Anton wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a trembling silk handkerchief. He seemed to be trying to convince himself that I wasn't going to kill him, even though my presence alone clearly made his skin crawl.
"Well, the truth is, the 'N/A' symbolizes that the crystals couldn't detect a traditional role. Your mana is... dense. Unprecedented. Please, you must have a human skill, a core ability that defines your combat. Tell me what it is so we can finalize this."
He slid a fresh sheet of heavy parchment and a piece of charcoal across the desk. His eyes never left my hand, watching every movement as if I might produce a weapon instead of a writing tool.
I hesitated. I couldn't tell him about the Blood Curse. If I mentioned the wings, they'd know I was no longer entirely human. They'd see the monster the salt cellar had birthed. I needed to be honest enough to get the card, but vague enough to stay a mystery.
I leaned over the desk, the charcoal scratching against the paper. I wrote four skills my blood curse and my shapeshifting ability:
Blood Manipulation
Inspect
Defense Reduction
Pain Manipulation
Anton pulled the paper toward him, his eyes darting over the list. He hummed softly, his fear momentarily replaced by the analytical mind of a Bureau Chief.
"Inspect, An appraisal skill. Rare, certainly, but useless in the heat of a real battle. It won't stop a blade."
He moved to the next.
"Defense Reduction. Now, that is a useful utility. Shattering armor, weakening the hide of a monster... very practical for a gold-rank."
Then, Anton shifted to another word that I written.
And Pain Manipulation.... To numb your own wounds or amplify the agony of an enemy. It's a cruel skill, but effective. It explains your... endurance."
But then, his finger stopped at the first entry. His eyes widened, and he looked up at me, the charcoal-smudged paper crinkling in his grip.
"Blood Manipulation,"
He stared at me, his terror returning ten-fold. Blood manipulation wasn't just a skill, it was a taboo, a forbidden art often associated with the most ancient and terrifying entities. It was the ability to control the very essence of life and death. In the hands of someone with S-rank magic mastery, it was a power that could level a city from the inside out.
"This..."
Anton stammered, his face turning pale again as he looked at my missing arm and the scarred smile on my face.
"Eirene, if the Council hears that a Rynd possesses Blood Manipulation on top of S-tier mastery... you won't just be an adventurer. You'll be the most dangerous person in Caria."
He looked at the card, then back at me, his hands shaking so much he had to set the paper down. He finally understood why I was a "Void." I wasn't a warrior or a mage. I was a living catastrophe waiting to happen.
Anton stared at the paper as if it were a death warrant. He looked back at my empty sleeve, then at my right hand, his eyes filled with a mixture of professional awe and deep, instinctual dread.
"Blood Manipulation… Eirene, do you realize what this means? You have S-rank mastery in an art that kills most who even attempt it. Normally, those born with this affinity pass out or die from blood loss before they can even cast a basic spell. It is considered a suicidal, useless skill by the Academy."
He leaned in, the shadows of the room dancing in his terrified eyes.
"But you... you've mastered it. To reach S-rank with a suicidal magic means you've found a way to bypass the cost, or you've simply survived enough agony to make the cost irrelevant."
He sat back, his chair groaning. He seemed to be weighing the danger of my presence against the utility of my power. Despite his fear, the cold logic of a Bureau Chief began to take over. Caria was a city under siege from within, a monster like me was exactly what he needed, provided I was pointed in the right direction.
"We cannot label you a Mage, the public would panic. And we cannot label you a Warrior. You are something far more surgical. Given the state of the city, with the civil war and the Immoral Knights, we have a desperate need for those who can operate outside the lines of the regular guard."
He pulled a stamp from his desk, the heavy brass clicking against the wood.
"There are bounty hunters roaming the lands now, scavenging what they can from the chaos. Most are mercenaries with no loyalty. But a gold-rank with your... specific talents? You would be peerless."
He slammed the stamp onto my status card. The "N/A" glowed for a moment before shifting, the letters rearranging themselves into a sharp, jagged script.
Status Card: Updated
Name: Eirene Rynd
Rank: Gold (Evaluation Pending)
Magic Power: S-rank
Magic Mastery: S-rank
Swordsmanship: A-rank
Marksmanship: A-rank
Battle IQ: D-rank
Job Occupation: Bounty Hunter (D-rank)
Affiliation: LKBA (Branch 1)
"There, you are now officially a Bounty Hunter under the Bureau's jurisdiction. Your job is to hunt the shadows that we cannot reach. The Immoral Knights, the traitors, the scum that think they can hide in the mountain passes."
He paused, his gaze flickering to the door as if he expected Elias to burst through at any moment.
