The attack on the Hunter Association should have shattered the world.
Scissors—one of the most infamous criminal factions in recent history—had struck the very heart of Hunter authority. For days, every broadcast looped the same images: towers split open like broken ribs, Tao flaring across the skyline like lightning caught in glass, intruders branded and dragged away in chains.
And yet—
The aftermath was disturbingly clean.
Not a single Hunter casualty.
Twenty thousand arrests.Five confirmed deaths—every one of them an attacker.
Within a week, the Hunters returned to routine as if the assault had been a particularly loud storm that had already passed. Missions resumed. Exams continued. Paperwork stacked higher than before.
The world decided to move on.
Deep beneath Hunter Association Headquarters, Director Alaric Vane could not.
He stood alone before a prison wall buried beneath thousands of layered paper seals. Each one pulsed faintly with Tao, humming like a restrained heartbeat. They crawled across the stone in overlapping rows—ancient scripture, modern containment, desperation folded into ink.
Alaric was a middle-aged man with sharp, tired eyes and hair the color of sun-faded gold mixed with deep brown, falling loose to his shoulders. It framed his face unevenly, as if he'd long since stopped caring about symmetry. Fine lines cut deep around his mouth—not from age alone, but from years of restraint.
This wall had been reinforced personally.Daily.Obsessively.
Or what should have been a cell.
The shackles lay open.
Empty.
A bead of sweat slid slowly down Alaric's temple.
"…He's gone."
Far away—on an empty stretch of road—
Six black transport trucks thundered forward in perfect formation, engines growling low and steady.
Inside one of them sat a golden-haired man no older than his early twenties. He rested his chin against his knuckles, staring out the window with unfocused, almost bored eyes—as if the world outside simply failed to interest him.
Adam.
The first Tao user.
High above the city, back at Hunter Association HQ—
Akira, Sora, and Gaku were sprawled across the floor of a tower apartment, surrounded by half-empty food wrappers and mission notices lazily scrolling across the walls.
No alarms.No emergencies.Nothing.
Akira groaned, flopping onto his back. "Is this really it? The biggest attack in history and now we're… resting?"
Sora leaned against the wall, arms folded, casual as ever. "C'mon. Resting's nice."
Gaku said nothing. His massive odachi lay beside him, untouched, like it weighed no more than a stick.
The doors slid open.
A boy stepped inside.
Short hair. Bright, oversized jacket. Hands buried in his pockets. His eyes scanned the room once—quick, distant—like he already knew he didn't belong.
Akira stiffened.
Jackson.
He didn't look at Akira. Didn't acknowledge anyone. He crossed the room and dropped onto a bench, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
Alone—even in a room full of Hunters.
Something sour twisted in Akira's chest.
Then—
Smack.
A sharp slap landed squarely between his shoulder blades.
"Yo."
Akira turned to see Hinata grinning down at him.
"Yo," Akira replied, smiling back. "Thanks for helping me back then."
Hinata waved it off. "Nah. That one's on me." His grin faltered, just slightly. "Almost killed you over some weird old guy trying to play me."
Sora raised an eyebrow. "You two know each other?"
Akira scratched his cheek. "Yeah. Uh… he almost killed me. But we're cool now."
Hinata nodded. "Tracked him down before the attack. Talked it out." He exhaled. "Honestly? Thought Scissors would be stronger. We didn't lose a single Hunter."
"That's because they weren't real Scissors," Sora said, straightening. "Rumors say someone made a fake version just to frame them."
Hinata frowned. "Why would anyone do that?"
Sora shrugged. "No idea." She turned her head. "Gaku. Food?"
Gaku was on his feet instantly, odachi swinging over his shoulder as he walked. Sora followed.
Hinata leaned closer to Akira, nodding toward the bench. "See that guy? Jackson. Only person from the exam I couldn't get in touch with. Mysterious type."
Akira frowned. "Why were you trying to contact him?"
Hinata smiled. "After finding out you weren't a murderer, I wanted to make sure nobody else still thought you were. Jackson was the only one I couldn't reach—"
His phone rang.
Hinata glanced at the screen. "Oh. Mr. Kenji."
Akira stiffened.
I forgot to tell him…He swallowed. He probably wouldn't believe me anyway.
Hinata waved. "Catch you later."
As he walked away—
A shadow fell over Akira.
"Accept the fight," a quiet voice said. "And I won't call the cops on you."
Akira cupped his ear. "Huh?"
Jackson stood behind him now, eyes sharp, voice stripped of warmth.
"Accept the fight," he repeated, louder. "And I won't tell anyone you killed that old man."
Akira stared at him.
Then smiled.
"That old man isn't dead."
Jackson staggered back a half-step. Genuine shock flickered across his face.
Akira stood. "But I'll accept your fight. I want to test my strength against you."
Jackson nodded once.
Then walked away.
Moments later, Sora and Gaku returned.
Gaku tossed Akira a bag of food. Sora sat beside him. "What was that about?"
Akira sighed. "He challenged me."
Sora froze. "You just… accepted?"
"Yeah," Akira said quietly. "I'm too weak right now. I wasn't supposed to test myself against him yet."
Gaku spoke, calm but heavy. "Do you know which level?"
Akira blinked. "What?"
Sora groaned, palming her face. "Hunters don't challenge each other for nothing. He's trying to take your spot."
Akira checked his Hunter ID.
Rank: 9,345,294(Up from 10,000,000)
A notification flashed.
Jackson has challenged Akira Yamato to a duel.Location: Level 7, Building 10.
Akira looked up, grinning. "So what do I get if I win?"
Sora smiled thinly. "One request from the loser. Has to be approved."
Akira leaned back. "Then cheer me on."
Sora and Gaku's IDs chimed.
Duel Notification — Please watch for your enjoyment.
Gaku stared at Jackson's name.
"…Why doesn't he have a last name?"
Akira's smile faded.
Neither of them answered.