It began without warning — a quiet rupture in the fabric of reality.
One morning, the sky split open. Towering structures of twisting stone and glowing sigils appeared in cities across the world. They called them Gates. No one knew what they were or where they led at first, but curiosity quickly turned to fear when people entered… and never came out.
From those Gates poured monsters — creatures born of nightmare, immune to bullets and steel. Humanity teetered on the edge of extinction.
Then came the Awakened — people who developed abilities beyond comprehension. Their bodies grew stronger, their minds sharper, and the world began to shift around their presence. These people were called Hunters, and they were the only ones capable of entering the Gates and surviving the horrors within.
But not all Hunters were equal.
A global system was quickly created to measure their strength, a cold and calculating way to define a person's worth: F, B, C, D, A, and S — the official Hunter Ranks.
F-rank: Barely stronger than an average human. Powerless. Often cannon fodder.
D-rank: The minimum needed to join a raid. Useful, but easily replaced.
C-rank: The middle class of Hunters. Common. Functional. Forgettable.
B-rank: Respected. Feared by ordinary people. Valuable in large-scale Gates.
A-rank: Elites. Commanders. They didn't follow orders — they gave them.
S-rank: Legends. Walking calamities. There were only a handful in the world.
For some, the letter next to their name was a blessing.
For others, it was a death sentence.
---
Isaac sat on the edge of his bed, fingers clenched into fists as the morning light crept across the cracked wallpaper of the tiny apartment.
On his screen, another highlight reel looped endlessly — a silver-haired S-rank crushing a dungeon core with one hand while cameras flashed like fireworks around him. The crowd outside the Gate roared his name. Applauded his destruction. Worshipped him like a god.
"S-rank saves another city."
Another city. Another celebration.
But Isaac didn't cheer. Didn't envy. Didn't dream.
He just… watched.
The world had built pedestals for Hunters. They wore their ranks like crowns, walked through airports like kings, and spoke of sacrifice while riding in armored limousines.
But no one ever talked about the ones who didn't make it back.
The F-ranks who died in their first dungeon.
The families left with nothing.
The little sisters who waited at dinner tables that never got set again.
---
Maya's voice broke the silence from the other room.
"Isaac! Breakfast is ready. You're gonna be late!"
He blinked slowly. Dragged himself to his feet. His uniform was still damp from last night's rain — the walk home had been long, and they couldn't afford a second pair.
Isaac muttered:
"F… D… C… A… S… As if a single letter decides who gets to live."
"This world is broken. And I'm the only one who seems to see it."
He picked up his bag, forced a smile, and walked out of the room.