"Gelos Douglas, the Dovaril Security Division has changed its name to the Dovaril Security Bureau. Are you satisfied now?"
The elderly principal, white-haired and stern, watched Muria closely. Though Muria's refusal to join the agency because of its name was only part of the reason for the change, it turned out that many in the agency had also been dissatisfied with the old name.
"Hmm!" Muria nodded when he heard about the minimal change to the agency's name. Just swapping two words around made it sound much classier. He wondered what had gone through the minds of those who named it in the first place.
"Well then, I'll accept it, but I don't want to be overly restricted," he said.
"Don't worry. This agency was established to train young Star Armor users like you, so there won't be any mandatory tasks. You'll just need to meet a monthly quota. Beyond that, you can choose which missions to accept."
"That sounds fair," Muria replied with a raised eyebrow.
"Then, since you've agreed, go report to the bureau right away."
"Alright."
…
"Gelos Douglas, it's an honor. Welcome to the team." The man behind the desk, a young man in his twenties, smiled warmly as Muria entered the room, reaching out his hand in greeting.
"Thank you," Muria replied, shaking the man's hand. Internally, though, he couldn't help but find the whole setup ridiculous. This so-called Security Bureau was clearly nothing more than a rookie training ground.
"With you on board, our bureau's ability to control aberrants in Dovaril will be greatly strengthened," the young man said.
"Of course. But before that, I'd like to request a special privilege."
"What kind of privilege?"
"I want permission to let some of my… pets join in the hunts for aberrants."
"'Pets?'" The director's tone emphasized the word, and he wore a peculiar expression. Did Muria really think he didn't know about those creatures he called "pets"? Calling them pets when they were practically wild beasts was an understatement.
"That's right. My pets have been cooped up in my little yard for too long. They need some exercise, a chance to sharpen their claws. So, I'd like your approval for them to roam freely around the city."
"It's not up to me to allow that. The question is more… that kind of…"
"You're worried that my beasts might get out of control and harm the residents of Dovaril? Don't be. They know what's allowed and what isn't; they're more sensible than most humans."
"With that kind of reasoning, I absolutely can't approve this. If those creatures of yours really are as intelligent as you say, they could very well end up on the mission list for bureau members."
"You can give it a try!" Muria's eyes narrowed, and for a brief moment, an imposing pressure emanated from him, giving the director a fleeting sense of vastness and timelessness. The sensation was so sudden and subtle he almost thought he'd imagined it.
"Just kidding. I have no intention of offending the Douglas family," the director replied, forcing a stiff smile.
If Muria hadn't been a member of the Douglas family, he would have had no problem rallying his men to hunt down those beasts as trophies. But with the family's backing, there was no chance of that happening. Those creatures bore the Douglas name, and even if they were dangerous, they were still Douglas property. Ordinary people had no right to touch them.
"If you want your pets to move freely through the city, that's impossible. The government would never allow such creatures to roam the streets unchecked—it would cause panic."
"If you're worried that their presence might frighten people, at least allow them to operate at night. Surely that's acceptable?"
"I'll need to discuss that in a meeting. But first, I'll need proof of how obedient your pets really are."
…
Three days later, Muria was granted the privilege he requested. It hadn't been hard. He simply invited his nominal superior to his home for a "fun" demonstration with his "adorable" pets. After thoroughly terrifying his pale-faced superior, who stated he'd had quite the experience but wasn't eager to repeat it, Muria escorted him out.
During the following discussions with city officials, Muria pulled some strings with the Douglas family through Butler Pace. With the family's influence, he easily secured the special privilege.
…
"Run! It's the Night Hunter!"
Under the cover of darkness, a group of "humans" fled down the street, faces etched with barely concealed terror. On closer inspection, one could see that each of these individuals bore unusual features—bits and pieces of anatomy that had no place on a human body.
"We can't escape the Night Hunter! We're just prolonging the inevitable, giving him more fun in the chase," muttered a disheartened middle-aged man, lagging behind the rest.
"Then stay here if you're tired of life! Give us a bit more time to escape."
"I heard no one has ever survived an encounter with the Night Hunter. Running just prolongs the inevitable," the man continued, further dampening the spirits of his fleeing companions.
"If no one survived, how did his reputation spread?" someone retorted.
"They could've spread it themselves!"
"Say one more word, and I'll kill you myself!" The leader, furious at his companion's defeatist attitude, snapped at the disheartened man, who had further demoralized the group.
"Fine. Running or staying, it's all the same. Might as well conserve my energy," the man muttered, collapsing onto the ground, resigned to his fate.
The others paid no attention to his surrender and continued sprinting down the street. Soon, their numbers dwindled as some branched off in desperate bids for freedom.
"Cowards!" the leader cursed under his breath as his followers abandoned him, using him as bait to improve their own chances of survival.
Thud!
But then, the unmistakable sound of flesh being pierced reached his ears. With wide eyes, the leader looked down to see a bone blade protruding from his chest. His feet slowly lifted off the ground as he was impaled.
"I knew it… running or staying, the outcome is the same," the disheartened man murmured as he watched his leader and others suspended in midair at the far end of the street. Their bodies writhed in pain, speared by nine bone-like tails.
These tails, materializing from the void, were in fact appendages of a hidden giant beast.
With its prey firmly in its grasp, the beast began to reveal itself, its massive form gradually materializing from the empty street. Finally, it appeared in full—a three-story-tall creature, resembling a lizard clad in bony armor, with nine long, blade-like tails.
The captured aberrants, though pierced through, struggled on, their extraordinary resilience keeping them alive. But the beast had no intention of letting its prey suffer long; it simply brought its tails to its mouth and began to devour them.
"How pitiful!" The disheartened man watched his former companions disappear into the creature's maw, their screams echoing as they were torn apart.
"I might want to die, but not like that… better to go quickly than end up like that." Instinctively, he backed away, driven by a survival reflex.
Thud, thud, thud.
Heavy footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned to find himself at the mouth of an alley. From the shadows emerged an enormous black wolf, steadily approaching him. Blood dripped from its sharp fangs, painting a picture of savagery.
But as the beast emerged into the light, the disheartened man blinked in surprise. Up close, it didn't look like a wolf. In fact, it looked more like… a dog.
Woosh!
The black beast came close, its hot breath washing over him, strong enough to knock him to the ground.
_________________________
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