Chapter 2 — Part 1 Awakening
The hospital room smelled faintly of disinfectant and recycled air.
Bright white ceiling tiles. A heart monitor beeping steadily beside me. An IV line running into my arm.
For a moment, I wondered if the dungeon had been a dream.
Then I remembered the hole in my chest.
The Vaelreth King.
The throne among the stars.
The deity.
A nurse noticed my eyes open and rushed out. Within minutes, a middle-aged doctor stepped into the room holding a tablet.
“Well,” he said casually, glancing at the screen, “your vitals are stable. No internal bleeding. No structural abnormalities. Honestly, you look surprisingly fine considering the circumstances.”
“Circumstances?” I asked weakly.
“You were found unconscious outside the Gate perimeter after it closed. Mild shock. Severe mana fluctuation at time of intake, but it’s normalized. You have been in a coma for a week.”
He gave me a measured look.
“You’re lucky to have woken up.”
Lucky.
“You’ll need to speak with the USHC investigator before discharge,” he continued. “After that, you’re free to go. Just… expect a bill in the mail.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred dollars.”
I stared at the ceiling.
It’s 2050.
You would think after a second civil war, a supernatural catastrophe, and the near collapse of global civilization that the United States would have figured out healthcare.
But no.
Still run by money.
I swallowed the irritation and nodded. The doctor left with a polite smile.
Silence filled the room again.
I shifted slightly in the bed.
And that’s when I noticed it.
My body felt… different.
There were no visible changes. No glowing aura. No dramatic transformation.
But everything felt lighter.
Sharper.
My breathing was easier. My senses clearer. My muscles responsive in a way they never had been before.
It felt like—
I had awakened.
Normally, when someone awakens, they don’t know their rank immediately. You have to go through testing. Mana output measurements. Reaction analysis. Combat simulations.
It can take days.
Sometimes weeks.
But as I focused inward—
Something appeared.
A translucent panel.
Floating in front of me.
I froze.
It looked like a system interface.
Clean. Structured. Organized.
My name was at the top.
Below it were stats.
Strength: 1
Endurance: 1
Agility: 1
Intelligence: 1
Luck: 1
My breath caught.
There was more.
Combat Power.
Rank.
Wait.
How does it know that?
Combat Power and rank classifications weren’t natural laws. They weren’t cosmic truths.
Humans created them.
When the Gates first appeared in 2040, it was chaos. There was no reliable way to measure strength. Some Hunters looked weak but hit like freight trains. Others had flashy abilities but collapsed under pressure.
The Association spent months running controlled dungeon trials.
Measuring mana output.
Comparing survival rates.
Analyzing bottlenecks.
They discovered something consistent.
Hunters would plateau at certain power thresholds.
Then, after breakthrough events, their power would spike dramatically.
Those bottlenecks became rank cutoffs.
The ranking system evolved into this:
E → D → C → B → A → S → SS → SSS
Officially, that’s where it ends.
SSS is Apex.
That’s the highest recorded strength in history.
Within each rank, the gap widens dramatically. Especially at higher tiers. That’s why subcategories exist:
S-
S
S+
Because not all S-ranks are equal.
Combat Power was introduced as a numerical indicator — not absolute truth, but a guideline. If your CP is higher than your opponent’s, you likely have the edge.
Likely.
Not guaranteed.
Strategy still matters.
After years of testing, the chart became standard worldwide:
E Rank — 1 to 8 CP
D Rank — 9 to 25 CP
C Rank — 26 to 99 CP
B Rank — 100 to 299 CP
A Rank — 300 to 1,499 CP
S Rank — 1,500 to 5,999 CP
SS Rank — 6,000 to 29,999 CP
SSS Rank — 30,000 to 199,999 CP
The upper limits were chosen based on consistent breakthrough bottlenecks.
Scientists theorize 199,999 CP is the limit of human tolerance.
Anything beyond that?
The body would supposedly self-destruct.
Theory.
My eyes moved back to the floating panel in front of me.
Combat Power: 5
Rank: E
I stared at it.
Five?
E Rank?
That doesn’t make sense.
I was in an Apex-ranked dungeon.
I died.
A god descended into my body and erased an entire tribe of monsters.
And I awaken as—
E rank?
Five CP?
My memory was hazy, but I clearly remembered the deity saying he would awaken me.
So why am I this weak?
Did the system malfunction?
Is this even real?
