Smoke curled in the air, thick and acrid. Sirens wailed in the distance. The pavement was torn and scorched, the aftermath of chaos carved deep into the street like a scar.
Akira coughed as he sat hunched on a curb, his hoodie torn at the sleeve. His hands trembled—part from exhaustion, part from the sheer adrenaline of survival. Yuna sat beside him, her small frame wrapped in a medic's emergency blanket. Rei stood just behind them, keeping watch, her eyes scanning the still-flickering gate ruins as if expecting something else to crawl out.
The gate had breached without warning.
Monsters roared—charging.His blade unsheathed with a low hum, almost disappointed by the wait.
He moved like a ghost.The sword in his hand pulsed with condensed Zeir — so dense it shimmered gold, lighting the alleyway in brief, haunting brilliance.
With a single slash, he cut through the largest of them — a towering ogre-like beast that had nearly crushed Akira minutes earlier.
It didn't even have time to scream.Its body collapsed in two perfect halves.
The air crackled with what remained of the beast's corrupted Zeir, which hissed before evaporating.
Akira didn't blink. Couldn't.
Not out of fear.
But awe.
He had trained. Fought. Bled.But the difference in power was absurd.
That man wasn't just stronger—he was unreachable.
In three minutes, the breach was controlled.Monsters either fled or were reduced to ash.
The gate shimmered, then closed—sealed by a portable core module.
The four Guild members regrouped and vanished as quickly as they had come, boarding their cruiser, engines leaving behind a low hum in the scorched wind.
But even as they left, the streets erupted.
Civilians cheered.Phones came out.Reporters snapped images and streamed live."The Souka Guild has saved the day once again!" one voice shouted.
Akira sat in silence, staring at the black mark left on the ground where the monster fell.
"I have to reach that level," he whispered."No matter what it takes."
Weeks Earlier — The Beginning of Resolve
The Gate Registry Division stood like a gray slab against the city's southern ward. Inside, it smelled like stale coffee and overused circuitry. People came in full of hope, left with paper tags that told them if they were special—or not.
Fifteen-year-old Akira stood in line, his hands in his pockets, wearing a secondhand hoodie. When it was his turn, the woman at the desk didn't even glance at him twice.
"Hand on the scanner," she said flatly.
He obeyed.
Beep.Red.An error chime echoed softly.
She blinked, tapped the screen, and frowned. "Strange. It's picking something up, but…" she squinted. "Your Zeir levels are incredibly low. Barely a flicker."
Akira stayed silent.
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Even if we register you, you won't be able to use any major constructs. No barriers, no projectiles. You won't survive inside anything higher than a first-level rift."
Still, he said nothing.
"…Look, kid. Not everyone is born for this. Your stats are… well, they're not suited for frontline. You'll never be able to generate external Zeir manipulation. Not enough power in your flowlines."
That made Akira finally lift his eyes.
"Doesn't mean I can't fight."
The woman sighed, leaning forward again. "Why do you want to be a hunter? You don't look like you come from a guild, or money. No bloodline, no sponsors. You'll burn out early. Or worse, die in your first breach."
He stared at her for a moment, steady and calm.
"Because I don't have the luxury to choose something else."
The Quiet Path
No instructors. No headlines.No flashy Zeir constructs or personalized armor.
Just Akira.
And a blade.
He studied by flickering bulb light. His room was stacked with secondhand hunter manuals, outdated monster biology books, and torn maps from old rift logs. He marked dangerous zones by hand. He tracked monster migrations from newspaper reports.
He saved up what little money he could by entering small local tourneys—not to win glory, but to learn. To move. To cut.
His sword was short, utilitarian. No decorations, no enchantments.
Just weight and edge.
He avoided academy halls. Tournament sparring became a luxury he couldn't afford—not just in time, but in visibility.
If they saw how little Zeir he had, they'd laugh him out. Or worse—pity him.
Rei messaged now and then.
Where've you gone, idiot?Are you still alive?At least say hi, baka.
He left the messages unread.
He wasn't running from her.He was running toward something bigger.
And he didn't have the time to slow down.
Back to the Present — The Night Before
The apartment was quiet.
Akira pulled his scarf around his neck. The cloth was old, something his father gave him before the hospital visits became constant.
Yuna was asleep on the couch, her textbook still open across her chest, a rice cracker half-eaten in her hand. She must have dozed off studying.
He placed the blanket over her gently. Then left a note on the table.
"Back soon. Promise."
He stepped outside.
A pale moon hung above the rooftops. The streets were quieter this late at night. Only vending machines and neon signs buzzed gently.
The gate waited.
It shimmered in an alley between two storage buildings, tucked away from official Guild patrol routes. It was an old, first-tier gate. Stable. Familiar.
But tonight—he wasn't just here to run laps and swipe a few low-tier monster cores.
He needed more.
Bills had piled up again. Food was running low. His father's treatment schedule was threatened.
He packed dry food, water, two blades — one sharp, one cracked but balanced.
He adjusted his belt, ran his hand over the worn leather grip of his sword, and stepped forward.
The gate's Zeir pressure hummed softly, licking at his skin like static.
Most hunters ignored gates like this. Too weak. No value.
But Akira knew every path inside it. Every nest. Every angle.
Tonight, he would go deeper.
He would clear it completely — alone.
He paused before stepping through, his silhouette bathed in the gate's pale light.
"Here comes today…" he whispered, breath curling in the cold air."…wait for me, monsters."
Then he vanished inside.