"Did I actually make it out? Yeah, I did."
Leon walked past the stunned checkpoint guard without another word. Blood still stained his clothes from the fight in the chamber. The warrior zombie had already dissolved back into his system, leaving no trace of the massacre below.
As he stepped into the city, the fresh air hit him like a splash of cold water after hours in the dungeon's stale atmosphere. The sounds of life washed over him—merchants hawking their goods, children playing in the side streets, the everyday noise of ordinary people.
Leon pulled his hood up and kept walking. The blood on his gear would draw attention if anyone looked too closely. Four dead ARES hunters meant investigations, questions, and manhunts. It was better to disappear into the crowd and handle his business quietly.
His first stop was three districts away in the warehouse quarter. Jin's Acquisitions occupied a narrow building between a leather worker and a grain merchant. There were no signs or advertisements—just a plain door that opened for the right customer.
Leon knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times.
The door cracked open. Jin's weathered face appeared in the gap, eyes scanning the street behind Leon before settling on his bloodstained clothes.
"Busy day?" Jin's voice held no judgment; blood usually meant profit in his work.
"You could say that."
Jin opened the door wider, and Leon stepped into a cramped room lined with weapons, armor, and artifacts that didn't officially exist. Everything here had a history—usually a violent one.
Leon pulled items from his inventory: Kalden's enhanced gauntlets, Serik's chain fragments, Minseo's throwing knives and stealth cloak, Marsen's fire sword, and an ARES Guild badge.
Jin examined each piece professionally, his fingers tracing the guild insignia, recognizing the craftsmanship and rarity.
"ARES equipment," Jin said, his tone neutral. "Recent acquisition?"
"They weren't using it anymore."
Jin nodded, understanding perfectly. Dead hunters left valuable gear behind, and intelligent scavengers knew how to profit from tragedy.
He spent twenty minutes evaluating the haul, testing enchantments, checking for tracking spells, and calculating black market values based on rarity and risk.
"Two thousand gold," Jin said finally. "Cash. No records."
Leon counted each coin carefully before pocketing the heavy purse. It was enough money to transform his living situation and fund serious equipment upgrades.
"Pleasure doing business," Jin said as Leon headed for the door.
"Always is."
Leon's next destination was the Hunter Association building in the administrative district. The marble steps were crowded with hunters conducting official business, such as license renewals, mission reports, and rank evaluations.
He found a public washroom and cleaned the worst of the blood from his clothes. Fresh bandages covered visible cuts, and a clean shirt from his inventory replaced the torn one. When he emerged, Leon looked like any other hunter seeking advancement.
The rank evaluation office buzzed with nervous energy. Dozens of hunters waited in line, clutching documentation and practice weapons. Most would fail; advancement required more than just wishful thinking.
Leon joined the queue behind a nervous D-Rank warrior who kept checking his gear obsessively. The man's hands shook as he reviewed his qualification papers.
"First time?" Leon asked quietly.
"Second attempt at C-Rank," the warrior replied, his voice cracking. "Failed the combat test last time. The examiner said my technique was sloppy."
Leon nodded sympathetically. Rank advancement was brutal. The Association couldn't afford to promote hunters who would die in higher-tier dungeons.
The line moved slowly. Each evaluation took at least thirty minutes. Leon watched other applicants emerge from testing rooms—some celebrating, others walking away in defeat.
After an hour of waiting, his turn came. The examination room was sterile white, with magical monitoring equipment built into the walls.
"Leon Graves, F-Rank Necromancer," the examiner read from his file. "Requesting advancement to E-Rank. Please display your identification."
Leon showed his ash-gray badge. The examiner's scanner analyzed its authenticity before recording the serial number.
"Demonstration of current capabilities, please."
Leon summoned his Elite Grave Mage. The spectral figure materialized with practiced ease, blue flames flickering in its empty sockets. The examiner's equipment registered the undead's power level and magical density.
"Interesting. Your necromantic control has improved significantly since your initial classification." The examiner made notes on his tablet. "Combat assessment next."
A training dummy rose from the floor, enchanted to test damage output and tactical thinking. Leon directed his zombie through a series of attacks while monitoring spells and tracking their coordination.
The dummy fell apart under sustained assault. Leon's zombie had exceeded E-Rank damage thresholds by comfortable margins.
"Mana pool analysis."
Sensors measured Leon's magical capacity and regeneration rate. Numbers scrolled across displays as the equipment cataloged his advancement.
"Remarkable improvement in such a short timeframe." The examiner's tone carried professional curiosity. "Have you been receiving specialized training?"
"Solo practice. Trial and error."
"Effective methods, apparently." The examiner stamped Leon's paperwork with official seals. "Congratulations. You've qualified for E-Rank status."
