Outside, six silhouettes waited in the Association's plaza.
The Neo group. Their figures were outlined against the rising sun: two women with rifles hanging from their backs, three men carrying imposing shields, and in the center, the dominant presence of Jorgen, his greatsword gleaming like a beacon of authority.
Nene stopped, immediately noticing the tension in the air. They were arguing, and it didn't sound like a simple disagreement.
"I don't want to." The voice of the black-haired girl, short and wild, cut through the murmur like a whip. "Seriously, could you have picked anyone worse? Maybe you and I are Rank D, but I'm not babysitting a girl so weak she even invented a new Rank."
A crude laugh came from one of the shielded men.
"Oh, come on, Makina. Are you really scared of an E-Rank Rift?"
"Fuck you, Maik! Will you be the one to watch her?"
"What? Nah. I'm no babysitter. If Jorgen brought her, then he should be the one to watch her."
Nene swallowed hard. Her name hadn't been spoken, but she knew very well who they were talking about. The air seemed to grow heavier around her, making each step feel heavier.
"H-Hi…" she introduced herself, forcing an awkward smile.
The group fell silent immediately. Distrustful eyes landed on her, evaluating her as if she were defective merchandise. The first to break the silence was a blonde with feline eyes and long, messy hair.
"So this is the F- Girl, huh?"
"F...F- Girl?"
A man with black hair, already suited up in his gray Assault Suit, crossed his arms with a mocking air.
"Oh, you didn't know? That's been your nickname for the last six months."
Nene forced a weak laugh.
"Ha… I see… I would've preferred something cooler, but… well, guess I can't complain."
Nicknames within the little "internal society" of Hunters were no small matter. They basically represented how much respect you held in the eyes of others. You could say they were a way of ranking you.
The cooler your nickname, the more admired you were.
For some, nicknames came naturally, through pure power. Like the elegant Sky Conqueror.
A woman who had been born a B+ Rank was bound to bring greatness to her family name. But what truly earned her title was climbing to become one of the few A+ Ranks in history. She dominated others, breaking through the skies of high-ranking corporations and founding her own.
Damn, it wasn't an exaggeration to say her nickname could only ever be: Conqueror.
So, even if it was a little childish, Nene too wished she had a cool nickname. But… well, she already knew that would never be possible.
"Relax. She doesn't look thaaat weak, right Makina?"
"Mmm, really? I don't think she's all that, Marge." The black-haired woman with the rifle, Makina, approached with confident steps. Her presence was like an invisible blade, cutting through the air. She leaned in close to Nene, her face dangerously near. A blush rose immediately on the girl's cheeks, intimidated by such a wild beauty. Even more so by someone dressed so revealingly: a tight black crop top, high-necked and sleeveless, exposing her defined stomach.
"Shooter Technique Deployment III: Scan." (20 R.P.)
Makina circled Nene slowly, assessing her. Her fingers occasionally touched her shoulder, her arm, her waist, as if inspecting a faulty weapon. The loose jacket hanging over her shoulders shifted carelessly, highlighting her rebellious demeanor even more. Each touch drew a small squeak of discomfort from the girl.
Finally, the hunter spoke.
"Well, her physique isn't bad… but she doesn't have a Role. Just two Passive Techniques."
"W-Woah? How did you know that, miss?" Nene asked, eyes wide.
"It's a skill from my Role. It lets me see basic stats. Not deep enough to see Resonances or Technique levels, but enough to give me a relative idea."
"That's… amazing!" Nene exclaimed, genuine admiration in her voice.
Her excitement contrasted with the group's coldness, who still didn't seem convinced. It was the first time she had seen in person a real Technique from a Role other than Manager.
She had managed to develop two Passive Techniques: Agility and Stamina. Both consumed a moderate amount of Resonance Points, five and five to be exact. But they were common Techniques, the kind anyone could learn after repeating a specific action countless times. In her case, it had been running… endlessly, without stopping.
That was, in essence, the base of a Technique. An art or ability imprinted into a Hunter's essence through experience.
But they weren't as simple as: "you can't run if you don't have the Stamina Technique." They were more like: bonuses to certain actions.
At least that's what Nene understood after a week of intensive study with Linx.
"I thought only Managers could do that!"
She wanted to ask more questions, but Makina clicked her tongue.
"Eh… Well, thanks… I guess? Anyway. I'm sticking to my position. The F-Girl shouldn't go."
"I already said she's coming," Jorgen intervened firmly, ending the debate. "That's final. The mission is simple. We'll go in, clear the Rift, then leave. The F- Girl handles the loot."