"Start with the mountain reports. If you're really as good as this card says you are, the Immoral Knights won't know what hit them until they're already cold. Now, please... take your card and go. I have a feeling your brother will be back soon, and I'd prefer not to be in the room when the two of you finally cross paths."
Anton slid the updated card across the desk with the tips of his fingers, as if touching it might burn him. I tucked it deep into my coat pocket, the weight of the new title Bounty Hunter settling into my bones.
I took the card, the surface still warm from the magic of the stamp. I stood up, my heavy black coat swirling around my boots. I didn't need to thank him. I had what I wanted: a license to hunt.
I turned and walked out of the office, the "Bounty Hunter" label feeling like a heavy, perfect fit. The Immoral Knights wanted a war. I was going to give them a slaughter.
"One more thing, Eirene before you will leave in this office. I'll promise it'll be worth it."
Anton said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a thick, leather-bound volume. The cover was stained with old ink and the corners were frayed.
"This is the Registry of the Condemned. It's a live record of every soul in Caria and the surrounding mountains that has forfeited their right to live."
He pushed the book toward me.
"The threats are ranked from D-rank to S-rank. The higher the rank, the more blood you'll have to spill, but the Bureau pays well for the heads of monsters. Gold, equipment, information, whatever you need to keep hunting, we provide."
I picked up the book with my right hand. It was heavy, filled with the sins of a city. I flipped open the first page, the parchment crinkling under my thumb.
The first face I saw was a man named Cletus Roman.
The illustration was vivid: a hulking, muscular man with tanned skin and a jagged scar that bisected his face, making his sneer look permanent. Beneath his name, the list of his crimes turned my stomach, vile, unspeakable acts against teenage girls who had the misfortune of crossing his path in the slums of Caria. He was a predator who enjoyed the fear of the weak.
Threat Level: B-Rank
Reward: 1 gold coin
Status: Active / Dangerous
I stared at the drawing of Cletus. He looked proud of that scar. He looked like the kind of man who thought he was untouchable because he was strong.
A cold, familiar hum started in my ears. My blood began to churn, reacting to the spark of genuine, righteous fury blooming in my chest. This man was exactly like the shadows in the cellar. He was the reason families broke. He was the reason girls like me ended up as ghosts.
I didn't need to read the rest of the page. I looked up at Anton, my one eye narrowed, my Glasgow smile tight and terrifying. I pointed a single finger at the face of Cletus Roman.
Anton nodded slowly, his face pale.
"He was last spotted near the southern tenements, hiding among the refugees. He thinks the civil war is a perfect cover for his... appetites."
I closed the book with a heavy thud. I didn't have a voice to tell Anton I would bring him the man's head, but I didn't need one. The way I gripped the leather of the book told him everything.
I turned and walked out of the office, the heavy black coat billowing behind me. Cletus Roman was a B-rank threat, but he had never met an S-rank mastery of blood.
He had enjoyed causing pain. Tonight, I was going to show him what pain really felt like when it was controlled by someone who had lived through the end of the world.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind me, the sound echoing through the hallway like the cocking of a hammer. I didn't look back. I had a name, a face, and a target.
Inside the office, the silence was suffocating. Anton remained frozen in his chair, his hands flat on the mahogany desk, staring at the spot where I had stood. The air still felt charged with the static of my magic.
"Sydney," Anton whispered,
Sydney stepped forward, her face just as pale as the Chief's.
"Yes, sir?"
"Report this to the High Officials immediately, tell them Eirene Rynd is alive. Tell them she's here, in Caria, and she's... she's been changed. They need to update the records before she crosses paths with a patrol that doesn't know better."
Sydney nodded frantically, clutching her clipboard to her chest.
"I'll draft the memo now. But sir... there's a problem. Elias. He didn't wait for the morning briefing. He and his party left Caria before dawn. They're already halfway to the Caria Mountains."
Anton's eyes widened, his jaw dropping as a fresh wave of terror washed over him. He slumped back into his seat, the leather groaning under his weight.
He thought of the girl who had just walked out, the missing arm, the horrific glasgow smile, the eye patch, and the hollowed-out throat that could no longer scream.
Then, he thought of Elias, the man who had held a revolver to his skull yesterday over the mere suspicion that his sister was dead.
"Gods help us, Elias thinks she's dead. He's already a monster when he's grieving. But if he sees her like this... if he sees that his sister has been mutilated, that she's covered in those wounds..."
He looked at his own trembling hands, the realization of the coming storm hitting him.
"He won't just be angry, Sydney, he'll look for someone to blame for letting it happen. If Elias sees her sister in that state... he will skin us alive. He'll burn this Bureau to the ground with us inside it."
Sydney didn't answer. She didn't have to. Both of them knew that the Rynd siblings were no longer just adventurers. They were two different kinds of storms, and they were now both loose in the same city.