The transition through the Gate was a violent, sensory-stripping experience. It felt like my molecules were being disassembled and shoved through a straw made of ice. When my boots finally hit the ground on the other side, I didn't stumble. I didn't take a moment to steady my breath like the "Kino" I used to be. I just adjusted my glasses, pulled my hood lower, and let my eyes adjust to the dim, green-tinted light of the dungeon.
The air here was heavy and stagnant, thick with the stench of sulfur and ancient, rotting vegetation. This wasn't a clean, stone-brick dungeon. This was a subterranean marsh—a network of crumbling sewer pipes and flooded tunnels that had been overtaken by a parasitic, glowing moss. I reached out with my mind, feeling the forty-eight tiny, rapid heartbeats of my swarm. They were agitated, their red eyes darting in the dark, reflecting the same cold hunger I felt.
"I'm done wasting time," I whispered. My voice didn't even echo; it was swallowed by the thick humidity.
I stepped forward into the murky water. It reached my shins, cold and oily. Normally, a solo K-Ranker would be terrified of what lurked beneath the surface. But I wasn't just a K-Ranker anymore. I was moving with a purpose that didn't allow for fear.
The first encounter came from the ceiling. Three Sludge-Lurkers—amphibious, grey-skinned humanoids with webbed hands and jagged teeth—dropped from the rusted pipes above. They didn't growl; they let out a wet, clicking sound that signaled an ambush. In my first gate, I would have panicked. I would have run. Now, I felt a strange, detached calm.
"Rat Blade," I commanded.
Ten rats scrambled up my right arm in a blur of fur. They locked their bodies together, their fur hardening into a jagged, serrated edge of bone-like density. It wasn't magic. There was no mana flowing through me. It was the raw, physical application of my Level 3 Skill. The blade felt heavy, a physical extension of my own muscle.
I stepped into the first Lurker's landing zone. Before it could even gain its footing in the muck, I swung. The Rat Blade didn't just cut; it tore. The serrated fur edge acted like a chainsaw, shredding through the creature's rubbery neck. Black, foul-smelling blood sprayed across my face, but I didn't blink. The second Lurker lunged, its claws reaching for my throat. I didn't parry. I simply tilted my head and felt the air whistle past my ear.
"Rat Splat."
I flicked my left hand. Three rats, balled into a tight, muscular sphere, launched from my sleeve like a stone from a catapult. They hit the Lurker square in the face. On impact, they unfurled, their tiny claws and teeth immediately finding the creature's eyes. It let out a gurgling shriek, thrashing in the water as it tried to peel the biting furies off its face. I ignored it and turned to the third. It was hesitant now, seeing its pack-mates slaughtered.
"Rat Jump."
The two rats under my heels coiled their bodies like heavy-duty springs. When they released, the force wasn't a lift—it was an explosion. I closed the distance instantly, slamming my shoulder into the monster and ending it with a clinical thrust of the blade.
I tore through the rest of the floor, my movements becoming a blur of grey fur and blood. By the time I reached the Boss Room, I was exhausted, but my mind was sharper than ever.
The Boss, a Calamity Caiman, was a fifteen-foot wall of armored scales. It lunged with the speed of a strike, but I was ready.
"Rat Wall!"
Twenty rats formed a shield. The impact was deafening. I heard the cracks of bone—several of my rats died instantly to hold the line. I didn't let their sacrifice go to waste. I used the wall as a ramp, launched into the air, and performed a Reverse Rat Jump off the ceiling, spinning 180 degrees in mid-air.
"Rat Infused Strike!"
I brought my heel down on the bridge of its snout. The shockwave blew the surrounding water outward in a massive ring. The Caiman thrashed once and went still.
[Gate Cleared.] [Mastery: 41.7% -> 44.1%]
I walked out of the Association's side-exit an hour later. My legs felt like lead, and my hoodie was damp with sewer water. I checked my phone. The automated payout for the K-Rank clear had just hit.
[Deposit: ¥15,000]
I stared at the screen, a dry, cynical laugh escaping my throat. "Fifteen thousand... well, better than nothing, I guess. That's about three hundred yen per rat I almost lost."
