A polite cough cut through the room, redirecting every eye after Master Lu's booming laugh.
Ren turned toward the source.
The man who entered looked like he belonged at a royal fundraiser for disaster relief—tailored navy suit with thin gold piping along the seams, black gloves that fit snug around his hands. His posture had the easy grace of someone used to mingling with kings and ministers, the kind who could hold a glass of wine and a conversation while orchestrating political assassinations in the background.
But as Ren's gaze dropped to the gloves, something in him shifted.
It wasn't just observation. The Body of Pure Horror stirred, sending an instinctive signal sharp enough to raise the hairs on his arms. The sensation was the same as locking eyes with prey that didn't know it was being hunted, an instinctive recognition born from something that sat at the pinnacle of the horror spectrum. His very nature identified the gloves as wrong. Not crafted leather. Not mere clothing. Alive.
And worse they were alive in a way his instincts categorized as one of us.
Hah, look at this guy acting all innocent, Ren thought. Perfect smile, perfect suit, perfect handshake… then you notice the faint pulse under those gloves and realize they're made from something that breathes.
The man's smile widened as he approached, closing the distance with the confidence of someone who had never once been denied an audience.
"My name is Elias Thorne," he said, offering his gloved hand. "Bio Alchemist. Myth Rank. Guild Master of the Wing of Freedom. I build life… and unmake it… as needed."
Ren hesitated, every fiber of his body telling him to recoil, but he took the hand anyway. The contact was revolting. The glove's surface shifted ever so slightly, the faintest ripple of something living beneath the material.
Ugh. I want to kill this glove. It's touching me. Disgusting.
"Ren Hector," he replied evenly. "Brother of Lu Changcheng."
Elias glanced at the Daoist cultivator beside them, and the two shared a brief, knowing laugh.
Then Elias let go.
And the glove died.
Not tore. Not fell apart. Died.
It crumbled into fine gray dust between Elias's fingers, the particles falling to the titanium floor in a small, lifeless heap.
Elias crouched, sifting the dust through his other hand, confusion etched into his face. "Huh. Why did it just die out of nowhere?"
Ren's expression stayed neutral, but the truth was already clear in his mind.
The Body of Pure Horror
Domain: Absolute Horror
Effect: Conceptual Authority, Positive Negation, Horror Sovereign
It wasn't a conscious skill use. He had simply thought about killing it, and the power had obeyed. A weapon of conceptual dominance, capable of erasing anything tied to the horror genre, stripping it of existence without effort.
How amusing, Ren thought, watching Elias dust off his hands and straighten his jacket.
Before Elias could press the matter, a sharp clap detonated in the center of the room. The sound ricocheted off the titanium walls, carrying a physical weight that silenced every side conversation.
Evan stood there, hands falling back to his sides. "Everyone," he said, voice carrying the command of someone who expected obedience, "may I have your attention. We will proceed with the evaluation of Mr. Hector's abilities now."
Veyra tilted her head, shadows curling lazily around her ankles. "Don't we need to wait for that uptight fucker?" she asked, irritation dripping from every word.
"This is not the Knight of Justice Guild," Evan replied, tone flat but firm. "We don't play by their rules here. If they're late, we proceed without them."
"Well said," Elias remarked at the same time Veyra did, the accidental unison making them glance at each other with faintly amused grins.
The amusement didn't last.
A voice, colder than steel, came from the doorway. "Huh. To think the guild masters of this nation have stooped so low as to badmouth their peers."
The man who entered looked like he had stepped straight from a cathedral battlefield. His armor was silver-and-white plate, engraved with intricate scales and bands of divine script that shimmered faintly with mana. A deep crimson tabard with gold trim draped over him, bearing the symbol of balanced scales encircled by a radiant halo. Snow-white hair was cropped short and neat, matched by a well-trimmed beard.
But it was his eyes that dominated the room, piercing gold, almost metallic, that gave the impression they could weigh a person's soul and find it wanting.
Veyra's lip curled. "So our final guest has decided to arrive late."
"I don't answer to you, rat," he said without turning his head, his voice thick with contempt.
Veyra's shadows twitched upward like smoke drawn to flame. "The fuck did you just say to me…"
"Okay, okay, play nice," Evan cut in, stepping forward before either could escalate. "We're here to evaluate Mr. Hector, not fight each other."
He gestured toward Ren. "Mr. Hector, this is Sir Armand Claymoor. Judicator of the Divine Scale. Myth Rank. Leader of the Knight of Justice Guild."
Ren gave a polite nod. "An honor."
Armand didn't even bother returning it. "What a waste of time," he said, scanning Ren with an expression that might as well have been a checklist of reasons not to care. "A newly emerged Hunter whose rank isn't confirmed. Why am I here?"
"Don't be like that, Sir Armand," Evan replied, tone still even. "He may have the potential to be S-Rank."
"Chi." The man clicked his tongue, an audible punctuation of dismissal.
Ren felt his jaw tighten, but he didn't rise to it. If Armand thought he was a waste of time now, all the better. Let him think that. The exam would settle the score.
Evan looked around the room, making eye contact with each guild master in turn. "Alright, everyone. Let's proceed to the exam."
Veyra's shadows settled back into place, though her golden eyes stayed locked on Armand with a predator's patience. Elias flexed his now bare hand, the corners of his mouth twitching in something between annoyance and curiosity. Master Lu stood quietly, hands folded behind his back, his expression unreadable but his attention fixed firmly on Ren.
And Armand? Armand didn't bother hiding his boredom. His gaze swept the room once, then landed on Ren again, faintly amused, like a man indulging a street magician before walking away.
Ren adjusted his tie, meeting that golden gaze without flinching. "Let's get on with it."