Morning arrived without permission.
It crept into the ruined city as if afraid of what it might find, thin sunlight sliding cautiously over fractured towers, collapsed roads, and scorched plazas where life had been violently interrupted only hours earlier. The sky was pale, washed clean of the violent colors that had accompanied the dungeon break, yet the air still carried the metallic taste of mana residue and smoke.
The world had stopped screaming.
That silence was heavier than any roar.
Lunaria Vale sat alone near the edge of a broken fountain that no longer held water, its stone basin cracked clean through the middle. His posture was elegant even in exhaustion, knees together, back straight, hands resting lightly atop his thighs. His hunter uniform clung to him, torn in places, stained dark with dried blood that was not entirely his own.
His ribbon was not tied.
Moonlight-colored hair spilled freely down his back and over his shoulders, straight and waist-length, catching the early sunlight until it looked almost unreal—like silver silk woven by something not quite human.
[Physical condition: stable.]
[Fatigue: high.]
[Mana circulation: recovering.]
"…Good morning," Lunaria murmured, voice barely louder than breath.
[It is morning.]
He gave a small, tired smile.
Around him, the city slowly resumed motion. Rescue drones hummed overhead. Emergency crews navigated rubble-strewn streets. Healers knelt beside injured hunters and civilians alike, their mana glowing softly as wounds closed and lives were pulled back from the edge.
People were alive.
That fact alone felt miraculous.
Lunaria watched silently as a young child was reunited with her mother several meters away. The woman sobbed uncontrollably, clutching her daughter as though afraid the world might steal her away again. Lunaria felt something twist gently in his chest.
"…I'm glad," he whispered.
[Emotional response detected.]
"It's okay," he reassured softly. "I'm not overwhelmed."
He truly wasn't.
The horror of the S-rank dungeon break had burned through him, leaving behind not trauma, but a strange clarity. Death had brushed against him countless times in the past day, yet each time, he had moved—flowed—cutting through danger with elegance sharpened into survival.
And he had lived.
Footsteps approached.
Lunaria sensed the presence before he heard it—controlled mana, disciplined movement, authority made tangible.
"Lunaria Vale."
He looked up calmly.
Director Kael Ardent stood before him, tall and imposing in his long coat reinforced with layered sigils. The man's sharp eyes scanned Lunaria in a way that missed nothing: the looseness of his posture, the subtle tremor in his fingers, the way his mana settled instead of flaring.
"Yes, Director," Lunaria replied gently, rising to his feet. His bow was shallow but respectful, hair sliding forward like liquid moonlight.
"You were deployed as a bronze-ranked hunter," Kael said evenly. "Yet you remained active from the first wave to containment closure."
Lunaria lowered his gaze.
"I followed orders," he said softly. "Fallback support. Civilian defense."
"You exceeded fallback parameters," Kael replied.
Lunaria did not deny it.
"…I didn't want anyone else to get hurt."
Kael studied him for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he exhaled.
"Your mission data has already reached the council."
Lunaria's fingers curled slightly.
"…Am I in trouble?"
"No," Kael said. "You are under observation."
That answer unsettled him more than punishment would have.
"I understand."
Kael extended a data slate.
"Review your contribution record."
Lunaria accepted it carefully.
[New system-linked data detected.]
The slate displayed a detailed breakdown: enemy destabilizations, assisted eliminations, defensive interceptions, civilian extractions. Each line was timestamped, quantified, undeniable.
"…This is too much credit," Lunaria whispered.
"It is factual," Kael replied. "Several higher-ranked hunters would be dead without your interference."
Lunaria felt heat rise faintly to his cheeks.
"I didn't do it alone."
"No one ever does," Kael said. "But few bronze hunters move the way you do."
Silence stretched.
Kael's gaze sharpened.
"Your fighting style," he said slowly, "is… unusual."
Lunaria met his eyes without flinching.
"I move the way my body allows," he replied calmly. "Elegance is simply efficiency."
Kael said nothing for several seconds.
"…You will return to Hunters College," he said at last. "Medical clearance. Mandatory rest. Further evaluation."