With that, Jorgen tossed three massive sacks toward Nene. The message was clear, so there was no need to ask what they were for.
Linx had already given Nene the context she needed. The idea of the mission was simple: enter and wipe out all the insect-type Ethereals, the most common in E-Rank Rifts across every floor.
"Fiiine. But don't blame me for anything, got it!" The blonde grinned as she loaded her lever-action rifle and deployed her Assault Suit—pink in color.
And so the operation began.
The air inside the Rift was heavy, almost viscous. A greenish mist spread across the ground, and every step the group took made the cracked earth creak as if it were pulsing beneath their feet. The intermittent glow of crystals embedded in the rocky walls lit the scenery like eyes watching from the shadows.
The six of them advanced with confidence. Gleaming armor, rifles at the ready, shields held firm, and a greatsword at the front. For a group with such equipment, an E-Rank Rift was little more than training. And they proved it with brutal ease: wherever swarms of metallic insects or misshapen amalgams appeared, they were reduced to scrap and ethereal dust in seconds.
Nene marched at the rear. She didn't draw her daggers; instead, she crouched over and over to pick up the glowing cores and mineral fragments left behind after the slaughter. The metallic clink of items falling into her bag clashed with the battle cries and the hum of deployed techniques.
That was when she understood why they needed someone like her. With the group's demolishing speed, stopping to collect every core would be a hassle. She was… useful. In that aspect, at least.
"Swordsman Technique Deployment I: Continuous Slashes." (10 R.P.)
Jorgen's deep voice boomed through the tunnel. His greatsword, wrapped in a green glow, swung with such violence the air whistled; he unleashed two, three, six cuts until they became ten, and ten metallic insects were decapitated at once. Their mineral-green wings crashed to the ground like shattered glass.
Nene watched with shining eyes, unable to stop her breathing from quickening.
When Jorgen finished, she approached to gather loot, but also to satisfy a doubt.
"M-Mr. Jorgen… how did you get your Role?" she asked, more out of hope than curiosity.
"My Role?" The man rested the greatsword on his shoulder and smiled, satisfied. "By killing Ethereals, with this. That simple."
"Ah…" The answer felt like a bucket of cold water.
Nene lowered her gaze. Of course she knew that. That was how everyone got theirs. But she had wanted to believe there was another way, an exception. A way that didn't involve staining her hands with blood or facing fear. But no… not for her.
No! She scolded herself when that thought crept in. She had come here precisely to change that attitude, to stop being who she was.
"W-Well… time to do what I came to do," she muttered, setting the bag full of cores on the ground with a clear goal in mind.
She drew her two daggers and contemplated them for a moment. The polished blade reflected a faint green light that blended perfectly with the carmine red of the steel. The base fused seamlessly into the handle, shifting from red to green like a spring leaf, ending with a diamond-shaped detail in purple. Without a doubt, they were a work of art. Their beauty gave her courage.
Then, timidly, she approached one of the Ethereals—something like an oversized water mosquito, nearly as big as her own torso, its legs covered in metallic inlays and sensory hairs.
One of its translucent wings was torn, and a deep gash split its abdomen. Not dead yet, but soon it would be.
It twisted violently, writhing in pain. Almost as if it were angry rather than afraid of its situation. A chill ran down her spine.
That was the kind of target Nene had sought out by sticking with such a strong group: to steal from dying prey and farm a little experience.
That insect was one of the easiest enemies on this floor. And even so, the thought of getting close to finish it off filled her with visceral fear.
Even that dying thing was stronger than her and could land a fatal blow that would make her share its fate.
"Come on! Don't be a coward, it's half-dead. Do it!" Nene scolded herself, knocking her forehead with the purple pommel of her dagger.
She had to do it. Just one strike into the already-open wound and it would be over. Simple. So simple. It was already defeated. She only had to move forward!
She stepped closer, gripping until her knuckles turned white.
"Ighhh!" the insect screeched in exaggerated pain.
The Hunter froze when the creature fixed its horrific green eyes on her.
She didn't like the way it looked at her.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?"
Foolishly, Nene asked the dying Ethereal why it stared at her so directly. She expected its gaze to be dimmer, filled with fear even.
After all, it was vulnerable. It was about to die. It should've been afraid, the way she always was when facing F-Rank Ethereals—stronger than her.
This wasn't normal. She knew it. She had been in life-or-death situations so many times; fear always made her cry, scream, beg for mercy, for a chance to run.
But that thing… its gaze didn't match. It was… defiant.
