The morning sun was a bright, annoying needle poking through my curtains. I was standing at my window, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, half-heartedly misting my succulents. Below, the familiar black sedan was parked at the curb, Roonie leaning against the hood with a face that screamed he’d rather be anywhere else.

I snapped the window open and leaned out. "GO AWAY!" I shouted, the words a bit muffled by toothpaste foam.

Roonie’s face scrunched up into a knot of pure annoyance. He looked up, squinting against the light. "I am not exactly thrilled to be here, Elara! Do you think I enjoy standing in the exhaust of a city street?"

"You a stalker or something?" I laughed, the vibrations making my toothbrush clink against my teeth. "Is this a new hobby? Watching D-Rankers brush their teeth?"

Roonie looked like he wanted to dissolve into the pavement. He adjusted his glasses with a frantic, jerky motion.

"What is it today?" I said, wiping a fake tear. "Why are you even doing this? Release me!!"

"You literally messaged me and told me to be here by eight!" Roonie snapped back, his voice rising an octave.

I laughed out loud, nearly choking on the minty foam. I’d totally forgotten. I gave him a thumbs-up and ducked back inside, rinsing my mouth and checking my reflection.

I actually felt... okay. The sleep had done wonders for the frantic mess in my head. Before I’d passed out, I’d managed to send a text to Seraphina. I told her I was sorry for the abrupt exit, that I was just worried about Hana waking up, and that we would talk soon. It felt like the emotionally mature thing to do. Managing an Ice Queen and a Weaponizer was basically a full-time job in diplomacy.

I grabbed my bag and headed down.

Roonie was already in the driver’s seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in a fast, anxious rhythm. I hopped in the passenger side, and we headed toward the intersection.

The bone-rimmed gate was still there. It sat in the middle of the street like a jagged, bleached wound in reality. The Association had boxed it in with yellow tape and heavy mana-containment machines that hummed with a low, vibrating drone. People were still walking past it on their way to work, giving the floating skull at the top a wide berth. The city just... moved on. It was weird.

Hana Ryu was already waiting by the perimeter. She was leaning against a concrete barrier, looking entirely casual. She didn't mention the convenience store or the "I like girls" confession. She was back to being a professional A-Rank, and I appreciated the hell out of that.

"Any luck with the footage?" I asked, joining her.

"The trail starts two blocks back," Hana said, gesturing down the road. "He came from a mana stone wholesaler. CCTV shows him stumbling out of the back alley ten minutes before he went haywire."

We followed the road down to a shop tucked between a laundromat and a ramen stall. It was a small, dusty place with a sign that just said 'Arslan’s Stones' in faded gold letters.

"Wait here," I told the other two. "Let me play the part."

I stepped inside. The shop was dim, the air smelling of dry earth and the metallic tang of unrefined mana. An older man with a thick, graying beard was hunched over a counter, polishing a low-grade green stone.

I walked up and pulled a small, common mana stone from my bag. "I'm looking to sell," I said, pitching my voice a little higher, a little more uncertain.

The man took the stone, weighed it in his palm, and slid a few bills across the counter. "Common grade. Best I can do."

I bit my lip, looking down at the money with a practiced frown. "Is there... is there any way I could get a better rate? I really need more than this."

"No," he said, not even looking up.

"Please," I said, my voice wavering. I pulled out my hunter license and laid it on the glass. "I’m just a D-Rank. My family... the bills are piling up, and the raids have been dry lately. I can't keep living on common-grade scraps."

I looked at him, trying to make my eyes look as watery and desperate as possible. It was a 10/10 performance. I was the picture of a struggling hunter drowning under the weight of a shitty rank.

The man finally looked at me. He scanned my card, then my face. "Higher ranked gates have better stones. You want real money, you go for the B-Ranks."

"I can't," I whispered. "I'm not allowed. The Association won't let me in without a high-rank escort, and I can't afford the fees."

The man went silent. He leaned back, his chair creaking. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small, torn piece of paper. He scribbled a number on it.

"Call this," he said, sliding the paper toward me. "Tell them you were referred by Arslan. They don't care about Association red tape. They need people who aren't afraid of a bit of risk."

I grabbed the paper like it was a life raft. "Thank you. Truly."

I stepped out of the shop and met Roonie and Hana around the corner. I showed them the paper, the adrenaline still buzzing in my fingertips.

"Arslan," I said. "He’s a recruiter for illegal raids."

Roonie pulled out a burner phone. We dialed the number and put it on speaker. The dial tone echoed in the quiet alley for three long rings before someone picked up.

"Yeah?" The voice was deep, gravelly, and entirely uninterested.

"I was given this number by Arslan," I said, slipping back into my 'desperate D-Rank' voice. "He said you might have some work. I need money."

There was a long, heavy silence on the other side. I looked at Hana. She had her hand on her pocket, her eyes sharp.

"What rank are you?" the voice asked.

"D," I replied.

"Alright. We’ve got an opening for a porter and some bait. It’s a bigger dungeon than you’re used to, kid. You okay with that?"

I looked at Roonie and Hana. They both gave me a firm nod.

"I'm okay with anything," I said. "Just tell me when."

"Be at the old shipyard tonight. Eleven o'clock. Bring your gear."

The line went dead.

HotChickenCheerios

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