Portals didn't just appear. They split the sky open like scars on the world's skin—bleeding monsters and miracles in equal measure.
It began few years ago. A shimmer in the air, a flicker of unreality, and suddenly humanity stood face to face with the impossible. And when the first hunter awakened, governments fell quiet… and then fell in line.
From S-Rank gods to E-Rank errand boys, hunters became the new currency of power.
Ethan Cross was the latter.
He tightened his worn sneakers, the left one still squeaking faintly with each step. The morning air was crisp, tinted with the scent of dust and exhaust. He turned toward the small balcony where his aunt stood, arms crossed in her faded apron, holding back the worry in her eyes.
"Don't die," she said.
He smirked. "I'll try not to."
From inside the apartment, Lia's voice chimed, soft and sweet, "Good luck, Ethan!"
"Thanks," he called back, his grin fading the moment he turned his back.
It wasn't the danger that made his heart race. It was the weight of walking into another room full of strangers.
The group had accepted him faster than he'd expected—but it would've been easier if he was at least a C-Rank. Much easier if he were an S-Rank.
In a world remade by awakenings, power wasn't everything. It was the only thing.
The abandoned factory stood like a skeleton of industry. Broken glass littered the ground like fallen stars. The portal shimmered ahead—oval, liquid, unnatural.
A man in a long coat stood with his arms folded, steel-gray eyes tracking Ethan as he approached.
"Ethan Cross?"
"Yes, sir."
The man gave a nod, extending a calloused hand. "Good. I'm Cain Mercer. You're on time. I respect that."
Ethan shook his hand, trying not to show the tremble in his fingers. "Thank you… for accepting me."
"You've got potential," Cain said simply, then turned his back and walked toward the others.
Eight hunters stood in a loose circle, their conversation dimming the moment they saw him. They were older, tougher, and clearly more experienced. Most wore lightweight armor and confident expressions. Their eyes flicked to Cain, then back to Ethan.
"This him?" one asked, arms crossed.
Cain nodded. "New blood. Ethan Cross. Treat him like family."
There was a pause. Then, one by one, they began to speak.
"I'm Freya," said a tall woman with twin daggers. "Don't freeze up in battle, kid."
"Name's Holt," grunted a bearded man with arms like tree trunks. "Stick close, don't die."
"Vic," said a quiet man with sharp eyes. "And you're our little brother now."
The others followed—Milo, Daren, Lune, Kara, and Jin. Each with their own quirks, their own weapons, their own scars. But their smiles were real.
He hadn't expected that.
Together, they turned toward the portal. With a final nod from Cain, they stepped through.
The building was a monolith of mirrored glass—sixty-three stories high, rising from the city like a blade.
Inside, the top floor held a long obsidian table. At its head sat Chairman Elias Rourke, his expression unreadable, his fingers steepled.
Nine others occupied the table. Some in suits. Others in hunter armor. The tension was thick.
"The Global Hunter Alliance," Rourke said, voice smooth and sharp, "is formalizing."
An international super-organization. Privately funded. Politically untouchable. It had been brewing behind the scenes for years.
"They've requested two of our S-Ranks."
"Requested?" Marcus Vance, a veteran hunter with a military jawline and a scar beneath his left eye, leaned forward. "Or demanded?"
"A bit of both," Rourke replied. "We still choose which."
A holo-display flared to life, listing nine names.
"Luther Brandt," someone read. "Insane destructive power, zero leadership skills."
"Keiko Tanaka—perfect control, limited physical endurance."
The strengths. The flaws. The sins behind the glory.
"Why are we even doing this?" Marcus demanded. "We spent years building these assets. We don't just hand them over like party favors."
Rourke's gaze cut through him. "Because the Alliance isn't just a collection of countries. It's becoming the power above all nations. If we don't feed it, we'll be swallowed by it."
A silence fell.
Rourke continued. "We give them Luther and Keiko. They're strong, but… not irreplaceable. Not strategic thinkers. Not leaders."
"And if they ask for more?" Marcus asked.
"Then we renegotiate from a seat at the table, not from the ground floor."
Marcus sat back, scowling—but he said nothing more.
Rourke's eyes lingered on the glowing map of the world, dotted with portal outbreaks.
The game had changed.
And this time, the board was global.
The portal opened into chaos.
Shrill screeches echoed off rusted walls and moldy concrete. The dungeon was crawling with goblins—dozens of them. Green-skinned, knife-wielding, wide-eyed savages that moved with twitchy, manic energy.
Holt didn't flinch.
He drove his fist into one goblin's chest, cracking through its ribs with a wet, sickening crunch. Another lunged from behind, silent and fast. Holt turned mid-motion, fist already rising—
Boom.
The creature's head exploded like a melon under pressure. Its body dropped before it even realized it had died.
Green blood coated Holt's forearms like war paint.
"Two for one," he muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Freya spun into the fray like a cyclone. Her twin daggers flashed like silver lightning—one piercing a goblin's throat, the other slicing through its stomach as she twisted behind it. She moved with ruthless grace, stepping between bodies like she was dancing.
Vic stood back, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as the battle unfolded.
"I don't even need to use my abilities," he said coolly, turning his head over his shoulder.
Ethan stood behind him, wide-eyed and breath held.
"As long as you stay behind me, nothing's gonna happen to you."
A sound—a sharp screech.
Ethan turned just in time to see a goblin mid-air, dagger aimed straight for his chest. Its eyes glowed with a feral hunger.
Then—
Thwip.
A green blade shot through the air and stabbed into the goblin's skull—clean, surgical, dead-center. The creature dropped limp at Ethan's feet, still twitching.
Ethan looked up.
Cain stood ten feet away, arm extended, smoke trailing from his glowing gauntlet. He didn't blink.
Without breaking stride, he approached the final goblin—a massive one, nearly six feet tall, snarling with two curved blades. It charged.
Cain stepped forward, sword flashing once.
The goblin's body split clean in half.
As it fell, a faint blue shimmer crackled around Cain's body. A translucent barrier—barely visible—flickered once, then dissolved into his skin like mist absorbed by flesh.
Silence.
Then the clapping began.
"Nice work!" Freya called, sliding her daggers back into place.
Holt raised a green-smeared hand in triumph. "Quick and clean!"
Milo and Kara fist-bumped. Lune laughed. Daren gave Ethan a quick thumbs-up.
The tension evaporated into relief. The team was alive. Victorious. Together.
But Ethan didn't clap.
He stood there, surrounded by the smell of blood and smoke, staring at Cain—the man who didn't hesitate, didn't miss, didn't even blink.
There was something beneath the surface.
Something Ethan couldn't name yet.
Power. Control. Precision.
And for the first time, standing among seasoned hunters, Ethan didn't just want to survive.
He wanted to be like that