"Hey, what is going on?" Gerard called out. The hulking man stopped abruptly, puzzled by the sudden stillness of the young man behind him. Ken did not answer right away.
He simply brushed the air with his hand. A sharp, almost dismissive gesture to signal that everything was fine. It was a silent lie. In truth, a crushing weight had just fallen onto his shoulders, tightening his chest with every breath.
To regain a semblance of calm, a single thought looped through his mind: individuals were all different. Evolution was not an exact science, it did not follow a universal mathematical curve.
He tried to convince himself that if those people had taken eight months without even reaching level fifteen, it did not necessarily mean he would suffer the same slow progress. Perhaps his will could break the statistics.
Yet a bitter voice deep within whispered that such reasoning was pathetic. Clinging to illusions was the mark of the weak. Reality, the one he tried so hard to escape, was far more cruel and tangible than his beginner hopes.
The people he had just observed were not rank F, the kind he could use to support his theory of individual difference. They were rank E. An entire tier above his own.
That simple realization struck like a blade. If even rank E members stagnated like this, it meant his own chances, as someone from the lowest class, were even slimmer, almost nonexistent.
Even though he knew he was stronger than the average beginner thanks to relentless training, Ken understood he could not bypass this merciless system. Numbers did not lie, and the numbers were against him.
Should he simply go back and abandon his dream? The question burned in his throat. Turn around now, before even setting foot on Earth, and find a stable job far from danger and disillusionment.
He could already picture his life as a low level employee, wearing himself down for scraps, far from dungeons and glory. Was that truly his fate? Wasting his time chasing a goal so difficult while everything pushed him toward failure?
The financial pressure did nothing to clear his thoughts. His house could be seized within just two months. Four months of unpaid rent weighed on him like a social death sentence.
He had hoped to become an independent cleaner to earn more credits. That was his plan, his only way to save the roof that still sheltered his memories. But the calculations in his head were disastrous.
With his current beginner status, he could only earn between six thousand and eight thousand credits a month. A pitiful amount compared to the abyss opening beneath his feet.
His housing debt stood at forty five thousand credits. A colossal sum, unreachable for someone who still had to prove himself in the most basic hunting zones.
"This is a bit too cruel..." he murmured to himself, his voice fractured by deep bitterness.
"I already have rank F potential when my father was rank D, and my grandfather before him..." That genealogical regression was a shame he carried like a brand burned into his flesh.
Learning that reaching independent cleaner status could take more than two years finished crushing him. Two years, when he only had eight weeks before ending up on the streets.
He felt his last hopes slipping away.
Jessica noticed his distant gaze and the pallor of his face. She approached gently. She did not understand everything happening within him, but she could sense his distress.
She lightly placed a hand on the sleeve of his sweater. That simple contact, soft and hesitant, was enough to pull Ken back to reality. He almost flinched at the unexpected touch.
"You are rank E too, right?" she asked with awkward softness. She was trying to find common ground, some similarity to break the ice of his isolation.
"Do not worry, not everyone is the same. There are people who started at rank E and are now recognized cleaners," she added, her eyes searching to anchor a spark of hope in his.
She was probably trying to comfort him, to offer a crutch to his failing morale. It was a noble gesture, but one rooted in complete ignorance of his real condition.
She did not know that Ken was not rank E, but rank F. The difference was an abyss few managed to cross without massive external help or a miracle.
She also did not know that the famous cleaner she mentioned had only become known in his forties. An eternity for someone whose survival depended on the next two months.
And yet, against all logic, her words brought him a slight comfort. It was the human warmth, more than the meaning of her words, that soothed his wounded pride.
By reflex, born from years spent with Clara, Ken lifted his hand. He wanted to stroke her hair, an instinctive gesture of gratitude he had repeated thousands of times in the past.
He stopped himself at the last moment, his fingers tensing just a few centimeters away. He suddenly remembered they were nothing but strangers.
To push away the awkwardness, he forced himself to focus on the immediate objective. He had to at least visit Earth. That mythical place he had heard so much about.
Earth was now only a distant memory for humanity, a hostile territory that needed purification, yet it remained the cradle of their species. He could not leave without seeing it with his own eyes.
