Inside the Hunter Association Headquarters, Torres strode through the corridor, his grip tightening on the thick folder in his hands. His footsteps echoed against the polished marble floors, his expression unreadable as he approached a large office door.
Outside the room, he paused briefly. He had read the report multiple times—each detail etched into his mind, each information only deepening his sense of unease. Still, protocol had to be followed.
He knocked firmly.
*Knock. Knock.*
"Come in."
Torres pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the room, immediately greeted by the sight of his superior seated behind a grand mahogany desk.
The man was in his mid-forties—his black hair neatly combed back, a thick mustache framing his sharp features. His presence alone commanded attention, the kind that made others instinctively straighten their posture.
Torres gave a curt nod before approaching and handing over the file.
His superior accepted it with one hand, briefly glancing at the cover before shifting his sharp gaze toward Torres. "What is this?"
"The report regarding the "Raven incident", sir," Torres answered, his tone professional yet firm.
A brow arched slightly as the man flipped open the first few pages. "Raven? Who's that?"
Torres remained steady. "He's the "victim" of the unexplainable event that occurred three days after the official "monster clearance declaration" in Barangay Mendez."
The superior's eyes scanned the documents, his expression calm—until his gaze lingered on a particular section.
A deep frown formed.
Minutes passed in silence as he read through the report, absorbing its contents.
Finally, he set the file down and folded his hands together. His sharp gaze met Torres'.
"Torres… is everything here accurate?"
Torres nodded. "Yes, sir. The agents monitoring him have verified every detail. This marks the "third day of observation", and the subject's behavior remains unchanged."
The superior exhaled through his nose before picking up the report again. His fingers tapped against the desk as he scanned another section.
"This Raven… despite suffering "severe injuries… insists on "working out" daily? Push-ups? Squats? Even with hospital staff trying to stop him?"
"Yes, sir." Torres maintained his professional demeanor. "And itbseems it's not because he enjoys it—his expressions make that clear. His wounds reopen every time he moves, and blood seeps through his bandages. If not for his "awakened physique", he'd be dead by now."
The supervisor leaned back slightly, contemplating.
"It's reckless," he muttered.
Torres agreed. "Considering the severity of his injuries, a mere "push-up" is enough to tear his wounds open. His condition isn't just superficial—some wounds even reach his organs."
A moment of heavy silence followed. Then—
"Has he been assessed for psychological instability?"
Torres immediately shook his head. "No signs of instability, sir. The tests indicate he's mentally sound."
The superior narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingers drumming against the wood.
Torres hesitated before voicing his own thoughts.
"Perhaps… he believes that "pushing himself like this will make him stronger"."
The superior's frown deepened.
"That kind of thinking is flawed," he stated, his voice sharp. "Awakened individuals do not grow stronger through training. Their power is fixed unless they undergo reawakening, which is as rare as winning the lottery."
Torres exhaled. "Yes, sir. But some hunters—particularly the lower-ranked ones—refuse to accept that reality. The desire for more strength… is hard to ignore."
His superior remained silent, as if weighing his words carefully.
Then, a shift in his tone.
"Torres," he said, "what is your personal assessment of Raven?"
Torres inhaled slightly. "He's cautious and calculated, sir. But something about him feels… off."
The superior's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
Torres took a measured breath before continuing.
"In my previous interactions with him, he seemed more concerned about the aftermath of his incident rather than the incident itself."
The superior's brow furrowed slightly.
"He wasn't reacting like an ordinary victim," Torres continued. "It felt as though he was more focused on controlling information rather than seeking justice."
The superior leaned back, his fingers tracing slow circles against his desk.
"He's hiding something," Torres added. "That much is clear."
A pause. Then—
"What about his strength?"
Torres answered without hesitation. "His magical energy is pitiful, sir. Compared to ranked hunters, he's far below average—even among the weakest of them."
His superior pondered this for a moment before speaking again.
"So, in your opinion, he might be "training", thinking it will lead to growth?"
Torres hesitated before responding. "It's possible, sir. This mindset isn't uncommon among low-ranked hunters."
The superior tapped the desk in thought. Then, after a long pause, he issued a firm order.
"Prepare an official statement. Declare that Raven's injuries were "self-inflicted"—not caused by monsters or an unknown assailant."
Torres stiffened. "Sir, the public won't believe that."
"They don't need to believe it," his superior replied smoothly. "What matters is Raven's reaction."
Torres exhaled, feeling the weight of the decision.
Raven's silence had already harmed the Association's credibility. If he refused to clarify, then the Association had every right to protect its reputation.
"Raven is an ordinary citizen," his superior continued. "If he wants us to leave him alone, so be it. But if he contradicts our statement, then his incident might not have been an accident—it might have been intentional."
Torres understood the implications. The Association had previously declared the area safe—yet Raven was found severely injured shortly after. If this continued, their credibility would crumble.
"This isn't about blaming Raven," his superior clarified. "It's about defending our integrity. If he refuses to cooperate, then we won't bother with him further—but we won't let this damage us any further."
