Strange Grief Wants to Retire ~ The Weakest Hunter Dreams of a Hero ~ - Volume 2 - Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Stifled Shadow Returns

The large window of the clan master’s office let in plenty of sunlight onto the needlessly impressive desk and chair. Now that winter had come and gone and the air was getting warmer, this was the time of day when I would like to take a nap.

Without any urgent tasks on my plate, I was absentmindedly polishing Relics at my desk when vice clan master Eva Renfied entered. She was wearing her perfectly pressed complete uniform and a pair of red-framed glasses that contrasted her glacial eyes. When we were in the room together like this, we formed a beautiful contrast of an expert secretary and her boneheaded boss; unlike the puppet clan master (yours truly), she seemed to be going through another busy day taking on all aspects of clan management.

“The Association wants to ask you about the details of White Wolf’s Den,” she said, without even a single word of admonishment—what an incredible vice clan master she was. She used to give me a hard time every now and again when she first started, but she must have lost all hope in me by now.

“Is Ark back yet?” I asked as I yawned loudly while rubbing my eyes. I was so tired, having barely slept from worrying about the missing slime.

“I don’t think Ark could handle this given that he hasn’t been to the den himself. And you’re too dependent on him anyway.”

I needed...more Arks. He was strong and a great person; people respected him too. Surely, I couldn’t be blamed for relying on this clanmate of mine, especially when most other top-tier hunters had a few screws loose in their heads. From experience, I had learned that most problems could be solved by passing the buck to Ark—if only I could have him be the clan master instead of me... Well, even though this reliance had led to that traumatizing experience in White Wolf’s Den, that was all on me. Ark hadn’t done anything wrong; he never did. Incidentally, I was confident that he could do something about the missing-slime conundrum of mine.

“Tino’s the leader,” I said. “Go tell her. I just caught up to them afterwards.”

I had gone to rescue them, but it wasn’t like I had taken out any phantoms or had helped save Tino’s party in any way. Although, technically, since Liz had tailed me into the den, I was the root cause of Liz saving the party. But looking back on it, I was spectacularly pathetic.

Back in the day, I had dreamed of becoming the kind of hunter who could swoop into mortal peril and save whoever was in distress.

I dared not kid myself like that anymore. All that mattered was that Tino and her party returned to the capital safe and sound.

I sighed somewhat sagely. “Never mind. Anyway, has anything happened in the capital?”

“Anything? What do you mean specifically?”

Eva was extremely capable. She had taken my vague and directionless concepts of clan management and made them into a reality. Unlike me, she had the skills necessary to keep First Steps running, even now that it had ballooned out of control. In fact, every member of the clan (except me) was very talented.

One such skill of Eva’s was her ears around the capital: if anything was off in the city, she’d know about it. There wasn’t anything that resembled alarm in her voice when I asked the question; ergo, I didn’t let the Sitri Slime loose onto the city. QED.

I settled myself back into my chair, letting out a sigh of relief. Everything was all right, I hoped. “It’s fine. If nothing’s going on.”

“I’ll look into it straightaway,” said Eva.

“No, it’s all right; there’s no need for that; it’s totally fine; there’s probably nothing... Let’s just take it easy.”

Eva stared at me dubiously. Perhaps her only flaw was that she took her job too seriously. There was no need to go poke the beehive; time would solve most problems in this world.

But I really needed Sitri to come back before it was too late.

“And, Tino is tied up in her training with Liz,” said Eva.

“Huh, that’s very studious of her.”

Not everyone could jump right back into training after a life-and-death quest like the one she’d just been through. To think how far Tino had grown since her days as a mere normal girl was quite touching; now, she was steadily growing to become a superb hunter. And it also seemed that Liz was actually being a good mentor... That gave me an idea.

Yet, a rush of sleepiness made me yawn—I’d fall asleep if I stayed in my chair. Of course, the clan would function just fine while I snoozed away, but it wouldn’t be good for Eva’s morale if I napped the day away while she worked nonstop. Not that I cared if I got voted out of my position, but the clan couldn’t afford to have Eva quit.

“Maybe I should stop by and say hi. Training grounds?” I asked.

“That’d be a great idea. They are in the B2 training grounds.”

“Okey dokey. Take care of things around here, will you?” I waved at Eva, who maintained a stoic expression throughout, and walked out of the office.

***

“I need information—now,” said Eva with an emotionless, frigid voice. “Go find out any and all irregularities occurring in the capital, no matter how insignificant they may seem.”

“U-Understood!” replied a staff of Eva’s as they hurried out of the room.

Eva Renfied was a former merchant. Before starting her career as the vice clan master, she had been a member of Welz Trading, one of the largest trading companies in the competitive market of Zebrudia. Although Eva hadn’t held a high position at Welz at the time Krai headhunted her, she had been maintaining her connections with the company even after she switched careers. Since her early days on the job, Eva had been using her position to construct an intricate information network throughout the city the best she could to contribute to the clan’s success.

First Steps was an enormous clan, and a roster of talented hunters was akin to a formidable army. Therefore, a clan of Steps’s caliber always drew the attention of the government, merchants, other hunters, and even thieves. Eva, with all the connections she had built, had been gathering all the information she could from her merchant network, the papers, the word of mouth of treasure hunters, and even her contacts within the Association.

Information had to be fresh, and Eva knew the importance of freshness. Her subordinates had been keeping her up-to-date with the newest occurrences in the capital constantly. That’s why when the clan master asked her that question, it came as a great shock to Eva. As far as she knew, there had been nothing highly unusual in the capital recently except for the powerful phantoms emerging in White Wolf’s Den. But Krai had already experienced that firsthand and should know better than she did.

Eva took pride in her information network; if she hadn’t worked with Krai for as long as she had, she wouldn’t have given much thought to his question—certainly not enough to have sent an employee out to investigate.

Eva found her boss quite mysterious. When they had first met, Krai was a boy without a moniker nor the coveted Level 8. A few years had passed since then, but she still struggled to get a grasp on that man who was always bored in his office polishing his Relics. He never gave directions when it came to running the clan, nor did Eva ever see him partaking in any traditional treasure-hunting activities. He didn’t look strong at all, and except for the occasional bizarre choices he made, his character was also nothing noteworthy. Neither did he have the fire in him that was in the few hunters in the clan who would become heroes one day; at least Eva hadn’t seen it in him. In fact, Krai always kept going on about the nonsense of retiring from hunting and being the clan master. If anyone watched his day at work without knowing who he was, they would have called him a slacker; even Eva was once disgruntled with his brazen ineptitude when she first started her job. But now, she knew that Krai was more than what he seemed to be.

Eva put faith in Krai’s every word. His seemingly random comments always ended up to be ridiculously accurate predictions. His predictions surprised even Eva, who knew the capital like the back of her hand. On numerous occasions, she had witnessed Krai premonishing occurrences that came without any warning otherwise: abnormalities in distant treasure vaults, dramas among empire nobles, shadowy deeds of crime syndicates, and even natural disasters like earthquakes. Krai was in no position to have been privy to all this information, but, still, he predicted things that evaded even the world’s most expansive information networks.

He always explained it away as coincidence or dumb luck, but Eva had a feeling even Krai didn’t expect her to believe those excuses. Once could have been a coincidence, but with all the “coincidences,” Eva had no choice but to believe that her boss had a cryptic ability of foresight above mere talent.

