The C-rank gate looked harmless from the outside. Just cracked walls, faint mist, and the stench of moss. Inside, though, it was another world — endless tunnels lined with bones.
Seven people walked through. Six hunters armed and armored, and one man behind them carrying bags.
Ramiel.
Twenty-three years old. Black hair messy, coat too long, eyes sharper than anyone realized.
"Move faster, mule," said Korin, a broad man with fire flickering across his knuckles. He smirked. "Or the beast will chew you before we even find it."
Another woman — slim, blonde, with cold eyes — tapped her glowing bowstring. Lira, light arrows forming on command. "He shouldn't even be here. Waste of space."
Ramiel didn't answer. He adjusted the straps digging into his shoulders.
Three years since I woke in this fragile body. Three years, and I'm still treated like a pack animal. Pathetic… though not surprising.
The group pushed deeper until the cavern widened. There, sleeping against jagged stone, was a monster. Black hide, horns curled like blades, each breath rattling the walls.
"This is it," Korin whispered, grinning. "Perfect."
"Drop the gear," Lira ordered.
Ramiel looked at them. "You're leaving me here?"
"Think of it as… a contribution," said Fenn, a thin man whose daggers dripped poison.
The others laughed. Daro and Vey, two brothers with frost running across their swords, gave him a mock salute. Marek, the last of them, hid behind an earthen shield spell and chuckled nervously.
One by one, they turned and left, their laughter echoing until it faded into silence.
Ramiel stood alone before the beast.
He stared up at it. The size. The chains. The stench of brimstone. His jaw tightened.
This isn't just a Demon Beast. No… the rhythm of its breath, the weight of its aura… Tyrant.
The beast stirred. Its eyes opened — molten gold and shadow.
The cavern shook.
Ramiel didn't move. Instead, he spoke softly in an ancient tongue, words heavy with power.
The Tyrant froze. Its rage dimmed. Slowly, it lowered its head, eyes shutting again. Sleep returned.
Ramiel exhaled through his nose.
Supernaturals were never saints, but they were honest in their cruelty. Humans? They wrap knives in smiles, then wonder why their hands are bloody.
Minutes later, footsteps returned. The hunters entered, chewing meat, laughing.
"You're alive?" Korin frowned.
Ramiel gave a small shrug. "Disappointed?"
Before they could answer, the Tyrant's eyes opened again — wide, furious.
The chains snapped like twigs.
Its roar shook the cavern.
Korin panicked first, blasting fireballs. The Tyrant crushed him with one swipe, flames scattering like sparks from a dying torch. This couldn't be happening, this was a C-rank gate?
Lira loosed three arrows of light. They bounced harmlessly off the beast's hide. She screamed as it snatched her up in its jaws, the glow fading as her body was torn apart.
The brothers Daro and Vey rushed in together, frost coating their blades. They left shallow cuts across the Tyrant's legs before its tail smashed into them, breaking their spines against the wall.
Fenn tried to vanish into the shadows, dagger ready for a sneak attack. He never got the chance — one claw split him in two mid-step.
Marek raised his shield of stone, chanting frantically. The Tyrant stomped once, shattering the spell, and then stomped again — leaving only a broken corpse beneath its foot.
Silence. Six hunters dead in less than a minute.
Ramiel hadn't moved from his spot. He just watched, eyes calm.
They thought me weak. Funny. The beast showed them what weakness truly is.
The Tyrant turned toward him. Its chest rose, breath shaking the air.
Ramiel met its gaze. Then he spoke again in the forgotten tongue.
The beast trembled, then howled in fear, something in the language Ramiel spoke defied logic. It clawed open the air itself, tearing a black portal. With a final glance at Ramiel, it hurled itself inside and vanished.
Ramiel fell into a deep thought
Ramiel found it illogical for a C-rank gate to house a Tryant. Something like that shouldn't even exist here. A Tryant was far above a Demon Beast in the chain and sat just below a Devil. They were living disasters — thick-skinned, resilient, and capable of wiping out entire squads. Even large B-rank teams would struggle to bring one down.
That meant one of two things: either the gate detector was flawed… or someone had tampered with the reading on purpose. C-rank? Impossible. The weight of that beast's presence had screamed higher.
Ramiel's mind lined things up neatly. There were six main tiers of demons — Goblin, Demon, Demon Beast, Tryant, Devil, Sin. Above those sat the true nightmares: the Princes of Hell, Dukes and the Cadre. Hunters, on the other hand, were measured differently. E to D were common, cannon fodder at best. C was average. B was already respected. A meant you were dangerously strong. AA and AAA stood above that — rare and super rare. But S-rank…
S-rank hunters weren't just rare. They were myths. The kind of people entire nations watched, because they alone could stand toe-to-toe with the higher demons.
If there had been a Tryant here, then the gate wasn't C-rank at all. It was closer to an A. Which explained why the vehicles were waiting outside. The higher-ups must have caught the truth and sent reinforcements.
Ramiel sighed quietly. Humans had called him weak all his life in this new skin, but here he was, standing alive where six "hunters" had perished.
"Figures," he muttered. "The world's still just as blind"
The gate collapsed, dissolving into dust.
Ramiel walked out alone holding 'his' spoils. Boots crunching over rubble, coat swaying, not a trace of panic in his step.
Outside, black SUVs and armored trucks circled the area. The insignia of different Shadow Hunter Organizations shone under flashing lights. Soldiers and hunters with rifles and aura detectors surrounded him, all eyes locked on the lone survivor.