A brief silence. Then—
"Report Raven's actions to me immediately."
Torres straightened and nodded firmly. "Understood, sir."
With that, he bowed slightly before exiting the office, his mind already preparing the official statement.
...
Later that day.
Dela Cruz Hospital.
The quiet hum of medical machines filled the space as Raven stirred awake. "02:00 AM."
Three days in, and the routine still wasn't second nature. His body had adjusted, but the act of waking at this hour always felt abrupt—like being pulled from sleep before he was ready. He ran a hand down his face, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes before shifting upright. "Another night, another quest."
Pushing himself off the mattress, he lowered onto the floor, moving through the motions. "Push-ups. Sit-ups. Pull-ups. Squats." He focused just enough to complete them, wiping the sweat from his brow before straightening.
The last task—the run.
He turned toward the door. The tricky part. Sneaking out wasn't something he had mastered, just something he had learned to do well enough. His first attempt had been a mess—too rushed, too careless. He had almost been caught. Since then, he had adjusted.
Cracking the door open, he scanned the hallway.
The soft glow of overhead lights illuminated the familiar obstacles—a security guard by the desk, posture slack with fatigue, his chin resting against his chest, eyes closed. A reporter shuffling through notes, barely awake, his hand sluggishly scrawling something onto paper before pausing, pen slipping from his fingers.
Raven exhaled slowly.
He stepped forward, keeping his movements deliberate, calculated. His hospital gown whispered against the air as he eased his way across the corridor. The guard remained still, lost to sleep, his breath slow and steady. The reporter shifted slightly, blinking drowsily at his notes, his movements sluggish, unfocused—exhaustion tugging at him, but not fully pulling him under.
'Nothing. Keep moving.'
He edged forward, passing the reporter as the man leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes with a tired sigh. Too groggy to notice anything unusual.
Then—a mistake.
His heel scuffed against the tile, barely audible but still a sound.
The reporter stirred again, blinking, his gaze sweeping lazily over the hallway.
Raven's fingers curled slightly, a quiet pulse of tension running through him.
A few seconds passed—too long.
The man squinted at his notes, sighed, and leaned back against his chair, shifting into a more comfortable position.
Raven released a slow breath. 'Lucky.'
Taking his time, he resumed his approach, ensuring each step was smoother than the last. When he finally reached the exit, the night air greeted him—cool, refreshing, untouched.
The parking lot stretched before him, shadows pooling beneath streetlights.
He took a deep breath and began.
His strides were firm, his breathing steady. The cool air helped maintain his pace, though exertion built gradually beneath his skin. His legs carried him forward with ease, the rhythm settling into something natural.
Lap after lap, his body worked efficiently, his breaths deep but controlled. A thin layer of sweat gathered at his skin, his hospital gown clinging slightly.
By the final stretch, his movements had slowed just enough for him to feel the effort—not overwhelming, just present. His breathing had deepened, and sweat dripped from his face, trailing down his neck.
Then—the familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[ Ding! Daily Quest Completed!]
[ Ding! You have received +3 Allocatable Points.]
[ Ding! You have received +1 Mana Crystal [E].]
[ Ding! Mana Crystal [E] has been sent directly to Inventory.]
Raven slowed to a stop, pressing his hands against his knees as he caught his breath. 'Not too bad.' His heart was still beating strong, his body warm with effort, but the fatigue wasn't lingering—it was manageable, expected.
The night air cooled his skin as he straightened, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. "Now for the points."
He pulled up his system interface, his eyes scanning the screen floating before him. Three Allocatable Points.
He tapped them in quickly—two into Strength, one into Vitality.
[ Name: Raven Alarcon ]
Age: 23
Title: N/A
Job: N/A
---
Health: .../375 » 889/1,150
Mana: .../10 » 85/85
Fatigue: 38%
Level: 01 » 06
---
Stats:
Strength: 17 » 25
Agility: 16 » 25
Vitality: 20 » 30
Intelligence: 10 » 15
Sense: 10 » 18
Allocatable Points: 0
---
Skills:
- Mana Coating (D).
- Pain Tolerance (E).
- Minor Recovery Enhancement (D).
---
A subtle shift followed. His muscles felt denser, his breathing a bit fuller—nothing dramatic, but noticeable enough.
Satisfied, he exhaled and turned back toward the hospital.
Moving through the halls again took the same care as before. The security guard remained asleep, his posture unchanged. The reporter was still sluggishly awake, staring blankly at his papers as if trying to fight off exhaustion but losing the battle.
Once inside his room, Raven closed the door behind him, letting out a breath as he wiped the lingering sweat from his brow.
He glanced toward the window, eyes settling on the sky. It was still dark, but just a little lighter than before—that quiet indication of dawn inching closer, though still distant.
The thought lingered briefly before he pushed it aside and eased onto the bed.
His muscles welcomed the comfort of the mattress, warmth still pulsing beneath his skin. His body had worked hard, but the effort wasn't unpleasant—just another piece of his routine.
He adjusted his position, sinking deeper into the sheets, waiting until sleep found him once more.