Thousand Tricks, a befitting moniker indeed; when she first heard the moniker, Eva thought there could be no better moniker for the clan master. Krai was the reason that talented hunters had flocked into Steps. Multitudes of self-centered, prideful hunters all fell into line under this unassuming youth. At times, Krai seemed like even more of a freak than all the other obviously superhuman hunters combined.

Eva took pride in her abilities, but she also knew that she was a mere mortal. If Krai had sensed a sign, Eva would take his word for it no matter how out of the blue it seemed.

Having commanded her legion of staff in the vice clan master’s office, a room much more cluttered than her boss’s, Eva watched the streets through her window. She chased the nagging thoughts of her scheduled task out of her mind and attempted to identify anything she might have missed about the state of the city.

“What’s going on in the capital right now?”

This was Eva’s routine whenever Krai blurted out such a premonition.

***

Traversing a treasure vault was an ordeal: never-ending traps, unforgiving environments, and battles against monsters and phantoms were always matters of life and death no matter how much precaution hunters took. This was why good hunters never stopped improving.

There were plenty of facilities in the capital built for hunters to hone their crafts in, and one of the most thought-out features of the First Steps clan house had to be the training grounds. I doubted that many other clans in the capital, even those at least the size of Steps, had built-in training grounds in their clan house. Steps’s widely popular training grounds, reaching five stories underground, were always available to all clan members.

Hunters who could take on high-level treasure vaults were ridiculously powerful—and destructive. I was told that building the training grounds to withstand the force of their training cost a pretty penny. Not that I knew too much about the construction process; I had only thrown in two cents on the project. But apparently, Eva and her staff went through a lot of trouble to make sure that it was properly built.

On my way down the steel stairs to the training grounds, I passed a familiar party of five. One of them, a burly, brown-haired man with a scar splitting his cheek, spotted me and stared at me wide-eyed. He carried with him a halberd that looked like it could split a full armor set in half. I did recognize him... His name was on the tip of my tongue.

“Master Krai, funny seeing you down here. Up for some training?”

As clan master, I absolutely did not know every name and face in the clan. But since every member had to go through an interview with me before joining, I was supposed to have met all of them at least once. Yet, there was nothing but crickets in my brain at this moment. I still hadn’t gotten used to people knowing my name without me knowing theirs. They didn’t know I was blanking on their names, right?

I wore a gentle smile to cover up that fact. “Yeah, something like that. You guys’ve been training?”

The party shared a look. That wasn’t good. That was a telltale sign of bad news incoming.

I felt a powerful urge to cower.

A tall guy frowned and spoke for the group. “Yes, but... It may be best not to go down there at the moment. It’s a bit...turbulent.”

“That wasn’t training... That was torture,” said the distraught-looking man behind him.

Okay. Maybe I wasn’t going down to the training grounds.

I already had a good guess as to what they were talking about: Liz. She was bloodthirsty and didn’t understand the word “moderation.” Sadly, she had this built-in feature where you could always find her at the end of a trail of knocked-out humans or dead monsters, or at the dead center of the nearest commotion, really. Liz’s training, which made Tino’s improvements possible, apparently was harsh even in the eyes of experienced hunters. But don’t get me wrong: Tino was a good hunter; not many hunters had what it took to reach Level 4 so rapidly. I was sure it wasn’t as bad as literal torture. Although, Liz could be in an overexcited state having just returned from a hunt.

“Don’t worry. Liz is usually turbulent,” I reassured.

“Right... The Stifled Shadow is one of your party’s members.” The five hunters looked at me awkwardly.

I was sorry that one of mine was always causing trouble.

“We hear she’s attacking anyone who tries to stop her,” said one of the hunters. “You might want to wait until the dust settles.”

I was really sorry that one of mine was always causing trouble.

I wondered how wild it was in there. Why were these five hunters, who fought monsters on a daily basis, looking so exhausted? Why couldn’t Liz just take it easy after what had happened in White Wolf’s Den? It was her prerogative to train Tino however she saw fit, but I very much preferred if she could stop negatively affecting the rest of the clan in the process.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out,” I said.

“If you say so, we won’t stop you.”

They were terrified of her. Sigh, so much for our clan rule “everyone must get along.”

Liz had always been nippy, and just about the furthest person from moderation. But now that she had superhuman powers, she was like a little monster.

I continued down the stairs so I could stop her violence, followed by the (for all I knew) nameless party for some reason. There were several clan members just hanging out at the entrance to the B2 training grounds. Huh, how bizarre.

A man of dark-green hair turned towards me. He and I were about the same height, but it was easy to tell from his build that he was an established hunter. A few years older than me, he was, but still in the range of what people would consider young hunters. He was Sven Anger, one of the OGs in the clan, a clan member I’d known for years, and an excellent archer. Sven was the leader of the Level 6 party Obsidian Cross, one of the better parties in the clan. He was like the trusty older brother among clanmates.

As soon as he saw me, Sven called out in excitement, “Krai! About time you came to pick her up. You gotta pull the reins on the Stifled Shadow in there—we can’t even use the training grounds!”

“Dealing with superhuman barbarians isn’t my forte,” I said. In fact, Sven and his Obsidian Cross crew specialized in taking out monsters and beasts over vault-diving. I was doubtful that my figurehead self would fare any better than they did.

“That’s your barbarian! She’s gotten stronger again!” barked Sven. That was a bit harsh; they were clanmates after all.

So, she’d gotten stronger again, had she? I let out a short sigh and said defeatedly, “Okay.”

Unfortunately, my friends had long outgrown the confines of my comprehension; I had lost track of how freakish their abilities had become. Catching bullets blindfolded wasn’t good enough for them, apparently.

Sven glowered at the thick doors to the training grounds and said, “No Ansem, no Lucia—there’s no one here who can stop her! Why has Liz come back on her own?!”

Sven probably could have put up a good fight against Liz. But then, she’d keep on biting until one of them went down.

There were two factions in Grieving Souls generally: the troublemakers and the (relatively) levelheaded members. There was a recurring formula in our party where Liz or Luke would start a fire which Ansem or Lucia would then have to put out. Without a tamer, Liz could be far more dangerous than a literal monster.

I was so, so sorry one of mine was always causing trouble.

“She deactivated all the traps and made it to the boss room without a scratch, then decided to just drop the whole thing and run home,” I explained.

“She was at Night Palace, wasn’t she?” asked Sven in disbelief.

I couldn’t believe it either.

Liz really was a free spirit. Leaving your party behind in a vault was one of the unforgivable sins of the hunter world, but our party had a unique way of working. Other than one member whom we’d added to the party later as a sort of experiment, all of us were old friends and free spirits—it just worked. Well, it wasn’t like they were without a healer, and they still had another Thief with them. They’d be fine.

“If you don’t stop her soon, Tino’s dead.” Sven urged me.

“Aha! You’re blowing it out of proportion. People don’t die that easily.”

“No...she’s seriously...”

Sure, Liz was prone to be genocidal sometimes; and couldn’t help but bark at everyone; and had been arrested numerous times for fighting; and even had a bounty on her head in the underground; she had plenty of flaws, but she wasn’t the kind of person who could kill her own apprentice.

Sven and his party took a step back. I smiled amusedly, slowly opening the door to the training grounds.

