The Lok Min Hunter Guild buzzed with energy. Hunters laughed, bragged, and haggled over contracts. The walls were lined with quest boards, and the smell of steel and sweat filled the air.
In the middle of it all stood Arold, silent, his badge in hand. His rank glimmered faintly—G-rank. The lowest. Hunters passed him by, their eyes dismissive. Nobody wanted dead weight in their party.
Then a voice broke through the noise.
"Oi! You there."
Arold turned. A tall man with spiky orange hair and a scar down his cheek swaggered toward him, a party of four following behind. His grin was wide, his presence loud.
"You don't got a party, huh?" The man clapped a hand on Arold's shoulder, leaning in with a smirk. "Lucky for you, we've got one spot open. We're raiding a C-rank dungeon today. What's your rank?"
Without a word, Arold held up his badge.
"...G-rank, huh?" For a split second, the orange-haired man's smile twitched. His thoughts were sharp and mocking.
Tch. A G-rank? Cold as ice too. What a joke.
But out loud, his grin grew wider. "Don't worry about a thing! We'll protect you, little brother!" He flexed his arm, patting his bicep for emphasis. His party chuckled behind him.
Arold simply nodded.
The dungeon loomed before them, a jagged rift in the ground spilling eerie mist.
"Alright! Ready, guys?!" the orange-haired man shouted.
"Yes!!!" his party roared back.
Only Arold stayed silent, gripping the plain sword at his side. His eyes scanned the darkness without fear.
Inside, glowing moss lit the cave walls, casting long shadows. Soon, growls echoed through the cavern. From the darkness emerged a pack of Direfangs—wolf-like monsters with obsidian fur and glowing red eyes.
"Formation!" the orange-haired man commanded. The party moved smoothly, blades and spells flashing as they clashed with the Direfangs.
Arold, meanwhile, crouched low, picking up scattered gems left behind. It was the role they had assigned him. The "useless gatherer."
Then one of the hunters froze mid-swing. "Wait… these gems… they're not C-rank."
Another's eyes widened. "These… these are SS-rank core gems. That's impossible!"
The orange-haired man's grin faltered. SS-rank gems? Here? His gut tightened. Something was wrong. His eyes darted around until they landed on Arold, still calm, still collecting.
That kid…
He strode over quickly, voice dripping with false friendliness. "Hey, cold guy. Mind checking out that big hole up ahead? Could be more gems. I'll even give you a cut of the bonus."
Arold looked up, blank expression unchanging. "…Alright."
As he walked ahead, the orange-haired man leaned close to his party, whispering, "Stick to the plan. Stay behind him." His grin returned, cruel and sharp.
The hole opened into a vast chamber, the air heavy with heat. At the center lay a colossal dragon, its scales like molten stone, its wings folded as it slept.
The hunters' breaths caught in their throats. The orange-haired man's heart pounded—but in excitement. Just as I thought… an SS-rank boss. If we bait him as a sacrifice… the treasure will be ours.
He raised his hand and shouted. "Now! Seal it!"
One of his mages slammed their staff down, a wall of blazing fire erupting across the chamber's entrance. Arold turned slowly, his calm eyes meeting the hunters' faces beyond the flames.
The orange-haired man smirked. "Sorry, kid. Nothing personal."
The loud crack of magic echoed—waking the dragon. Its golden eyes snapped open, a deep growl rumbling through the cavern.
The ground trembled. The dragon rose, towering, its gaze locking onto the lone boy trapped inside.
Arold simply stood there, his hand resting lightly on his sword. His expression didn't change.
So this… is what betrayal feels like.
The dragon's roar shook the cavern.
To be continued…