The City Of Towers

  July 18th, Central Year 119 P.R.E. (Post-Ragnarok Era)

  Two people were seated in a large meeting room on the fortieth floor of an extravagant corporate building. Separated by a sublimely polished wooden table, one was a well-aged man somewhere in his late fifties, and the other was a teenage boy who seemed both restless and out of place.

  A fading scar ran across half of the young man's face, just beneath his eyelid. It split his expression between that of an overly serious thug and a precocious high schooler, radiating an air of affability. Yet, in that moment, his presence felt oddly tame compared to the man pompously seated before him.

  The man, dressed impeccably in a charcoal-gray suit, leaned forward with his hands clasped on the table, his sharp eyes fixed on the boy.

  “Three broken ribs, two concussions, a fractured wrist, and a dislocated shoulder. All that in just these past few months, I know you ‘deviant’ folks are built a lot tougher than normal people but this is a bit much, especially for a rookie. At this point I’m confused as to how you’re even still alive right now.”

  The younger boy sitting across from him smiled awkwardly, but seemed a bit surprised for some reason like he too was also having a hard time believing he somehow survived all that. “Well, I’ve been told I’m tougher than I look chairman.” He stated confidently.

  “Tougher than you look, eh? That’s certainly debatable but it's not why I called you here” said the chairman, replying decisively. “You do heal a lot quicker than even veteran hunters though, I’ll give you that.”

  Reacting to the growing suspense, the young lad quickly shifted in his seat as if changing gears.

  A few moments later, the chairman spoke again. “Are you sure about this, Cyril? Becoming a hunter isn’t as simple as those celebrities make it look, you know. It’s one of the most life-threatening careers in the world; this decision will end up affecting your entire life so I’d appreciate it if you would put a bit more thought into this. And besides...”

  His voice trailed off, brows scrunching in unison to signal how hard he must have been trying to phrase his next sentence carefully.

  “I know.” chairman Wilhelm; you don’t have to try so hard to mince your words. It’s about the stats from my evaluation, isn’t it?” Cyril cut him off, slouching in his chair.

  Wilhelm nodded his head, then reached for a few sheets of paper from the stack on his right and tossed it over to him. The stapled sheets had a few words at the top of the front page emblazoned in bold:

  “Evaluation Results – Trainee #124,971- Cyril Severin.”

  -----

  [Cognitive Affinity Index (C.A.I.): 4.772]

  [Class: Striker]

  [Unique skill: None]

  [Extra Skills: None]

  [Mana Capacity: Acceptable]

  [Strength: C]

  [Mana Manipulation: C]

  [Reaction Time: A]

  [Overall ranking: D]

  [Current Record: 74 breaches closed; 0 dungeons cleared.]

  -----

  There was an obvious disparity on display here. Ever since his first evaluation he felt as though the individual readings didn’t match up with the end result, but that result never changed no matter how many times he repeated the process.

  Cyril scrunched his eyes at the neatly organized readings on the paper. Like a young child struggling to come to terms with their underwhelming performance, he quickly tossed it back onto the table in a bid to dismiss the harsh reality.

  “Haah...”

  A morbid sigh escaped him as he stared up at the intricate design patterns running across the ceiling. This was exactly why Wilhelm had summoned him in the first place, for someone who seemed so dejected by his own evaluation he was being oddly serious about enlisting in such a dangerous profession.

  Was he really that serious? Or was the boy simply looking for the means to throw his life away?

  “As you can see, your results are rather underwhelming,” Wilhelm said, abandoning the desire to mince his words. “You’re certainly a lot stronger than the average human, but that doesn’t mean much in this profession. 'Average humans' aren’t high on the totem pole when it comes to the dangers hunters face. However, it doesn’t seem like you’re lacking in practical skill; clearly, that’s what you use to make up the difference. Evaluation aside, how exactly were you able to track down and defeat seventy-four monsters that crossed into our world?” Wilhelm’s voice deepened with that question, making it sound more like a demand than anything else.

  "I’m not sure how to answer that, Chairman. I was just in the right place at the right time, that's all it really was. Most of the time, I ended up getting help from other guild members," Cyril responded, though his expression made the answer seem anything but inconspicuous.

