---
After a quick tidying up, Adam took a long, hot shower to wash away the fatigue of the day. The steam curled around him, fogging the mirrors and creating a brief cocoon of warmth and silence. When he stepped out, droplets trickled down his toned frame before he wrapped himself in the soft, hotel-issued bathrobe. He settled into the plush chair by the desk, its fabric cool against his skin.
A soft shimmer in the dim room announced Rose's arrival. With an elegance that matched her name, she moved behind him and began to knead his shoulders with practiced precision.
Ding! A mechanical chime resonated in his mind.
[Congratulations, host! Your compatibility with the Rose, has increased by 2 points.]
A small smile played on Adam's lips. This is the life, he mused. The perfect balance of luxury and progress, with someone skilled not only in battle but in soothing his muscles. He leaned back into her touch, the tension melting away.
"Mmm... Rose, that's perfect," he murmured, eyes half-closing. But suddenly, a sharp pressure made him wince. "Ouch! Easy there, Rose."
"My apologies," Rose said smoothly, her tone neither warm nor cold. He adjusted the force she used with a subtle mental command, and the discomfort turned back into bliss.
As the knots in his shoulders unwound, Adam turned on the sleek, newly acquired smart computer. The screen flickered to life with a soft glow, casting reflections over the tidy hotel room. Accessing the internet in this era was a luxury reserved for the privileged few—nobles and Doom-Breaker. The mere cost of a device like this would feed a slum family for an entire year. For many, it was a fantasy; for Adam, it was a tool and a status symbol.
Navigating through the polished interface, he quickly found the Alliance Association's official website. After a brief scan, he located the link to its social communication software. He clicked, downloaded, and installed it within moments, the sleek design of the system responding instantly.
From his pocket, he retrieved a thin, silver identity card. Slotting it into the reader, the computer emitted a soft beep, recognizing him at once. The screen confirmed with a flash: Identity recognized. Account successfully generated.
A new world of connections and opportunities opened before him.
With this new account, Adam now had unrestricted access to the Alliance Association's database of demon-hunting missions. Browsing through potential tasks, posting new requests, and connecting with fellow Doom-Breaker for vital exchanges of information—all of it was just a click away.
He opened the chat client, anticipation sparking as he waited for the interface to load. But instead of the sleek, professional layout he expected, the screen was bombarded with a chaotic flood of bizarre ads:
1. "Midnight Goblin Casino—roll dice with enchanted goblins for a chance to win cursed gold! Play now for a 3% chance of keeping your soul!"
2. "Ultimate Banana Fight—smash, slip, and conquer! Charge only 15 Dollars for a golden banana power-up and guaranteed opponent humiliation! Now with 1-second full-screen triple chaos mode!"
3. "Mystical Tentacle Transfiguration—reshape your destiny! Want an extra arm? A prehensile tail? Reboot your reality with our patented transformation spa treatment! Because being something more feels amazing!"
Adam's brows furrowed, a mix of disbelief and annoyance etching into his face. What in the world... ads? Seriously?
"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. For an organization as grand and essential as the Global Doom-Breaker Association, the reliance on ad revenue felt almost comical. Clearly, even international bodies weren't immune to financial struggles.
He watched the live dealer's ad for what felt like an eternity, eyes flicking to the countdown timer in the corner. The seconds ticked down painfully slow. Just as the timer hit zero, he breathed a sigh of relief, only for a new annoyance to surface.
A sequence of verifications appeared, one after another:
SMS verification. Code entered. Check.
QR code verification? Scanned. Check.
Letter verification. Typed out. Check.
Facial recognition verification?
"Please face the camera and open your mouth... Thank you for your cooperation," the robotic voice chimed.
A sharp, frustrated laugh escaped Adam. "You've got to be kidding me!"
He resisted the urge to throw something as the final hurdle passed, and at last, the chat interface loaded. The layout was familiar, eerily similar to the social platforms from his old life. Simple, customizable—he could change his display name and avatar at will.
He selected a generic, system-default icon. For the name, he typed one word and hit enter: Anonymous.
---
The Alliance Association was known for its stringent privacy protocols, ensuring that the identities of Doom-Breaker remained well-guarded. Adam knew that unless he willingly disclosed his identity, not even the Crypta Warfare Department could trace him.
What name should I choose? He leaned back, eyes drifting to the striking figure of Rose, the formidable Hell Queen, standing behind him. A mischievous grin tugged at his lips.
" Loli killer," he typed, watching the letters appear on the screen. With a final tap, his chat account was fully activated.
The interface blinked to life, but it was empty—no friends, no conversations. He glanced down at the business card Stella had handed him insistently during their last encounter. Adam hesitated, fingers hovering above the keyboard. After a moment's pause, he sent a friend request, typing only a single word as the message: Yoo.
The response came quicker than expected. A new notification popped up, and a cartoon icon with the name " Kitty " appeared in his friend list.
Kitty: Is that you, Adam?
Loli Killer: It's me.
Kitty: Haha, I knew you'd come around! So, did you change your mind?
