Chapter 29: [S-CLASS HUNTERS’ MEETING]

“Thank you for coming despite your busy schedules,” Midas Ryu, the founder and head of the Hunter’s Association, spoke coolly into the microphone, his voice resonating through the tall glass-paneled conference hall.

He stood at the front of the room, backlit by the glow of a massive projected screen. The floor-to-ceiling walls around them buzzed faintly with the faint hum of high-end tech, sealing them in with soundproof security.

The meeting hall—used only for top-priority emergencies—was packed with elite S-Class Hunters from every major guild.

A flicker of static passed through the projector as it warmed.

“Like we had a choice,” Mio muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he slouched in his seat beside Samantha.

She didn’t hesitate to jab her elbow into his side.

“Ow!” Mio hissed in a half-whisper, straightening up.

“Behave yourself,” Samantha scolded quietly. “Why can’t you be more like Kairo?”

’Why does she have to constantly mention me when I have nothing to do with this,’ Kairo thought grimly, keeping his expression neutral, eyes forward.

His posture was straight, his hands folded on the table in front of him, the picture-perfect model of discipline.

The screen lit up fully.

Sixteen video feeds played simultaneously, each marked with location stamps from different districts across Soul City. Street cams, drone footage, phone captures—they all showed chaos.

Midas stepped aside and gestured toward the projection.

“I won’t make this long. I’m sure you’re all aware why I called you here,” he said. “These are all the monster appearances that happened today across Soul City.”

He tapped a control panel on the podium. One video expanded—footage of Talia from the Verdant Claw Guild, widely known as one of the strongest S-Class Hunters in Korenea.

She was in civilian clothing, no armor, no weapons save what she could summon. Despite that, she moved with fluid grace through rubble and fire, striking down mutated beasts alongside other panicked hunters.

The video clipped away. Then another. And another.

Scenes of mayhem unfolded on-screen: ogres crashing through buildings, serpentine monsters weaving through traffic, people screaming and fleeing.

Familiar faces flickered by—some S-Class, others not. All of them caught off-guard.

“There were mass casualties,” Midas continued, tone clinical, “Fortunately, no deaths. But many civilians were injured, and significant infrastructure was destroyed.”

He paused briefly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The screen shifted again, now showing damage assessments and heatmaps of the affected areas.

“This is the largest simultaneous tear-related incident we’ve recorded in Soul City. And to be blunt—we do not currently have a working solution. Nor can we say with confidence when it will stop. Our specialists are continuing their research.”

The room stirred.

Soft murmurs filled the space. Disbelief. Concern. Irritation.

Kairo didn’t react. He expected this.

The Hunter’s Association wasn’t just an administrative body—they were the backbone of the awakened world.

Their scientists studied dungeons, monitored patterns, theorized the behaviors of monsters and cracks. They handled awakeners, facilitated guild structures, and enforced dungeon protocol.

Korenea had been the first country on Aerth where a dungeon appeared.

Midas Ryu—its first awakener—led the original raid team that cleared it.

That team became legends. And from them, the very first Hunter’s Association was born. It had since spread globally, but even now, the Korenean branch stood above the rest.

So the fact that even Midas seemed at a loss?

That said everything.

“And that,” Midas said, finally looking out at the seated hunters, “…is why I’ve called all of you here today. To inform you of some temporary, but critical changes to our operations.”

He clicked to the next slide.

“For now—unless absolutely necessary—only two guilds will be authorized to clear S-Class dungeons. Bidding rights will be frozen until further notice.”

The effect was immediate.

A sharp intake of breath cut through the crowd.

Then—

“What?!” Ezra Yun, the hot-blooded guild leader of Glass Heart, nearly shot out of his seat. “How is that even remotely fair?!”

“I agree,” came the calmer but clearly strained voice of Theo Han, Vice-Leader of Glacier Howl. “Only two guilds? What about the rest of us? What are we supposed to do—sit and watch?!”

The volume rose. Arguments layered over each other. Guild representatives—hunters who’d earned their rank and prestige—began to speak over one another, trying to be heard.

Frustration. Anger.

All of it filled the room like static.

But not everyone joined in.

At the far end of the table, Samantha Park of Twilight Guild leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, silently watching.

And beside her, equally unreadable, sat Zacharias Kim—the Lion’s Fang’s infamous guild leader—expression stone cold, a big smirk on his face.

They didn’t speak.

They didn’t need to.

Because it was obvious who the two guilds were.

Midas raised a hand—calm, practiced—to quiet the murmuring voices and rising frustration that filled the hall. Slowly, the noise dwindled into silence.

Then, he stepped aside and gestured to the poised woman behind him.

