The city of Arkos never slept. It just changed colors.
By day, it was gray concrete and steel, bustling with the bureaucracy of the Hunter Association.
By night, it was a neon-drenched sprawl of purple and electric blue, humming with the energy of mana-tech generators and desperate people.
Ezra walked down 5th Avenue. The last time he had walked this street, ten hours ago, he had been dragging his left leg.
He had kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, terrified that someone would mug him for his meager porter equipment.
Now, people moved out of his way.
They didn't know who he was. They didn't know he was a Level 12 anomaly who had just solo-cleared a B-Rank boss. They just felt the air around him. It was colder. Heavier.
Ezra stopped at a public comm-terminal near a convenience store.
He fished a crumpled ID card out of his pocket—miraculously survived the acid—and swiped it.
[User: Ezra Cohen]
[Bank Balance: 45 Credits]
A red notification box blinked aggressively on the screen.
[URGENT: St. Jude Hospital]
[Patient: Maya Cohen]
[Status: Critical. Mana Filter replacement overdue.]
[Outstanding Balance: 15,000 Credits.]
[Notice: If payment is not received by 06:00 AM, life support services will be downgraded to palliative care.]
Ezra stared at the screen. The reflection in the glass showed a young man with sharp features and eyes that looked like deep pools of ink.
"Palliative care," Ezra whispered. "They mean they'll let her drown."
His sister, Maya. She was sixteen. She loved drawing and hated the rain. She was the only person in the world who looked at Ezra and saw a brother, not a burden.
He had taken the raid with Markus because the pay was supposed to be 2,000 Credits. It wouldn't have paid the whole bill, but it would have bought another week.
Now? Now he needed all of it.
[Emotion Detected: Rage.]
[Suggestion: Violence is a valid currency.]
"Be quiet," Ezra muttered to the voice in his head. "I'm handling it."
He logged out. He didn't head toward the hospital yet. He couldn't go there with empty pockets.
He turned toward the entertainment district. toward the 'Golden Lion.'
The Golden Lion was the kind of tavern where Hunters went to blow their earnings on overpriced ale and monster-meat steaks. It was loud, smelled of roasted garlic and sweat, and was currently packed.
In the center booth, the VIP section, Markus was holding court.
"So there I was," Markus shouted, slamming a tankard down, froth spilling over his gauntlets. "The Twin-Headed Ogre! A real B-Rank nightmare. It had Jinsu in its grip. I had to make a choice."
The hunters at the nearby tables leaned in. A B-Rank clear was a big deal.
"I cast Grand Force Push," Markus lied through his teeth, gesturing wildly. "I knocked the beast back. But... we lost our porter."
Sarah, the healer, feigned a sad sigh, swirling her wine. "Poor Ezra. He was... slow. He tripped. We tried to save him, but the monster was too fast."
"A toast!" Jinsu yelled, already drunk. "To Ezra! The brave sacrifice!"
"To Ezra!" the party cheered.
They clinked their glasses, laughing. They were alive. They had the loot. And since the porter was dead, they didn't have to pay out his 5% share. It was a good night.
The front door of the tavern opened.
Usually, the door opening went unnoticed. But this time, the wind that blew in wasn't just night air. It was freezing.
The candles on the tables nearest the door flickered and died.
The ambient noise in the room dropped, layer by layer, as a silence spread from the entrance inward. It was an instinctual reaction—like a forest going quiet when a tiger steps onto the path.
Markus frowned, looking up from his drink. "Who left the door open?"
A figure stepped into the light.
He was wearing a tattered, blood-stained canvas jacket.
His pants were torn at the knees. But he wasn't limping. He was walking with a smooth, predatory grace.
Ezra stopped ten feet from Markus's table.
Sarah dropped her wine glass.
It shattered on the floor, the red liquid pooling like blood.
"Ez... Ezra?" she stammered. Her face went pale. "You... you're dead. We saw you die."
The tavern went deathly silent. Everyone loved a drama, and a dead man walking into a bar was high drama.
Ezra ignored the whispers. He looked at Markus.
"You're drinking 'Blue Phantom' ale," Ezra said calmly. "That's two hundred credits a bottle. You're spending my money, Markus."
Markus stood up. He was a big man, encased in steel plate armor, a C-Rank Warrior. He towered over Ezra.
The shock on his face was quickly replaced by a sneer. He couldn't let his reputation crumble here.
"You survived?" Markus scoffed, though his hand drifted toward the sword leaning against the booth. "You must have crawled into a rat hole while we finished the boss."
"Finished the boss?" Ezra tilted his head.
A small, dark smile touched his lips. "Is that the story?"
"We killed the Gatekeeper!" Markus shouted, addressing the room. "We cleared the dungeon! This cripple ran away and hid!"
He turned back to Ezra, his voice dropping to a threatening growl. "Get out of here, kid.
Be glad you're alive. You breached contract by abandoning the team. You don't get a copper."
Ezra looked at the clock on the wall. 10:00 PM. Eight hours until the hospital cut Maya off.
"I want my share," Ezra said. "Actually, the contract says if the party leader endangers a support member due to negligence, the compensation is tripled."
"Tripled?" Jinsu laughed nervously. "You're insane. Look at you. You're a begger."
"And," Ezra continued, his voice dropping an octave, "I want the loot money. The Ogre dropped items, didn't it? Where are they?"
Markus slammed his fist on the table. "I said get out! Or I'll finish what the dungeon started!"
Markus didn't wait. He wanted to end this before people started asking questions. He threw a punch—a heavy, mana-reinforced haymaker aimed right at Ezra's temple.
It was a blow meant to knock out a civilian. Maybe even kill a weak one.