  “Right place, right time, is it? I would have believed you if this only happened once or twice, but seventy-four times pushes the bounds of that reasoning. Even our S-rank hunters aren’t that good, only saints have that kind of intuition.”

  He took a deep breath to calm himself, then directed his hardened gaze elsewhere for the sake of professionality.

  “This isn’t a threat, by the way. I’m in charge of overseeing the safety of this nation’s citizens, Babylon spawns the most gates in the entire world, so as the chairman of the hunter association, I simply want to know if there’s something we’re missing here. Allow me to apologize if that wasn’t clear; I’ve been on my guard ever since the incursion happened a year ago.”

  “I understand why you’d be on your guard, chairman, but I’m sorry, There’s really not much to it.” Cyril responded solemnly, complimenting the gesture with a slow shake of his head. "If I had to describe it, it’s more like an instinct—a feeling I get whenever I’m near the site of a breach or a gate. If I trust my senses, they lead me to where one is about to form."

  “A feeling huh? Well, if that’s the case then I guess there’s not much else to it then. I’ve heard stories of some hunters developing abnormally sharp senses after awakening, so it’s not too far-fetched I suppose.”

  “You...believe me?” Arrested with surprise, Cyril’s jaws fell slack for a moment.

  The chairman laughed hysterically, banging a hand on the rosewood desk. “Haha! Of course I believe you. I mean, you have no reason to lie to me, right? Unless you’re pure evil and you secretly wish for the downfall of all humanity that is.”

  “No,no,no! Of course not. People usually have a hard time believing that so I thought you would too.” He said, waving his arms to dispel the cynical notion.

  “I get it. It’s certainly not your typical story; but then again, we live in a world that gets invaded by goblin hordes every other Tuesday. When you’ve been at this for as long as I have you start to develop a keener eye for things. Besides, I knew your late guardian quite well, there’s no way Alice would ever raise a brat that constantly lies through his own teeth, right?”

  “Not a chance.” He answered firmly, tone resolute.

  Seemingly satisfied, the chairman nodded. “Well then, I suppose that’s it for my little suspicion. Since you’ve already made the requirements to take the final assessment, I’m curious to know what exactly you’re planning to do if we decide to let you proceed down this career path. That gift of yours is remarkable, but it has gotten you into quite a bit of trouble. I’m afraid I’ve seen far too many youngsters end up in a morgue because they came here looking for an adrenaline rush. I would rather not see it happen to you, too.”

  Correcting his posture, Cyril hunched forward to match the chairman’s bearing. “I’m not planning on doing anything stupid, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just that I’d like to try something a bit bolder, you know? Right now, I really don’t think there’s anything better for me to do.”

  The luster in his voice had waded quite a bit by the end of that sentence. Sensing his melancholy, Wilhelm cast a dreary gaze to the setting sun shining through the thick glass pane on his right.

  “I figured. It’s because Alice died, isn’t it? It’s already been six months, but I suppose it can't be helped. If I remember correctly, aside from her former student Carissa, she was your only other guardian, wasn’t she? Is that why you dropped out of the academy?” Wilhelm pressed with a rather scrutinizing gaze.

  How exactly he had come up on that information was anyone’s guess but at this point, Cyril felt like he’d rather not know the answer to that question. “I didn’t drop out.” He retorted in a weak, weary voice. “I finished the semester's training curriculum early so I could prepare for the final assessment to get my provisional hunter license. It's basically just an early holiday.”

  “I see. Well, in any case this is a dangerous job. I know you’re well trained since Alice was a former saint and all— that explains your physicals and that freakishly high reaction time— but I'm afraid it takes a lot more than just a sharp sword and keen senses to make it as a hunter. However....”

  Wilhelm paused, taking a breath to compose his thoughts.

  His last word had eagerly drawn the boy in like a moth to a flame. Eyes eager and ears wide, Cyril patiently waited for the answer that would no doubt determine where his life would go from here.

  “...I suppose we could settle on something after you make it through the final assessment.”

  “Y-Yes, I would appreciate that.” Cyril stammered, clenching a small fist out of the man’s view.

