The voice of rain slowly drummed against the high-rise windows; a metallic, rhythmic hum filled the silence of Silas Veil's room.
He slouched on the leather couch, which was in a terrible condition; one of his legs was lying on top of the coffee table as the other dangled over, just like that of a dead man's arm.
His T-shirt was stretched and stained with his sweat; a cigarette burn was next to his collar. One of his hands was buried beneath the thin fabric of his tee, scratching furiously at a dead patch on his skin, which refused to stop itching.
'Oh God, why does it always itch there.'
He frowned as he kept scratching harder and harder.
On the television screen in front of him, a well-groomed news anchor stared out with frozen cheer, her bright voice slicing through static:
"Hunter Nathan Cross has officially cleared the New Avalon Abyss Gate, an S-rank dungeon, solo. The Hunter Association has confirmed that now he's among North America's Top 10. The Gate is now sealed for good, although the mana storms still remain in the area."
The camera suddenly shifted to a young man in elegant-looking clothes, sword strapped across his back, his dark hair a bit messy, sweat dripping across his eyebrow.
The crowd behind him screamed his name in a rhythmic manner:
"Nathan Cross! Nathan Cross!"
Silas blinked. He felt a little dull; a buzzing sound suddenly started screaming in his skull.
'Top ten in North America... The guy's younger than me by at least 5 years...'
He dropped the remote on the table. The plastic made a loud thud when it made sharp contact with the table.
'What the hell am I even doing with my life?'
He sighed and rubbed his palm over his face, feeling a scraping sound beneath his fingers.
"Man..." he muttered under his breath to the empty room. "I am just a damn F-rank. Can't do shit."
A siren wailed two blocks over. Somewhere, glass shattered. Silas didn't bother checking the window. Noise was constant in this city, especially after it all happened.
He let his eyes drift to the news ticker crawling across the screen's bottom edge:
[HUNTER ASSOCIATION REPORTS RISING SIGHTINGS OF A-RANK MONSTERS IN MIDTOWN DISTRICT. CAUTION ADVISED]
A faint tremor passed through him.
'If a single A-rank monster showed up on my block... I'd be dead before I could even scream.'
He glanced around his tiny apartment: peeling wallpaper, dishes stacked in the sink, and a cheap secondhand fan rotating.
'Five years ago, none of this shit existed... it all started back then.'
Silas was nineteen. He remembered standing in the middle of a crowded subway platform in the winter, earbuds blasting rock music.
His eye blinked once, and the crowd around him vanished into thin air, hundreds of them gone without any trace.
After that:
Reports of the vanishing of humans started flooding the news—millions gone overnight.
Rifts started to tear through the sky, opening portals to alien landscapes with bunches of different kinds of monsters.
The government fell as it reformed itself around the hunters.
Humanity clawed its way back under the glow of mana towers and shield barriers.
And some people awakened. Powers blossomed in their bodies like nuclear reactors. Superhuman strength. Magic. Elemental manipulation.
They got ranked F, E, D, C, B, A, S, SS, and SSS.
The rest of the humans... were left behind.
Back to Now
Silas blinked and found himself staring at the TV again. The anchor had now moved on to the fresh headline.
"Hunter Guilds are now recruiting for new Dungeon Clear Squads. Signing bonuses exceed fifty thousand dollars for C-ranks and above."
'Fifty thousand dollars...'
Silas felt his throat start to tighten.
'That's my dream. Just enough money to get out of this rat hole... to live my life like an actual person.'
He leaned forward, pressing his fingers into his temples.
"I want money. I want strength. I want... more." His voice cracked a bit. "But what the hell can an F-rank do?"
He thought of the last time he'd tried applying to a guild.
"Sorry, Veil, we don't accept F-ranks. Even E-ranks are a liability."
He'd forced a polite smile on his face as they shut the door in his face.
'I'd rather die than keep living like this…'
He stared at the fruit basket on the counter next to him. A fruit knife was stuck inside of an apple.
A dark thought suddenly came into his mind.
'Maybe I should just… end it. One clean cut. No more debts. No more scraping by. No more waking up with this fucking itch in my chest.'
His fingers trembled as he rose from the couch. The rain's voice grew louder against the windows, like a crowd screaming from the other side of reality.
He stood up from his couch as he started walking towards the fruit basket. When he reached there, his hand slowly reached towards the knife.
Silas lifted the knife slowly and held it next to his throat. He could see his reflection in the polished steel: a pale face that lost the hope of living a long time ago, eyes with dark circles bagging under them, and the dark hairs falling like a shadow next to his eyebrow.
'One little push. That's all it will take.'
He pressed the point into his skin. A thin feeling of warmth started to slide down his collarbone.
"Fuck... this..."
He inhaled sharply and prepared to push it in.
The voice,
And then—
[Awakening initiated.]
The words didn't come from the TV, nor the rain, nor anywhere in the world. They appeared directly inside of his skull, vibrating in his bones.
He froze. The knife slowly slipped from his hand, hitting the floor with a metallic clang.
Silas staggered back, clutching his chest. A burning sensation erupted beneath his bone, veins pulsing in rhythm with his racing heart at the speed of a bullet train.
The room suddenly changed itself.
A blue shimmering light slowly flickered in front of his eyes—it had glowing symbols. Like a hologram, but it felt real.
'Am I hallucinating?'
The letters rearranged themselves into words he could read, blazing brighter:
Greetings, Silas Veil. You have been chosen.]