How does this “system” know about Combat Power? That’s a human-made classification.
Unless—
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
The handle turned.
And someone stepped inside.
Chapter 2 — Part 2 Observation
The door opened quietly.
A tall man stepped inside, adjusting a pair of thin-framed glasses as he entered. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but there was something deliberate about the way he moved—like every step was measured.
He closed the door behind him.
“Draco, correct?” he said, voice calm and composed. “I’m Vice Chairman Marcus Hale of the United States Hunters Commission.”
So that’s him.
I had seen him on news broadcasts before—usually standing slightly behind Chairwoman Evelyn Voss during press conferences. Paladin-class Hunter. S Rank. Analytical specialist.
But seeing him in person was different.
He didn’t radiate overwhelming pressure like the Vaelreth King had.
He radiated awareness.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” he continued, pulling a chair beside my bed and sitting down. “You’re the last individual to exit the Gate. The only one who entered a coma.”
A week.
I had been unconscious for a week.
“You understand why we’d like answers,” he said gently.
I swallowed and nodded slowly.
“What do you remember?” he asked.
Careful.
Very careful.
I let my gaze drift slightly, like someone struggling to recall a traumatic event.
“I… remember being pulled in,” I said. “The forest. It was red. Monsters. I think we ran.”
I kept my breathing uneven. Let my voice shake slightly.
“I remember fire. And then… I don’t know. It’s blurry. I remember seeing an exit Gate.”
That part was true.
“Then I must’ve passed out.”
Marcus didn’t interrupt. Didn’t nod. Didn’t blink excessively.
He just watched me.
Analyzing.
His fingers tapped lightly against the side of his tablet.
“You don’t recall any high-ranking entity?” he asked casually.
I hesitated just enough to look natural.
“I… don’t think so,” I answered. “It was chaos.”
That was a lie.
He studied my face for a long moment.
“I see,” he said.
He adjusted his glasses.
“You were found outside the Gate perimeter after it closed. No visible wounds. Mana fluctuations were recorded at levels inconsistent with your prior baseline.”
My heart skipped.
Prior baseline.
He had checked my records.
“I’ve never awakened,” I said quickly. “I’m unawakened.”
He tilted his head slightly.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s what your file indicates.”
His tone didn’t change.
But something in the air did.
He knew something didn’t add up.
“You understand,” he continued calmly, “an SSS-ranked Gate appeared in New Jersey. Civilians were forcibly absorbed. Entry attempts from certified Hunters failed. The Gate locked from the inside.”
His voice lowered slightly.
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“Two days later, it closed on its own.”
That isn’t supposed to happen.
“That is unprecedented.”
I kept my expression confused.
“I don’t know anything about that,” I said.
Silence lingered between us.
He stood.
“Well,” he said lightly, slipping his glasses off and cleaning them with a cloth, “trauma can distort memory. If anything returns to you, contact the Commission immediately.”
“I will,” I replied.
He gave me a small, polite smile.
“Rest. Recover.”
He turned and left the room.
The door clicked shut.
—
Outside the room, Marcus Hale’s expression shifted.
Not cold.
Not aggressive.
Focused.
He turned slightly toward two Commission agents standing nearby.
“Keep passive observation on him,” Marcus said quietly.
“Sir?” one of them asked.
“He’s either genuinely confused,” Marcus replied, adjusting his glasses again, “or he’s withholding information.”
“And if he is?”
Marcus looked back at the hospital room door.
“He survived an SSS anomaly without visible injury. Being the last to ‘escape’”
A brief pause.
“That alone makes him interesting.”
The agents nodded.
Marcus walked down the hallway, already running scenarios in his head.
Inside the room, I stared at the empty doorway.
I don’t know if he believed me.
Not fully.
And now—
I wasn’t sure who I could trust. I just awakened in the most bazaar way possible. Should I even tell anyone?
Chapter 2 - Part 3 Moonleaf Corner
Before I could think any further, the door slammed open.
“DRACO!”
Aria, my best friend, burst into the room like a hurricane.
She crossed the space in seconds and threw her arms around me so hard the heart monitor spiked.
“You absolute idiot!” she snapped, voice breaking halfway through. “Do you have any idea— do you have any idea how worried I was?!”
She stepped back only to smack my shoulder lightly.
“You were in a coma for a week! A week!”
“I’ll try not to magically get sucked into another portal on my way to class next time,” I said weakly.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Not funny.”