  “I’ll tell you this now, Cyril, anything can happen inside those gates, even the low ranking ones. Don’t get careless just because it's a practical test. If you do well enough then your future as a hunter here might not totally be out of the question.”

  “Yes sir, I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied earnestly, struggling to hide the squiggly smile forming on his face.

  “Good. Now if there’s nothing else you would like to discuss, you’re free to leave.”

  With a curt nod, the boy practically sprang out of the maple chair and broke into a half jog for the large rooms exit.

  “Also...” Wilhelm’s sharp voice stopped Cyril’s fingers from curling around the golden door knob. “It seems a few infamous upstarts from all around Babylon are going to be taking the final assessment alongside you, including the one from the Phoenix clan. I know you have a rather morbid history with him, but try not to start anything will you?”

  Wilhelm watched the young man’s shoulder stiffen for an instant, almost like a chill had run up his spine before the tension around him deflated.

  “...I understand chairman, I’ll keep that in mind.” He mumbled those words somewhat coldly before sliding across the doorframe.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Now alone with his thoughts, Wilhelm sighed, staring out the window as if looking for guidance.

  The weight of that decision seemed to have gotten the better of him, so against his own will, those conflicting thoughts had forced themself to materialize. “I did the right thing didn’t I...Alice?”

  Cyril groaned wearily upon exiting a small convenience store.

  Whatever brooding thoughts were on his mind must have slowed him down a lot more in comparison to the small plastic bag in his hands. It swayed to and fro haplessly in the gentle evening breeze, almost slipping through its owner's grasp several times, but the boy himself had failed to notice.

  Sipping on a lukewarm can of sweetened coffee, his feet trudged along as he weaved through the clustered crowds of a large shopping mall. Although he tried to play it off earlier, Wilhelm’s aura did in fact have a pressuring effect on him.

  Throughout the entirety of their conversation, he felt like he was slowly being backed into a corner. It was the kind of subtle tension that made the air seem to thicken like the man's words alone were enough to weigh it down.

  “Was that really why he asked to see me?” He muttered to himself, taking another sip of the cheap coffee. Wilhelm’s words resonated with him to a great degree, although wasn’t quite sure as to why.

  Becoming a hunter was a dangerous job.

  It quite literally demanded that one had to be prepared to risk their life on any given day, but on the other hand it did offer a wide array of benefits in exchange for such ludicrous demands. Free healthcare was a given, but there were also other perks such as free education and a near irrefutable promise of wealth for any semi-successful hunter and their family.

  He was still a trainee but that entire premise might be subject to change in just a few days. The results of his final assessment in four days time could very well determine what the next few years of his life were going to look like. He didn’t have his license yet, but once he got his official certification, would he go all in on his career as a hunter? Or would it remain a part-time gig? College was still an option down the line, but with the huge salaries most hunters earned per dungeon dive, he was starting to wonder if that would even be necessary anymore.

  Endless thoughts of maturity—some even a bit too mature for a sixteen-year-old swam through his mind as he sauntered down the boulevard, cluelessly walking past the array of enticing stores and brightly lit windows.

  The last time he dispatched a hobgoblin with the aid of another party, his total payment had come out to around ￡50,000. Of course, he’d earned himself quite a few broken bones to go along with that lump sum of money but in the end, he didn’t even end up spending a third of it.

  The only large purchase he made—the largest one in his entire life in fact— went towards dinner at a fancy restaurant with his formerly frugal guardian. That memory, the one that captured her reaction to tasting black tiger shrimp for the first time, still rang vividly in his mind.

  Exiting the narrow service road, he made his way towards a nearby overpass with a few programmed strides, barely able to suppress the thin smile curling up from the corner of his lips. His head hung low as he ascended the short flight of stairs but the evening sun was reflecting quite nicely off the dark hue of his jet-black hair, making his posture seem more regal than weary.

  “Fifty thousand pounds huh? What would I even do with all that money?” Cyril wondered aloud as he carefully tossed the matte black can of coffee into a nearby trash bin.

  Rustling the thin plastic bag hanging loosely from his arm, he stopped in the center of the overpass and pulled out another cheap can. The constant clanking from the bag made it clear—those cans were the only thing he’d bought.