Loli Killer: Sorry, still not interested.
Kitty: ...(￣▽￣*)
Kitty: Well, at least you contacted me. That's progress!
Kitty: But your username… (⊙﹏⊙) Loli Killer?
Adam rubbed his temple, a rueful smile crossing his face. Great, now she probably thinks I'm some kind of weirdo.
Loli Killer: I have something else to do. We'll talk later.
Kitty: (￣3￣)…
With a click, Adam set his status to invisible. His conversation with Stella had served its purpose, but he needed time to process the implications. Maintaining contact was strategic—her connections could become valuable assets.
He leaned back, running a hand through his damp hair, then reached for the hotel room's phone. The line clicked as the front desk answered, and he ordered the cheapest chicken steak set meal they offered.
In this life, balancing luxury and practicality was an art.
Before long, the housekeeping staff arrived with his order and set it down with a practiced smile. Adam glanced at the tray: a modest chicken steak set that looked far from luxurious but carried an eye-watering price tag.
Three hundred Dollars for this? He stifled a groan. The cost of living in this upscale hotel was bleeding him dry. He had to act fast—accepting a demon-hunting mission wasn't just a choice anymore; it was a necessity. Without it, he'd be counting his days until he ended up on the streets.
Once he finished the meal, which barely justified its price, Adam turned his focus back to his smart computer. The screen glowed as he logged into the Alliance Association's mission portal. Instantly, the page populated with dozens of demon-hunting missions, each accompanied by grim details.
So much for peace, he thought grimly. The illusion of a stable society shattered before the sheer volume of missions. Humanity's struggle against the supernatural was a fight hidden from the everyday lives of commoners—especially those in the slums where Adam had spent most of his life, oblivious to the scale of the threat.
The missions were classified meticulously by difficulty, from D-level at the simplest to SSR-level, the pinnacle of danger and potential glory. The rankings mirrored the tiers of the Doom-Breaker themselves, matching the challenge posed by the Alienor that prowled the world.
Adam was still a D-level Doom-Breaker. Theoretically, his current clearance only allowed him to view and accept lower-tier missions—B-level, C-level, and D-level. The truly perilous demon-hunting tasks were locked behind higher levels of authorization, their content blurred out as if to remind him of his current insignificance.
Of course, the Association wouldn't stop anyone from attempting a mission above their rank. But the unspoken truth was brutal: if you overreached and fell, your death was on you. No pity, no compensation.
Adam's eyes skimmed the list, noting the glaring absence of SSR-level missions but spotting a few A-level and S-level ones. The details alone were chilling, descriptions of creatures that haunted the edges of human comprehension.
Not today, he resolved. He hadn't clawed his way out of poverty to throw it all away recklessly. Scrolling past the high-risk options, he focused on the manageable, practical missions. With a few clicks, he selected one that seemed within his capability, determined to secure enough funds to keep his head above water—and maybe, just maybe, set the stage for something greater.
Adam focused his attention on D-level to C-level tasks—missions suited to his current capabilities. The D-level tasks, however, were a frustrating sight. They refreshed infrequently and, when they did, the assignments were mundane with barely any payout.
One job caught his eye briefly: escorting a wealthy merchant's elderly mother to her hometown, a fortress town 150 kilometers from Crypta. It promised a meager reward of 8,000 Dollars—a sum that wouldn't even cover his expenses for chicken rice for a month. Yet even those low-tier missions were snatched up like hot cakes, disappearing the instant they appeared on the screen.
"Seriously? Am I being outpaced by these desk jockeys?" Adam scowled at the screen, muttering, "Goblins, cursed dice, and tentacle horrors... How long have I been stuck in this mess?"
After countless attempts, he finally admitted defeat. Every D-level mission vanished faster than he could click. Frustrated, he shifted his focus and blocked the D-level search filter, leaving only C-level tasks visible. The page fell into a quiet lull—until a mission title in bold red lettering flashed onto the screen.
The red font was impossible to ignore; it signified an expedited task with a boosted bounty. Adam's pulse quickened as he clicked on it. The reward made his eyes widen—a full one million Dollars. His lips curled into a grin despite himself.
The issuer: Robert Rays, CEO of Divine Metal Smelting Company.
The mission title was succinct: Eliminate all monsters around the former site of the Divine Metal Smelting Company.
Adam leaned back, considering the implications. The Divine Metal Smelting Company was no ordinary operation; it was the backbone of Crypta's steel supply, a private empire that played a vital role in the city's infrastructure. And Robert Rays, despite being an ordinary human, was renowned for his shrewd business acumen. Over the span of two decades, he had single-handedly cornered the entire steel and metal market in Crypta, cementing his status as a juggernaut in the raw materials industry.
A million Dollars... Adam's mind raced. The sum was enough to secure not just survival but leverage—an opportunity to climb the rungs of power in the Doom-Breaker hierarchy.
And if a man like Robert Rays was posting such a bounty, it meant the threat was no ordinary one. The stakes were high, but so was the potential payoff. Adam's fingers hovered over the "Accept" button, weighing risk against reward.
.....