I needed to sit. I needed caffeine. I found a small, glass-fronted cafe on the corner of a busy district. I looked like a mess, but in this part of town, "distressed" was just a Hunter aesthetic. I ordered a black coffee—the cheapest thing on the menu—and sat at a small table near the back, letting the steam hit my face.
That was when I heard the laughter. It was a loud, grating sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I looked over my shoulder. There, at a large booth near the window, were three guys I recognized instantly. The same group of N-Rankers who had cornered me two weeks ago. They were surrounding a kid who couldn't have been more than eighteen—a scrawny guy with thick glasses and a trembling hand clutching a tablet.
"Come on, kid," one of the N-Rankers, a guy with a buzzcut and a scarred lip, sneered. "You're a 'Support' class, right? That means your loot belongs to the front-liners. That's just the law of the jungle."
"I... I worked for three days to find that crystal," the kid stammered.
I felt a cold burn in my chest. I didn't think. I just stood up, my coffee still steaming, and walked over. I tapped the buzzcut guy on the shoulder.
He turned around, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my tattered hoodie. "Huh? Wait... aren't you the same nerd that tried fucking with us last time? The Rat Boy?"
The other two started laughing. "Oh man, he's back for more! Did your pets miss us, kid?"
"Leave him alone," I said. My voice was low, flat.
Buzzcut stood up, towering over me. "Or what? You're gonna send a hamster after me?" He didn't wait for an answer. He pulled back a fist and swung a heavy, slow right hook at my jaw.
A week ago, that punch would have grounded me. Today, it looked like it was moving through syrup.
I slipped the punch, my head moving just an inch to the left. At the same time, a single rat shot out of my sleeve and wrapped itself around my fist.
"Rat Infused Strike."
I drove my fist into his solar plexus. The impact was solid, the rat reinforcing my knuckles so I didn't break my hand against his reinforced N-Rank skin. He gasped, stumbling back two steps, clutching his stomach. His face went red, more from shock than actual damage.
"That... that actually stung," he wheezed, baring his teeth. "You little piece of shit. That pittance of a skill won't do much to me, kid. Now fuck off with those damn rats before I kill them all—and you."
I didn't back down. I felt the mental threads of my swarm tighten. All forty-eight (minus the ones I'd lost in the gate) began to churn under my clothes.
"Run," I said to the kid with the tablet.
"But—"
"RUN!" I barked.
The kid scrambled out of the booth and bolted for the door. The N-Rankers started to laugh, Buzzcut wiping a bit of spit from his lip. "You think you're a hero? You're a K-Rank joke."
I didn't argue. I reached out my hand, and ten rats surged forward, locking together in a jagged, dark line. The Rat Blade hissed as it formed, the serrated fur-edge vibrating with my own adrenaline. I locked eyes with him, my vision tunneling. I was ready to see if an N-Ranker's throat cut as easily as a Sludge-Lurker's.
"Try me," I whispered.
The air in the cafe grew thick. The other two hunters reached for their weapons—one pulling a brass-knuckle artifact, the other a short-sword.
But then, the high-pitched wail of a siren cut through the tension. Blue and red lights flickered against the cafe windows. A Patrol Squad. The police around here were used to Hunter brawls, and they didn't play fair.
"Shit, the feds," Buzzcut muttered, lowering his stance. He looked at me, pointing a finger. "This isn't over, Rat Boy. See you in the zones."
I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply. As they turned to look at the police cruiser pulling up, I focused. The Rat Blade disassembled instantly, the rats vanishing back into the shadows of my clothes.
"Rat Jump."
I didn't go for height. I went for distance. I launched myself over the counter, through the kitchen, and out the back service door before the police even stepped out of their car. I didn't stop running until I was three blocks away, tucked into a dark alleyway, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I leaned against the brick wall, sliding down until I hit the pavement. 44.1%. I was stronger, but the world was still bigger than me.
"Soon," I whispered into the dark. "Soon I won't have to run."