The display shifted to show incident reports, energy readings, and casualty lists. Jake Torres's name sat at the top of the deceased column. Something in Kim's expression tightened.
"The official report states that Angela Sinclair's team encountered an unexpectedly powerful boss," the coordinator continued. "B-rank hunter Jake Torres was killed in action. Multiple injuries across the team. The Warlord was eventually defeated through combined efforts, but the Corpse Handler clearly intervened in this gate."
"The energy readings don't match the official report," Kim finished. "Our sensors detected multiple strange signatures during that fight. Specifically, a massive surge of unknown energy three minutes before the Warlord's confirmed death. The readings were unprecedented."
She pulled up a graph. A jagged line representing energy levels spiked so dramatically it nearly flew off the top of the display.
"This surge was powerful enough to destabilize the gate's dimensional anchor," Kim said. "For forty-five seconds, the gate was on the verge of collapse. If it had failed completely, it would have torn a rift in Safe Zone Seven large enough to level three city blocks."
Silence fell over the boardroom.
"What could generate that kind of energy?" someone asked.
"Unknown," Kim admitted. "We've never seen readings like this. The closest comparison would be an SS-rank hunter going all-out. But even that's just speculation."
"Angela Sinclair is S-rank," the silver-eyed woman pointed out. "Could she have—"
"Her ability is time manipulation," Kim interrupted. "Powerful, yes, but her energy signature is distinctive. This was something else. Something we don't have a classification for."
"And Ash Sinclair," another coordinator said, pulling up his file. "The coordinator. His involvement is interesting."
Ash's profile appeared: grey hair, green eyes, official rank F. The image showed him during his initial Association testing, looking exhausted and hollow.
"F-rank," someone scoffed. "What's interesting about—"
"He was present at both the estate incident three months ago and the Manhattan gate," Kim said. "At the estate, we found twenty-one bodies. Thirteen were killed by monsters, claw marks, bite wounds, standard casualties. Eight died differently." She paused. "No wounds. No trauma. They simply stopped. Like their lives were taken by something we couldn't identify."
"You think Ash Sinclair is involved?" one of the A-ranks asked. "He's F-rank. Barely any mana."
"His official test registered minimal mana," Kim corrected. "But Helen Park, who monitored the Manhattan operation, filed multiple reports about irregularities. Mana disturbances around Ash during combat.
His eyes changed color when he called out tactical information. And his tactical awareness was..." She pulled up Helen's reports. "Quote: 'Preternatural. He identified weak points in enemies with precision that suggests enhanced perception beyond normal hunter capabilities."
The silver-eyed S-rank leaned forward. "You think he had a second awakening?"
"We think something happened to Ash Sinclair," Kim said carefully. "Either at the estate three months ago, or during the Manhattan gate. His mana signature is difficult to read. It doesn't register cleanly on our equipment. And multiple team members reported he demonstrated physical strength inconsistent with F-rank classification."
She pulled up more footage from the Manhattan gate's extraction point. Ash is being carried by paramedics, unconscious. Even through the poor quality, you could see something had changed about him. The way he held himself, even unconscious. The subtle muscle definition in his arms that hadn't been there before.
"He's been unconscious for a week," Kim said. "Recovering in our medical facility. When he wakes up, we will get answers."
"A reawakening assessment," one of the coordinators suggested. "Re-test his abilities, see if something's changed."
"Agreed," Kim said. "And we need him and Angela for the Puerto Rico operation."
That got everyone's attention.
"You want to send them into an A-rank gate?" someone asked. "After they barely survived the C-rank?"
"The C-rank that killed an experienced B-rank and had an anomalous boss," Kim countered. "Yes. Angela Sinclair is S-rank and proved her capability. If Ash has awakened again, we can use his abilities to find weaknesses."
The silver-eyed woman spoke up. "I'll go."
Every head turned toward her.
"You?" one of the coordinators asked. "Frost, you're S-rank. We don't typically deploy—"
"If the Corpse Handler is involved, if he's upgrading an A-rank boss, you'll need S-rank support," the woman—Frost—said. Her silver eyes reflected the holographic display's light like mirrors. "Besides, I'm curious about these Sinclair siblings. An S-rank time manipulator and her mysteriously powerful F-rank brother. Sounds interesting."
Kim studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. Frost will lead the operation. Angela and Ash Sinclair will support, pending his reawakening assessment. We'll brief additional team members as needed."
"When do we move?" Frost asked.
"In one week," Kim replied. "Ash needs to wake up and recover. We need time to prepare equipment for the volcanic environment. And we need intelligence on the gate's layout before we commit." She looked around the table. "This operation is classified. The Corpse Handler's existence, the corruption patterns, the anomalous energy readings from Manhattan—all of it stays in this room. If word gets out that something can destabilize gates, it will cause panic."
Murmured agreement circled the table.
"We adjourn in one hour to finalize logistics," Kim said. "Dismissed."
Chairs scraped as people stood, gathering tablets and files. Frost remained seated, silver eyes still fixed on Ash's profile image. Something about him intrigued her. Very few things caught her attention anymore.
Kim noticed. "Something on your mind?"
"Just wondering," Frost said quietly, "what kind of power it takes to nearly tear down a gate from the inside. And what kind of person can hide that power behind an F-rank classification?"
"That's what we need to find out," Kim replied. "Before someone else does."
The hospital room was private. Morning light filtered through the single window, pale and grey. The view outside showed Safe Zone Seven's residential sector: converted apartment buildings, communal gardens where people tried to grow food, children playing in courtyards surrounded by concrete barriers.
It was survival dressed up as life. But it was survival, which was more than most places could claim.
Ash Sinclair opened his eyes slowly. Consciousness returned in gradual layers. The ceiling was white. Sterile. Medical-grade. Fluorescent lights embedded in panels, currently dimmed. The smell hit next, antiseptic, that particular hospital scent between clean and chemical.
He tried to move and immediately regretted it. Every muscle felt like it had been wrung out and left to dry. His chest ached where the Warlord's claws had torn through flesh. His jaw throbbed from the devastating punch that should have killed him.
But he was alive.