  He had a rather peculiar habit of single mindedly obsessing over different canned beverages from time to time, although the cravings tended not to last. It was entirely random, left up to chance and whatever new varieties the local vending machines had in stock. Sometimes it was a soft drink, sometimes it was tea, and right now, it just so happened to be black coffee.

  Seconds before popping the lid, he held the can closer to his face and chuckled at the ninety-nine-penny price tag.

  “I guess I have you to thank for this too...” he said, giggling to himself, as his mentor’s favorite beverage was now his favorite.

  His body leaned over the railing almost instinctively, settling into a sort of reposed position for his eyes to lazily follow the oncoming procession of cars speeding along the highway.

  “A car....that might be nice too.” He murmured to himself, glancing both ways.

  Then it came.

  First was the very surreal sensation of tension shooting up his spine. In response, his back straightened instinctively as if an unseen hand had yanked him upright. Sounds faded around him and the world seemed to slow from the sensory overload. Blood pumped, his chest tightened and beads of sweat began forming on his forehead —not out of fear, but concern. Cyril knew exactly what it was, there was only one reason his senses would ever start going awry on him at a time like this and it could easily be summed up in one word.

  “Breach”.

  The term referred to the smaller gates that allowed monsters who were especially tenacious to invade human lands on their own. His senses had been kicked into high gear, desperately trying to warn him that something completely unscientific was happening in his vicinity. The metal railing went soft under the force of his clenched fists, creaking like an old wooden door on the verge of collapse before he finally noticed what was wrong.

  The cars coming down the highway were all moving incredibly fast—way too fast for the 70KMP/h speed sign slapped on the overpass. Perhaps it was because of his earlier nostalgia why he hadn’t noticed the strangeness of it all earlier.

  Boom!

  A tremor shook the ground.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  A series of heavy thuds rattled the ground over and over like falling thunderbolts. The overpass trembled from the quaking impact, forcing the procession below him into even more of a frenzy.

  “There!” He snapped, gritting his teeth at something in the distance.

  The plastic bag fell to the ground with a clattering sound moments before Cyril made a bold leap over the railing and cleared the twenty feet drop with a casual ease. His body hardly registered the impact, and within a single second, the young man was already dashing down the highway at a speed that could easily rival Olympic athletes.

  His bangs fluttered and his blazer whipped wildly in the wind, braving the rush of air that seemed to increase in intensity as Cyril pressed on, each step carrying more force than the last. He cleared the 200-meter distance in fifteen seconds and arrived at the ravaged junction just in time to see a familiar face bearing arms at a large rocky golem.

  The stone titan was a literal mass of bedrock that assumed a vaguely humanoid shape. The cluster of large stones serving as its limbs weren’t even attached to the main body, they floated in fixed positions, suspended by an unseen force and shifted with each of its movements as if tethered to it by some ancient power.

  Two more rocky silhouettes were strewn about the area, planted face down with no traces of the ancient force to be seen commanding their limbs. Given their small numbers, these hunters had managed to pull off quite the admirable feat with what little they had.Cyril’s charging presence had gone completely unnoticed by both friend and foe alike. Even though it was a three-on-one struggle both sides seemed unrelenting, each ready to land a critical blow against the next.

  At the moment the golem seemed to be taking the initiative.

  Ignoring the sweltering orbs of fire being thrown at it by a middle-aged magician, it casually swatted away a barrel-chested man who had carelessly rushed in for a tackle with his mana coated lance before aligning a fist with the figure of a struggling woman shrouding herself in a transparent barrier on the verge of collapse. The white cracks spreading along its surface would never allow her to withstand such a blow, especially not from a monster that was over fifty-feet tall.

  Without letting up, Cyril leapt forward.

  The buildup of momentum easily brought him within striking distance — even to eye level— but it was only once he was airborne and reaching for the weapon that ought to have been strapped to his back that he realized something.

  There was no weapon there.

  Nothing for him to draw, unsheathe, or swing if he got desperate.

