Detective Holt, known across the Association as the Bloodhound, was already inside the headquarters.
That alone was rare.
The man didn't move unless there was something worth chasing, and Holt didn't believe in coincidences. Not anymore. Not after decades of following trails that others dismissed as "random" or "unfortunate."
Every mystery had a shape, and every pattern had a scent.
When Ethan Crowe stepped through the Association's front doors for the second time in two days, Holt felt it immediately.
His heart began to race.
'Interesting…'
The obsession he attempted to suppress stirred back to life, sharp and hungry: closing cases, unravelling mysteries, pulling truth out of the dark and holding it up to the light until it screamed.
Holt stood off to the side, wrapped in his trusty long cloak and detective hat. With a pipe and a monocle, he looked like a caricature straight out of a Victorian novel. The look was intentional: people underestimated him based on his appearance and assumed he was playing a character.
That was how he liked it.
His thoughts ran wild as he observed Ethan from a distance.
'Could it be… that he's an S Rank now?'
Holt's amber eyes narrowed slightly.
'No, he doesn't feel like it.'
Then Holt inhaled slowly and froze.
'But his eyes and that smell…'
It was faint, and something that most Titled wouldn't notice even if they were actively searching for it, but nothing got past his nose.
'A beast.'
Holt didn't move as he continued to watch the blue-eyed man. Strangely enough, nobody else seemed to notice his presence, despite how infamous he was. His concealment was top-notch, completely slipping past everyone's perception.
He smiled faintly.
Then the scene unfolded exactly as he'd hoped.
The receptionist dismissed Ethan, an assessor turned him away, and security moved in - perfect timing.
Swoosh!
A sudden gust of wind tore through the lobby as Holt made his move.
In the blink of an eye, he crossed the space between them, cloak fluttering as he appeared beside Ethan as though he'd always been there.
"Detective Holt!"
Recognition exploded across the room.
Gasps rippled through the growing crowd, eyes widened, and even the guards stiffened instinctively.
He was one of the most famous Titled in the country.
"At your service," Holt said calmly, tipping his hat.
Ethan blinked.
'Who's this cringey fucker?'
Unlike the others, Ethan didn't feel awe. He felt pressure - a suffocating, primal tension that pressed down on his shoulders and crawled along his spine.
The man beside him was tall and muscular, with a rough stubble and amber eyes that almost glowed. There was something unnatural about him, almost like a literal wolf in sheep's clothing.
A predator among men.
Holt didn't speak to the guards; with a mere glance, they released Ethan immediately.
"Hello, Mr Crowe," he then said pleasantly. "If you'd follow me, I'll personally complete your Titled assessment."
Ethan did everything in his power not to activate his skills.
His body screamed at him to prepare - to defend itself, to unleash the beast within. It felt like standing inches away from something monstrous, something that could tear him apart without effort.
Even if he had, it would have been like arming a toddler with a fork, which just added to his unease.
But underlying it all was confusion.
'How does he know my name?'
It wasn't difficult to find someone's name in the current age, where information and personal data were so easily accessible, especially with his rap sheet.
The real question was...
'Why does he know my name? And what does he want?'
They locked eyes in a tense standoff, but Ethan struggled to maintain eye contact with the man's amber eyes or read much of anything from him.
All he got from it was one thing.
'This man is way beyond me.'
Taking a breath, he calmed himself down.
Everyone else clearly recognised Holt, taking pictures of him, and as the initial unease faded, something else surfaced - recognition.
'I've seen this guy before…'
Feeling uncomfortable with the forming crowd, Ethan nodded and followed Holt, who observed him keenly with those unsettling amber eyes.
No one dared get in the man's way as he led them into one of the many elevators.
The doors hissed shut, leaving them in an awkward silence.
As they stood opposite each other in the elevator, Ethan frowned slightly.
"Where was it again…?" he murmured under his breath.
"My action figure. Maybe my book," Holt suggested casually.
He snapped his fingers. "That's it. A cereal box."
"Detective Crunch," Holt said with a hint of pride. "I've made quite a lot of money from that."
Ethan looked him up and down.
Despite the goofy public persona, a kid-friendly detective solving mysteries on morning TV, those eyes told a different story. They were the eyes of a monster, of someone who had read people down to their bones and witnessed horrors most couldn't imagine.
The Association used the marketable Titled as celebrities and icons to make money, but also to help build public trust in these heroes.
But Ethan saw right through that mask as Holt asked his first probing question.
"As the assessor mentioned," he said lightly, "those with Conditional Titles often grow into the most powerful. All known S Ranks had trials or conditions they had to meet before truly manifesting their abilities. What do you think of that?"
Ethan shrugged.
He was surprised that the man heard everything despite not noticing him, but he answered calmly, "Makes sense."
Holt didn't respond outwardly, but his mind was racing.
Every reaction, or lack thereof, was carefully noted and filed away in his mind.
'No curiosity or fear... Strange.'
Holt already knew more about Ethan Crowe than Ethan likely knew about himself, but he was still struggling to get a read on the man before him.
Despite being alone with one of the most powerful Titled alive, Ethan remained calm.
'I've already died once, what's the worst that can happen?' was what the blue-eyed man was thinking to himself.
He even smiled faintly.
But that smirk only deepened Holt's curiosity as they exited the escalator and entered an empty testing chamber.
"I'm not sure how much your last assessor explained, but these pods are state-of-the-art technology. They dissect everything about you. From physical attributes like bone density and muscle mass, to any form of supernatural energy within your body."
Ethan just nodded his head at Holt's explanation.
'So it aligns with physical stats and MP.'
Holt then opened the pod using the control pad within the testing chamber and instructed him to enter it.
Ethan hesitantly complied.
As odd as this all was, he was getting reassessed despite the Association's policy. This probably wasn't the usual special circumstance his previous assessor had meant, but he would take it.
The pod sealed shut with the same soft hiss, and he focused inwards, as previously guided.
'Lord Of Beasts.'
'Lord Of Beasts.'
'Lord Of Beasts.'
Then, after a couple of seconds, the pod slid back open, much quicker than it had taken last time. That was a good sign that he was actually a Titled this time, but Ethan already knew that.
He had no reason to doubt the system tied to his Title, and already knew what rank to expect.
Stepping out confidently, Holt stared at him intensely, eyes flicking between Ethan and the tablet in his hand.
"So," Ethan asked, breaking the silence. "What's my rank?"
"E Rank," Holt replied. "With D Rank potential."
Ethan nodded.
There was no shock or disappointment on his face, which Holt caught immediately.
'That's not the acceptance of weakness. That's certainty.'
After receiving the lowest possible evaluation, there weren't any who didn't care or react at all, as Ethan had.
That meant either he already knew the result and wasn't surprised by it, or he was hiding his abilities and didn't care about the outcome.
To be sure, Holt suddenly moved.
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between them and went to strike him in the face. To Ethan, it looked like teleportation, and he hadn't even seen Holt suddenly retract his fist.
"What the fuck was that?" Ethan blurted.
"I just wanted to congratulate you," Holt said, patting his shoulder.
Ethan clenched his fists.
'First Mace, now this guy.'
He was sick of feeling small, sick of being an ant in a world of giants, but it was only a matter of time before he grew into one.
Meanwhile, Holt noticed everything.
Every clenched muscle, every flicker of frustration, but also that burning ambition.
As he looked at the scruffy blue-eyed man before him, Detective Holt smiled faintly.
'I've found my next mystery...'