It was as if… it wanted her to come closer.
Its legs thrashed wildly, but on closer inspection, the movements weren't random. They were ordered. Like following a sequence.
She also noticed its screeches had a different tone. More forced. As if trying to emphasize that it was wounded.
That… Nene didn't like.
It was strange.
When her right foot stepped just a little forward, the insect increased its racket.
"Nope… Y-You're scaring me!"
She yelped, leaping back. Her butt smacked against the bag of cores.
"Ighk!"
The insect shrieked again, inflating its torso until its exoskeleton cracked violently.
Then it exploded in a spray of acid that burned through the ground where it had been moments before.
"I-I almost died!?"
Nene shrieked. Suddenly, she felt a jolt—one of the shielded men patting her back while laughing.
"Ha! Look, guys, the F-Girl didn't know Culicidae Ethereals explode when wounded but not killed in time. What's wrong, baby girl? Scared of bugs? Too much for you?"
"N-No, it's just—"
"Leave her alone, Nail. It's not her fault she's useless. Obviously she made a mistake trying to do that, and she won't do it again, right?" Makina cut in, smacking Nail on the head while shooting Nene a look. Nail just grinned.
The way she said it hurt Nene's very soul.
"Be careful with the cores. And if you can't handle a dying one, don't do something stupid. I don't want to deal with your Manager if you die."
"That's right. Just stay back like a good girl."
"Don't get in the way. Know your place, alright?"
"Ha… I see."
Nene muttered, realizing that even surrounded by strong people, she was still useless. Nothing had changed.
She thought that by surrounding herself with the strong, maybe some of their strength would rub off on her. But no.
She couldn't even handle a dying insect.
That… was pathetic. Too pathetic. The humiliation burned her soul.
A damn insect! Just one almost killed her because she didn't have the strength to do anything. Anyone else would've finished it off before it could pull its suicidal trick.
"…I hate being like this…"
"F- Girl! Move it! We're heading to the next floor. The Boss hasn't shown up here yet," Nail shouted.
Nene resigned herself. She stood, sheathed her daggers, and grabbed the pack.
Time slipped by unnoticed. When she finally looked up, the bags were overflowing, her shoulders aching with every step. She bit her lip and focused her Resonance.
Five points.
"Passive Technique: Stamina." (5 R.P.)
A tingling spread through her muscles, and suddenly the load felt less crushing. Air flowed more easily into her lungs; the pain faded to a distant murmur. Still, she knew it was only minimal aid. The others could wield rifles, shields, or swords. She could barely carry and run.
The group gathered shortly after. The Rift's silence, broken only by the drip of some viscous fluid from the walls, wrapped around them like a shroud. It was Jorgen who spoke first:
"All clear. But since we're here, why don't we just finish this once and for all, eh? What do you say we go after the Floor Boss?"
"Well. Doesn't sound bad. We're on… floor four, right?"
"That's right. I've fought every E-Rank Rift Boss. So no problem. The one here is called Mortefi. Nothing special, but its core sells well. We just kill that bastard and leave. If this thing is still here tomorrow, we'll clear it all the way down. What do the rest think?"
Nene tensed immediately.
"The Boss!? B-But… don't you think that's too much? Even if it's E-Rank… it could be dangerous. If no other Boss has shown up, shouldn't we take the chance to go back? Aren't you tired—?"
The interruption was sharp as a blade.
"Don't be a coward, girl." The blonde's voice cut coldly as she patted Nene's head condescendingly. "If aaall you do is run, you'll never be more than a burden. Someone will always have to save you. Is that what you want? To be dead weight for everyone? Besides, you're with us!"
The words hurt more than any physical wound. Nene lowered her head, fists clenched so tightly her nails pierced her skin.
She remembered her pathetic failure with the Culicidae Ethereal.
She… didn't want to be like this. She wanted more.
Even if it embarrassed her. She truly wanted to be strong. To live her own life.
Faces came to mind: Linx, with that tired patience; Bender, always giving her work; even that childhood friend who had defended her so often but was gone now. Everyone who had ever protected her. Everyone who had ever had to stop because of her.
The weight of her new daggers on her belt burned like hot coals. She couldn't go on being the useless girl everyone carried. Not this time.
She wanted to prove she could be more. She had to prove she was more than just the F-Girl!
She swallowed, lifted her head, and though her voice trembled, she spoke with strength:
"…L-Let's go."
The echo of her declaration rang through the Rift's walls, mixing with the group's tension. For a moment, even the air seemed to hold its breath.