Liz, imperiously, stood in the center of the training grounds. Her bright-pink hair tied in a ponytail and her revealing outfit showing much of her tanned skin were typical of Thieves. Without the nearly knee-high metallic boot Relic, Apex Roots, she would’ve looked like a normal girl. To be honest, her berating what looked like a large dirty rag by her feet was neither normal nor girly.

“Why won’t you get up? Why? Have you hit your limit already? That can’t be right! Are you slacking? Are you mocking me? You wanna die? Wanna die, T? You think you won’t die? You think I won’t kill you? I will! Don’t you have anything that matters to you? Anything that you wanna protect? Your arms and legs are still attached. Why won’t you move them? If that’s what it takes for you to actually try, you can die, now!”

“All right, that’s enough!” I cheerfully called as I clapped my hands. I was sickened on the inside, of course—did it really have to be “kill or be killed” for her, every day of the year?

I ran over to the clump on the ground (aka Tino) to see it squeaking out cries of half pain and half sorrow. Tino had curled herself up as small as she could. She was quivering.

Tino’s pool of hair on the ground shifted slightly as she motioned to lift her head. And, before her eyes, Liz stomped hard on the ground. A thundering boom shook the entire building. Tino twitched. The floor that had been built to withstand the rigorous training of hunters now had an indentation in the shape of Liz’s boot. How she had packed that much strength in her tiny frame, I’d never know.

“What is it, Krai Baby?” asked Liz in a casual tone. “You see, I’m teaching T a lesson right now.” Her rose quartz-colored eyes pierced me with their sight.

She had a ridiculously low boiling point, but she took strength seriously. She had honed her skills through a myriad of tribulations, at times crawling back from the brink of death. She set very high bars for Tino, but she was also coaching her apprentice sincerely. What’s more, she hated it when her coaching was interrupted.

Our clan had been running for a few years at this point, which meant the older parties had known Liz for a long time. Her disdain for interruptions had become so well-known that no one dared step in.

“T’s talented,” continued Liz. “Maybe even more so than me. But she’s so weak. Why is that? I was a lot stronger when I was her age.”

Tino was plenty strong (everyone was when compared to me). Wasn’t that enough? We ought to celebrate our differences.

“Uh-huh.” I managed to keep my smile glued on as I stood between Liz and Tino. Sven’s party stood silently at the door, watching with bated breath as a horrible tension filled the training grounds.

Even though I couldn’t fathom the disparity between Liz and Tino, I took Liz’s word for it. There must be undeniable truth in that statement for Liz to admit Tino as maybe more talented than herself. Regardless, that didn’t give her the right to break our mascot Tino’s spirit.

Liz wore a spine-chilling smile and spoke as if with a tangible threat of violence in her voice, “This isn’t enough. At this rate, T could be a deadweight to you again, Krai Baby. You’re so nice and might have forgiven her for that, but I need my apprentice to be stronger than this at the minimum. If T’s a little wimp, people will think I’m also a wimp.”

Apparently, it was all because of how things went back in White Wolf’s Den. True, Tino couldn’t complete the mission on her own and suffered an injury at the hands of a surprisingly powerful phantom; we also would’ve been wiped out in that vault if Liz hadn’t shown up. But all that was on me for sending Tino’s party. I’d explained everything to Liz right after we’d returned from the vault, but, apparently, my rationale went in one of her ears and out the other.

Tino was the furthest thing from a wimp—no one would think so. Level 4 was a respectable rank for a hunter, and Tino had certainly earned it. Her looks might draw some debate, but she’d dealt with that so far.

Liz turned to the door, her eyes burning with contempt. “You busybodies tried to stop me, but it’s none of your business. Unlike you dunces, T needs to get stronger. And you can’t get stronger if you’re not willing to die trying to. There’s no time to rest; there’s no time to mess around. Are you trying to make my apprentice a bag of garbage? I’ll slit all your throats first.”

It wasn’t an empty threat—I believed in her willingness to act on murderous rage. As twisted as that was, it showed her passion for training her apprentice.

Tino was still a ball on the ground, shaking.

Liz, looking up at me, peered into my eyes. “You understand, don’t you, Krai Baby?” The sweetness in her voice felt like a dagger against my throat.

With a frozen smile, I answered, “Uh-huh. I appreciate your enthusiasm. But Tino’s reached her limit, so let’s call it a day.”

I didn’t know how many hours they had been at it, but Tino was on the floor. Without Ansem here to heal her, too much torture could leave long-term damage. I wasn’t enthusiastic about potentially triggering Liz, but there was no one else who could stop her.

Liz blinked a few times like she couldn’t comprehend me before crooking her neck and asking, “Oh? Krai Baby? Are you stopping me?”

“Uh-huh, sure am.”

Her eyes opened wide. Behind those pink irises whirled powerful energy that could blow at any moment. For a few seconds, Liz looked into my eye with a gaze so strong that I felt her staring into my soul.

The air felt heavy with tension.

Slowly, Liz reached out and touched my cheek. Then she beamed. “Then let’s call it a day!” she declared in a cheerfulness that completely contrasted with the frigidness she had shown moments earlier.

She turned to Tino and said, “Sorry, T. I held back to keep myself from killing you. You were still twitching, so I thought you could keep going. But if Krai Baby says so, you must be at your limit, right?”

“Master...?” whimpered Tino.

Why was she calling me instead of Liz?

Tino slowly raised her head. On her face was the smiling skull mask—the emblem of Grieving Souls. There were no openings for eyes on the mask; there were no tears running down the forever-smiling mask.

Why was she wearing the mask?

As if reading my mind, Liz cheerfully explained, “I wanted to see if T would suck a little less if she joined us; I wanted to see if T would improve; I wanted to see if T was ready. But no. She couldn’t do anything with just the mask blinding her—there’s no room in our party for anyone like that, is there?”

Despite Liz’s conviction, Grieving Souls had no such requirement. If there had been, I wouldn’t be in the party. In fact, the only one requirement for joining was a recommendation from an existing member.

That being said, I felt it was still too early to let Tino in. It’s not like Tino couldn’t pull her weight, but, as much as I wanted to recruit new members, the treasure vaults my friends were taking on now were far too dangerous for Tino. I didn’t want anyone dragging Tino into a high-level vault to “train” and end up killing her. The other Grievers could probably keep her safe, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“Uh-huh. I don’t think it’s time just yet,” I said.

“When do you think she’ll be ready, Krai Baby?”

Don’t ask me. I was practically a figurehead who didn’t really know the current state of the party anymore. Pretending to contemplate but not actually putting much thought into the question, I just said while maintaining my smile, “When she’s on your level.”

“What?!” squeaked Tino from the ground, her voice full of despair.

She didn’t have to sound like a dying puppy—I was only kidding! Liz was her mentor after all. I was sure she’d recommend Tino to the party when the time was right. What weight did my word hold anyway?

For whatever reason, Liz clung to my arm and squealed in delight, “You’re such a meanie, Krai! She’ll never join the party this way.”

“Now, now, that’s not true,” I said. I was looking forward to Tino joining our party as much as anyone. After witnessing her performance in White Wolf’s Den, I was sure it wouldn’t be long until she joined. But I didn’t mention this, of course, because it all came down to Liz’s decision.

“So,” said Liz, “what are you doing here, Krai Baby? You couldn’t stay without me?”

“Gark wants to ask Tino about the Den.”

“Look at you. Doing the footwork, Krai Baby? You could’ve just sent somebody.” Then Liz spat, “Why didn’t anyone volunteer?”