"Yes, sir."
Kael turned to leave, then paused.
"When the battle ends," he added quietly, "tie your ribbon back."
Lunaria blinked.
"…Yes, sir."
When Kael disappeared into the chaos of command and cleanup, Lunaria sat back down, the weight of everything finally settling onto his shoulders.
[Increased attention from governing authorities confirmed.]
"…That sounds dangerous," he murmured.
[Risk acknowledged.]
He smiled faintly.
"…I'll endure."
---
Hunters College did not feel like home when he returned.
It felt like a place holding its breath.
The transport gate deposited Lunaria near the central plaza, where students and staff moved with subdued urgency. Training schedules were suspended. Patrols doubled. Mana barriers glowed brighter than usual.
As Lunaria walked through the campus, conversations died around him.
Eyes followed.
Whispers bloomed like static.
"That's him."
"The bronze hunter."
"The one from the city."
Lunaria kept his gaze lowered, steps light, presence carefully contained. His ribbon was tied again—soft pink against pale hair—restoring the sense of balance he preferred.
[Social attention: elevated.]
"…I know," he thought.
He disliked being seen.
Being seen meant being measured.
Measured meant being judged.
And judgment, in this world, often led to violence.
In the medical wing, he underwent a full evaluation. Mana probes traced his circulation. Healing light washed over lingering wounds. The lead healer frowned more than once.
"You're eighteen," she said bluntly.
"Yes."
"You fought in an S-rank environment," she continued. "Bronze-ranked or not, that should have killed you."
"…I'm sorry," Lunaria said reflexively.
She paused, then sighed.
"That wasn't a reprimand," she said more gently. "It was disbelief."
Her hand hovered over his chest as mana scanned deeper.
"…Your mana flow is refined. Not powerful—refined. Like silk drawn through steel."
[Hidden attribute interaction detected.]
"That sounds… pretty," Lunaria murmured.
The healer snorted despite herself.
"Rest," she ordered. "No combat training for three days."
"Yes, ma'am."
That night, Lunaria lay alone in his dormitory room.
The ceiling was plain stone, faintly etched with protective runes. His sword rested against the wall, polished clean despite the chaos it had seen. His uniform hung neatly folded, washed and repaired.
He felt strangely empty.
"…System," he whispered.
[Present.]
"Status."
[Status Window:]
[Name: Lunaria Vale]
[Age: 18]
[Rank: Bronze Hunter]
[Level: 9]
[Experience: 890 / 1000]
[Next Level: 10]
"…I'm close," he murmured.
[Yes.]
"And yet," Lunaria continued softly, "I feel like I've only just begun."
[Assessment: correct.]
He turned onto his side, moonlight spilling through the window and catching in his hair.
"I don't want to be strong so people fear me," he said. "I don't want to dominate."
[Understood.]
"I want to be untouchable," Lunaria whispered. "So no one can decide my worth again."
Memories surfaced—cleaning dungeons, ignored, expendable, trembling with a knife in hand.
"…Never again."
[Objective integrated.]
Silence followed.
Then—
[Warning.]
Lunaria's eyes opened instantly.
"…Explain."
[Residual dungeon energy detected within campus perimeter.]
"…That shouldn't be possible."
[Agreed.]
He sat up slowly, senses sharpening. His heart did not race. His breathing remained calm.
[Probability of hostile intent: low.]
[Probability of targeted observation: moderate.]
"…Someone is watching," Lunaria murmured.
[Yes.]
He stood, slipping silently into his boots. His movements were fluid, almost dance-like even in caution. He reached for his ribbon—
Paused.
"…Not yet," he decided.
He approached the window, gazing out over the moonlit campus. Everything looked peaceful. Too peaceful.
Yet beneath that calm, he felt it.
A gaze.
Interest.
Expectation.
Lunaria's lips curved into a faint, serene smile.
"…If you've come to test me," he whispered softly, moonlight reflecting in his eyes, "then I hope you're prepared."
[You are prepared.]
He tied his ribbon carefully.
And waited.