The city did not understand what was happening until it was already too late.
At first, it was only a vibration—deep and distant, like thunder trapped beneath the earth. Buildings trembled subtly. Glass chimed softly in window frames. People paused mid-step, glancing around with faint unease before dismissing it as construction or an underground transit malfunction.
Then the air changed.
A pressure settled over the city, heavy and unnatural, pressing against lungs and skin alike. Even those with no mana sensitivity felt it—a crawling sensation along the spine, an instinctive warning that something was wrong.
High above the central district, the sky fractured.
It did not open like a normal dungeon gate.
It shattered.
Space tore apart in jagged lines of violet-black energy, spreading outward like a cracked mirror. Clouds warped and twisted around the rupture, pulled inward as if gravity itself had been wounded. Mana poured out in violent waves, distorting light, sound, and reality.
The dungeon did not stabilize.
It detonated.
A shockwave rippled outward, shattering windows for kilometers. Several mid-rise buildings groaned as their structural integrity failed, collapsing in clouds of dust and debris. Cars flipped. Streets split. Screams finally erupted as people ran, panic replacing confusion in an instant.
Sirens screamed to life.
Not one system—every system.
Emergency alerts hijacked every screen, every speaker, every device capable of transmitting sound or image.
[EMERGENCY ALERT: S-RANK DUNGEON BREAK]
[CITY-LEVEL THREAT CONFIRMED]
[EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY]
[ALL AVAILABLE HUNTERS REPORT TO ENGAGEMENT ZONE]
Hunters College felt it like a blade against the throat.
Mana barriers flared violently, ancient sigils burning bright as alarms tore through classrooms, training halls, and dormitories. Lectures stopped mid-sentence. Sparring matches froze mid-swing. Instructors turned pale as the magnitude of the alert registered.
S-rank.
That word carried weight.
It meant destruction. It meant casualties. It meant that rank, preparation, and confidence could all become meaningless within seconds.
Lunaria Vale stopped walking.
He stood in a sunlit corridor, his steps halting as the alarm echoed through stone and bone alike. His sword rested at his side, familiar and calm, while chaos erupted around him—students shouting, instructors issuing orders, transport gates activating in rapid succession.
"…That's not normal," he whispered.
[Dungeon break magnitude: extreme.]
His fingers tightened slightly around the sword hilt.
"…S-rank?" Lunaria asked quietly.
[Confirmed.]
The word settled in his chest like cold water.
S-rank dungeon breaks were disasters that rewrote maps. Cities survived them only when the strongest hunters responded immediately—and even then, survival was never guaranteed.
And yet—
[All hunters are being mobilized.]
"…Even bronze?" Lunaria asked, voice barely above a breath.
[Yes.]
He closed his eyes briefly.
"…I understand."
Readiness did not matter.
Rank did not matter.
When the world broke, everyone bled the same.
Lunaria moved.
---
The transport gate deposited them into hell.
Smoke choked the air, thick with burning fuel, dust, and corrupted mana. The once-bustling heart of the city was unrecognizable—streets split apart like broken bones, buildings leaning at impossible angles, fires raging unchecked.
Above it all hung the dungeon rupture.
It was massive.
Not a gate, but a wound—an unstable tear pulsing violently, vomiting monsters directly into the city rather than into a contained space. Tendrils of corrupted energy lashed out randomly, warping steel, stone, and flesh alike.
Monsters poured out in waves.
Not scouts.
Not fodder.
S-rank dungeon breaks did not test the waters.
They drowned the world immediately.
Towering aberrant beasts smashed through buildings, their bodies armored in unnatural crystal or twisted muscle. Winged horrors shrieked overhead, their cries shattering glass and rupturing eardrums. The ground itself erupted as burrowing entities clawed their way up through asphalt and concrete.
Hunters hit the streets at a full sprint.
"Form evacuation corridors!"
"Bronze and iron ranks—civilian extraction only!"
"Silvers, provide suppression—do NOT engage alone!"
"Gold and above, prepare for direct confrontation!"
Lunaria landed hard in a shattered plaza, boots skidding over broken stone. Heat rolled over him in suffocating waves. Screams echoed from every direction.
"…So many," he whispered.
[Threat density exceeds recommended parameters.]
