Two days after his awakening, Set stirred from his unconscious sprawl across the kitchen table, the cold wood pressing against his cheek. His eyelids fluttered, heavy with lingering grogginess, as he pushed himself upright, the world swaying slightly. A dull ache pulsed through his body, a reminder of the elixir's fiery transformation. He shuffled toward the bathroom, his bare feet scuffing against the worn floorboards of his cramped apartment. "Ugh, note to self: don't chug random glowing potions next time," he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse.
He flicked on the bathroom light and froze, his reflection in the cracked mirror stealing his breath. The face staring back was undeniably his, yet it was as if a divine sculptor had refined every detail to perfection. His white hair, once short and uneven, now cascaded in silken waves to his shoulders, glinting like moonlight. His golden eyes, already striking, burned with an almost otherworldly brilliance, their depths shimmering with an inner fire. He stood taller now, his frame stretched to an imposing six-foot-two, no longer the frail figure of days past. His body was lean but powerful, muscles taut and defined beneath smooth, unblemished skin, as if he'd spent years sculpting his physique in a gym rather than scraping by in a rundown apartment.
"Hell," Set whispered, leaning closer to the mirror, "is 'handsome' even the right word anymore?" A grin tugged at his lips, equal parts disbelief and pride. "I could probably charm Aphrodite herself with this face." He chuckled, the sound echoing faintly in the small, tiled room, before stepping back to admire the full transformation. The elixir had worked a miracle, and he felt it—not just in his appearance, but in the newfound strength coursing through his limbs.
After a quick shower, the hot water soothing his lingering aches, Set dressed in simple clothes and grabbed a black mask from a cluttered drawer. "Don't need every passerby gawking at me," he mumbled, slipping the cheap, featureless mask over his face, leaving only his golden eyes visible. He stepped out into the bustling streets of San Antonio, a sprawling city that thrummed with the chaotic energy of a world reshaped by mana. Despite the emergence of magic, life here clung to familiar rhythms: cars honked in traffic, smartphones glowed in the hands of pedestrians, and neon signs flickered above shops. Technology persisted, a lifeline for those unawaken, ensuring the less fortunate weren't entirely left behind in this new era.
Set's destination was the Hunter's Association, the heart of the city's supernatural operations. Every city had one, a place where aspiring Hunters registered, obtained licenses, and accessed the resources needed to navigate the perilous Gates. Without a license, a Hunter was barred from entering Gates or purchasing rank-up materials—a strict rule enforced to maintain order in a world teetering on chaos.
After a long walk-through crowded sidewalk, Set arrived at the Association's headquarters. The building loomed before him, a colossal tower of glass and steel that pierced the clouds, its surface reflecting the sky in a dizzying interplay of light. Set tilted his head back, squinting against the sun's glare. "Who the hell works at the top of that thing?" he wondered aloud, a mix of awe and amusement in his tone.
Inside, the lobby buzzed with activity—Hunters in sleek armor conversing in hushed tones, clerks shuffling paperwork, and the faint hum of mana-infused devices filling the air. Set approached a desk, where a harried clerk processed his registration with practiced efficiency. Demonstrating his mana was a simple matter: a brief flare of energy from his fingertips, a spark of power that felt as natural as breathing. Minutes later, he held a brown license, its color marking his status as a newly awakened Hunter, shared by those ranked D and below. His name, "Set," was etched in bold letters across the card. He turned it over in his hands, a satisfied smile spreading beneath his mask. "Alright, time to get to work."
He'd already booked a Gate earlier that day—an F-rank, the lowest tier, little more than a training ground for awakeners. These Gates, though monitored to prevent catastrophic breaks, posed minimal threat compared to their higher-ranked counterparts. Set began walking toward the exit, then froze mid-step. His eyes widened as a realization hit him like a lightning bolt. "Wait... I have unlimited money." The words hung in the air, a grin spreading across his face. He spun on his heel and returned to the desk, where the same middle-aged clerk looked up with a raised eyebrow.
"Hey, I'm back," Set said, his tone casual but brimming with excitement. "Forgot to grab a few things." Before the clerk could respond, Set rattled off a list: "I need a sword, health pills, light armor... oh, and a private driver. And, uh, anything else you'd recommend for a first-timer."
The clerk's expression shifted to one of wary curiosity, his eyes narrowing as Set produced a sleek black card from his pocket. "Just swipe it," Set said with a shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The clerk hesitated, then complied, his hands trembling slightly—not out of fear, but from the dawning suspicion that Set might be the scion of some wealthy Hunter dynasty.
Half an hour later, Set walked away with a mana ring glinting on his finger—a storage device now packed with healing and regeneration supplies, a set of lightweight armor, and a selection of Fundamental-rank weapons. "Not bad for a start," he murmured, inspecting the ring's faint glow. The known ranks of weapons were Fundamental, Ascendant, Elite, Exalted, Supreme, and Transcendent, higher tiered weapons like Supreme and Transcendent were so rare that only one Supreme weapon was on Earth. Not only that anything over Fundamental couldn't be bought but only given by one's faction or made personally. Transcendent weapons were the stuff of legend, whispered about in tales of ancient artifacts found within Gate. For now, Set was content with his modest arsenal. Money could buy Fundamental gear, but the truly legendary items demanded more than wealth.
Outside the tower, a sleek black truck waited, its tinted windows gleaming under the midday sun. Beside it stood a woman in a crisp black suit, her long brown hair cascading down her back, her brown eyes sharp and attentive. Her skin was flawless, her presence exuding quiet confidence. Set's brows shot up beneath his mask. "Damn, she's sexy as hell," he muttered under his breath, instantly regretting it as her lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. She'd heard him—likely a Hunter herself, with senses sharpened by mana.
"I appreciate the compliment, sir," she said, her tone professional but tinged with amusement as she opened the truck's door. A bead of sweat trickled down Set's temple beneath his mask. Shit, forgot she's probably enhanced too, he thought, sliding into the plush interior with a sheepish nod.
The drive took them an hour, the city's vibrant chaos giving way to a desolate field on the outskirts. The landscape was bleak, the grass brittle and gray, stripped of life by the Gate's oppressive aura. No trees, no plants, no mana beasts—only the Gate itself, hovering just above the ground, its dark, swirling surface radiating a palpable sense of menace.
The driver parked a safe distance away and glanced at Set through the rearview mirror. "Sir, I'm a D-rank Hunter," she said, her voice steady. "I'm not the strongest, but I can back you up if needed." Her offer was genuine, born of concern for the masked man heading into an F-rank Gate alone. Solo runs were rare; most awakeners tackled Gates in groups for safety.
"Nah, I'm good," Set replied, his tone confident but not dismissive. "I've already transferred your payment. Just wait here. I'll hit a few more Gates after this." He stepped out, his new armor gleaming faintly, the weight of his sword reassuring in his hand. He approached the Gate, its towering form casting a shadow that seemed to swallow the light around it. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with exhilaration.
"My first Gate," he said, his voice low but resolute. He tightened his grip on the sword, his golden eyes blazing through the slits of his mask. With a final glance back at the truck, he stepped through the Gate's shimmering threshold, vanishing into the unknown.