Takumi's boots hit the wet asphalt outside the Hunter barracks, the city's neon veins glowing faintly in the drizzle. Rain slicked streets reflected flickering streetlights, blurred by the mist curling from sewers and broken pipelines. A low hum of generators and distant sirens mixed with the occasional crackle of emergency broadcast speakers.
He pulled the hood of his jacket tighter. The System interface on his wrist throbbed faintly, a dull pulse that synced with his heartbeat. It was quiet now, almost… patient. Waiting.
The briefing had been blunt. Temporary Unit 47—his first mission. Low-risk rift in the industrial district. Feral-tier Demon presence confirmed. Clean in, clean out. 90 minutes estimated.
Easy, according to everyone else.
Takumi didn't feel easy.
---
By the time his transport dropped the unit near the rift, the rain had eased to a misty drizzle. The rift itself was a distortion in the alley between two abandoned warehouses, a faint purple haze bubbling along the cracked concrete.
"Stay sharp," Ryo's voice said, clipped and precise. He led the unit with the confidence of someone who'd survived far longer than he should have. Takumi hung back, watching, measuring.
The first Demon appeared almost immediately. Small, hunched, its body covered in blackened fur streaked with glowing red veins. It hissed, snapping its fanged mouth as it darted toward the team.
Takumi's System flared a soft alert. Threat Detected — Feral Tier.
The others reacted instinctively. The shield specialist planted her barrier, the ranged support fired compressed mana rounds, and the healer muttered low chants, weaving protective glyphs.
Takumi hesitated for the fraction of a second that could have killed him. Then he acted.
He remembered the drill: anticipate, exploit, survive.
A pivot, a low roll, and he sidestepped the Demon's lunge. His hand found a discarded pipe on the ground. Improvised, brutal, effective. He swung, connecting with the creature's side. The sound was wet, metallic. The Demon shrieked, recoiling, but not down.
Something in Takumi noticed it—its eyes. They glowed faintly red, but for a split second, he could have sworn it… recognized him.
He shook the thought off. Feral Demons didn't recognize anything.
---
The fight escalated. One by one, Takumi and the team drove the creatures back toward the rift. The small alley became a cage of flashes, roars, and shouts. Takumi's System chimed with every action: damage dealt, threat response, efficiency rating. He ignored most of it, letting muscle memory guide him.
Still, the faint thrum under his skin grew stronger. Not fear. Not excitement. Something else—like a pulse of awareness he couldn't place. He shook it off, blaming exhaustion.
The team cornered the last of the Feral Demons. It lunged, more desperate than the others, and in that moment, Takumi's world slowed. He felt—more than saw—the trajectory of its movement. His hands moved on their own, gripping the Chimera Dagger he had been assigned during training.
The dagger twisted in his grip, chain extending fluidly, wrapping around the Demon's legs and yanking it off balance. The creature fell, limbs bent unnaturally, then froze as the blade struck.
Takumi exhaled. Nothing had been clean. Nothing had been easy. But it was done.
---
Ryo clapped once, sharp. "Not bad. You're fast. Keep it up."
Fast. Takumi didn't feel fast. He felt tired, shaky, alive. The adrenaline made his vision sharp, his thoughts oddly clear. But there was a shadow in that clarity—a quiet whisper at the edge of perception.
He glanced at the reflection in a puddle, expecting only the rain-blurred city and himself. For an instant, the reflection moved independently, tilting its head as if examining him. The ripple vanished. He shook his head. Too tired. Don't think like that.
The mission debrief back at the barracks was short. Feral-tier clean-up: confirmed. Minor injuries: reported. Unit efficiency: 82%.
Takumi logged himself quietly. His vitals were normal. Stress levels elevated but stable. Mana output slightly higher than baseline.
He didn't mention the reflection. He didn't mention the pulse. He didn't mention anything that would make him sound insane. Not yet.
---
The next mission arrived faster than he expected. D-rank rift, Savage-tier Demon pack, outskirts of the commercial district. Slightly higher threat than the previous one.
Takumi knew this would be different. More creatures, more variables, more chaos.
And chaos was where he thrived—or at least, survived.
---
The rift crackled as they entered. Shadows moved in unnatural patterns, limbs bending in impossible ways. The creatures were smarter than the Feral-tier—coordinated, hunting as a pack.
Takumi's pulse quickened. System alert: Combat Efficiency Needed.
He moved with instinct. He wasn't leading, wasn't taking orders, just moving. Predicting. Reading gaps, angles, timing. The pack split—two moving left, three right, one staying near the rift.
He engaged the one nearest him. The creature lunged with blinding speed. Takumi barely sidestepped, dagger extended. The chain wrapped around its torso, yanking it into the ground. The creature screeched, eyes flashing.
That flash—the eyes again—he couldn't shake it. Something intelligent, something aware. He felt the same pulse as before, subtle, almost teasing.
No. Stop.
He shook his head and focused. The other creatures approached. He fought, rolled, ducked, stabbed, kicked. His System interface flared constantly—[Threat Level Rising], [Stamina Critical], [Efficiency: 91%].
The mission ended in bloody order. Savage-tier pack neutralized. No casualties on his team, though the shield specialist's barrier had taken most of the punishment.
Takumi collapsed against the wall, chest heaving, wet hair plastered to his forehead. Ryo looked at him with a raised brow.
"You alright?"
Takumi nodded, voice hoarse. "Yeah."
He wasn't.
---
Later, in the barracks, Takumi couldn't sleep. The adrenaline had faded, leaving a quiet unease. His reflection in the darkened window looked… wrong again. This time, it smiled. Not the corner-of-the-mouth kind. A small, knowing curl, like it had seen through him.
He pressed his palm against the glass. The smile didn't vanish immediately.
And for a heartbeat, he swore it whispered his name.
---
Training continued. The System adapted quickly, throwing increasingly difficult simulations. Takumi excelled not because he was strong, but because he learned. He read patterns, anticipated delays, and began to notice inconsistencies:
Slight pauses where the System recalculated attacks.
Environmental hazards that didn't trigger warnings until they had already hit.
Shadows in simulations that didn't belong—flitting, observing, almost… alive.
He didn't tell anyone. Who would believe him? And besides, the whispers didn't hurt. They intrigued him. A presence in the corner of his mind, waiting. Watching.
---
By the end of the third week, he had been sent on four field missions and three simulations. Each one pushed him closer to exhaustion, but he felt… different. The fatigue didn't just strain his body—it sharpened him. He noticed the flow of combat, the beat of his own reflexes, the spaces between System prompts.
During a late-night maintenance check, he flexed his fingers and noticed the faint glow of his interface pulses beneath his skin. Soft. Responsive. Like it was alive.
He whispered into the empty room, almost reflexively. "What are you?"
The walls stayed silent. But the pulse beneath his skin quickened.
Something was listening.
And something was waiting.
---
The chapter closes with Takumi standing on the rooftop, city lights sprawling beneath him. Neon reflected in puddles and broken glass. Rain begins again, mist curling up the sides of buildings. He flexes his fingers. His System glows faintly beneath his sleeve.
He isn't a hero. He isn't chosen. He's not even fully a Hunter yet.
But the world is starting to notice him.
And he doesn't yet know it, but someone—or something—is taking notes.