  The golem’s round head spun, making eye contact with an unnervingly smooth yet unnatural trajectory. As their gazes met, the creature’s beet-red eyes locked onto him, and his tense expression morphed into a wry smile.

  In that moment, all the uncertainty in Cyril’s heart faded.

  He wound his arm back and clenched a tight fist, willing his mana to surge through his muscles. Smirking like a tyrant on the battlefield, his arm shot forward in a blur, and just before impact, he mouthed the words, "Pucker up!" to his target.

  Bam!

  Came the sound of bone crunching and rock shattering.

  A thick spurt of blood burst from Cyril’s forearm—his body couldn’t withstand the full force of his own strike—but the blow knocked the golem off balance, sending it staggering until its swiveling head spun in full 360s.

  That was enough for him.

  He landed deftly in front the woman’s barrier and spared the desperate party a cheeky wink before turning back around.

  “C-Cyril!?” The woman mouthed frantically, reacting out of pure shock.

  “What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital?” She cried, slamming on the barrier.

  “Nice to see you too Carissa.” He teased, giving her a slow wave without even turning around.

  “...Your hand-”

  “Will be fine in a few days. Besides, you look way worse than me right now.”

  A grunt came from behind him but decided to ignore it. They both understood what the other wanted to say, despite the current situation.

  Carissa’s concerns weren’t completely unwarranted. Even as they spoke waves of pain were surging through Cyril’s arm but they would get no more than the occasional wince from him.

  She knew that better than anyone.

  “Y-You are-” The older magician probed through panting breaths.

  “Cyril Severin. I won’t officially be a hunter until Friday, but I think I can help you out here.” affirmed Cyril as he shifted into a combat ready stance.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the magician flinch upon hearing his name.

  “You mean you’re that damn trainee!? What good are you in this situation!? The association had better have someone capabl-”

  “Enough old man.” Cyril intoned sharply, ending the man’s rant.“ Nobody sent me here; I was just nearby that's all. Someone has to create the opening you need to destroy the golem’s core and by the looks of things your vanguard won’t be getting up anytime soon so I don’t think you’re in any position to refuse here.”

  Still facing his foe, he extended a hand in some arbitrary direction expecting the man to follow the motion.

  The old magician wiped the blood trickling down his forehead and turned in the direction of Cyril’s extended finger. His eyes stopped on the strange sight of an unconscious bald man a few feet away, clad in a thick suit of clunky metal armor and half sunken into the asphalt.

  “Tsk, blasted fool.” The man grunted distastefully.

  “Carissa! Get ready, we're ending this now!” he barked in a cruel tone. Sending the brusque order with vigor.

  “Y-yes Mr. Evan...” Came the timid response.

  Cyril’s eyes shifted to her for an instant but he decided to focus on the task at hand.

  I’ll deal with this guy later. He thought to himself.

  Just then, Carissa’s barrier shattered the moment she began chanting behind him. The woman started spewing lines upon lines of words his brain couldn’t possibly decipher, each one filling her presence with a calm yet irrefutable kind of power.

  Her companion did the same.

  Iridescent waves of mana surged around Evan as he widened his stance and shifted his posture. The glowing particles seemed to coalesce around him gleefully, responding to his presence with a playful energy.

  “Thirty seconds brat, that’s all I need. Try to survive until then.” Taunted the almond-haired magician in a scornful tone.

  Cyril ignored him, stepping forward with a focused look and muttering the words “You’re lucky I’m not spiteful” to himself.

  On cue, a dull series of thuds from the ground had once again demanded his attention. Bracing himself first, he allowed his eyes to slowly rise and match the adamant gaze of the husky monster starring down at him.

  According to the hunter association, monsters weren’t sentient creatures and were more akin to powerful beasts acting on instinct, but it was in times like these where Cyril couldn’t help but wonder if that was really true. After all, the malice in the eyes of his foe was evident. Could a creature that wasn’t sentient really conjure such an expression? One that was so bitter and hateful?

  He didn’t know the answer to that question and right now, it didn’t matter.

  Survival came first.

  Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!

  Second-Class Saint.

  Also, Native Britons feel free to correct me about the dialogue any time, I'm still getting used to it.

  Cheers,

  CosmicSlime