"Yes," he agreed softly.
A group of bronze and iron-ranked hunters near him froze as a massive shadow swept overhead. One of them—a young man with trembling hands—looked at Lunaria in pure panic.
"W-We're not supposed to be here," he stammered. "This is S-rank—this is suicide!"
Lunaria met his gaze calmly.
"We're here to buy time," he said gently.
The hunter swallowed. "What?"
"For the people evacuating," Lunaria continued. "And for the higher ranks to arrive."
"…You sound like you've accepted death."
"I haven't," Lunaria replied honestly. "I've accepted necessity."
[Emotional state: stable.]
"I have to be," Lunaria murmured.
The ground shook violently.
A massive ogre-like entity crashed into the plaza, its body encased in black crystalline armor that pulsed with corrupted mana. Each step shattered stone. Its eyes burned with cruel intelligence as it roared, sound alone knocking several hunters off their feet.
Panic spread.
"Fall back!"
"It's too big—!"
Before anyone could stop him, Lunaria stepped forward.
"Move back," he said softly.
Someone grabbed his arm. "Are you insane?!"
"I'll distract it," Lunaria replied.
"That thing will kill you!"
Lunaria's expression remained serene.
"…Then it won't kill you."
He untied his ribbon.
The soft pink fabric slipped free and vanished into the smoke.
His hair fell loose, straight and weightless, moonlight cascading down his back.
The shift was immediate.
Not explosive.
Decisive.
[Entering high-risk engagement.]
Lunaria drew his sword.
The monster roared and charged.
Lunaria did not meet it with force.
He flowed.
He moved through falling debris, stepping where the ground had not yet collapsed, slipping between shattered stone and fire. His blade flashed—not striking armor, but joints, mana conduits, points of instability.
Each cut was precise.
Each movement deliberate.
He danced between death and destruction.
The creature howled as one knee buckled, crystalline armor fracturing where Lunaria's blade had severed internal mana flow. He spun, hair whipping through smoke, sword slicing across the monster's throat—not deep enough to kill, but enough to destabilize it completely.
The beast staggered, roaring in confusion and rage.
Hunters stared in disbelief.
"Did he just—?"
"That was a bronze—!"
Lunaria retreated smoothly as the creature collapsed, buying precious seconds. Silver-ranked hunters surged forward, finishing the weakened monster with overwhelming force.
[Damage inflicted: significant.]
"…Good," Lunaria whispered.
He did not stop.
The city was still burning.
He intercepted monsters slipping past defensive lines, redirected attacks away from evacuation routes, destabilized enemies so others could end them. Blood stained his uniform. Smoke clung to his hair and skin.
At one point, a silver-ranked hunter seized his arm.
"Bronze! Get back! You'll die out here!"
Lunaria met his eyes calmly.
"…If I leave, someone else will die instead."
The silver hunter hesitated.
Then released him.
"Stay alive," he muttered.
"I plan to," Lunaria replied.
Time blurred.
Minutes felt like hours.
Hours like heartbeats.
Finally, the air shifted.
The pressure changed.
S-ranked hunters arrived.
Their presence was overwhelming—mana crushing, movements tearing through monsters like living disasters. The tide turned, slowly but unmistakably.
Containment protocols began.
Multiple S-ranked hunters combined their power, forcing the ruptured sky to stabilize. The dungeon screamed, reality warping violently as it was forced shut.
With a final, deafening implosion, the rupture collapsed inward.
The sky healed.
Silence followed.
Not peaceful silence.
Exhausted silence.
Hunters stood amid ruins, wounded and bloodied, breathing hard.
Lunaria stood among them, sword lowered, hair loose, chest rising and falling steadily.
[Catastrophic event resolved.]
"…We survived," he whispered.
[Yes.]
He looked around at the devastation.
"…I'm still bronze," he said softly.
[Rank does not reflect impact.]
Lunaria nodded. "I know."
Sirens faded. Medics rushed in. Commanders issued new orders.
And among exhausted hunters, a quiet truth spread:
A bronze-ranked hunter with moonlight hair had stepped into an S-rank dungeon break.
And lived.
Not by luck.
But by elegance sharpened into resolve.
The city would remember the disaster.
The hunters would remember Lunaria Vale.