Yuki Hasegawa hated being summoned to the guild leader's office.
She sat in a borrowed conference room at the Hunter Association's Chicago headquarters, across from Director Tanaka who had flown in from Tokyo specifically to see her. Her green hair was tied back in a ponytail, glasses reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights.
She had been on assignment in Chicago for the past month. And now, after fifteen hunters died in today's Code Red gate break, there was cause for alarm.
"Yuki-san," Director Tanaka said, his weathered face grave. "I want you to go home. Back to Tokyo."
Yuki batted her lashes. "Sir?"
"After what happened..." He gestured vaguely at the window, toward the city still recovering from the tragedy. "These gate breaks are becoming more unpredictable. More deadly. If something like that happens in Japan, I need our S-ranks there. Your people need you at home, not here."
Yuki opened her mouth to respond, but then the door slammed open.
An A-rank hunter, that went by the name of Kenji, one of her teammates who had also been stationed in Chicago, stood in the doorway, breathing hard. "Director! Yuki! You need to see this!"
"Kenji, we're in the middle of—"
"Salvatore Holt is fighting an F-rank hunter in the training arena!"
Yuki's eyebrows shot up. "What? Why would Salvatore fight an F-rank?"
"I don't know!" Kenji said. "But everyone's gathering to watch. It's the F-rank from the red gate incident. The only survivor."
Yuki stood immediately. She definitely had to see this.
Director Tanaka sighed. "Think about what I said, Yuki-san."
She nodded, already heading for the door.
~
The training arena was packed.
Word had spread fast. Hunters from multiple guilds crowded the observation decks, all trying to get a view of the massive hall below. The space was designed for S-rank sparring, as it had reinforced walls, enhanced flooring, and barrier systems to contain damage.
Yuki pushed through the crowd, her S-rank badge getting her to the front rail.
"Salvatore Holt," someone muttered beside her. "That savage brute."
Yuki had to agree. Salvatore was known for two things: overwhelming power and zero restraint. He stood at one end of the arena, six-foot-five of pure muscle, unsheathing his massive sword, easily seven feet long, and crazy sharp.
Then Yuki's gaze shifted to the other end.
A slim, lean guy stood there. Young, maybe early or mid twenties. Dark hair. Torn, bloodstained clothes. And running along his arms and neck were distinct purple veins, glowing faintly under the arena lights.
"Is that the F-rank?" Yuki asked the hunter beside her.
The man nodded. "Ares Thatcher. Supposedly killed a humanoid monster single-handedly."
"He looks like an SS-rank," Yuki said quietly. SS-ranks were rare and notoriously mutated, colored veins, extra limbs, inhuman features. She glanced down at her own arms where faint green lines traced along her skin. Normal for an S-rank. But this guy? Those purple veins were intense.
"Exactly," the hunter said. "How is he F-rank?"
Below, Salvatore rolled his shoulders. "Last chance to back out, Thatcher!"
Ares didn't respond. He just stood there, arms loose, his expression unreadable.
Then the fight began.
Salvatore crossed the arena in seconds, his sword coming down in a devastating overhead strike. The impact was thunderous.
Dust exploded outward, surrounding the entire area where Ares had been standing. The reinforced floor cracked, and shockwaves rippled through the arena.
"It's over," someone muttered. However, when the dust settled, everyone gasped.
Ares was still standing, but barely. His hands were above his head, catching the flat of Salvatore's blade with both palms. Blood dripped from his fingers where the edge had cut into his skin. His feet had sunk into the floor from the force, cracks spider-webbing out around him.
But he was holding it.
An F-rank was holding back an S-rank's strike.
"What the fuck," Yuki whispered.
Salvatore's eyes widened in shock. Then his expression hardened. He pressed down, applying more force. Ares's knees buckled. The floor beneath him gave way, and he sank deeper, up to his shins now. Blood ran down his arms, and his face twisted in pain.
"Pathetic," Salvatore spat, pushing harder.
Ares dropped into the crater completely, disappearing from view. That was it. That was the end.
Salvatore stepped back, scoffing. He turned away, sheathing his sword. "What a bloody waste of my time." Murmurs rippled across the crowd like a tide. Some were disappointed. Some were relieved it was over so quickly.
Then the ground exploded.
Chunks of reinforced concrete flew in all directions as a figure emerged from the crater in a burst of purple energy.
But it didn't look like Ares anymore.
His entire right side was transformed, dark crystalline armor plating covering his shoulder and arm, purple energy crackling around him. His right eye glowed bright violet, and in his hand, a jagged dagger wreathed in purple flames materialized.
The pressure was overwhelming. The presence radiating from him made Yuki's instincts scream danger.
This wasn't an F-rank.
This was something else entirely.
In the blink of an eye, Ares was right behind Salvatore, and blood sprayed. Salvatore stumbled forward, hissing at the pain from the deep slash across his back. He spun, shock and rage on his face. "You—"
Ares moved again. A blur of purple and black. His dagger flashed.
Another cut. Salvatore's side this time.
"Impossible!" Salvatore roared, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
Ares ducked under it, very fast. His movements were nothing like the struggling fighter from moments ago.
The crowd was dead silent.
Yuki's hands gripped the rail. "What is he?"
Salvatore was bleeding from multiple wounds now, breathing hard. An S-rank. Being pushed back by someone who was supposedly F-rank. "ENOUGH!" Salvatore bellowed. Red energy exploded around him, his own awakened power. The arena trembled.
He charged, sword covered in crimson flames.
Ares met him head-on.
Their clash sent shockwaves through the entire building. Purple and red energy collided, exploding outward. The barrier systems activated, containing the blast.
When the light faded, both fighters stood frozen.
Ares's dagger was pressed against Salvatore's throat. Salvatore's sword was inches from Ares's chest.
But Ares was faster. Just barely.
"Yield," Ares said quietly. His voice was completely different. Deeper. Colder.
Salvatore's face went through several emotions, shock, rage, disbelief. Then, slowly, he lowered his sword.
"...I yield."
The arena erupted into chaos.