Then her face crumpled again and she hugged me tighter.
After a minute she finally pulled away, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket.
“Speaking of class,” she said, exhaling shakily, “everyone who had good enough grades is graduating automatically. No finals. No more assignments.”
“What?”
“The principal made a statement. Too much fear on campus. Too much uneasiness. They’re putting the school on lockdown and temporary quarantine while the USHC investigates any residual traces from the Gate.”
That tracks.
An Apex Crimson Gate appearing in New Jersey isn’t something you just “move on” from.
She looked me over carefully.
“The doctors said you’re free to go,” she added. “And you look… okay.”
I shifted slightly.
“I feel okay.”
Different.
But okay.
She studied me for a second longer than usual.
“You must be starving,” she said suddenly. “Let’s get out of here. I can’t breathe in this place.”
“Where?”
She gave me a small smile.
“Moonleaf.”
—
Moonleaf Corner sat tucked between a pharmacy and a permanently closed bookstore with faded signage.
Warm amber light glowed through the windows.
A small sign near the counter read:
“No Bullying the Weak. Strength is for protection.”
It had been there for years.
Inside, soft instrumental music played quietly beneath the low murmur of conversation. The smell cinnamon wrapped around me like a blanket.
For the first time since waking up, my shoulders relaxed.
Hana Sol stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, wiping down the espresso machine. Her soft brown hair was tied loosely, and oversized glasses slid slightly down her nose.
She looked up when we entered.
Her gaze lingered on me.
“You’re back,” she said simply.
“Yeah,” I replied.
She nodded once.
“Good.”
No dramatics. No questions.
Just good.
Jae Min, one of the waiters at the cafe, was already moving across the floor before we even reached our usual table. Rolled sleeves. Quiet steps. Sharp eyes that missed nothing.
He set two menus down in front of us, though he already knew what we ordered.
“Thought you died,” he said casually.
“Rude,” Aria muttered.
He glanced at me for a half second longer than necessary.
Not scanning.
Evaluating.
Then he smirked slightly.
“Guess not.”
He walked off before I could respond.
We sat near the window.
Outside, New Jersey traffic rolled past like nothing extraordinary had happened.
Inside, everything felt… normal.
Aria leaned back in her chair and exhaled.
“You scared everyone,” she said. “You know that, right?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a sketchbook. The cover was worn from use. She flipped it open casually.
“Look,” she said, turning it toward me.
A detailed charcoal drawing of the campus skyline.
Except parts of it were cracked.
Split.
Almost like the sky was tearing open.
As I watched, faint mana shimmered along the lines of the drawing.
The sky in the picture rippled slightly.
Alive.
She closed the book quickly.
“Just working through it,” she said.
“Looks good.”
She smiled faintly.
“Thanks.”
Jae returned with our drinks.
He set mine down first.
As his hand brushed near mine—
He paused.
Just for a fraction of a second.
His eyes flicked to mine.
There was something different in his expression now.
Subtle.
It was like he felt that I was different now.
He didn’t say anything.
Just stepped back.
Aria started talking about the chaos on campus. The fear. The rumors.
“People are saying it was a corrupted Gate,” she said quietly. “Like the Devourer’s.”
“Rumors travel fast.”
“Yeah, but this one was locked. Hunters couldn’t get in. That’s new.”
I nodded slowly.
My drink sat untouched in front of me.
Something inside me felt… aware.
Not of danger.
Of information.
Like the world had slightly more depth to it than before.
I glanced around the café.
For the first time, I could almost feel the subtle differences in my environment. I think this is what people call mana.
It wasn’t clear.
Just faint impressions.
Jae’s presence felt steady.
Controlled.
Aria’s felt fluid.
Creative.
Hana’s—
Quiet.
But grounded.
And mine?
I focused inward.
The system panel flickered briefly at the edge of my vision.
Combat Power: 5
Rank: E
Still there. I will wait till I get home to really think about it now isn’t the time to worry about it. People were worried about me, let’s focus on spending time on the people that care about me first.
I wrapped my hands around the warm mug.
“So,” Aria said softly, watching me, “you feel different?”
I looked at her.
She always could tell.
“A little,” I admitted.
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“You awakened, didn’t you?”
I hesitated.
Then gave a small nod.
She smiled slowly.
“I knew it.”
Across the café, Jae’s head tilted slightly in our direction.
