"My father… was killed by demonic humans," Akira began, his voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over stone. "They belonged to an organization called Nightfall."
Cha-Jong's hands tightened on the edge of the table, his usual calm cracking for just a moment."Nightfall?" The name alone carried a weight, a darkness that even he, a seasoned STAR, seemed to recoil from.
Akira's fists clenched, his knuckles whitening against the table. "They didn't just take him. They left my mother in a coma, barely clinging to life. I was the only one left alive, and all I had was rage. I wanted revenge, and I didn't care how I got it. So, when someone came to me offering a chance—a way to strike back at them—I took it."
He paused, his voice cracking slightly, though his expression remained unyielding. "I worked with them for a year. Trusted them. And they betrayed me… used me, played me, and when they were done, they stole everything my father had built—his wealth, his legacy… even my life."
Cha-Jong's breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly at the raw pain in Akira's words. For a moment, he seemed at a loss. "Your… life?" he echoed softly, his voice tinged with disbelief and sorrow.
Akira's jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the table as though Cha-Jong hadn't spoken at all. "They took everything," he continued, his voice low and steady, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Now, I have nothing. No family. Nothing. Just the anger and the scars they left behind."
Cha-Jong leaned forward, his usual calm demeanor replaced by something softer, more empathetic. "Akira… I can't imagine the pain you've endured. I'm truly sorry for all that's happened to you. But now I understand. I see why you fight the way you do—why you're so bold, so reckless. You're carrying more than anyone should have to, especially at your age."
Akira looked up, his hardened expression softening ever so slightly. "Thanks… old man," he said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Old man?!" Cha-Jong shot back, his voice laced with mock indignation. "Who are you calling old, you damn brat? I haven't even hit my forties yet!"
Akira chuckled, shaking his head, and for a moment, the tension in the room dissipated.
Behind the slightly open door, Min-Jin lingered with Yuna balanced on her hip. The little girl tugged at her mother's sleeve, her wide eyes fixed on Akira. "Why does big bro look so sad, Mommy?"
Min-Jin hesitated, her gaze softening as she watched Akira's tense shoulders and the way his hands clenched into fists. "He's carrying a lot of weight, sweetheart," she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Yuna's face. "Sometimes, people hide their pain behind anger."
Yuna tilted her head, her innocence cutting through the heavy air. "Can we make him smile again?"
Min-Jin smiled faintly, her heart aching at her daughter's kindness. "We can try." She stepped into the room, setting Yuna down. The little girl toddled over to Akira, clutching a small, crumpled drawing in her hands.
"Onii-chan!" Yuna's voice was bright, breaking through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds. She held up the drawing—a messy but heartfelt depiction of a stick-figure holding a sword, surrounded by what might have been flowers or explosions. "I made this for you when you were sleeping!"
Akira blinked, caught off guard. He stared at the drawing, then at Yuna's beaming face. For a moment, the hardness in his eyes wavered. "Uh… thanks, kid," he said awkwardly, taking the drawing. His fingers brushed against the crayon smudges, and something in his chest tightened.
Akira looked away, his jaw tightening. "I'm not good at this," he muttered, more to himself than to Min-Jin.
Cha-Jong cleared his throat, drawing Akira's attention back to him. "Akira, I want to extend an offer to you."
Akira raised an eyebrow. "An offer?"
Cha-Jong nodded. "Yes. My guild could use someone like you—someone with your skills, your raw potential."
Akira leaned back in his chair, skepticism crossing his face. "A guild? I'm not really into joining organizations. I prefer working alone since I want to finish what I started."
"I get that," Cha-Jong replied, his eyes locking with Akira's. "But listen… the guild I belong to is run by a famous A-Rank STAR. It's not just some group—it's an opportunity. We organize dungeon raids, hunt monsters, and manage resources in a way no solo STAR ever could."
Akira remained unmoved. "And what's in it for me? I don't see how joining a guild helps me with my current goals."
Cha-Jong leaned in, his eyes sharp with conviction. "Access to dungeon raids you'd never get with that fake ID of yours. Incredible items, rare resources. You'd have a network, backup, and the chance to grow stronger."
Akira's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the offer. "He's making a solid point. My fake ID limits me. I can't access high-level dungeons freely, and I'm constantly at risk of being caught. A guild, though… if I play it right, it could be a tool."
"If you're not interested in working as a full member," Cha-Jong continued, "I can speak with the guildmaster about you joining as an outside agent."
"Outside agent?" Akira echoed, his interest piqued.
"You'd maintain your independence," Cha-Jong explained. "You'd participate in our raids whenever you felt like it, be included in high-tier hunts, and still receive any rewards."
Akira's mind raced. "Freedom. Resources. No obligations. That means no strings, no authority to answer to. I could use this to fast-track my growth."
"The guildmaster believes in meritocracy," Cha-Jong added. "So if you prove your worth, you'll be treated like any other member."
Akira considered for a moment. "If I get stronger through this, I can accelerate my plans. I'll have access to dungeons, better loot, and information. The issue with using my real name is a problem, but I don't have another choice since StarNet is limited, and my identity is too. I need to stop acting like this. I've been gifted with powers and a system that can help me grow—way faster, even. If someone recognizes me, I'll have enough power to change things."
"That… might work," Akira said finally.
