Katherine stared at the shattered plate, then back at Kyle's unnervingly calm face. "Jenna tried to kill you? Kyle, this... this is insane.""Is it?" His voice remained flat. "Or is it just Tuesday in the life of a Hunter?"She took another shaky step back. "Okay. Okay, let’s say... let’s say I believe you. The team is dead. Jenna betrayed you. You somehow survived. Now what? You can’t just walk into the Guild like this.""Exactly," he confirmed. "They’d lock me up. Dissect me. Or worse.""So what do you want?" she asked, dread pooling in her stomach."A cover story," he said simply. "One that fits. One they’ll accept."His plan unfolded with chilling precision. He wouldn’t report back immediately. Instead, he needed to be found. Near the dungeon site. Critically injured. Barely alive. Suffering from trauma-induced amnesia. The sole, miraculous survivor of a mission gone horribly wrong."Amnesia?" she whispered, horrified. "Injured? Kyle, you’re talking about—""Injuring myself," he f

The woman moved with silent confidence, pulling the visitor chair closer to the bed with a soft scrape against the floor. She sat, crossing her legs elegantly, the silk whispering against itself."We never formally met," she began, her voice smooth as polished glass, yet holding an underlying chill. "I am Cecile. A senior member of the Hunter Association’s Oversight Division."Her sharp eyes scanned him, taking in the bandages, the IV drip, the feigned weakness. "I came to discuss the incident at the Rank 6 dungeon."Kyle kept his expression carefully blank, injecting a note of confused effort into his voice. "Incident? I... I don’t remember much, ma’am. They said... amnesia?" He looked towards where Katherine had been, as if seeking confirmation.Cecile’s polite smile didn’t reach her eyes. "Yes. The official report mentions severe trauma. Miraculous survival." She leaned forward slightly, the smile thinning. "Tell me what you do remember, Hunter Anders. Anything at all. The team? Th

Cecile watched, that infuriatingly calm smile still playing on her lips. "All that power," she mused, loud enough for Natalie to hear clearly from where she huddled near the kitchen doorway, "and still so predictable." She stepped closer, ignoring the splintered remains of the door, ignoring the barely contained violence radiating from him. "Your little act in the hospital? Quite convincing, for a time." Her eyes narrowed, glittering with sharp intelligence. "But the energy signature doesn’t lie, Hunter Anders. The Mana Cell. A prized artifact belonging to my masters." She tilted her head. "Why hide it? What secrets are buried beneath that ridiculous amnesia routine? How does a D-rank nonentity suddenly wield power that shatters seasoned Hunters?" Her voice dropped, becoming smooth, possessive. "So many questions. Questions my superiors are very eager to ask." She gestured dismissively. "That Mana Cell belonged to them long before you stumbled upon it. And now... by extension..."

He looked at her, truly looked at her. The Guildmaster. Zara. The woman who’d shown him kindness, who seemed genuinely concerned. But the Association... Cecile... they wouldn’t stop. The lie was already fraying.Trust her? How much?His cores hummed quietly. The cold logic of the Mana Cell warred with a flicker of something else, something almost human.He sighed, the sound weary, letting the carefully crafted mask slip just a little."Okay," he said, his voice losing some of its deliberate weakness. "The amnesia... it’s bullshit."Zara leaned forward, her eyes sharp, missing nothing. "I suspected as much. Tell me."He recounted the mission. Jenna’s focus on the artifact. The Queen. The overwhelming power. Jenna’s betrayal, the sword through his chest.He described absorbing the Mana Cell during the revival, though he framed it as a desperate, accidental fusion during his ’death’. He mentioned fighting the Queen, but heavily downplayed his dominance, implying a chaotic struggle where

Viv walked the crowded streets of Necrus, a ghost in plain sight. A subtle manipulation of her aura, a slight shift in posture, and she was just another face, lost in the flow. Humans were so easily deceived.’This place hasn’t changed,’ she thought, her eyes scanning the familiar architecture – the mix of gleaming towers and crumbling districts. A chaotic, fragile energy pulsed beneath the surface noise. ’Still smells the same. Desperation and cheap fuel.’Her primary objective was clear: find the boy. Kyle Anders. Observe. Report. Eliminate if necessary, capture if possible. Chromos’s orders were absolute.But first...She changed direction, weaving through alleys, her steps silent. The scent guided her – sugar, cream, a hint of vanilla. A memory stirred, something almost pleasant from a previous, less complicated visit.She arrived at a small, unassuming shop tucked between a pawn broker and a noodle bar. "Mama Elara’s Pudding Emporium." The painted sign was faded, chipped. Perfect