. The shopkeeper nodded.
"Looking for something specific?"
"Yeah," Mike said. "Armor set. Sword. Gauntlets. All basic tier."
The shopkeeper led him to a reinforced shelf displaying gray-toned armor sets. "This is what we've got. Basic tier armor—chest, boots, arms, legs—all built for solid defense. Nothing fancy. 150 credits for the set."
Mike picked one out. It fit well—lightweight, durable, and no unnecessary plating.
Next, he moved to a stand of swords. He picked up a medium-length blade, balanced it in his hand, gave it a few test swings.
The edge was good—not sharp enough to kill a Titan beast, but clean and deadly enough for anything lower-tier.
"One hundred credits," the shopkeeper said.
Then came the gauntlets. A selection of various shapes and reinforcement types sat in a small box. Mike picked a set with hardened knuckles and a flexible wrist grip—no spikes, no gimmicks. Just strength.
"Fifty credits for that one."
Mike nodded. "I'll take all three."
The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. "Anything else? I've got energy serums—refined from beast cores. They can boost your cultivation by three times what a crystal can. 200 credits a vial."
Mike shook his head. "Just a basic crystal. Cheapest one."
"Hm. Don't see many going that route," the man muttered. He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a dull grey stone. "Basic-tier crystal. Came from a reptile beast. Low output. Not great for powering weapons. Normally 100 credits—but I'll give it to you for 65."
Mike paid the 365 credits in total and packed his things.
With his new gear and the faint buzz of victory still echoing in his thoughts, he turned toward the exit of the Light Devils compound.
He found his car waiting in the parking dock. As he slid into the driver's seat and looked back one last time at the base—
He knew something had changed.
He wasn't just a trainee anymore.
He was a hunter now.
One step forward.
One beast down.
And thousands more to go.