I patted her head and combed through her silky hair to distract her from that train of thought. She gave me a smile.

It’s fine. I wanted to go. Actually, it was me whom he’d asked for.

“Is it urgent?” she asked with a finger touching her lips, looking down towards the motionless Tino. “If it is, I’ll throw her into Gark’s office right now.”

This was how Liz had always treated Tino. I’d never understand why Tino, as much as she feared Liz, still looked up to her.

“It’s not urgent,” I said. Gark wasn’t that strict to expect Tino to show up in this state. “It can wait until she’s recovered. Like tomorrow, or the day after that...” Or we could just not go at all. What a brilliant idea—I’d just say I had forgotten about it!

“Did you hear that, T? I know you did. Do you understand? If you hear me, nod.”

At the sound of Liz’s voice, Tino’s head moved up and down almost imperceptibly.

Tino was in a state worse than when she was in the den. Feeling just so bad for her, I watched Tino and sighed. Sure, Tino was a hunter and Liz’s apprentice, but she was also a member of my clan and a friend of mine.

I have to get Liz away for now. Tino needs some time. I wasn’t engaged in active treasure hunting to say the least, but this was part of my job description as party leader, I was sure.

Going around behind Liz, I grabbed her by the shoulders—shoulders too frail to belong to a girl who butchered every phantom in her path—and started pushing.

“Okay, Lizzie, let’s go somewhere else now,” I said.

“Krai Baby, are you babying me?”

“No. Of course not. What a good girl you are.” That ought to quell her, right?

My clanmates, who had been watching with bated breath by the door, looked distressed by this turn of events. Liz, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind the attention. These taming skills of mine were years in the making; I knew Liz was self-centered by nature, and taking an apprentice hadn’t changed that.

“So, where’s ‘somewhere else’?” she asked. “Like a date?”

“Uh,” I said, “to get ice cream?” I proposed even though I knew Liz couldn’t stand sweet things—neither could Sitri nor Lucia nor Ansem. I was the only Griever who had a sweet tooth. I’d usually ask Tino to tag along since she was the only one around who shared my taste. Sure enough, the suggestion dampened Liz’s cheer.

Just as Liz opened her mouth to speak, below her, a bloody and calloused hand caught her attention as it clasped around one of her boots.

A dangerous gleam flickered in Liz’s eyes.

“Hmm? What are you doing, T? I’m having a conversation with Krai Baby right now.”

Tino, still on the ground, didn’t move a muscle; her feeble grip could’ve been shaken off by a mere step. And yet she panted, “I...can still...go, Master!”

I couldn’t see her face under the suffocating mask that supplanted every emotion of its wearer with a twisted grin. To be frank, I regretted my choice of a party emblem.

Liz gently removed my hands from her shoulders and turned towards Tino. Oh dear, I was afraid this wasn’t looking good for Tino.

“Wow!” cheered Liz, strangely ecstatic. “You couldn’t move at all until a second ago. I thought I made sure your bones were fractured—there’s no way you recovered this quickly! Look, Krai, my little T is finally getting stronger!” She was on cloud nine despite having been interrupted.

I dared not question why. I could only stand there aghast as Liz doted on Tino.

Tino looked shattered on the floor like she needed immediate healing. But then, amazingly, Tino feebly rose to her knees, and—just barely—to her feet. She was so dazed that I felt like even I could have taken her down in a fight. At that moment, I was truly grateful that she had the mask on to hide her expression.

“You did it again, Krai Baby!” squealed Liz. “I always felt like I couldn’t give her that one last push. I’m so jealous of you, Krai Baby! That’s it, T. You can do so much better! This is what you were missing!”

I stood there wondering what exactly she was talking about. Again, I dared not ask. Liz was in overdrive: she was burning in a fiery energy so intense that it was almost tangible.

Her moniker, Stifled Shadow, had once belonged to the most famous Thief in Zebrudia. Liz had sought out his tutelage and inherited the moniker in a matter of just a few years. Rumor had it that the life of a Stifled Shadow stretched beyond that of us mortals. And when a Stifled Shadow used their full power, their heart shuddered, and their body burned with intense heat.

Liz laughed as she casually stretched her limbs. “I’m really sorry, Krai Baby. Do you mind sitting out for a bit?”

“Really?” I muttered. She’s going to resume Tino’s training?! Tino, at the brink of collapse, had no chance in any world against a full-powered Liz. The look in Liz’s eye told me that she had no intention of holding back either.

“I don’t mind if you stay,” said Liz, “but wouldn’t that be a bit cruel for T? You can’t see her face, but she wouldn’t want you to see what’s about to happen to her: coughing up blood and peeing herself. I can’t get too close to killing her since we don’t have a healer here, but the embarrassment of being seen by you in that state would kill me instead if I were her. You understand, don’t you? You can watch next time, Krai Baby, but this is the first time she’ll be going this far. Have some mercy on her, won’t you?”

Damn. Liz had the same energy whether she was livid or ecstatic.

“Yes, ma’am.” I could only nod in the face of Liz’s smile, which beamed like a sunflower. I did manage to steal a glance at Tino, who seemed willing to continue her training. I would never understand what drove them to this extreme—hunters really were an enigma.

I walked up the stairs as I apologized to Sven’s party. “Sorry about that. There’s no getting through to Liz once she gets like that.”

Liz never had a moral quandary for starting fights with others. Although, at least she listened to her childhood friends. But by “listened,” I really do mean that she only listened and took our words under advisement; nothing more. There was no ordering her around under any circumstances.

Each basement floor of the clan house hosted training grounds with varying equipment. The one Liz was occupying now was the one designed for Thieves. It had everything from hand-to-hand combat training tools, to dagger-throwing targets, to booby traps, and to treasure chests. The problem was that this was the only training ground that was equipped with those facilities. These training grounds weren’t small enough for a pair of hunters to completely take over, but this was an exception. I’d exhausted every measure to get Liz out of there, so Sven’s party would have to settle for one of the other training grounds or put off training altogether until tomorrow.

“It is what it is. This isn’t the first time you’ve pushed one of us to the limit anyway,” said Sven, grunting at my apology.

“No, I was trying to stop—”

“No need to explain,” interrupted Sven. “I know, I know. Making Tino stronger would be beneficial to us all.” He nodded to himself, clearly not understanding. He then shared a look with his party mates, and they all seemed to be in agreement. If only Liz and I could get on the same page as easily as they did!

Oh, well. I’d let it go if they were willing to overlook Liz’s atrocity.

Strong hunters were mostly nuts in one way or another. Sven and his party were pretty outlandish in comparison to nonhunters, but they seemed wonderfully levelheaded when next to Liz. Help.

Anguished cries echoed in the training grounds behind me, but I decided to turn a deaf ear. I just wanted to drop everything and go get ice cream.

***

“The northern road’s blocked off?” I asked, surprised by the tip Sven gave me during our small talk.

The capital was pretty much in the geological center of the empire. It had big, wide roads stretching to the north, east, south, and west, connecting it to other major cities and treasure vaults. That’s why even just one of them being blocked off was a huge deal. While I had heard about a stray phantom from White Wolf’s Den attacking a caravan, I doubted that warranted a block-off.

“Yeah, they spotted several phantoms. They’re still looking into the details, but a couple knights from the Order have been taken out already,” explained Sven sternly.

