I woke up, blinking at the clock. 10 o'clock AM. My pulse quickened for a second—had I slept through something important? They hadn't mentioned the exact time the exam would resume, but that uncertainty made me nervous.
I should've asked. Sometimes, I could be a real klutz.
Reaching for my phone, I immediately noticed a string of missed calls from Selena. There was also a message waiting, and I opened it, already prepared for her usual… intensity.
I just broke into your room and saw you were still sleeping, felt you up real good to find your phone and contact number, and then I texted you this. Awesome. And you better wake up before lunch or I'll sack you until the next exams. —from Selena.
I couldn't help but laugh. Typical Selena. Shaking my head, I saved her number in my contacts with a little note: "Calls only when it's 'urgent.'"
With a smirk, I started to pull myself together. If today's exam was anything like yesterday's, I'd need every bit of focus I had—better get moving before she made good on her threat.
After getting myself ready, I made my way down and flagged someone to ask for directions to the cafeteria. My stomach growled—it was definitely time to eat. I followed the directions and finally reached the cafeteria, which was buzzing with early lunch chatter.
I grabbed a tray and didn't hold back: pancakes stacked with syrup and butter, a hamburger loaded with toppings, a side of fries, a salad (to balance things out, of course), and a strong, hot coffee to wake up the last bits of my brain.
As I took a seat, I glanced around, checking out the other examinees scattered across the room. They all looked focused, a few of them going over notes, some lost in thought, probably like me, wondering what the next phase would bring.
I took a long sip of coffee, letting it cut through the lingering sleepiness. Today would be an interesting one.
I was halfway through my stack of pancakes when Selena slumped down at the opposite end of the table, munching on a drumstick. She was staring at me, a hint of amusement in her eyes.
I paused, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
"You look like a horse when you eat," she said, her tone as dry as ever.
I smirked, unfazed. "Thanks for that. Care to explain how you managed to keep track of me when I turned off the tracking function on the tarot card?"
She shrugged, completely unbothered. "Bugged your phone. Also, your clothes."
I sighed, pulling my phone out and handing it over to her. "Take them out."
With a grin, she took the phone, plucking out a tiny tracking device from the case. "For the record, I also left a few laser sensors, traps, and drones in your room. Just keeping up my end of the deal as your bodyguard."
I chuckled, shaking my head. "And I thought bodyguarding was a bit more subtle."
"Subtlety's for amateurs," she shot back, chomping down on her drumstick with a satisfied look. "You're welcome, by the way."
Rolling my eyes, I picked up my coffee again. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, bodyguard."
Selena was truly talented. With her disguise attribute, she'd managed to derive functions as far off as compression. The reason she could seemingly conjure things from thin air was because she was basically a walking arsenal, packed with weapons to the gills under her clothes. Only she could pull off being a one-person armory and make it look effortless.
As I munched on my fries, I asked, "Any idea where the test's next venue is?"
The latter half of the hunter's examination was going to be on a much bigger scale, and something told me Selena would have more than a few insights. She paused, wiping her hands as she considered my question.
"They're being quiet about it, which usually means they'll go big with some unexpected venue," she replied. "My guess? We're looking at terrain change. Maybe a facility setup, probably hostile, or even survival-based, with limited resources."
I nodded, weighing her guess. It wouldn't be surprising if they threw us somewhere remote, where aura abilities could be stretched and tested to the extreme.
Selena's eyes glinted with excitement. "We'll probably be in a real field this time—none of that staged lobby business. Makes things more interesting, right?"
I smirked, crunching another fry. "If by interesting, you mean grueling, then yeah."
It was pretty much in line with what I knew from the novel. The latter half of the exams would test a hunter's true mettle, pushing limits in a way the first half never could. That first phase was more of an initiation for mundanes than a real test for hunters.
I glanced over at Selena. "Any word on the new challengers?"
The new challengers were a wildcard. They were hunters who'd either delayed taking this part of the exam or were repeaters, people who'd failed before and were giving it another shot.
Selena smirked, clearly pleased with herself for bringing some fresh intel to the table. "We have to look out for almost all of them… but if we're narrowing it down, the most dangerous is the Spear God."
I raised an eyebrow. "That's prestigious."
The title alone meant a lot, and I was aware of the guy's heritage. He was the only son of Ranas, one of the Seven Extremes, and the living embodiment of the Fighter's pillar—a Spear God in his own right. It was rumored that Ranas was getting old and was close to his last days. That meant challengers would be crawling out of the woodwork, hoping to prove themselves against his son, Ranas himself, or to any other fighter who dared claim one of the seven thrones of pinnacle hunter glory.
