"Ah… I managed to get out before the Fissure closed. Thank goodness!"
The girl's voice quivered with relief. She dropped to her knees and kissed the cold pavement of the city, ignoring the mix of dirt and blood still clinging to her. The contrast was so sharp it almost felt like a dream: just seconds ago, she'd been running through ruins devoured by crimson crystals; now, she was back in the normal world, where the night breeze smelled of wet asphalt and engine smoke.
The flicker of holographic ads blinded her for a moment. The lights were too vivid, almost painful, after the ethereal gloom of the Fissure.
"Geez…" she muttered, her voice hoarse with exhaustion. "The Boss was way too cruel leaving me there… though, well, I guess I deserved it. I would've punished myself too for being so clumsy…"
She slumped onto a bench, breathing heavily. Her whole body trembled—not just from exhaustion, but from the fresh memory of black claws that had almost pierced her skull.
From her bag, she pulled out a few ether cores and held them up against the moonlight. Even cracked and dull, they were still beautiful. To her eyes, they looked like dead stars, fragments of a forgotten sky.
"They're just like me…" she whispered with a bitter smile. "Broken. Worthless."
She went quiet for a few seconds, then added under her breath, as if speaking to the crystals' reflection:
"Although you're worth more than me."
Nene had just turned eighteen a couple of months ago. Most girls her age were in college, thinking about boyfriends, trips, the future. At least, that's what she'd heard back at the orphanage where she grew up.
She, on the other hand, worked five part-time jobs and still barely managed to pay rent for her tiny room.
She glanced at her white assault suit and smacked the sword-and-shield emblem on her right chest with annoyance. At her command, the white suit stopped clinging to her body. It bubbled into glowing particles, then shrank into a small badge, leaving only her everyday clothes behind.
A white blouse with open shoulders. But the real focus was her pants: black, baggy, utilitarian, loaded with bulky pockets, straps, and metal zippers.
She never understood how the tech behind the Assault Suit worked, how it could swap out her clothes and return them intact afterward. She didn't care either. What mattered was the freedom she felt without it. It was like shedding a massive weight.
Becoming a Hunter had been her desperate gamble, a leap into the unknown with the hope that maybe, finally, she could live with some dignity. Earn good money. Drop at least one of her jobs. Eat three meals a day. It sounded nice.
But like everything else in her life, it had ended in humiliating failure.
She pocketed the cores and got moving. Each step toward the Hunter Association felt heavy. She had to cash them in if she wanted to eat that night; two days had passed with nothing but water and a hard piece of bread in her stomach. Car noise floated through the air, mixed with the chatter of workers heading home. Everything was so normal it felt like mockery.
"How different this is from the Fissure…" she murmured, clutching the bag against her chest. "Over there, only death. Here… life."
Then, a glow caught her eye. On the side of a building, huge screens broadcasted a live event. The crowd had stopped to watch.
A vibrant voice filled the street:
"Bring out the next one!"
Nene froze. The black sphere on the screen sent a chill down her spine. The same sphere that had marked her forever.
The host smiled theatrically as he welcomed the next participant into that room filled with cables and screens.
"Participant number 1823, Roxana. Are you ready, dear lady, to discover your Hunter aptitude?"
The murmurs grew. Nene clenched her fists, ready to walk away from that screen and the bitter memories it stirred. But then a young woman stepped forward with confident strides, her flawless beauty magnified by the lights. That alone was enough to make Nene stay and watch. She was the same age as Nene, yet she moved as if she belonged to another world: confident, elegant, commanding attention effortlessly.
"Wow, she's gorgeous…" some whispered.
"She's definitely going to be high-rank. You can tell."
Nene found herself muttering the same thing, torn between fascination and envy. The girl placed her hands on the black sphere without hesitation. Nene remembered all too well how that felt: the cold surface, the low hum of energy pulsing inside, like a foreign heart beating beneath your fingers.
The crowd held its breath.
"What rank do you think she'll be?"
"I don't know. Maybe a C? Don't you think she looks too confident? That only means she got a really good ability."
"Yeah. She's way too calm. Otherwise she'd be nervous—like that girl six months ago. Remember her name?"
A needle pricked Nene's chest. She knew exactly who they meant.
Her.
And she couldn't deny it. They were right. If that girl was that calm, it probably meant her Resonance Ability was good.
Roxana pressed her palms to the black surface. The sphere began to glow.
"It's coming!"
"So exciting!"
The crowd buzzed with anticipation. Then the sphere shifted from black to a blinding yellow.
First a timid flicker, then a vibrant blaze that painted the stage orange. The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Congratulations, Miss Roxana! Your future Hunter rank is… B!"
The girl smiled, proud and unshaken, walking away with the certainty that her future was secure. Job offers, contracts, fame, prestige. The whole world would open for her from that night on.
Ranks ranged from A down to E, which meant that young woman already had her life set. No doubt offers would rain down on her the moment she stepped out of the Association—even from the government itself.
Nene turned away, a lump forming in her throat.
"…I'm jealous. Must be nice to live something like that."
But memory betrayed her, dragging her back to her own day of attunement and rank revelation. Pathetic would've been a compliment. It was humiliating.
She remembered the examiner's eyes, that mix of pity and compassion. She tried to calm herself—it shouldn't have mattered. She only needed a C-rank to live decently. She'd bet almost all her savings on that chance. She couldn't afford to fail.
Then she remembered the silent, expectant room as she placed her hands on the sphere. The faint purple glow that appeared… a color no one recognized.
A new rank? the world wondered.
"Could it be above A?"
But the truth revealed itself quickly. Yes, it was a new rank. Not the birth of an elite, but of scum.
"Rank… F-?" the host had asked, stunned. In his two decades, he had never seen such a thing.
The first F- Rank Hunter. With a damned minus sign.
The host had fallen silent. The whispers swelled. Some laughed. She had wanted to disappear right there, sink into the ground and never come out again.
The honk of a car yanked her back to the present. She shook her head, trying to clear those humiliating memories.
"Ah… at least most normal people don't remember my face. I wish the other Hunters didn't either. It's hard enough to get hired when they know I'm this weak."
Her weary steps carried her to the Association's entrance. Just as she feared, Roxana was already surrounded by reporters, cameras flashing, microphones thrust forward. The crowd hailed her like a rising star.
Nene, meanwhile, slipped past unnoticed. A shadow among the lights.
"…I wish I could've lived like that too."