Knock, knock.
"Mr. Hector, are you awake?"
The voice was muffled through the door, but it was enough to drag Ren out of a shallow, half conscious sleep. He groaned into the pillow, one arm flopping over his face.
"Ah, fuck… I forgot I don't have my phone to set an alarm," he muttered, voice hoarse.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains. The pounding in his skull wasn't a hangover more the lingering fatigue of someone who had been juggling monsters, eldritch domains, and bureaucratic headaches.
"Please give me thirty minutes, Joseph," he called, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I just woke up."
A pause, then Joseph's steady reply. "Okay, but please hurry. We've booked the examination room at fourteen hundred. That's in forty-five minutes."
Ren raked his fingers through his hair and yawned. "Got it."
He moved to the small bathroom, splashing water on his face until his eyes felt less like sandpaper. A quick towel-dry later, he stared at himself in the mirror. Messy hair, faint shadows under the eyes, faintly bloodshot sclera.
Today, of all days, he couldn't afford to look like someone who'd fallen asleep on a bus stop bench.
"I need to keep up the air of professionalism," he told his reflection, running a comb through his hair with deliberate precision. "If I want to beg for a citizen ID and a hunter license, I can't look like I've been living under a bridge."
He tightened his tie, smoothing the knot until it sat perfectly centered, then glanced toward the ceiling. "Hey, System, can you show my status screen?"
The familiar blue overlay blinked into existence, clear and cold.
Status: Ren Hector
Class: Doctor of the Ruin Gospel (Unique)
Domain: Absolute Horror (Embodiment-Class)
Title(s):
C-Rank Hunter
Embodiment of Horror
Core Stats (1 stat point ≈ 1 normal human level):
Strength: 50
Defense: 250
Dexterity: 300
Mana: 250
Stamina: 50
Luck: 20
Potential: ???
Resistances:
Mental Resistance: EX-Rank (immune to almost all fear, mind control, and intimidation)
Poison Resistance: S-Rank (Truth Tablet & toxins fail to affect him)
Disease Resistance: S-Rank (immune to natural and most supernatural diseases)
Core Abilities:
Arm of Tentacle (A-Rank) – Grow 4 eldritch tentacles from back; usable for movement or surgical assistance.
Whisper of Anatomy (A-Rank) – Palm-mouth with microscopic tongues for invasive diagnosis and suture.
Fear of the Unknown (S-Class) – Induces suppression/fear in multiple targets who do not know his true strength; channels 0.00000001% of an Outer God's power.
Hand of the Eldritch Doctor (S-Rank) – Replace head with 10 precise black tentacles capable of atom-level manipulation.
The Body of Pure Horror (Embodiment-Class) – Domain: Absolute Horror. Grants Conceptual Authority, Positive Negation, and Sovereign Dread. No visible monstrous traits; serene appearance is the fear trigger.
Wealth & Resources:
Fear Points: 0
Cash: $0
Clinic: Not yet established (Required for main system quest)
Ren stared at the glowing text for a long moment, jaw tightening. "After all that… I'm still a C-Rank Hunter? What the hell, System?"
The reply came without hesitation.
Host can only get stronger by curing patients. Money is what you receive as a medical fee, and Fear Points will be gained after curing a patient.
He spread his hands in disbelief. "Slaying a god is not curing?"
Slaying a god is not curing.
Ren gestured vaguely at the air. "I cured the world, didn't I? Are you going to pretend that doesn't count?"
The world is not considered a living being. This will be unlocked at a certain level. At present, you can only cure creatures below Demigod Level.
Ren exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering under his breath. "Why is my life so complicated? Fuck…"
The system didn't answer. It never did when the conversation got personal.
Shaking his head, he went back to dressing. The suit fit him well tailored just enough to sharpen his silhouette without looking like he was about to sell overpriced insurance. He checked himself in the mirror one last time. The formal hairstyle worked. Combined with the suit, it made him look less like an eldritch surgeon and more like someone who might plausibly be trusted with a clipboard and pen.
Not bad. Maybe even… handsome.
"Alright," he murmured, straightening his cuffs. "Let's go and face a problem, shall we?"
He crossed the quiet hotel suite, each step clicking against the floor. Outside, faint city noise seeped in the rumble of distant engines, the occasional honk, the hum of air conditioning ducts.
The doorknob was cool under his hand.
When he opened the door, the hall outside smelled faintly of antiseptic and the neutral air freshener that every government-owned building seemed to use. The Bureau's VIP floor had the same generic, polished look as every bureaucratic facility he'd ever seen: beige walls, framed photographs of historical Hunter events, and lighting bright enough to make your skin tone look worse than it was.
Joseph was waiting just a few feet away, glancing at his watch. The man's expression didn't change when he saw Ren though Ren caught the brief flick of his gaze, the almost imperceptible note of approval at the suit.
"You're on time," Joseph said, as if Ren hadn't been given a forty-five-minute warning less than half an hour ago.
"I try to be punctual when the government's holding my future hostage," Ren replied evenly, closing the door behind him.
Joseph's mouth twitched into something close to a smile, but he didn't comment. Instead, he turned and started walking. Ren followed, the quiet sound of their footsteps echoing down the hall.
They passed a pair of Bureau staff carrying thick folders and tablets, murmuring in low voices. A hunter in a worn combat jacket stepped out of the elevator, eyeing Ren with mild curiosity before heading toward another corridor.
Ren kept his posture straight, his movements measured. Today was about passing whatever tests they threw at him without giving anyone a reason to lock him up, deport him, or put him under indefinite observation.
The problem wasn't his strength by all measures, he was far beyond most Hunters in Qintara. The problem was that his strength came from a system no one here would understand, tied to rules that would sound insane if he tried to explain them.
Which meant one thing: play the part, keep the suit clean, and survive the day.
As they stepped into the elevator, Joseph tapped a button for the lower floors. "We'll head straight to the examination room. It's already prepared."
Ren adjusted his tie again, not because it needed it, but because it gave his hands something to do. "Good. The sooner this is over, the better."
The elevator hummed as it descended.
He could feel the faint weight of the system's presence in the back of his mind, quiet but not absent, like a roommate pretending to sleep while eavesdropping. Somewhere beneath that stillness was the knowledge that no matter what happened in the examination room, his real problem hadn't changed.
He still had no clinic.
No money.
No patients.
No way to grow stronger at least, not in the way the system recognized.
And for someone who had once operated on a godlike being with nothing but tentacles, a mouth in his palm, and a stubborn refusal to die, that was… frustrating.
The elevator chimed.
Joseph stepped out first, gesturing for Ren to follow. "This way."
Ren adjusted his cuffs again and walked forward, already bracing himself for whatever came next.