The current chairman of the Hunter's Association was said to be the closest to becoming the next Extreme Fighter. If Ranas was really on his way out, that competition was bound to heat up in ways we hadn't even seen yet.
I finished my brunch.
Selena led the way. She explained that we'd be taking the bullet train for the following week, heading to the next exam venue. I frowned but kept my suspicions to myself. A whole week of travel? It sounded like they were setting us up for something massive, deadly, or both.
As we walked, Selena rattled off a list of the other contenders: Big Dwarf, Iron Fist, Palm Reader, and a few others. They all had fearsome nicknames that seemed well-known in the Hunter world, though none struck me as particularly intimidating.
And then I stopped in my tracks.
"Come again?" I asked.
She glanced back at me with a frown. "Some guy called Diamond Black."
I gulped. That one made me nervous—a little. But then I remembered he still owed me a favor. How many was it, again? I took out my notebook and flipped through, finding the entry. Sure enough, he still owed me one favor.
I couldn't help but grin. Diamond Black might be terrifying, but knowing I had that card to play kept me from losing my cool.
There were a lot of psychopaths in the world of Hunterworks. It was almost a requirement. In this line of work, if a person couldn't stomach a bit of psychopathic violence, couldn't recognize someone who was actually insane, or couldn't feign insanity themselves, they'd end up in trouble—or worse.
Take Loki, for example. He loved pretending to be a psychopath, but he wasn't one. He just had a flair for the dramatic, the kind of guy who'd throw himself into the role if it suited his purpose.
But Diamond Black… was an entirely different story. The last thing I wanted was to end up in his hands, used as one of his "tools" for his hunts. He didn't go after regular cryptids or dangerous creatures when he hunted. No, he went after "Devils." And in this world, "Devils" were a special kind of cryptid that promoted psychopathy, drawing out the worst in those around them.
That was why I kept my distance from Diamond Black whenever I involved him in my work. I wasn't naive. I knew that someday I'd cash in those favors from him—but I'd always be cautious, knowing full well what I'd be walking into.
That was why I liked the 'favors' he owed me to be expended as early as possible.
Sometimes, I was tempted to just cash in the favor he owed me in the form of money, but I liked the air of mystique and privilege I'd established around my brand. I wouldn't want to ruin it.
Selena glanced over at me, noticing my momentary hesitation. "What's the problem?"
I forced a grin. "No problem at all."
We arrived at the platform, and it was packed with people. There seemed to be some kind of commotion—a crowd gathered in a loose circle around two men, both of whom seemed far from ordinary.
One of them, with long dark hair tied back in a neat ponytail, wore a red robe over white pants. His clothing had an elegant, oriental style made of expensive fabric. His handsome face held a mix of annoyance and control as he stood with a spear slung casually over his shoulder. Even if I hadn't already guessed, the aura he exuded gave it away: this man was none other than Shen, the Spear God.
Shen's voice was calm but carried a commanding edge. "Apologize."
The other man looked like he'd just walked in from a back alley. His clothes were coarse—a rugged leather jacket that looked ready to fall apart, a grayish shirt that might've once been white, fraying jeans, and a face that hadn't seen a wash in days. He smirked, clearly unfazed by Shen's demand.
"Apologize?" the man scoffed, his voice dripping with mockery. "For what? Calling you what you are? A talentless bastard kicked out of his own house. Now you're here, scraping for a spot in the Association because you've got nowhere else to go."
The words struck a nerve. Shen's jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his spear.
I sighed, already feeling the tension radiating off Shen. This scene wasn't exactly the kind of start I had in mind for our journey. Selena, however, took the initiative, striding over to a beefy hunter who looked like he'd been following the showdown from the beginning.
"What's the deal here?" she asked, her voice casual but curious.
The big guy shrugged. "That beggar over there? Seems like he's asking to get himself killed. Been taunting Shen from the moment he walked in."
I glanced over at the so-called beggar. He looked like he'd seen better days—or maybe he just didn't care. He seemed to be in his late middle age, though I couldn't be sure; under all that grime and with his grizzled look, he might have been younger if he'd just bothered to take a shower.
At that moment, the beggar spat—right on Shen's shoe. The crowd's breath collectively caught, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he turned his back on Shen with a kind of casual indifference, as if he hadn't just insulted one of the most dangerous contenders in the exam.
I knew that was a mistake.