By and large, phantoms remained within treasure vaults. Spotting one outside was very rare, and doing so more than once in a short period of time was no coincidence.

Now that I think about it, White Wolf’s Den was somewhat off too, I recalled how the dungeon was when I went to rescue Tino.

I had no clue as to the cause of all the irregularities, nor did I have any stakes in the block-off as I stayed within the boundaries of the safe, secure capital city. That being said, these roads acted as the arteries of the empire. Merchants only gathered in Zebrudia under the assumption that the roads were safe to travel on. And so, it was entirely possible that we, hunters, would be requested to help resolve the issue. I wondered if Gark had summoned me to discuss this matter; Gark had a habit of asking for my input in times like this just because I was high-level.

After pondering on this for a few moments, I gave up. Sigh. There was no point thinking about it. At least I had an ace up my sleeve—of course not Liz, who ditched her friends in a treasure vault and returned alone to the capital—these kinds of problems called for Ark Rodin.

People looked up to Ark. He was strong, smart, and well-known, not to mention a stellar leader. And most importantly, he was a good guy. His party members, while not quite on par with Ark, were also perfectly capable. Being a great commander and warrior, Ark was like having a whole team of hunters in the body of one. In fact, there were none who wouldn’t listen to Ark among the prideful hunters that made up Steps (excluding my childhood friends). Things just worked out if I put Ark in charge and let him handle it. And if they didn’t, it would mean that there was nothing I could have done anyway.

When is Ark coming home? I’d have to buy time at all costs until he was back. Ark always notified me before leaving the capital for an extended period, so he should be returning before long. Hence, I just stood there without thinking too much about the block-off.

Sven twisted his intimidating expression into a grin as he clapped my shoulder. “You’re chill as always, CM.”

I returned just a silent smile. There was little mystery as to why I was so chill: this had nothing to do with me. Not to brag or anything, but my self-preservation skills were remarkable. By “self-preservation skills,” I meant “saddling-other-people-with-my-job skills.” That was how I’d always done things, and would continue to do. I could only hope that someone would kick me out of my position before I irredeemably messed things up.

“Who knows what’s going on out there? We were going to make sure we’ll be in tip-top shape in case we get called into action,” added Sven, “but we can always do that tomorrow, I guess.”

Once again, I was really sorry that one of mine was always causing trouble.

Luckily for me, Sven didn’t sound annoyed at the change in his plans. Also, his party and mine went way back; Sven’d been dealing with Liz’s madness since before we even moved to the capital.

Obsidian Cross was a party famous for its members complementing each other to produce reliable performance. Its members would have no problem if they went right this second and handled a few stray phantoms, especially if they were just like the wolf knights in White Wolf’s Den.

A brilliant idea popped up in my mind: if I sent Obsidian Cross to Gark, wouldn’t its members be saddled with everything? Gark shouldn’t have anything to complain about with a Level 6 party. This was a perfect match. Unlike me, Sven didn’t mind hunting phantoms. What a genius idea!

I clutched my hands together and gave the members of Obsidian Cross a once-over. And with a smile, I said, “If you guys have some extra time, why don’t you go pick up a quest? And by the way, while you’re at the Association, can you let Gark know that I’m a bit too busy to go see him today?”

***

Krai Andrey happily sauntered away as Sven watched him go.

Henrik Hefner, the Cleric of Obsidian Cross, finally spoke up. “I never know what he’s thinking. He seems,” Henrik paused to give it a thought, “so carefree.”

Sven chuckled, scratching his cheek. “Yeah. He’s not a bad guy though.”

Obsidian Cross was one of the OG member parties of First Steps. While its members were a few years older than those of Ark Brave or Grieving Souls on average, it was one of the younger contributing parties of this golden age of treasure hunting. With a unique composition where every member possessed healing abilities, this well-balanced party had completed numerous quests thanks to its members’ wary decision-making strategy. But that also meant that they didn’t earn as many flashy accolades as other hunters of similar level would’ve. Obsidian Cross suffered from having to share the spotlight with two other insanely successful parties, but it would’ve been regarded as the best party of the generation had the members been around a decade or two earlier. Naturally, it was highly regarded by the Association and other parties.

“Maybe you should have said no, Sven. What is he doing all the time anyway?” asked Henrik carefully, trying to conceal his exasperation and dissatisfaction.

Since a clan was a form of cooperative comprised of multiple parties, there were no ranks within a clan: no party was under any obligation to do favors for another hunter—not even the clan master. Having to run errands didn’t sit right with Henrik, especially since pride and reputation were very important to hunters.

Every treasure hunter in the capital knew Grieving Souls’s history: in a word, its path had been tumultuous. The Grievers took on high-level vaults like there was no tomorrow, risking their lives to sprint up the path to glory. They were the polar opposite of Obsidian Cross’s members, who made sure to take on only one treasure vault at a time, safely.

While a careful hunter like Henrik couldn’t understand how the Grievers did it, he respected them for it. All hunters carried some reverence for Grieving Souls—the leader of the party, however, was a different story. Henrik had never once seen the Thousand Tricks venture into a treasure vault. When he had first joined Obsidian Cross half a year ago, Henrik had revered the notorious Thousand Tricks—the reverence had faded completely over the past six months as he witnessed Krai behind the scenes.

“It’s all right,” said Sven to quell Henrik’s blatant disgruntlement. “We have the time. It’s not a bad idea to have him owe us a favor anyway.”

Henrik frowned. Their leader, Sven, usually stood his ground. “Their party leader stays back while the rest of the team go into a vault—aren’t they mad about it?”

“Krai’s always been this way. You may be too new to know it, Henrik, but his party just works that way, and so does this clan.” Sven’s tone was lighthearted but packed with enough severity to warn Henrik not to question Krai any further.

“If you say so, Sven,” said Henrik. Unhappy as he was, he admitted it wasn’t wise to criticize his own clan master so openly.

Henrik had decent experience as a hunter. He had worked with several other parties before joining Obsidian Cross, and he considered himself to have a good judge of character. Still, he couldn’t make sense of Krai Andrey. Since the strength of hunters was largely decided by the amount of mana material buildup in their body, a hunter’s appearance didn’t always reflect their strength. It was very feasible for a hulking man to lose to a tiny girl in a contest of brute strength. The buildup of mana material could be identified by sight with some practice. And as someone who’d had plenty of practice, Henrik just couldn’t see how Krai was considered top-notch. He wouldn’t have believed that Krai had a moniker, was a Level 8, nor was both the leader of the infamous Grieving Souls and the master of this enormous clan. Even now, he hardly believed it. Krai simply lacked a sense of authority.

“I am not complaining if he stops Liz and Luke from beating up everyone in their path,” added Sven.

Henrik closed his eyes and replayed in his mind the events in the training grounds: Liz had a burning aura and an almost murderous animosity that no hunter should bear in the middle of a city. Even through a closed door, Liz’s crushing presence and spine-chilling voice were terrifying enough for Henrik to find difficulty in breathing.

Of course he knew the Stifled Shadow, the troublemaker of Grieving Souls; there weren’t too many Level 6 hunters with a moniker either. After today, Henrik could surely say that she had the strength that matched her infamy. He had to admit that Krai at least had the guts to put himself between Liz and her apprentice.

“He couldn’t stop her though,” he muttered, still not entirely convinced.