Cha-Jong chuckled, a hint of relief in his voice. "I'll set up a meeting with the guildmaster. She's… discerning, but fair. I'll make sure she knows what you're capable of. Until then, stay with us here at our home."
Akira smiled wryly, a flicker of something almost like gratitude in his eyes. "Alright," he said, his tone casual but carrying a hint of sincerity. "Guess I'll stick around a little longer."
Two days later, Akira sat on the floor, playing with Yuna. Cha-Jong entered, his usual calm expression firm with purpose. "Akira, it's time. I've arranged the meeting with the guildmaster. We have to leave now."
Akira opened his eyes slowly, exhaling as he rose and stretched. "Alright, I'm on my way."
Just as he was about to head out, Min-Jin approached, holding a neatly folded bundle in her arms. "Akira," she said with a small, satisfied smile, "I bought the clothes you talked about wanting." She extended them toward him before adding, "Here's the money left from what you gave me." She handed him a few bills—1,052,513 Won (approximately 700 Euros). Akira had given her around 3,007,180 Won (approximately 2,000 Euros).
He took the money without counting, then pressed it back into her hands. "Keep it," he said casually. "Buy something for Yuna. From me."
Min-Jin blinked, her smile faltering as she shook her head. "Akira, I can't take this it's a lot"
Akira's expression didn't change, but his tone softened just a fraction. "I don't need it. And Yuna deserves something nice. Consider it a thank you… for putting up with me."
Min-Jin hesitated, her fingers tightening around the bills. "But—"
"No buts," Akira interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "Take it. For her."
Min-Jin looked down at the money, then back at Akira, her eyes glistening with a mix of gratitude and something deeper—something she couldn't quite put into words. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Akira. I'll make sure she knows it's from you."
Akira shrugged, as if it were nothing. "Don't make a big deal out of it."
Min-Jin smiled faintly, tucking the money into her pocket. "Be careful out there, okay?"
Akira gave a small nod and turned away to wear the new clothes.Akira unwrapped the clothes—almost identical to what he usually wore a sleek black costume, a dark shirt beneath, and a hoodie layered over it. He dressed swiftly and joined Cha-Jong outside.
The two made their way to the guild headquarters. A towering building stood before them, sleek and polished, its edges lined with intricate magical sigils glowing with a dim, soft light. The name "Silver Aegis Guild" was emblazoned in shimmering, metallic letters at the top.
Akira's sharp eyes scanned the edifice as he took it in. "Huge," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Not bad. It reminds me of my father's company. Looks like they've got a good budget for aesthetics."
Cha-Jong chuckled, gesturing toward the main entrance. "Come on."
Akira nodded and followed Cha-Jong into the building.
Akira and Cha-Jong sat in a vast, polished office at the guild headquarters. The room was oppressive, heavy with dark wood, intricate silver inlays, and the faint hum of magical wards that charged the air. The walls were adorned with trophies from dungeon raids: rare weapons, crystals that shimmered with inner light, and fragments of defeated monsters.
Akira waited, his eyes sharp. Then, the door opened.
She entered.
Sylara Veilheart was overwhelming, her every movement commanding attention. She stood tall and regal at 5'11", her sleek silver hair cascading down her back like liquid moonlight. Her violet eyes shone with a dangerous light, their sharpness cutting through the heavy atmosphere of the room. Her dark robes were intricately embroidered with silver runes that whispered of power and authority. At her side hung a slender, deadly blade—a silent promise of lethal skill.
An Star A-Rank Warrior.
She came to a stop before them, her eyes locking on Akira with surgical precision. The weight of her aura was stifling, like the calm before a storm.
"So," she said, her voice smooth yet sharp, "you're the young prodigy Cha-Jong thinks so highly of." Her gaze swept over him, cold and calculating. "Let's see if you're worth the hype."
Without warning, her aura surged, a crushing wave of pressure that forced the air from Akira's lungs. He gritted his teeth, his body instinctively bracing against the force. "This is on another level. She's stronger than that vampire-woman in the double dungeon, for sure. If we fought now, I wouldn't stand a chance. So this is the difference between B-Rank and A-Rank… It's massive."
Akira's thoughts drifted to Eri, the memory of her standing close to him surfacing. "A normal human wouldn't feel a thing, not even standing right next to someone like her. That's why, even when I was close with Eri, I never felt anything from her. I couldn't sense a thing back then. If I hadn't awakened, I'd be blind to this world of power. Now, I see it—and I'm still learning how to survive in it."
Sylara's lips curved into a faint smirk as she stepped closer, her voice low and deliberate. "You've got presence, I'll give you that. But presence isn't power. Prove to me you're more than just potential."
Akira met her gaze, his dark eyes burning with defiance. "Then give me a chance to show it," he said, his voice steady, laced with quiet resolve.
The room fell silent, the air crackling with tension. Sylara's smirk widened, a spark of approval dancing in her dangerous gaze. "Bold... I like that," she said, her voice almost teasing. "But don't mistake boldness for strength, kid. Prove to me you're more than just words."
Cha-Jong watched nervously as the two locked eyes, the tension between them palpable, hanging on a knife's edge.
"I'll arrange a test," Sylara said finally, stepping back. Once more, her commanding presence filled the room. "Impress me, Akira Shoto, and you might just earn the place you want as an outside agent. Disappoint me… and this will be the last time we speak."