Ezekiel quit school to focus entirely on becoming a Ranker. He joined a small-time guild, hoping it would help him earn enough to support his mother. But instead of being treated as a fellow hunter, they made him their errand boy, sometimes even using him as bait for monsters during raids. Still, he didn't complain. The pay, though meager and unfair, was better than any part-time job he'd held before. He knew he was being exploited, but he endured it because he had no other choice.
He faced death more times than he could count, crawling out of dungeons with bloodied hands and broken bones. There was nothing glorious about it. No fanfare. Just pain, survival, and the bitter sting of solitude. The path he walked was lined with thorns, so brutal and relentless that words could never do justice to the suffering he endured.
And yet, he rose.
Through those brutal struggles, Ezekiel slowly climbed the ranks the hard way. It was during one of those deadly expeditions, an unsanctioned dive into a hidden dungeon that everything changed. His party had hoped to uncover treasure, and they did, but it came at a cost. One by one, every member was killed. The only survivor was the one they had always considered expendable.
Ezekiel.
From that cursed place, he emerged alone, barely alive but with something in his grasp. The Devil's Scythes. A rare S-class weapon, infamous among hunters. Shrouded in myth, it was said to possess a mind of its own. A weapon used by a grim reaper or death himself.
With that, he cut ties with the small guild and set his sights higher. He needed more money, better opportunities, and a real chance to save his mother. So he applied to one of the top guilds in the country: The Palladium, ranked second nationwide.
That was where he met him.
Clyde Zonic.
The only son of the CEO of OZBURN Corporation, a dominant force in the market of modified high-grade dungeon resources. Wealthy, influential, and born into power, Clyde had never known hunger, fear, or desperation. Everything Ezekiel had bled for, Clyde had been handed on a silver platter.
Their first meeting was during the entrance trials for the Palladium Guild.
Ezekiel arrived alone, dressed in worn-out clothes and carrying a faded shoulder bag. He moved quietly through the towering glass building, eyes focused straight ahead. The air buzzed with anticipation, with dozens of Rankers gathered for the trial.
Then came the others.
A group strode in behind him, clad in pristine armor and wielding gleaming weapons. Their equipment was top-tier, their demeanor confident, somewhat entitled. At the center of the group was Clyde Zonic, effortlessly charismatic, with a smug smile and a crowd of sycophants hanging on his every word.
When his gaze landed on Ezekiel, he raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Well, look at that,"
Clyde said, his voice loud enough to carry across the room.
"Did the stray dog wander into the wrong building?"
A few around him chuckled. A woman at his side added with a sneer,
"He looks like he slept in an alley."
More laughter followed. But Ezekiel didn't respond. He didn't flinch or meet their eyes. He simply kept walking, ignoring them as if their words meant nothing.
That silence made Clyde's smirk falter.
"Tch. Did he just ignore me?"
Clyde muttered, irritation creeping into his voice like a hairline crack in glass.
"That beggar should know his place."
He narrowed his eyes.
"He'll regret that."
The test began, and everyone was told to fall in line. One by one, they presented their hunter licenses and placed their hands on the rank appraisal device to confirm their rank.
Unlike earlier, when Ezekiel had been near the front, Clyde intentionally bumped him aside and cut in front.
"I should go first, right? For your information, my uncle is the guild leader here,"
Clyde said with his usual smug expression.
As always, Ezekiel ignored him and let him pass. That made Clyde even more irritated. He clenched his fists, clearly wanting to lash out, but the facilitator stepped in.
"Sir, would you mind showing me your license now?"
Clyde lazily handed over his card.
The facilitator looked at it and raised his brows in surprise.
"You're an A rank? Goodness, you look young."
People nearby overheard and immediately showered Clyde with praise.
"Isn't he Clyde Zonic?"
someone in the back said.
"Yeah! That rich influencer on Ittube!"
"An A rank at his age? That's insane. He must be super talented!"
Clyde basked in their admiration as he placed his hand on the appraisal device. It glowed and confirmed his rank. A moment later, he stepped aside and cast a mocking glance at Ezekiel.
Now it was Ezekiel's turn.
He handed over his license. The facilitator took it and paused.
"...You're Ezekiel Solace?"
Ezekiel gave a small nod.
The man double-checked the data and frowned, glancing between the card and Ezekiel's face.
"Place your hand on the device, please."
Ezekiel complied.
A moment passed.
Then the device glowed brighter than before. A sharp hum filled the air. Heads turned.
The screen flashed:
A+ Rank
Gasps echoed through the room.
"A plus?"
someone whispered.
"That's higher than Clyde."
"No way. That guy? Dressed like that?"
Clyde's eyes widened. His smug expression shattered.
"No... That can't be right."
The facilitator returned the license with both hands, his tone more respectful now.
"Confirmed. You're an A+ rank. Impressive. You'll still need to complete all rounds of the trial, but your evaluation will be closely monitored."
Ezekiel simply took the card and walked forward, expression unreadable.
As he passed the others, their shocked murmurs trailed behind him. He felt a quiet fire stir in his chest. Not pride, just the confirmation that everything he'd endured hadn't been for nothing.
The room's atmosphere shifted. Where there had been mockery, there was now wary curiosity. A few of the other applicants glanced away from Clyde, their attention drawn to the boy in tattered clothes who had just out-ranked him.
Clyde's jaw tightened. He stood frozen, his mind racing, unable to comprehend how someone like Ezekiel a dirt-poor, unknown, and younger could outshine him. His pride screamed for a reason, any excuse to justify the humiliation.
He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, face filled with hatred.
But then, a thought crept into his mind.
"This isn't over. Not by a long shot."