Sven smiled and said, “You may not see it now, but Krai’s as much of a freak as any Griever. For one, he’s the only one the Ark Rodin—the descendant of the hero and arguably the strongest hunter alive—has ever lost to. Another thing’s that Liz and Luke follow his orders. It’s easy to forget all these when you spend time in his clan. I’m not telling you to blindly follow his orders. Just...don’t make the mistake of judging him by his looks or his words by how they sound. He always has more under the surface. It’s what we always do, isn’t it?”

Henrik was dumbstruck by the look in Sven’s eyes. It didn’t seem like he was talking about their clan master at all.

“Roger!” said Henrik loudly, as if to shake off his own doubt. Cold sweat dripped down his back as he realized that he’d been viewing Krai not as the Level 8 hunter that he was, despite knowing all that about Krai beforehand. In hindsight, that was unthinkable: if the Thousand Tricks had orchestrated all that on purpose, Henrik had no clue of it until now. This realization terrified him.

Sven spoke, encouragingly, “Don’t sweat it too much. It’s not like you’re in trouble. Besides, Ansem’s also a Griever. Krai can’t pull anything too crazy as long as he’s around.”

Henrik finally looked relieved at this notion.

Every member of Obsidian Cross believed in the Holy God. Each of them possessed some power of healing, and Ansem Smart was renowned among the Clerics of the capital. Top-tier hunters usually wore multiple hats and lived busy lives, and Ansem was chief among them: it wasn’t often even for Ansem’s own clan members to come across him. Still, his reputation as the conscience of Grieving Souls was widespread. Ansem, who specialized in protection and healing, would help anyone in need—he was a stoic man full of love for his fellow hunters.

There were plenty of rumors about Ansem, some more believable than others: rumor had it that he cured a grand noble’s daughter of what was considered to be an incurable disease, or that he had received offers to join the imperial knights’ order, to name a few. Accordingly, he was responsible for keeping the Grievers in one piece through their grueling adventures.

“The Immutable—one of the best Clerics in the capital,” muttered Henrik.

“He has no mercy for disloyalty, though. Perhaps too stoic at times, but you know you can count on him. If only he could join our party... Well, that’s enough chitchat; let’s hit up the Association—I want some updates on the blocked-off road too,” concluded Sven despite Henrik’s curious gaze.

By this point, there were no shades of dissatisfaction left on Henrik’s expression. He wouldn’t make the same mistake of underestimating Krai ever again. The Grievers had an unusual way of running their party which, at first, didn’t sit right with Sven either. The rest of the members aside, he couldn’t help but see Krai as just an ordinary guy—as if he was a nonhunter.

Sven had to remind himself every now and again. While he considered it foolish to put more weight on someone’s status over the in-person impression they made, the Thousand Tricks and his impenetrable camouflage had to be an exception.

As he watched Henrik, Sven recalled how First Steps was first created.

***

The hidden room connected to the clan master’s office, a room with no windows to cause security concerns, was filled to the brim with my collection of Relics—amassed with a lot of time and money. I checked every piece of it and could only groan.

Dammit. Most of them are out of mana. This was just as I had feared, and it had pretty much sealed my fate. Collecting Relics was both my hobby and one of the very few means of self-defense I had. Many skilled treasure hunters packed a Relic or two just as an ace up their sleeve. But for the talentless like me, Relics, which produced the same effect regardless of user, were a lifeline.

Over my five years in the capital, I’d collected over five hundred Relics. My arsenal was comprised of Relics of all shapes and forms that would enable me to survive any situation if I utilized them proficiently—as long as they were charged with mana. Regular mana recharging was critical to keep Relics usable since the stored mana leaked out at variable rates even when the Relics weren’t in use.

At the moment, most of my Relic collection was as useful as just a wall ornament: all my weapon Relics (which leaked mana the fastest) were kaput; the same went for my armor Relics. I was left with only a handful of Relics with juice in them, but the piddly amount of mana I held was nowhere near enough to bring these Relics back to working order. The Association generally recommended hunters only carry Relics they could charge themselves, but I’d always had Lucia—Magus of Grieving Souls—to charge my collection for me. Although she’d charged up all my Relics before leaving the city, I hadn’t expected her to still be away. By now, even the Relics that were still usable wouldn’t last long. My Safety Rings were exceptions as they retained mana much longer, but they were only insurance: they’d be useless if I was in a pickle.

Why would all this matter to me when I never left the capital anyway? I’m a chicken. Despite having tried, as I’d done, to remain in the shadows, I’d become pretty recognizable. That wouldn’t have been a problem if it weren’t for the population of criminals and hunters looking to make a name for themselves by taking out high-level hunters. And so, I wouldn’t dare walk down the streets without sufficient tools for defense or escape on me.

I tossed aside Night Hiker (now that it was out of juice, it was just a snappy coat) and fell onto the bed in the secret room. I couldn’t so much as go out for ice cream if I didn’t do something about this situation. Asking a clanmate to recharge the Relics was not an option: a few recharges here and there was one thing, but I had several hundred empty Relics on hand. There was no way any ordinary Magus could charge them all, especially when charging any number of Relics was a great burden—I’d be a pariah in my own clan if I’d demanded such a thing; my clan members may even call it an abuse of my power.

Liz was the only other Griever in town, but she was useless when it came to magic. I had once asked her to recharge my Relics, but after the third, she could barely stand from having her mana emptied; she still reached for the next one, and I had to hold her back.

Gazing at the ceiling, I took some deep breaths. What are the other Grievers up to? I would feel much more secure once they returned, even without Ark at my disposal. They should’ve been back by now if they’d gone through the vault as scheduled. Guessing from Liz’s account, it wasn’t that they were facing any trouble, but it was very possible they couldn’t resist a detour.

Footsteps came from the hallway.

I jumped out of my bed, swooped up Night Hiker from the floor, and straightened my appearance.

Since the only entrance to this room was hidden behind a bookshelf in the clan master’s office, which members were forbidden from entering without permission, there was only a short list of people who would come here. The Grievers ignored all rules and boundaries and barged in whenever they pleased, but none of them made audible footsteps; there was only one name on that short list who did.

There was a knock at the door, and I steadied my breathing before answering. The door slowly opened to reveal vice clan master Eva as I’d expected. She saw me holding up Night Hiker and cocked an eyebrow.

“What are you doing down here?”

That was a close call. She was used to finding me slacking off by now, but I didn’t want to be chewed out for taking a full-blown nap during working hours. Especially since I was ignoring Gark’s summons, I imagined that Eva would have a bone or two to pick with me as I’d always left her to handle all the managerial duties of the clan.

“Just looking into something,” I mumbled, drawing a puzzled look from Eva.

Odd, I know, considering that I was in my private quarters. What could I possibly have been looking into in a room with nothing but Relics and bare-bones furniture? That being said, Eva was one of the few people who knew how truly useless I was. I expected her to read the room and let me be.

“Looking into what? Can I help you with it?” she asked, completely misreading the room. She couldn’t possibly have believed that I was actually looking into anything.

I averted her piercing gaze. “It’s all right. I had to do it myself. And I’ve just finished.” I smoothed the velvety coat Relic over a hanger.

What was I looking into down here? How? What’s something only I could look into? Did I have to do it now, instead of answering a summon from a bigwig of the Association?

I would have had so many questions for myself if I were in Eva’s shoes, and I didn’t have a good answer to any of them. Cold sweat began to form over my face.

