She didn't understand his acceptance.
"You're not disappointed? Most awakened individuals dream of being high-rank hunters. Glory, money, fame..."
"Most humans dream of many things they'll never achieve. Dreams are the lies we tell to make existence bearable." He tilted his head. "I prefer reality. And reality says I'm F-Rank. So I'll collect mana stones."
Something flickered across Yuna's face. Not quite pity or even quite curiosity. "You're strange, you know that?"
"I've been told."
"Who are you really, Azrael?"
A fallen angel drowning in contempt for your entire species.
"Nobody important," he said instead. "Just another F-Rank trying to survive."
---
They issued him a license – a bronze tag with his fabricated information and F-Rank designation. They issued him basic equipment: a cheap knife that barely qualified as a weapon, a collection bag for mana stones, and a Guild Association jumpsuit in fluorescent orange.
"So we can find your body if something goes wrong," the equipment clerk said cheerfully.
Azrael added the jumpsuit to the list of things humans created specifically to humiliate their lowest members.
His first assignment came immediately: a D-Rank dungeon that had been cleared three hours ago. His job was to sweep the remaining corridors for dropped loot and low-threat stragglers.
The dungeon entrance was in Gangdong District, manifesting as a shimmering tear in reality behind a convenience store. A bored-looking C-Rank hunter sat guard.
"You the cleanup?" The guard barely glanced up from his phone.
"Apparently."
"Quick in and out. Dungeon's collapsing in two hours. Anything you don't grab gets lost." He waved vaguely at the entrance. "Try not to die. Paperwork's a bitch."
Azrael stepped through the rift.
The sensation was familiar – dimensional boundaries parting, reality flexing to accommodate impossible geometries. He'd crossed between Heaven, Earth, and Hell countless times. This was crude by comparison, a temporary wound in space rather than a permanent gateway.
The dungeon manifested as a cave system, dripping with luminescent fungus. The air stank of sulfur and rot. Demon blood splattered the walls – fresh kills from the clearing team.
Azrael walked deeper, his divine senses cataloging everything the human measurement tools missed.
Residual demonic energy: D-Rank equivalent, fading.
Structural stability: 73% and declining.
Remaining threats: Multiple low-grade entities.
He found the first goblin corpse around the bend. Small thing, barely three feet tall, killed by a clean spear thrust to the skull. Professional work. Yuna's team, perhaps.
Next to it, a mana stone glowed faintly – crystallized demonic essence worth about forty thousand won on the market. He bent to collect it.
"Well, well. What do we have here?"
Azrael didn't turn. He recognized the tone: young, male, insecure.
The specific pitch of someone who needed to assert dominance over anyone they perceived as weaker.
Cattle looking to establish pecking order. How tedious.
Three men emerged from a side passage, their equipment marking them as D-Rank hunters. The one in front, barely twenty with styled hair and designer combat gear, smirked at Azrael's fluorescent jumpsuit.
"F-Rank cleanup crew? Damn, you must've pissed someone off to get this detail."
Azrael pocketed the mana stone and straightened. "The work is assigned randomly."
"Sure it is." The young hunter – his badge read 'Min-Jun Park' – stepped closer. Trying to intimidate with proximity. "Hey, do me a favor. We're running behind schedule and we still need five more mana stones to meet quota. Hand over whatever you've collected."
"No."
Min-Jun blinked. "What did you say?"
"I said no. The stones I collect are logged to my identification. If I turn them in short, I'll be penalized."
"Yeah, but you're F-Rank. The penalty is what, a written warning?" Min-Jun grinned at his companions. "We're D-Rank. Our penalties actually matter. So be a good little janitor and hand them over."
Azrael studied the three men. Min-Jun radiated the specific confidence of someone who'd never faced real consequences. The two behind him were uncertain – followers, not leaders. They'd go along with whatever Min-Jun decided, but their hearts weren't in it.
This is what humanity produces. Bullies and enablers. The strong preying on the weak not from necessity, but boredom.
"The answer remains no," Azrael said calmly.
Min-Jun's smile faded. "Look, I'm trying to be nice about this. Don't make me – "
A shriek echoed through the dungeon. Guttural, inhuman, furious.
All three D-Rank hunters spun toward the sound, weapons raised. Azrael remained still, his divine senses already identifying the threat.
C-Rank demon. Hobgoblin variant. The clearing team had missed one.
It charged from the darkness – seven feet of muscle and rage, wielding a crude club made from bone. Faster than the D-Rank hunters expected. Min-Jun stumbled backward, his expensive equipment suddenly useless against genuine terror.
The hobgoblin swung. Min-Jun raised his sword in a clumsy block. The impact sent him sprawling, his weapon clattering away.
"Fuck! Help me!" Min-Jun scrambled backward as the demon raised its club for a killing blow.
His companions hesitated. Azrael could see the calculation in their eyes: helping meant risking injury. Running meant survival.
They ran.
Min-Jun screamed as the club descended.
Azrael sighed.
He moved.
To the hobgoblin, it must have seemed like teleportation. One moment, the F-Rank human in the ridiculous orange jumpsuit was ten feet away.
The next, his hand was wrapped around the demon's throat.