The Hunter Association building was a cathedral of glass and cold efficiency. I stood at the Loot Exchange counter, the sterile white lights reflecting off the polished surface as I slid the stone forward. It didn't look special—just a small, translucent pebble—but it held the weight of my survival.
The teller picked it up with a pair of tweezers, checking the "O4" etched into the face. It was a common enough drop in N-Rank gates, but rare enough for a K-Ranker like me to be carrying. She didn't ask questions; she just tapped her screen.
"O4 Skill Stone. Market value: ¥14,000. Accept?"
"Accept," I said, my voice sounding steadier than I felt.
My phone buzzed instantly.
[Deposit: ¥14,000] [New Balance: ¥29,000]
I didn't even have time to enjoy the number. My banking app flared to life, the automated debt system tearing through the credits like a pack of wolves.
[Payment Processed: Loan Instalment - ¥9,000]
[Payment Processed: Overdue Rent - ¥8,000]
[Payment Processed: Utilities - ¥5,000]
[Final Balance: ¥7,000]
I stared at the screen. After nearly dying in a warehouse and selling the scrap Kaito had tossed me, I was left with seven thousand yen. It was barely enough for a few days of cheap convenience store food, but it meant I had a roof over my head for one more week.
I pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped out into the city. The sun hit my face, blindingly bright, and the air was thick with the hum of a hundred holographic displays. I stopped dead in my tracks.
High above the intersection, a massive, newly installed holographic board flickered to life. It didn't show ads or weather. It showed the National Leaderboard—the top fifty C-Rank Hunters in Japan.
I looked at the top two names, the light from the display casting a blue tint over the crowd.
Raiden Kurosawa — Country Rank: 1 [World Rank: 4]
Renjiro Sato — Country Rank: 2 [World Rank: 42]
I exhaled slowly, the wind whipping past me. W4. Raiden Kurosawa wasn't just a local celebrity; he was the 4th strongest person on the planet. It was hard to wrap my head around. While I was scraping by with rats in the sewers, that man was likely clearing Country-level Gates that could threaten the entire prefecture.
They were the ones who didn't use gear. They didn't need the carbon-fiber vests or the high-grade rifles. They moved through monsters with nothing but their Level 5 Skills and high-tier Artifacts forged in the world's most extreme environments.
"World Rank 4..." I muttered to myself. The gap between us was a vertical cliff, but seeing the names didn't make me want to quit. It made me want to climb.
I turned away from the display and headed back toward the industrial district. I didn't go home to sleep. I stopped at the drainage pipes near the old bridge, reaching out with my mind. My mastery was at 41.7%, and the mental threads felt like iron wires now.
Forty-eight rats emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing red in the dim light of the underpass. They scurried up my legs, settling into the folds of my hoodie. They were small, but they were a swarm.
I hiked two miles to the outskirts where a low-yield K-Rank Gate was pulsing against a rusted warehouse door. I stood at the threshold, the forty-eight heartbeats of my swarm drumming in the back of my mind like a war drum.
I wasn't the floor mat anymore. I adjusted my hood, felt the weight of my rats, and stepped into the swirling violet void.