Eva quietly sighed.

I’m done for. She knows I was just lazing around in my hideout instead of working. It wasn’t my fault though: I had no means to go outside!

“Is there anything I can help you with?” asked Eva.

“No, no, no,” I answered reflexively.

Eva frowned at my answer. Did she really believe me? I didn’t think there was a single thing about me that was trustworthy at this moment. Not to shift the blame for my lying or anything, but I’d be very surprised if she believed me given that she knew my true modus operandi. Was she pulling my leg? That seemed more likely than her taking my word for it.

Eva’s lavender-colored eyes scanned all over my face as if she was trying to read my mind. There was no telling from her expression if she really believed me or if this was her way of subtly admonishing me.

I quickly cleared my throat and said, “It’s not that I don’t trust your abilities, Eva. This is a...an extremely sensitive and...dangerous task. It has to be me; not even Ark nor Liz can help me with this.” Eva looked stricken, so I hastily added, “It’s not that big of a deal. Really. There’s no need for concern. I appreciate the offer, but I can handle it on my own. That was what I meant.”

For the most part, administrative staff held greater power than hunters in our clan. This was a rule I established at the beginning because I didn’t want to deal with hunters not following the administration’s directions. If I worried Eva to the point that weird rumors of me started circulating, I’d be in an awkward position. In hindsight, I should’ve just said that I was inspecting my Relics, although it wouldn’t have justified my ignoring Gark’s request.

“Is it—”

“End of discussion,” I said before Eva could continue. “And no more questions. I need you to keep this between us.” I’d decided to sweep this under the rug before I incriminated myself. Even though only nominally, I still outranked Eva. This should keep her quiet.

Bitterness flashed across Eva’s face and vanished in an instant.

“Understood, sir.”

I didn’t mean to put it this way, but Eva’s time would’ve been much better spent doing her job than dealing with me.

I tried cracking a joke to defuse the awkward tension and said, “Well, if you really want to help, you can go scout out new ice cream shops in town for me.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eva, unsatisfied. Her lips didn’t so much as twitch at my expert display of humor.

***

“So no changes in the local ley lines?”

Gark Welter, capital branch manager of Explorers’ Association, grunted at the report in his hand. His intimidating features twisted further in frustration. That, combined with his stature that had remained as robust as it was years ago in his prime, was enough to make the messenger from the Third Order stand at attention. There were several divisions of imperial knights, and the Third Order was responsible for peacekeeping within the empire. It dealt with not only criminals, but also things like monsters, phantoms, and even natural disasters. Traditionally, whenever there were troubles in treasure vaults, its knights joined forces with the Association to solve the problems.

Gark stared at the report in stony silence. He’d never witnessed an incident like this. Ley lines were like the blood vessels of the earth: they fueled, in various ways, the lands they coursed through in a labyrinthine expanse of underground pathways. Powerful monsters were attracted to strong currents of power; utilizing the ley lines could enable large-scale magic rituals to be performed with minimal catalysts; and most importantly, the mana material that ran through the ley lines was the source of treasure vaults’ manifestations. As such, most changes in a treasure vault’s nature were caused by changes in the amount of mana material in the area. If the ley lines shifted in a way that they no longer pooled mana material in an area, the vault there would naturally disappear. But if the ley lines shifted and increased the concentration of mana material there, the vault would become noticeably more dangerous. It was even plausible that a treasure vault could expand enough that phantoms from it would find their way to a major road outside the capital.

However, that was not what was happening now. Ley lines rarely shifted, so rarely that the most common cause was a major tectonic shift having been triggered by a sizable earthquake. But there had been no signs of an earthquake recently—a natural disaster like that would obviously have damaged the capital itself greatly. In those cases, ley line surveys would be conducted at the same priority level as rescues.

“If the ley lines haven’t changed, what’s the cause?” scowled Gark, racking his brain.

White Wolf’s Den was a Level 3 treasure vault, and phantoms appearing within should be of comparable strength. Phantoms were not precisely living organisms but imitations of life-forms generated with mana material. Their strength depended on the density of mana material in the area. While the obvious cause of this disruption would be a shift in the ley lines, the report produced by an expert team (guarded by knights) showed no sign of it. But it was undeniable that the vault’s level had been boosted: the phantoms in it had grown far stronger than they were before. While the details were still under investigation, the phantoms’ power was estimated to have increased by at least the equivalent of two to three levels.

With the massive population of hunters in the capital, the increase in White Wolf’s Den’s level wouldn’t be an issue. The stray phantoms that appeared on the roads could easily be dealt with now that the Association was made aware of them. However, the fact that the investigators still hadn’t figured out the root cause of these changes left Gark with a nasty feeling about it.

With eyes still on the report, he began to brainstorm. “Did someone cause this? But how?”

Treasure vaults were both perilous pits and nature’s greatest mysteries. Since the beginning of time, humanity had been investigating treasure vaults. And still, extremely little was known about them. There had been attempts to forcibly bend and twist ley lines to create new treasure vaults, to capture and transfer phantoms from their original vaults to another, to combine clusters of treasure vaults into one, and even to bind the generation of Relics to specific locations within vaults to allow safe and regular retrieval. But as far as Gark could recall, no artificial event in the past created effects that mirrored what they were witnessing now. Besides, every nation outlawed all experiments that manipulated the nature of a treasure vault or interfered with the flow of mana material: this was among the ten capital crimes—crimes that were considered the most heinous offense—in Zebrudian Empire’s law.

Gark imagined that workers of the empire’s Vault Investigation Bureau (an institute dedicated to researching treasure vaults) were now frantically digging through their libraries. He contemplated for some time with his eyes closed, then he slowly opened his eyes and looked at the messenger knight as if he was glaring.

“We’ll send a team too. Keep me in the loop if there’s any progress.”

At Gark’s words, the knight saluted and left the room.

While White Wolf’s Den was not yet a dire threat to top-level hunters, Gark was concerned that the vault could become more dangerous. Since it was close to the capital, if its threat level kept climbing and reached the point where no hunter could deal with its threats, the empire would be forced to migrate the capital city to a safer location. Solving this mystery was a matter of utmost urgency.

While Gark knew no leads, he knew someone who might. He exhaled deeply and turned to his assistant branch manager, Kaina.

“I’m talking to Krai. Send for him.”

“He turned down your last request stating that he was too busy,” pointed out Kaina.

“If he refuses again, tell him I’ll be there myself,” grunted Gark.

Hunters registered to Explorers’ Association were obligated to follow the Association’s orders in a state of emergency, but there were no clear definitions of what constituted an emergency. Hunters often refused the Association’s requests, not to mention that First Steps was a formidable clan within the capital.

Feeling Kaina’s discouragement, Gark added, “Don’t worry. Even Krai won’t bolt with all this going on. He knows something—I’m sure of it.”

He straightened out the papers he had crumpled and handed them to Kaina, who still looked unconvinced.

“He hasn’t stepped foot in any vault in ages but decided to hit up White Wolf’s Den himself? That alone tells me there’s something going on there that’s worth his time,” said Gark.

If any ordinary hunter had picked that quest out from the pile, Gark would’ve chalked it up to bad luck. But when it came to the Thousand Tricks, luck didn’t interfere with his actions. The legacy Krai had established for himself in the past several years was enough for Gark to put his faith in Krai.

Kaina nodded to Gark’s comment without further objection.

