That's right—something shocking was was approaching.
A sharp, tearing sound cut through the chaos, slicing the air like a blade. Three glowing spheres of light streaked across the ruined office, faster than the eye could track, leaving faint trails of blue and white luminescence in their wake.
They slammed into the orc with a deafening crack, sending the creature staggering backward with a grunt of pain. Dust and debris from shattered walls and furniture swirled in the air.
Alexander collapsed to the floor like a sack of potatoes, coughing and gasping for air. Relief washed over him as his eyes followed the streaks of light.
"Help… finally."
Three figures moved in perfect synchronization, clad in sleek leather armor that gleamed faintly under the fluorescent office lights. Each carried a weapon that radiated raw, palpable power.
One brandished a blaster-like gun, crafted from essence stones and powered by mana crystals, the barrel glowing faintly as it hummed. The second wore a massive steel fists etched with runes, clearly an artifact looted from a high-level dungeon.
The third gripped a long, glowing rope that pulsed with energy—an essence weapon capable of binding, striking, and immobilizing opponents.
In the world of hunters, a rank could limit potential as it was stuck with you forever. If a person was born at C rank, that was it, C rank for life. If a person was aweakned with S-rank? That was it, riches and fame for life.
But, it didn't cap one's ability to grow stronger. Fighting techniques, weapons, rune stones, and rare acquisitions could elevate even a D-rank hunter to relative power.
Observing these hunters, Alexander felt the harsh truth: raw talent, strategy, and equipment often mattered as much as rank.
"Vrrm!"
"Vrrmm! Vrrmmm!"
The blaster roared again, each pulse of light slamming into the orc and forcing it to stagger once more. The blaster began to charge with a powerful beam as the guy at the head of the team spoke.
"Flank to the left! Immobilize it!"
The girl with the glowing rope acted immediately. She circled the orc, looping the rope around its thick, muscular legs, planting her feet to anchor it.
At the same time, the young man with the metal fists weapon launched forward, striking with a devastating punch that rattled the creature's massive frame.
The orc stumbled under the combined force, tripping over debris and loose floor tiles.
"Clear!"
"Clear!"
the other two shouted in unison, diving out of the way with swift, practiced movements.
The blaster hunter paused, then unleashed the beam he had been charging. Unlike the scattered balls of light before, this shot hissed through the air like a guided missile, tearing directly through the orc's chest.
Green blood erupted and sprayed across the floor, hissing where it hit hot machinery.
Alexander's mouth hung open, dirt and dust clinging to his lips, but he hardly noticed.
"Amazing…"
He watched as coordinated precision and sheer power brought down the beast. These were D-rank hunters, the same rank as him. And yet, in every measurable way, he was weaker than all three. A pang of insecurity twisted his chest.
"Why am I so weak? Even among my peers?"
The chaos around him began to stabilize. FBH personnel in black suits swept into the scene, scanning debris, noting damages, and taking statements from trembling employees.
Alexander winced as the green glow from low-rank healers began stitching his shattered bones together. The pain persisted, a slow, gnawing reminder of the punishment he had just endured, and a faint beeping pulsed rhythmically in his head—something he considered was a residual warning from the blunt trauma to his skull.
"Alexander King, what's going on here?"
Alexander tore his eyes from the ruin to see a man in an impeccably tailored black suit striding toward him. Mr. Hendricks, his employer, radiated authority, his presence commanding the chaos to respect him.
The deliberate use of Alexander's last name—King—made his stomach twist. Blame had already been assigned before any words were spoken.
"Ughh… sir… there was a—"
Hendricks cut him off, voice sharp with anger.
"Is this why I pay you so much? To return from a meeting and find my building in ruins?"
He clenched his fists, and Alexander's face became apologetic, though internally he seethed. How could this man not see his own employee, battered and bleeding, before him? How was any of this his fault.
"My company… my precious company…
Alexander! I'll deduct this from your pay!"
Alexander almost snapped, but stayed calm, he was struggling to keep it together.
Then a voice intervened.
"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding, sir."
Hendricks whirled, ready to lash out at the speaker. His scowl faltered when he noticed the hunter badge gleaming on the man's chest.
"This young man is a hero," the blaster hunter said, pointing to Alexander.
"He risked his life protecting employees still inside the building."
His gesture swept to Liam, still answering questions from FBH personnel, his chest patched with healing magic.
"That young man can attest to the fact."
Hendricks' face twitched, words failing him as he sought a way to assign blame.
"This fool… Hendricks doesn't care about lives. He'd rather pin the disaster on someone else than hire more help."
Alexander thought bitterly, keeping his gaze locked on him.
"If anything, this young man should be rewarded, not blamed for this unfortunate situation,"
the D-rank hunter added firmly.
Hendricks ground his teeth but had no choice to comply.
"Ugh… fine. You may take three days to recover. But I expect you back Monday morning."
Alexander allowed a wry smile. Three days off—an absurd "reward" for the near-death he had endured—but he didn't protest. One should kepp in mind that those three days included Saturday and Sundays.
Accepting reality was simpler than arguing.
He flagged down a taxi, the afternoon sun glinting harshly off the metal and glass of the ruined building as he stepped inside.
Fortunately, his home was nearby, and the short drive gave him time to reflect on the day's chaos.
"Bzzz!"
His old, battered phone vibrated in his pocket.
"Hello, this is Alexander speaking…"
The voice on the other end was professional, yet tinged with excitement, urgency threading each word.
"Mr. King, this is Vermin from the Federal Bureau of Hunters. We have… matters to discuss."
Alexander's stomach dropped. The FBH? Why would such a powerful organization call a lowly D-rank hunter like him?
"Matters to discuss? I think you have the wrong number…"
"No, Alexander. This is the right number. It concerns your father."