The night the dungeon gate trembled, Lunaria felt it before anyone else.
He was lying on his bed, hair spread neatly across his pillow like a spill of moonlight, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the ceiling. The city outside was quiet, wrapped in the fragile peace that existed only because people believed monsters stayed where they belonged.
Then—
A faint pressure brushed against his chest.
Not pain.
Not fear.
A pull.
"…Ah," Lunaria whispered softly, sitting up.
[Dungeon activity detected.]
The system's voice was calm, but firm—unmistakably alert.
"Is it close?" Lunaria asked, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His movements were smooth, graceful even in haste, like a dancer rising mid-performance.
[Distance: 3.2 kilometers.]
[Classification: Minor Gate instability.]
[Threat Level: Low to Moderate.]
"That's… near," he murmured, fingers curling slightly. His heart beat faster, but not with panic. With anticipation he didn't quite understand yet.
[You are not assigned to respond.]
"Oh," Lunaria said, blinking. "That's good."
[However.]
He paused.
"…However?"
[Gate instability patterns resemble those present during your awakening.]
Silence filled the room.
Lunaria lowered his gaze to his hands. They were trembling—just a little.
"…I see."
[Your survival rate increases if you observe.]
"Observe?" he echoed softly. "Not fight?"
[Correct.]
He relaxed a fraction. "Then… I'll go watch."
[You are smiling.]
He looked up in mild surprise, touching his cheek with the back of his fingers. "…Am I?"
[Yes.]
[Do not confuse calm with recklessness.]
"I won't," Lunaria promised.
He stood and retrieved his bag, opening it carefully. Inside, folded with meticulous care, was the hunter uniform he had received earlier that day. He hesitated.
Then slowly, deliberately, he changed.
The fabric settled against his skin like it had been waiting for him. When he finished, he tied his hair loosely with a temporary cord—nothing precious, nothing symbolic. The broken ribbon remained hidden safely in his bag.
Tonight wasn't about crossing lines.
It was about listening.
He stepped out into the night.
The gate had manifested in a narrow industrial district—old warehouses, abandoned factories, streets wide but empty. Yellow hazard lights blinked faintly as Association personnel worked to set up barriers.
Lunaria stopped at the edge of the restricted zone, posture straight, hands folded in front of him.
No one noticed him at first.
Then someone did.
"…Hey," a hunter muttered, glancing at his badge. "F-rank? You lost?"
Lunaria shook his head politely. "I'm just observing."
The hunter frowned. "You shouldn't be here."
"I was told I could," Lunaria replied softly.
The man hesitated, then sighed. "Just… stay back."
"I will," Lunaria promised.
[Good compliance.]
He moved to the side, standing near a light pole where he could see clearly without being in the way. The gate itself hovered in the air—a warped oval of fractured space, pulsing faintly. Cracks of violet-black energy spidered across its surface.
It was breathing.
Lunaria's eyes softened with fascination.
"It's beautiful," he whispered.
[It is dangerous.]
"Many beautiful things are," he replied gently.
The gate shuddered.
A ripple passed through the air, strong enough to raise goosebumps on exposed skin. Hunters stiffened, hands moving toward weapons.
[Instability increasing.]
"…Will it break?" Lunaria asked.
[Probability: 47%.]
"That's high," he murmured.
[You are not required to engage.]
"I know."
The gate pulsed again—harder this time.
A crack split down its surface, widening with a sound like tearing silk.
Hunters shouted.
"Brace—!"
The first monster slipped through.
It was small, hunched, with elongated limbs and glowing eyes. F-rank. Weak. Manageable.
Then another.
Then three more.
The gate's breathing grew ragged.
"Contain them!" someone yelled.
Lunaria watched intently, head tilted slightly as if studying choreography. The hunters moved—efficient, aggressive, loud. Steel clashed. Mana flared.
But something felt… off.
[Pattern deviation detected.]
"What kind?" Lunaria whispered.
[Monster behavior inconsistent.]
He focused harder.
The creatures weren't charging blindly. They were spreading out. Testing.
"…They're thinking," he murmured.
[Correct.]
His fingers twitched.
A monster broke through the line and lunged toward a distracted hunter.
Without thinking—
Lunaria moved.
He slipped past the barrier with a step so light it barely disturbed the air. Someone shouted, but too late.
He drew the knife from his belt.
No flourish.
No hesitation.
His body flowed.
One step forward. A pivot. A graceful turn of the wrist.
The blade slid across the monster's throat in a smooth arc, precise and elegant, like the final movement of a dance.
The creature collapsed without a sound.
Silence followed.
Lunaria froze, eyes widening.
"…Oh."
[You engaged.]
"I—" He looked down at the fallen monster, then at the blood staining the blade. "I'm sorry."
[You prevented a fatality.]
"I did?" he asked softly.
[Yes.]
The hunters stared.
"Who the hell—"
Another monster leapt.
This time, Lunaria didn't freeze.
He moved.
Grace bloomed.
His steps were light, feet barely touching the ground as he weaved between attacks. Each motion flowed into the next—turn, slash, step, twist—his long hair unfurling behind him like a ribbon of light.
It didn't look like fighting.
It looked like dancing.
The knife flashed.
One monster fell.
Then another.
Then another.
The gate screamed.
Lunaria spun, blade drawing a delicate curve through the air, severing the last creature's core.
It dissolved into ash at his feet.
Silence crashed down.
Hunters stared at him in stunned disbelief.
"…Was that the F-rank?" someone whispered.
Lunaria stood still, chest rising and falling softly. His expression was calm—almost serene.
[Combat efficiency: High.]
"…Thank you," he whispered.
A warm sensation spread through his chest.
[Experience gained.]
His breath hitched.
"…Status."
[Level: 2]
[Experience Required to Level Up: 180 / 200]
"I leveled up," he murmured, eyes shimmering faintly.
[Yes.]
[Do not become complacent.]
"I won't," he promised.
Only then did he realize—
His hair was loose.
The temporary cord had snapped during the fight, strands falling freely around him. He looked down at his hands, at the knife, at the blood that wasn't his.
"…I didn't mean to fight," he said softly.
[Intent does not negate outcome.]
He turned slowly toward the stunned hunters and bowed.
"I'm sorry for interfering."
No one spoke.
Then—
"Well," a familiar voice drawled, amused and sharp. "That was gorgeous."
Lunaria's heart skipped.
He looked up.
At the edge of the restricted zone stood four figures.
S-ranked.
Watching him.
Noctis smiled faintly, silver eyes gleaming. "You dance beautifully."
Ash laughed openly. "And here I thought ribbons were the dangerous part."
Caelum studied him with quiet intensity. "You didn't even realize you crossed the line."
Riven's gaze was sharp, predatory. "You're blooming."
Lunaria flushed, cheeks warming as he instinctively reached for his hair, gathering it together shyly.
"I—I'm sorry," he said softly.
Noctis stepped forward, voice calm and certain.
"Don't be."
The gate behind them finally stabilized, cracks sealing shut with a low hum.
Lunaria stood in the fading glow, hair loose, knife stained, heart racing softly.
[Attention level increasing.]
"…I know," he whispered.
And somewhere deep inside, something stirred.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
But the quiet understanding that the world had just seen him—
And it would never underestimate him the same way again.