Kairie Ryu.

His wife—and the head of the Guild Association.

She stepped forward with all the grace and authority of her title, her pale blue coat flowing behind her like a queen’s mantle. Her eyes scanned the crowd as she addressed them, her voice level and clear through the microphone.

“I know all of you are concerned,” she began, her hands lightly resting on the podium, “especially for your guilds. S-Class dungeons are—if not the most—vital sources of income and resources. I understand the pressure this puts on all of you.”

She paused just long enough to let the weight of her words settle, then turned to the screen behind her and tapped the next slide.

Another video began to play.

Kairo’s eyes narrowed slightly.

’That’s… me.’

The footage was clean—captured from the Association drones, hovering from multiple angles above the battle site. It showed him mid-combat as he dodged and countered three relentless ogres at once. The camera zoomed in during a moment where an ogre barely missed him.

Every eye turned to him.

He could feel the weight of their stares.

The video fast-forwarded—skimming past the middle of the fight—and paused again at the moment where the team closed in for the final blow. Kairo, empowered by pooled blood, soared into the air with the black-haired hunter on his arm, before stabbing his sword into the ogre’s eye with brutal precision.

Then the screen froze.

“Kairo,” Kairie said gently but firmly, turning toward him. “Can you please stand and share your personal observations on the monster you fought?”

A ripple of surprise moved through the room.

’Didn’t I already submit this through Samantha?’

But he didn’t protest.

Kairo stood, straightening with his usual soldier’s posture. Hands behind his back. Calm face. Though inside, he felt the prickle of exhaustion still tugging at his limbs.

He looked up at Midas, then Kairie—then finally across the room at dozens of the highest-ranked Hunters in Korenea.

“I encountered a single ogre chasing civilians,” he began, voice measured. “It was standard in behavior and strength. I neutralized it. However, upon its death, it let out a roar that acted as a signal. Four more appeared shortly after. Three regulars. One boss.”

He paused for a moment, then continued.

“While I fought the three standard ogres, I noticed a pattern. They struck in a repeated rhythm. Kept me occupied. They weren’t just attacking blindly—they were conditioning me to get used to a specific attack style. Then one of them shifted its pattern.”

“Conditioning you?” Ryan Chase, a cocky S-Class from Skyfall Talon, scoffed from across the room. “Ogres aren’t that smart.”

“Oh shut up, Ryan,” Mio snapped, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t even fought one.”

Ryan’s smirk twitched, but he bit back a reply.

“Enough,” Midas said, his voice sharp enough to kill the tension before it built.

He turned back to Kairo. “I assume you determined they were conditioning you thanks to Elione Ahn?”

That name made Kairo pause.

“Elione Ahn?” he repeated, brow furrowed.

“That hunter you were with,” came a voice from the side—Kaio Lark, an S-Class unaffiliated with any guild. Known for operating solo, often on-call by the Association.

“I’ve worked with him before,” Kaio added. “He’s freelance. Usually refuses most jobs unless the payout’s high. Hates being in the thick of battle, so I’m surprised he was even still there.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Another voice joined—Caius Roen, another well-known freelancer. “I thought he looked familiar.”

’Elione Ahn… so that’s his name?’ Kairo’s eyes flicked to Mio, who had already pulled out his tablet and begun typing.

That would make it easier to find him.

Kairo looked back at Midas and nodded. “Yes. Elione Ahn was the one who assisted me.”

He saw more eyes land on him, some curious, others surprised.

“I was able to eliminate the three ogres, but during the boss fight, it let out a roar and triggered something… abnormal. One of the regular ogres began to mutate. As seen in the footage, its body expanded, grew additional limbs, and its aggression spiked. We have no previous record of mutation in ogres.”

“Mutation?” someone asked—an unfamiliar S-Class from a mid-tier guild.

“Ogres can do that now?”

“No,” Midas answered himself, voice grave. “Not until now. That is why we’re concerned.”

He motioned for Kairo to sit, and Kairo did so without another word.

“Even one of the strongest S-Class Hunters,” Midas continued, “struggled to defeat creatures that should’ve been among the easier dungeon ranks. Ogres do not traditionally use tactics. They do not mutate. They do not exhibit magical or coordinated behavior. And yet… here we are.”

A deep hush fell across the room.

No one dared to refute him now. Even the loudest voices from before sat stiffly, staring at the screen.

And then—

A slow, deliberate clearing of a throat cut through the silence.

A man from the far end of the table raised his hand, reclining slightly in his seat with a smug expression.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but… are we absolutely certain the issue wasn’t just that Kairo was too weak to handle the ogres?”

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