(The heavy metal door shut out the noise of the outside world, yet it could not shut out the invisible sense of crisis.
Kuchiba Hiro sat cross-legged on the cold bed board, the faint glow of the phone screen reflecting on his expressionless face. His fingers swiped rapidly, like a thirsty sponge greedily absorbing all publicly available information on the app, trying to sketch out a rough map in this dark jungle.
He clicked on the prominent "Strength Rankings" section. A series of imposing titles came into view: "Railgun," "Absolute Zero," "Bronze Dragon King," "Gilgamesh," "King Arthur"... Blurred levels like "LV8," "LV?," and "LV7+" were marked next to them.
Kuchiba Hiro only glanced at them, unimpressed. Having struggled at the bottom of society, he knew all too well the vanity of such lists.
The ones who truly wielded power were those who set the rules—the individuals hidden behind the scenes whose names would never appear on such a list.
Those who could make the list were either too conspicuous and pushed out as targets, or were "models" the system was willing to show outsiders. Just like those billionaire lists, how many true leviathans were hidden beneath the surface?
His attention soon shifted from individual rankings to more practical targets—Battle Gangs.
There were numerous Battle Gangs registered with The Authorities, varying in scale from small teams of a few people to large organizations of hundreds. Names like the Defense Force, Hounds, Anteiku, and Aogiri Tree represented different operational styles and spheres of influence.
Kuchiba Hiro understood that as he moved through this world in the future, these names were far more worthy of vigilance than the codenames on the individual rankings.
Next, he noticed the indicator that seemed central yet somewhat contradictory—Transcendent Level.
He recalled the level six ability user he had killed with a single punch, who supposedly had spatial abilities but seemed a bit too weak. What level did he belong to? And what level was Hiratsuka Shizuka, who hadn't died even after taking several of his punches?
Moreover, judging from the strength rankings just now, a high level didn't necessarily mean one could fight, and a low level didn't necessarily mean one was weak.
Kuchiba Hiro rubbed his chin, pondering the logic. If level didn't represent absolute combat power, then what did it represent? Value? Potential? Or... a comprehensive assessment of some kind of "scarcity" or "danger"?
A somewhat dark but seemingly more reasonable analogy surfaced in his mind: just like the grading of ingredients in certain high-end markets, A5 Wagyu wasn't necessarily better at fighting than A3, but it was more expensive and more sought after. In this system where everything was clearly priced, was a Transcendent's "level" also a similar "quality label," directly linked to their value in the "market"—whether as an ally, prey, or... "material"?
This thought sent a slight chill down his spine, but he quickly regained his composure. Obsessing over these rankings and levels was meaningless, as ridiculous as obsessing over school grades.
Rankings, to put it bluntly, were meant to stimulate competition and divide the lower classes, making it easier for the upper classes to screen and manage them. Anyone who truly believed this stuff would let them sleep soundly was a fool. The competition one had to face after entering society wouldn't be reduced in the slightest.
He skimmed through the information available for free on the app and found that the truly valuable core intelligence was pitifully scarce. It either required an astronomical amount of gold coins or wasn't open to "wanted criminals" like him at all.
"Insufficient intelligence..." Kuchiba Hiro turned off his phone, and the room plunged into darkness, only his eyes shimmering with a faint light in the shadows. "Then I can only deal with things using the existing conditions."
His thoughts focused once more on his current situation—this shelter. Why was its rating so high? Was it merely because of the signal shielding and free meals?
No, there had to be a deeper reason.
His gaze seemed to pierce through the projection window, falling on the bustling downtown streets outside as dusk fell. He grasped a key point: location!
This shelter was actually established quite openly in the most prosperous downtown area!
What did this mean?
It meant crowds! Dense flows of ordinary people and ubiquitous public surveillance cameras formed a natural, massive barrier!
the veil protocol was like a sword of Damocles hanging over every Transcendent's head. Anyone who dared to use Transcendent abilities on a large scale in plain sight and cause social panic would immediately turn from a hunter into prey with an even higher bounty. For most profit-driven bounty hunters, this risk cost was too high and not worth the gain.
But—
The corners of Kuchiba Hiro's mouth slowly curled into a cold and resolute arc.
"I'm different."
He was now the prey, a wanted criminal, a transgressor already on the list. As the saying goes, when you have many debts, you don't worry, and when you have many lice, you don't itch. the veil protocol that those hunters needed to be wary of and the operational costs they needed to calculate had a much lower binding force on him.
"They don't dare to move in the downtown area for fear of exposure and being put on the wanted list."
"But I can!"
