The air hung heavy with the sharp scent of wet concrete and ozone. Felicia, leader of the Bloody Rose, leaned hard against a rusted dumpster, her breath ragged and uneven.
Around her, three of her men were no better off—bruised, bleeding, and pushed to their absolute limits.
Before them loomed a monstrous figure: a Steel-Hulled Golem. Its body, a disturbing mix of enchanted stone and reinforced metal, groaned with every slow, earth-shaking movement.
"It's no use..." one of the men gasped, his sword useless at his side. "Our mana's gone dry. We can't even leave a scratch."
Despair settled over them like a thick fog. The golem raised a massive, pillar-like fist, ready to crush them beneath its weight. Felicia closed her eyes, bracing for the end.
—THWIP.
A faint whistle sliced through the air, followed by a sharp, thunderous crack.
BOOM!
The golem didn't just fall; it exploded. Shards of steel and stone flew in every direction, dust clouding the air.
At the center of the destruction sat a single, ordinary pebble, lodged deep into the brick wall behind where the golem had stood.
"Who... who did that?" Felicia stammered, eyes darting toward the dark alley where the shot had come from. "Show yourself! Don't hide in the shadows!"
Only silence answered her.
They rushed toward the darkness, hoping to find a Hunter or a hidden Saint. Instead, they found a small group of refugees—starving, huddled together for warmth, faces hollow and desperate.
"Impossible," Felicia whispered. "None of these people could have..."
While two of her men cheered, tears of relief streaming down their faces, Felicia's suspicion lingered. Eventually, they retreated to report the strange event to the Association, leaving the street's "trash" behind.
Among the refugees, a lone figure sat against a crumbling wall, motionless. His clothes were tattered and black, his cape stained with grime and smelling faintly of ash.
This was Skei He didn't join in the quiet sobbing around him. Instead, he idly tossed a small, jagged stone into the air, catching it with a steady rhythm. From the corner of his eye, he watched the Bloody Rose members leave, his expression unreadable.
The world had ended years ago. The sky had been torn apart by Gates, spilling monsters into the streets. Animals had twisted into nightmares, and humanity had retreated behind walls.
Skei gripped the stone tighter. He had no "Rank." No "Class." Just his own strength.
The Association's Dilemma
Back at the Hunter Association headquarters, tension filled the room.
"A one-shot kill on a Steel Golem? With a pebble?" The administrator eyed Felicia's report with clear doubt. "Every Awakened in this sector is accounted for.
Unless a Rank S wanderer passed through, your story doesn't add up."
"I know what I saw," Felicia insisted. "There's someone out there. Someone the Association doesn't know about."
The Bull and the Pebble
Skei wandered the frozen streets of the inner ward, his stomach growling. He looked like any other scavenger, rifling through a rusted trash can for a moldy crust of bread.
The cold bit into his skin, but he barely noticed.
He stepped into a wide plaza just as the ground began to tremble.
ROAR!
A Calamity Bull, a Rank B monster the size of a two-story house, smashed through a nearby storefront. It spotted Skei—a lone, fragile human—and charged. Its massive, rusted iron axe rose, ready to split the street in two.
Skei didn't flinch. He didn't even drop his bread.
With a casual flick of his wrist, a stone flew.
No flash of light. No surge of mana. Just a dull thud, followed by the sickening sound of flesh being hollowed out.
The Bull's momentum vanished instantly. It tumbled forward, skidding to a stop at Skei's feet, a gaping, basketball-sized hole torn through its armored chest.
Skei paused, sensing movement nearby.
Scouts.
Too fast.
Before the Association soldiers could arrive, Skei flickered. He didn't run—he simply vanished, reappearing on a rooftop five stories up.
Moments later, the scouts stood over the fallen beast, faces pale.
"No mana signatures detected," the lead scout muttered, touching the cauterized edges of the wound. "This wasn't magic. This was... pure, raw physical power. One blow."
High above, Skei pulled his hood lower and melted into the gray skyline. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a Hunter. He was just a man trying to survive in a world that had forgotten how to fight.