The world hadn't always been this way.
Decades ago, humanity stood on the brink of annihilation when the first gates appeared—otherworldly portals connecting Earth to terrifying dimensions. From the gates poured forth beasts of unfathomable size and strength, each determined to turn humanity into little more than a footnote in history. Cities crumbled, nations fell, and fear reigned supreme.
But with the rise of the gates came a gift—or perhaps a curse. A select few humans awakened extraordinary powers, evolving into beings known as hunters. These individuals became the world's first line of defense, pushing back the tides of destruction with abilities that defied the laws of nature. Some wielded fire and lightning, others bent space itself, and a rare few reached levels of power that blurred the line between human and god.
It was Sung Jinwoo who changed everything. Once a powerless E-rank hunter, Jinwoo had ascended to become the Shadow Monarch, a figure whose legend transcended borders. He had saved humanity from the reign of the Monarchs, the ancient rulers of destruction, and later took the fight to the Outer Gods—the Itarim, beings whose very existence threatened all of creation.
With Jinwoo gone, the gates didn't stop. If anything, they grew more frequent. The responsibility of protecting Earth now fell to hunters scattered across the globe. Regional guilds formed, each claiming territories and establishing hierarchies. The United States boasted the Gold Sentinel Guild & The Scavanger Guild, whose A-rank and S-rank hunters defended sprawling metropolises like New York and Los Angeles. Korea was the home of Sung Suho, Jinwoo's son, and the inheritor of his father's strength.
But while S-rank hunters and their guilds basked in glory, lower-ranked hunters lived a much harsher reality. For every powerful guild leader, there were hundreds of E-ranks—humans barely stronger than the average person, relegated to menial tasks like porting equipment in raids. These hunters were cannon fodder in dungeons, often overlooked and underpaid for their troubles.
And that's where Xavier came in.
...
In a cramped one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of New York, sunlight crept through the broken blinds. The morning air was thick with the smell of day-old pizza and laundry that hadn't been folded in weeks. Amongst the clutter of takeout containers and dusty game consoles, Xavier Mercer was dead to the world, sprawled across a mattress that had seen better days.
That was, until a slobbering tongue dragged across his face.
"Boxer, come on!" Xavier groaned, flailing his arms as a large, overly enthusiastic mutt licked him awake. Boxer, a mix of German Shepherd and who-knew-what, wagged his tail furiously, oblivious to his owner's protests.
"Alright, alright, I'm up!" Xavier sat up, wiping drool off his cheek. Boxer barked happily, circling him in the small space. The dog was easily the most energetic thing in the apartment, a stark contrast to Xavier's lethargic existence.
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and froze.
"Oh crap!"
It was 7:45 AM. The raid was scheduled for 8:00, and the gate was across the city.
Panic set in as Xavier scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over Boxer in the process. "Why didn't I set an alarm?! Oh, right—because I was too busy bingeing Hunter Wars 3 last night like an idiot."
He grabbed the first shirt he could find—an old concert tee that barely fit—and shoved on a pair of jeans. As he stuffed his gear into a battered backpack, his phone buzzed on the counter.
Xavier hesitated. Nothing good ever came from checking his phone in moments like this, but curiosity got the better of him. Sure enough, there was a voicemail waiting for him.
He hit play, and the grating voice of Brandon Steele, the B-rank hunter leading today's raid, blasted through the speaker.
"Mercer, where the hell are you?! You're the only porter I could find on such short notice, and you can't even bother showing up on time? If you're not here in fifteen minutes, I swear, you're paying for your share of the entrance fee AND losing your cut. Get your useless ass here NOW!"
Xavier groaned, stuffing the phone into his pocket. "Yeah, love you too, Brandon," he muttered sarcastically.
Boxer tilted his head, as if sharing in his owner's exasperation.
Grabbing his bag and giving Boxer a quick scratch behind the ears, Xavier bolted for the door. "Be good while I'm gone, buddy. And don't eat the couch again, I'm serious!"
Boxer barked in response, his tail wagging as Xavier slammed the door behind him.
…..
The world outside was just as chaotic as Xavier's morning. The streets of New York bustled with activity, the skyline interrupted by several gates floating ominously in the air. In the distance, he could see a team of A-rank hunters preparing to close a high-level gate, their armored figures gleaming in the sunlight. Crowds gathered to watch, their cheers muffled as Xavier sprinted past.
He reached the subway station, leaping over a turnstile with practiced ease. Normally, he'd feel guilty about not paying, but today, survival took precedence. He barely made it onto the train, earning glares from other passengers as he squeezed into the overcrowded car.
As the train rattled toward its destination, Xavier's mind wandered. Being a hunter wasn't glamorous for someone like him. He didn't have powers worth bragging about, nor did he belong to any guild. At best, he was a glorified errand boy—a porter who carried loot and stayed out of the way.
"One of these days," he muttered to himself, "I'm gonna find a way out of this mess."
But for now, Xavier Mercer was just an E-rank hunter with a lousy alarm clock, an overly enthusiastic dog, and a habit of being late for everything.
And as the train screeched to a halt, he couldn't shake the feeling that today's raid was going to be different—though he couldn't have imagined just how much his life was about to change.