Leon accepted his new badge—iron gray instead of ash. The upgrade felt heavier in his palm, weighted with increased authority and responsibility.
"Your updated license will be processed within forty-eight hours. Welcome to E-Rank, Hunter Graves."
Leon left the building with quiet satisfaction. From F to E in less than a month—faster than most hunters managed in years of dedicated effort.
Meanwhile, across the city in the ARES Guild headquarters, Tobias Virell sat behind a grand mahogany desk. His office occupied the building's top floor, with windows offering commanding views of the commercial district.
Rich tapestries covered the walls, depicting guild victories and conquered dungeons. Trophy weapons from fallen enemies decorated marble stands, designed to project power and intimidate visitors.
A messenger entered, his footsteps muffled by the expensive carpet. He bowed deeply before approaching the desk.
"Sir, your brother hasn't returned from his dungeon clearing."
Tobias's expression remained unchanged. His golden pen continued tapping against the leather-bound reports in a steady rhythm: tap, tap, tap.
"How long overdue?"
"Six hours past scheduled extraction, sir. His team was investigating the Serpent's Den for unauthorized activity."
Tobias's hand stilled. Marsen had taken three experienced hunters on what should have been routine reconnaissance. Delays usually meant complications.
"Find out what happened. I want confirmation."
The guild commander stepped forward from his position by the window. Marcus Steele had served the guild for fifteen years, and his scarred armor told stories of battles he had survived.
"Investigation is already underway, sir. No witnesses have been identified yet."
Tobias's hand curled into a fist, the golden pen bending slightly under pressure from his enhanced grip.
"Nobody touches my family and lives."
His voice carried the cold certainty of someone accustomed to making examples of enemies. The ARES Guild's reputation was built on swift, brutal retaliation against anyone threatening their interests.
"Understood, sir. I'll personally oversee the investigation."
The messenger backed away toward the door, recognizing the dangerous shift in atmosphere. Tobias's patience had limits, and wise subordinates knew not to test them.
Commander Steele remained at attention as the messenger departed. His weathered face showed no emotion, but decades of service had taught him to read his guild leader's moods.
Tobias turned to stare out his office window. The city sprawled below, filled with millions of people who lived and died according to forces beyond their control.
One of them had killed his brother. Soon, that person would learn the price of crossing the ARES Guild.
Leon walked the city streets with his new E-Rank badge secure in his pocket. The heavy purse of gold coins shifted against his hip with each step. Two thousand gold represented more wealth than his family had seen in years.
The afternoon crowd flowed around him—merchants closing daily business, workers heading home, children playing games in market squares. Normal people living everyday lives, unaware of the violence that shaped their world.
Leon kept his head down, observing without drawing attention. The city felt different now that he carried real power and resources. Options that hadn't existed before suddenly seemed possible.
Equipment upgrades. Better housing. Advanced training materials. Maybe even specialized education for his enhanced abilities.
But first, he needed to avoid the consequences of his actions. Four dead guild hunters would trigger investigations. The ARES Guild commanded respect through fear and reputation. They wouldn't ignore the loss of Tobias Virell's brother.
Leon passed a news board where fresh notices were posted—wanted posters for criminals, missing person reports, and standard urban announcements.
He paused to read the latest additions, looking for any mention of the missing hunters. Nothing yet, but that would change once their bodies were discovered.
His route took him through the residential quarter where his mother lived. Normal families occupied modest apartments, and their concerns were limited to rent payments and neighborhood gossip.
Leon envied their simplicity. Power brought opportunities, but also enemies and responsibilities that never ended.
He reached his building as evening shadows lengthened across the narrow streets. The familiar climb to the third floor felt different with a purse full of gold and strength that could crack stone.
His small room waited unchanged—narrow bed, single window, wooden crate containing his few possessions. But now these limitations felt temporary rather than permanent.
Leon sat on his bed and emptied the coin purse onto the threadbare blankets. Gold pieces caught the lamplight, creating patterns of wealth and possibility.
He counted carefully, organizing coins by denomination and condition. Two thousand exactly. Enough to upgrade everything about his current situation.
Leon held his new badge up to the light. Iron gray instead of ash. E-Rank carried privileges that F-Rank hunters could only dream about.
Better mission assignments, access to restricted dungeons, and equipment discounts at registered dealers are minor improvements that have accumulated into significant advantages.
But this was only the beginning. E-Rank was still the bottom tier among serious hunters. Real power required advancement into D-Rank and beyond.
Leon pocketed the coins and badge, his mind already working on improvement strategies—training regimens, equipment priorities, alliance possibilities.
He leaned back against his thin pillow, his exhaustion finally catching up with him after the day's violence and advancement.
"E-Rank," he said quietly to the empty room. "Next stop—D."