This was his advantage for a desperate counterattack! By utilizing the restrictions the rules placed on the hunters, he would turn the downtown area into his home field! He would turn the gaze of ordinary people into his protective talisman!
Having figured out the key, Kuchiba Hiro no longer hesitated. Waiting for death was never his style. Nearly half the time in the shelter remained, but this safety was illusory, merely the calm before the storm. He had to use this time to turn his passive position into an active one.
A simple trick took shape in his mind. He left the phone, which might be used by The Authorities or Battle Gangs for precise positioning, inside the shelter to create the illusion that its owner was still in the room. Meanwhile, he quietly slipped out of the hotel.
Instead of taking the special elevator that required a card swipe, he went through the fire escape and finally emerged from an inconspicuous staff exit into a narrow alleyway filled with trash cans behind the hotel.
The city lights were just beginning to flicker on as night fell, and the bustle of the prosperous district rushed towards him. Kuchiba Hiro pulled his hood tight, hiding his face in the shadows, and quickly merged into the bustling crowd on the sidewalk. He looked just like an ordinary young man returning late, no different from the citizens around him hurrying home or heading out for nightlife.
But an undercurrent was already surging. His consciousness spread out like invisible ripples, establishing connections with the inconspicuous small creatures in the city. Sparrows under the eaves, stray cats in the bushes, and even rats at the sewer entrances... all became his extended eyes and ears. A three-dimensional surveillance network, centered on the shelter hotel and radiating through several surrounding blocks, was quietly taking shape.
He didn't need to personally scout every corner. The movements and deployments those hunters thought were hidden were almost completely exposed under the gaze of countless animal eyes... on the edge of the rooftop of a nearby office building.
A sniper codenamed "No. 4" carried a black briefcase. Relying on his extensive experience, he found this excellent sniping point.
After observing for a moment, he pressed a switch on the briefcase's handle. The black metal casing of the briefcase instantly unfolded, revealing a crimson, writhing flesh-like structure inside that looked like a living thing, which then began to twist, extend, split, deform, and reorganize.
It eventually transformed into a heavy sniper rifle that seemed to be made of flesh and blood. The rifle was two meters long, black in color, with red vein-like patterns on it. The scope was not a telescope-like structure, but a real, blinking crimson eye with complex patterns. This gun looked more like a living creature.
The sniper leaned down and set up the gun. The firearm automatically extended several spider-leg-like structures as a bipod, pinning itself firmly to the ground.
As a sniper, he didn't have to fight head-on, so the only equipment he carried was this special sniper rifle.
But this rifle was no ordinary weapon. Its value, excluding the Young Lady, was more precious than all their lives combined. Because it had a special ability: it could identify Transcendent powers within a crowd.
They indeed didn't dare to act openly in the downtown area, but they certainly had the guts to take a sniper shot there—and plenty of it.
Arashiyama's low voice came through the earpiece: "No. 4, are you in position? Report on the field of vision."
"No. 4 in position. Visibility is good, target area is clear. No suspicious targets for now; the target may still be within the safe zone," No. 4 reported calmly, his finger resting lightly on the trigger guard, his breathing steady.
He was a professional mercenary who had entered this line of work after hearing that the Transcendent circle was a quick way to make money. He had executed many hunting missions and dealt with all sorts of strange Transcendents, so he was highly experienced.
In his view, a student who had only recently awakened, even if he had some ability, wouldn't be able to cause much trouble under a professional tactical encirclement.
However, while all his attention was focused on the hotel ahead, he neglected what was behind him—a figure was already standing silently behind him.
No. 4 seemed to sense something amiss, but it was already too late. Just as he was about to look back, a cold hand gripped his throat from behind like a steel vise. The immense strength instantly stripped him of his ability to speak or resist.
The sniper's eyes widened in terror. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young face covered in frost. It was the mission target—Kuchiba Hiro!
Kuchiba Hiro didn't waste any words. He exerted force with his fingers, and with a slight, tooth-aching crack, No. 4's neck was cleanly snapped. The terror and disbelief in his eyes instantly froze, and his body slumped limply to the ground, devoid of all life.
Kuchiba Hiro released his grip expressionlessly, not even glancing at the corpse on the ground. His gaze was quickly drawn to the strangely shaped sniper rifle.
A rare expression of shock and curiosity appeared on his face. He picked up the gun and looked at it; the blinking eye on the scope made him think for a moment that he was hallucinating. Then, he boldly and tentatively poked the eye.
The sniper rifle let out a sound like an insect's hiss, and the firearm vibrated slightly as if reacting to the pain it felt.
Kuchiba Hiro pulled his head back, his eyes widening significantly: "This thing... is alive!")
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