***

An old man sighed, gazing up above him. “How unexpected. Not even the gods could have predicted that high-level hunters would become involved.”

He stood in a windowless but spacious room. Its walls and floor were made of dirt processed with alchemy and, thus, seemed refined. Along with pieces of basic furniture like desks, bookshelves, and chairs, numerous bizarre instruments populated the room. The most noticeable of which was a spiral glass tube in the center of the room with one end of it stuck in the ground. The glass tube vibrated as it emitted a faint glow.

In front of the glass tube stood the old man. His white hair and wrinkled features were befitting of his age. He wore a simple black robe enchanted with powerful magic, which was indicative of his exceptional career as a Magus.

In fact, the old man was once considered one of the best Magi in the capital—his title was the Master of Magi. The man, Noctus Cochlear, now served as the director of research in the capital base of Akashic Tower, an evil magic syndicate.

Behind him stood a quartet of his apprentices. His second apprentice, a man with serpentlike eyes, reported in a low voice, “It may only be a matter of time before Explorers’ Association discovers this location. I doubt the foolish masses of the empire would ever understand the grandness of your accomplishment, sire, but they won’t leave the space above us until they’ve uncovered the cause.”

Footsteps drummed above them from the cave that was White Wolf’s Den. The noise was projected into the room they were in via magic surveillance, meaning that the hunters were not necessarily directly above the room. In any case, the hunters showed no signs of abandoning their task nor leaving.

Treasure vaults were a matter of priority for Zebrudia as they were regarded as the epicenters of treasure hunting. They were important so much so that Zebrudia had a bureau dedicated to investigating vaults.

“I told you it was too early to throw hunters in,” said Noctus with audible disappointment.

The glass instrument before him was still working perfectly as intended, siphoning an enormous amount of energy from the ley lines to pool it where they stood. This was the product of Noctus Cochlear’s obsession—a dream he accomplished by pursuing research over any status or recognition. As the experiment progressed, Noctus expected that his device would even be able to generate treasure vaults at will. But there was still a long road ahead of him: his research was still largely theoretical and definitely not at a point where he could control it.

“I knew I should have said no regardless of the pressure they give me,” mumbled Noctus.

He had expected the changes in the vault to be discovered, but not this quickly. They should’ve gone unnoticed until the experiment progressed a little further and the treasure vault became a little deadlier. It was why he’d chosen White Wolf’s Den: it was one of the least popular vaults in the area surrounding the capital. But now, all his preparations were for naught. Throwing hunters into the vault before it was sufficiently leveled up triggered the dispatch of a powerful rescue party, leading to the Association discovering the results of their experiment.

Noctus’s experiment was made possible by a monumental amount of financial investment. He couldn’t fault his investors for demanding results, but Noctus couldn’t help an irritated sigh at the politics of academia that followed him even to this illegal magic syndicate.

He did not expect the entrance to this lab (which was not connected to White Wolf’s Den and was well hidden) to be discovered anytime soon. But now that they had drawn so much attention to the vault, he was left with no other choice.

“We will have to abandon this laboratory. Back to square one.”

He wasn’t ready to fight the empire.

Setbacks were commonplace in any experiment, and Noctus could deal with delays. He was familiar with pushback as he had once been banished from the empire for proposing a theory in blatant violation of the law. This experiment had only started to become promising a week or two ago, and there were still plenty of improvements to make—the powerful phantoms it had produced had been wiped out by the hunters. As long as their equipment was intact, they could continue their experiment in any treasure vault. Still, he was disappointed nonetheless.

“The phantoms overpowered Rudolph’s party. I did not expect one of the three Level 8s in the city to show up,” grumbled Noctus.

“Perhaps phantoms will always be phantoms no matter how powerful they become—they can’t even tell when they’re outclassed,” chimed in one of his apprentices. They had all assisted with the experiment too.

The high-level phantoms generated by the experiment overpowered a Level 5 hunter and his party, which would make them equivalent to Level 6 or 7 phantoms—far beyond the expected threat of White Wolf’s Den. Noctus had only agreed to bring hunters into the vault because he thought the phantoms were capable of wiping out the party. He’d expected a rescue mission to be issued, but not to a Level 8 hunter when the treasure vault was a mere Level 3. Even the super phantoms stood no chance against a Level 8.

“There was no way he could have known beforehand. The Thousand Tricks is more cunning than his reputation suggests,” admitted Noctus.

Noctus was not a hunter himself, but he’d researched well those who could become his adversaries. Hunters who overpowered magic with brute strength were natural nemeses to Magi.

The Thousand Tricks was a famous Level 8 hunter; his level alone suggested that he possessed some sort of extraordinary power. But investigated as he did, Noctus found no clue as to what that power was. Apparently, the Thousand Tricks was a master of concealing information, for one.

Noctus couldn’t see how their experiment, under layers upon layers of careful preparation, could be discovered, but he’d thought one could never be too careful.

Flick Petosin, Noctus’s second apprentice, clicked his tongue in frustration at the derailment so close to success.

“And Sophia’s on a vacation right now? What’s she doing? She was in charge of the defense mechanisms.”

The other apprentices chimed in to blame Sophia Black, the first apprentice to Noctus.

While she could learn to be more careful, she—despite not having been his apprentice for as long as the others had been—had extraordinary wisdom that had allowed her to contribute to the experiment the most meaningfully. As a result, they all assumed her to be Noctus’s successor.

Great talent drew great envy, and the apprentices who’d served Noctus much longer than she had were not happy with the preferential treatment she received. However, her massive talent would soon stomp out their flames of envy.

It seemed like another stroke of bad luck that their experiments at White Wolf’s Den had come to light exactly when Noctus’s right-hand woman had been away for personal business. If she’d been in the laboratory, she might have suggested a better solution or even prevented the Thousand Tricks from leaving the treasure vault alive.

Noctus sighed quietly, patting the handle of his magic staff. “The experiment had not even kicked off when she was last here. Not even she could have foreseen this turn of events.”

“That may be so,” agreed the apprentices reluctantly.

Their experiment was considered taboo. As such, they had taken measures to defend it from law enforcement. There were still countermeasures they could take, but it was too risky for them to move to the offensive especially when they were lacking Sofia, who was the strongest on the team after Noctus. However, Noctus suspected that his apprentices didn’t call for a fight for other reasons entirely.

“I have contacted Sophia via a Sounding Stone. She will be back soon.”

Seeing that this statement livened up his apprentices’ expressions, Noctus was secretly disappointed. All his apprentices were once top-tier Magi, each of them banished from the field because of their flawed characters or excessive ambitions. They were undoubtedly talented, but none of them would bat an eye at performing unethically cruel experiments.

Still, Noctus thought, they are not good enough to pursue the truth.

“Contact the capital. We cannot afford to allow the Thousand Tricks to continue to get in our way. We need to gather information.”

At Noctus’s command, one of his apprentices rushed out of the room.

An experiment being ruined once was not detrimental to Noctus’s cause. What was concerning was the fact that he knew nothing about how the Thousand Tricks discovered their plot nor how much he’d discovered. As long as there was a chance that the Thousand Tricks could continue to sabotage their operation, they had to make a move.

Noctus suspected that, in the worst-case scenario, he would have to fight a Level 8 hunter head-on. Even as he did, he showed no sign of distress. Dealing with a single hunter was nowhere as difficult as pursuing the truth in the abyss of unknown.