Whack.
The sound wasn't a fist hitting bone. It was the sound of a fist hitting a wall.
Markus froze.
Ezra had caught the fist.
He hadn't braced himself. He hadn't moved his feet. He had simply raised his left hand and caught the armored gauntlet of a C-Rank warrior like it was a tossed ball.
"How..." Markus strained, his face turning red. He tried to pull his hand back. He couldn't. Ezra's grip was iron.
"My turn," Ezra said.
[Skill Activated: Titan's Strength (Passive)]
Ezra squeezed.
CRUNCH.
The steel gauntlet crumpled like tin foil. Beneath it, the bones of Markus's hand shattered.
"AAAAHHH!" Markus screamed, his knees buckling.
Ezra didn't let go. He twisted Markus's arm, forcing the warrior down onto the table. bottles crashed to the floor.
"The bill," Ezra said, leaning down. "My sister needs 15,000 credits. You guys just made 50,000 from the guild for the clear. Transfer it."
"You... you freak!" Jinsu, the scout, pulled a dagger. He lunged at Ezra from the side.
Ezra didn't even look. He simply side-stepped, moving so fast he left a blurred afterimage. Jinsu stabbed empty air.
Ezra grabbed Jinsu by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the wooden table. The table split in half.
Jinsu went limp.
"Monster!" Sarah shrieked. She raised her staff. "Light Bind!"
A rope of magical light shot toward Ezra.
Ezra swiped his hand through the air.
[Authority: Nullify.]
A streak of black void energy cut through the light spell, dissolving it instantly. Sarah stared at her staff, terrified. Her magic... simply vanished.
Ezra turned back to Markus, who was whimpering on the floor, clutching his mangled hand.
"I'm not asking nicely anymore," Ezra said.
He crouched down.
The shadows in the tavern seemed to lengthen, reaching toward him. The temperature dropped another ten degrees.
"Transfer the credits. All of them."
"Okay! Okay!" Markus sobbed. He fumbled for his phone with his good hand, terror in his eyes. "I'm doing it! Just don't kill me!"
Markus tapped the screen frantically.
[Ding!]
[Transfer Received: 50,000 Credits.]
Ezra checked his phone. The numbers turned from red to green. It was enough. It was more than enough for the surgery and months of medicine.
He stood up. The entire tavern was watching him. Seasoned hunters, B-Rank veterans, the bartender—nobody moved. They had just watched a "cripple" dismantle a C-Rank party in ten seconds without drawing a weapon.
Ezra looked down at Markus.
"You're lucky," Ezra said.
"What?" Markus wheezed, cradling his hand.
"You're lucky I have somewhere to be. If I didn't..." Ezra's eyes flashed purple for a split second. "...I would have eaten you."
He turned and walked toward the door.
"Wait!" Markus screamed, his pride overcoming his pain for a second. "Who do you think you are? The Guild won't let this slide! You attacked a registered Hunter! You're a criminal!"
Ezra stopped at the door. He looked back over his shoulder.
"I'm not a Hunter," Ezra said.
He opened the door and stepped out into the night.
"I'm the janitor. I just took out the trash."
[Quest Complete: The Debt Collectors]
[Rating: S]
[You established dominance without lethal force. The fear you planted will yield more fruit than their deaths.]
[Reward: Karma +50]
[Reward: New Skill - 'Intimidating Aura' (Passive)]
Ezra walked fast. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the gnawing hunger again. Using his strength burned calories—void calories.
"I need to eat," he muttered.
[There is a Dungeon Break occurring in Sector 7. Low level. An appetiser.]
Ezra checked his map. Sector 7 was on the way to the hospital.
"Fine," Ezra said. "Quick snack."
But as he walked, a black sedan pulled up slowly beside him. The window rolled down.
A woman sat in the back seat. She wore a sharp white suit and sunglasses, despite it being night. On her lapel was a silver pin: A pair of scales.
The emblem of the Hunter Association's Monitoring Division.
"Ezra Cohen?" she asked. Her voice was professional, detached.
Ezra stopped. "Who's asking?"
"Agent Vance," she said. "We detected a massive mana spike in the D-Rank dungeon you entered earlier. A spike consistent with a high-tier awakening. And then, the dungeon boss signal vanished."
She lowered her sunglasses, revealing eyes that glowed with a faint analytical magic.
"We found your teammates. They claim you died. Yet, here you are, and my sensors say your mana capacity is..." She frowned. "...Reading as zero.
Yet you feel like a bomb."
Ezra tensed. He could kill her. The voice in his head was screaming to do it. She is a threat. Eliminate.
But she was Association. Killing her meant becoming a fugitive. Maya needed him to be legitimate.
"I got lucky," Ezra said flatly. "I survived."
"Survival is one thing," Agent Vance said. "But the dungeon core is missing, Mr. Cohen. Dungeons don't just close. They collapse when the Core is taken."
She opened the car door.
"Get in. We have some questions."
Ezra looked at the car. Then he looked at the time.
"My sister is in the hospital," Ezra said. "I'm going there. If you want to talk, you can drive me."
Agent Vance blinked. She wasn't used to F-Rank porters giving her orders. She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the darkness lurking behind his eyes. Her instincts, honed by years of hunting rogue mages, screamed danger.
She smiled, a tight, dangerous smile.
"Get in," she said. "Let's go see your sister."
Ezra slid into the leather seat. The lock clicked shut.
[Warning: Hostile Entity in close proximity.]
[Prepare for combat?]
No, Ezra thought, leaning his head back. Not yet.
"Drive," Ezra said.
The car sped off into the neon night, leaving the shattered tavern and his old life far behind.