Ramba pointed at Chippo, laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach.
"A hunter? You? Come on!
You are one of those Chūnibyōs aren't you"
Chippo didn't laugh.
She didn't blink.
She just stared as if Ramba had personally offended her ancestors.
"How…" she said quietly, voice dropping.
Ramba kept laughing.
"How dare he insult a Hunter."
The room went cold.
Chippo lifted her hand slowly, palm open.
Ramba raised an eyebrow. "What? Are you gonna shoot laser beams from your—"
A small swirl of invisible energy formed in her hand—nothing Ramba could see, but something he could feel.
FWIP.
The blast hit him straight in the chest.
Ramba didn't see anything—but he definitely felt it.
Like a sudden shove from an invisible truck.
He flew backward, landing on the floor with a hard thud.
"AGH—HEY! What was that?!"
Chippo walked toward him and stopped, looking down at him with the cold confidence of someone who had just proven a point.
---
The Hunters
Now pay attention.
Let me, the author, explain something before Ramba embarrasses himself further.
For over a thousand years, there have been people who walk places others can't.
People who step into the Spirit Realm, confront demons, and return alive.
We call them Hunters.
They weren't trained soldiers.
They weren't government agents.
They weren't celebrities with flashy sponsorship deals.
They were ordinary people with extraordinary burdens.
They fought demons so regular humans didn't have to.
They died in silence so others could live quietly.
They carried the world's nightmares alone.
But that was long ago.
This story takes place in the era known as Generation Delta, a modern age where buildings touch the sky and people touch their phones more than their own lives.
Today, Hunters are nothing more than forgotten legends.
Most people think they never existed.
Most people think they're fairy tales.
Most people…
…like Ramba.
So when Chippo fired that Qi Ball at him?
That wasn't a trick.
That wasn't a joke.
That was a Hunter reminding the world—
or at least one clueless boy—
that her kind is still very real.
And Ramba?
He lay on the floor, clutching his chest, questioning everything he thought he knew.