In a corner of his mind, he was already searching for another way to earn money. An alternative solution to save his home, because clearly, becoming a cleaner would bring him nothing in the immediate future.
Financial urgency demanded drastic measures. He had to think, analyze every option, but for now, he was tied to this group and this mission. He had to see it through.
They finally arrived in front of the massive gate separating the secured zone from the wild territory. Association guards, armed and vigilant, blocked the way with cold authority.
One of the officers asked for their group code. Gerard stepped forward, transmitting the necessary information through his personal terminal. The wait was brief.
After verification, the guards stepped aside. The mechanism of the gate activated with a deep rumble, opening access to the outside.
The crossing was quick. Just a few steps were enough for the environment to change completely, as if an invisible boundary between two worlds had been crossed.
Before them now stretched long, dark buildings, skeletons of steel and concrete that seemed to groan under the weight of centuries. It was a vision of pure desolation.
Debris lay scattered everywhere: rusted vehicle carcasses, shattered glass, fragments of a once flourishing civilization now reduced to dust.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
"So this is Earth," he thought. He felt both sorrow at the sight of these ruins and fascination at the fallen grandeur of these ancient structures.
"Incredible, right?" Jessica said beside him. She seemed more used to this landscape, or perhaps she could see a kind of wild beauty that Ken had not yet perceived.
He looked at her for a moment, his eyes reflecting the shadows of the ruined buildings. He could not find words to express the mix of sadness and adrenaline boiling within him.
"You could say that," he replied simply. His voice was low, almost swallowed by the heavy silence that ruled this dead land. He did not want to seem too impressed.
Gerard spoke again, breaking the moment. His tone had grown sharper, more professional. He knew wonder was the first step toward carelessness in a cleaning zone.
He advised everyone to stay alert.
The group leader pulled a compact device from his pocket, a navigation terminal. He entered the coordinates stored on his phone, checking their target one last time.
These data matched the dungeon reserved for their mission. A crucial administrative step in the world of cleaners to avoid unnecessary tragedies.
Reserving a dungeon was essential to prevent confusion. In these lawless lands, two groups arriving at the same location for the same target would inevitably lead to a bloody conflict.
The reservation system ensured a certain exclusivity. It was an unspoken rule respected by most guilds and independents, under threat of severe sanctions from the association.
The association provided the necessary coordinates to locate the exact place through the Prototype for Dungeon Localization, the PLD. Gerard tapped on the holographic screen.
"According to the coordinates, the dungeon is three hundred meters south," Gerard said, pointing between two shattered buildings. The group moved forward, closing ranks.
They headed toward the dungeon, advancing carefully over unstable ground covered in debris.
On the way, they passed a few patrols from the Reymond guild. The guild members ignored them, their gazes fixed on the horizon.
Ken wondered if this was their usual hunting zone or if their sector lay much farther away. The presence of such a guild nearby was both reassuring and intimidating.
After a moment of silent walking, they arrived in front of a simple ruined building. At first glance, there was nothing special about it, just another concrete carcass among many.
"We are here," Gerard declared, putting away the PLD. He turned to the group.
He ordered them to enter. The group moved closer to the structure, but Ken remained perplexed by the complete absence of any visible entrance or classic energy portal.
Noticing his hesitation, Jessica gave him an encouraging nod. "Just follow us," she said, sensing his unease in front of this spatial anomaly.
Gerard stepped forward first toward a dense pile of debris. Without slowing down, he passed through an invisible veil and vanished instantly, as if erased from reality.
Lyna followed without hesitation, with Aaron close behind. Their silhouettes disappeared one after another, leaving Ken and Jessica alone before the ruins.
Ken and Jessica followed.
A shiver ran through his entire body, a sensation of spatial distortion that twisted his stomach.
They suddenly found themselves inside a vast underground cavern. The rocky walls were lit by an unseen source, a diffuse glow whose origin could not be traced.
The air here was different, heavier, filled with a residual energy that made Ken's skin tingle.
Then a bluish, semi transparent interface appeared before the eyes of each group member. The system had validated their entry, marking the beginning of hostilities.
[You have entered the dungeon of Zorth Scratcher Rank F]