He knew he was being followed.
Not immediately.
At first, it was just a feeling.
Footsteps that stopped when he stopped.
Reflections that vanished when he turned.
The presence reminded him of the thing inside his chest—silent, patient.
He didn't confront them.
He walked.
Three blocks.
Then five.
Then into an abandoned construction zone.
Broken pillars rose like skeletons against the night sky.
He stopped.
"Come out," he said quietly.
The air shifted.
Five figures appeared from different directions.
All masked.
All armed.
None radiated Universe Energy.
Which meant one thing.
They weren't official Hunters.
A woman stepped forward.
Short black hair. Dark coat. Calm eyes.
"You're brave for someone without a rank," she said.
He didn't reply.
She studied him carefully.
"You killed three low-tier Rift Monsters two nights ago."
His jaw tightened.
"You sold the cores in the underground market."
His silence confirmed it.
She smiled faintly.
"You don't use Universe Energy."
That made his pulse spike.
"Who are you?" he asked.
She tilted her head.
"We're people who handle problems the government ignores."
An illegal organization.
He already knew.
They took him to a hidden base beneath an old factory.
There, he learned the truth.
Rifts appeared every day.
Official Hunters only handled medium and high-threat zones.
Low-tier outbreaks in poor districts were left unattended unless civilians died in large numbers.
That's where they came in.
They called themselves Night Sweepers.
Not heroes.
Not villains.
Cleaners.
Their job was simple:
Find unauthorized Rifts.
Kill monsters quietly.
Collect cores.
Erase evidence.
And get paid.
"You're perfect for this," the woman said.
"Unregistered. Unranked. Invisible."
He clenched his fists.
"And if I say no?"
She met his gaze.
"Then you go back to being poor and hunted by monsters."
Silence stretched between them.
He thought of his uncle.
Of that alley.
Of standing frozen while someone else died for him.
He lifted his head.
"What's the deal?"
Her lips curved slightly.
"You work for us."
"We give you locations, basic gear, and cash."
"You kill Rift Monsters in low-priority zones."
"No questions."
"No public recognition."
"If you die, we never knew you."
He closed his eyes.
This wasn't justice.
This was survival.
And revenge.
He opened them again.
"I accept."
That night, he received his first assignment.
Small Rift.
Warehouse district.
Estimated threat: Low.
He moved alone.
No backup.
No safety net.
He cleared the site in under ten minutes.
When he returned, the woman handed him payment.
She watched him closely.
"You don't hesitate."
"I can't afford to."
She nodded.
"Good."
As he turned to leave, she added:
"From now on, you don't exist."
He walked out into the night.
Sixteen years old.
Unranked.
Illegal.
A Hunter without a license.