They threw Viper in a dumpster three blocks away.
Julien felt a little bad about it, but then he remembered the man had tried to stab him over a discount, so he felt less bad. He did, however, take the man's wallet as promised.
[Loot Acquired: 45 Credits.]
"Forty-five credits," Julien sighed, pocketing the change. "Crime really doesn't pay in this district."
"It paid for lunch," Chris said, adjusting his shirt. It was a bright yellow t-shirt Alice had found in the basement that read 'MOMMY'S LITTLE BOY' in glittery text. It was three sizes too small, turning Chris's B-Rank muscles into a vacuum-sealed package of violence.
"I hate this shirt," Chris grumbled.
"It makes you look approachable," Julien lied. "Now, come on. We have a date with destiny. And by destiny, I mean a middle-aged clerk named Linda."
The Hunter Association Branch of District 9 was not a grand building by any means. It was a massive, grey, windowless slab of concrete that looked like it had been dropped from orbit to crush the hopes of everyone beneath it.
Even though this was the "slum" branch, the scale of it was terrifying. It took up an entire city block. Massive mana-conductors glowed on the roof, creating a low-frequency vibration that rattled Julien's teeth. Armed guards, actual C-Rank hunters in riot gear, stood at the entrance, scanning IDs with bored expressions.
"This is the small one?" Chris whispered, looking up at the imposing structure. "I heard the Central HQ in District 1 reaches the clouds."
"This is just the filter," Julien said, feeling a knot in his stomach. "A place where they keep the trash like us from blocking up the real system."
They joined the line.
There were hundreds of people: hunters with missing limbs, merchants with desperate eyes, teenagers hoping to awaken their rank, and grieving families filing for death benefits after a failed raid.
"I don't like it here," Alice whispered. She was wearing a pink floral bonnet that hid her face, but her single visible eye darted frantically around. "Too many souls. They are all screaming. 'Form 3B is missing!' 'I forgot my signature!' It is a chorus of hellish torture."
"Just keep your head down," Julien whispered. "And don't summon anything. If I see a hamster, I'm leaving you here."
They waited.
And waited.
Time in the Association moved differently. After three hours of shuffling, listening to Chris complain about his shirt, and Alice arguing with invisible spirits, they finally reached the front desk.
The clerk was a woman who looked like she had been fossilised in her chair. Her name tag read [MS. GRIMBLE].
"Next," she croaked, not bothering to look up.
"Hi," Julien put on his best smile. "We're here to register a business. 'Eternal Rest Apothecary."
Ms Grimble typed something on a keyboard.
"Business type?"
"Consumables and... consulting."
"Location?"
"The Fringe. Sector 4. The old Apothecary building."
Ms Grimble stopped typing for a moment. She looked up. Her glasses were so thick that her eyes looked like giant orbs.
"The haunted one?"
"The refurbished one," Julien corrected.
"Mmhmm." She stamped a paper. "That will be the Standard Merchant Application. Do you have your Hunter Licenses?"
Julien handed over his F-Rank ID. Chris handed over his C-Rank ID. Alice handed over a library card that expired in 2018.
"She's... an intern," Julien explained quickly as Grimble stared at the library card.
"Right," Grimble sighed. "Okay. To open a Hunter Supply Shop in a designated Conflict Zone, which District 9 is, you need to prove viability."
"Viability?" Julien asked. "We have stock for the materials. We have a shop and a guard." He pointed at Alice.
"Viability means survivability," Grimble said, tapping a sign on the glass.
[REGULATION 404: MERCHANT SAFETY ACT]
Due to the high mortality rate of F-Rank shopkeepers, all new business owners must prove they can defend their products and themselves.
"You need to pay the registration fee of 10,000 Credits," Grimble said.
"Ten thou-" Chris choked. "Milana said it was only paperwork!"
"Inflation," Grimble shrugged. "And," she continued, ignoring Chris's sputtering, "you need to provide proof of clearance for at least five D-Rank Dungeons or higher."
Julien froze.
"Excuse me?"
"Five dungeons," Grimble repeated.
"We don't give licenses to people who are going to get eaten by a slime in a week. It's too much paperwork to file the death certificates for them. You need to prove you are a 'Reliable Asset'. That means showing you can handle the local fauna and the pressure that comes with it."
"But I'm a Merchant!" Julien argued. "I only sell things! There isn't a need for me to stab the monsters! That's what he's for!" He pointed at Chris.
"He is C-Rank," Grimble noted, looking at Chris's ID. "He can clear D-Rank dungeons. But the license is in your name, Mr. Julien. You are the one who needs the clearance. Or at least, your Party needs to have registered clears under your leadership."
She pushed the papers back.
"Come back when you have the money and the badges. Next!"
"Wait!" Julien grabbed the counter.
"Is there no other way? A waiver? A bribe? I have... everything?"
Grimble looked at the chocolate bar in Julien's hand. For a second, her fossilized face cracked.
"Honey," she whispered, leaning in. "This is the Association. If you want to bribe someone here, you need more than a candy bar. Better work your ass off to get the required credits. Now move, or I call security."
A massive, orc-like guard in uniform stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
"Moving," Julien squeaked.
They retreated to the back of the hall, huddled near a vending machine that sold "Mana-Coffee," which tasted like battery acid.
"This is a fucking scam," Chris raged, kicking the vending machine. "10,000 credits? Five dungeons? We haven't even cleared one dungeon as a party yet! We just beat up a slime in a basement!"
"It's a gatekeeping tactic," Julien muttered, his mind wandering. "They make the barrier to entry high so only the big Guilds and rich families can open shops. They don't want competition from the hunters of the slums."
"So what do we do?" Alice asked. "Do we kill the clerk? I can bring her back. She might be nicer as a zombie."
"No killing the clerks, for now." Julien rubbed his temples. "We need a plan and money. And most importantly, we need those dungeon clears."
He looked around the massive hall.
Beyond the registration desks, there was a noisy, smoke-filled area separated by a velvet rope.
A neon sign buzzed above it: [THE HUB].