He didn’t look.
But he heard.
“So,” she said, studying me carefully, “when you go in for testing, what rank do you think they’ll assign you?”
I frowned slightly.
She blinked.
“Why are you making that face?” she teased. “What, you don’t think you’ll get an instant S rank?”
I looked at her for a long moment.
“I already know my rank.”
She straightened.
“That’s not possible,” she said immediately. “Under normal circumstances you can’t know until testing.”
“My ability lets me see it,” I said quietly.
She froze.
“…Okay.”
A beat passed.
“What rank?”
I hesitated.
Then sighed.
“E rank.”
There was half a second of silence.
Then she exploded.
She burst into laughter so hard the entire café turned to look. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach, practically wheezing.
“E RANK?!” she gasped between laughs. “You almost die in an Apex Gate and come out as E rank?!”
Her laughter spiraled out of control.
And then—
Her mana flared.
Tiny chibi-style versions of her sketches began popping into existence on the table—miniature animated caricatures of me, wide-eyed and dramatic, pointing at a floating “E” above their heads.
They started laughing too.
High-pitched, exaggerated giggles.
One of them wiped fake tears.
Another dramatically fainted.
Even Jae glanced over this time.
Aria was laughing so hard she couldn’t stop.
After a full minute, she finally forced herself to calm down, waving her hands to dispel the chibi manifestations. They popped like bubbles.
She wiped her eyes.
“Sorry,” she said, trying to contain another laugh. “I’m sorry. I just— that’s… wow.”
She leaned forward again.
“Well,” she smirked, “looks like you’re stuck doing low-rank gate cleanup for the rest of your life.”
I gave a weak smile.
Aria leaned back, looking oddly satisfied.
Before, I had the excuse of being unawakened.
Now?
I was awakened.
And incredibly weak.
And for the first time since we’d met, there was a subtle shift in her posture.
Not cruel.
Not intentional.
But noticeable.
She sat a little taller.
I had dropped.
She had stayed. But I knew deep down her making jokes was her way of trying to cheer me up.
But internally—
I knew I wasn’t going to be stuck at E rank forever.
Normally rank progression is brutal.
When someone awakens, their starting rank usually locks in their trajectory. Advancement is possible, but slow. Painfully slow.
The most famous case was Adrian Vale.
He awakened during the Great Catastrophe as a D- rank.
Over ten years of relentless training, near-death experiences, and breakthrough bottlenecks, he climbed to A- rank.
Three rank jumps.
That’s the record.
And even that took a decade.
The higher you climb, the steeper the mountain becomes. Each breakthrough reveals a taller peak ahead.
Most Hunters plateau permanently.
But something inside me felt—
Different.
I didn’t understand it yet.
But I knew.
This wasn’t the limit.
As we continued talking—
A shadow fell over our table.
“Draco?”
A woman’s voice.
We both looked up.
Camila Reyes stood there, phone in hand.
She looked nervous.
But determined.
And she had been listening.
Chapter 2 — Part 4 The War Before the Gates
“Draco?”
We looked up.
The woman standing beside our table looked slightly older than us. Maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair pulled back loosely. Tired eyes, but steady.
“Hi,” she said. “Sorry to interrupt. My name’s Camila Reyes. I’m a reporter.”
Aria’s posture shifted instantly.
“We’re not doing interviews,” she said calmly but firmly.
Camila shook her head quickly.
“I’m not that kind of reporter. I’m not trying to trap you or twist anything. I just— if you could give me a moment. Please. It would mean a lot.”
She didn’t look aggressive.
She looked… hopeful.
Aria glanced at me.
I gave a small nod.
“Fine,” Aria said. “One moment.”
Camila sat down carefully, almost like she didn’t want to take up too much space.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
She didn’t start with questions.
Instead, she took a breath.
“Have you ever heard the term Second Civil War?”
Aria frowned slightly.
“Second?” she asked. “You mean the Integrity War?”
Camila gave a small, almost sad smile.
“Yeah. That’s what they call it in textbooks now.”
Her fingers tightened around her phone.
“You were born before it, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m 24.”
“Same” said Aria
Camila nodded.
“Then you remember at least some of it.”
I did.
I remembered checkpoints.
Curfews.
My father lowering his voice whenever certain topics came up.
I remembered neighbors disappearing.
Camila’s voice grew steadier as she spoke.
“I was six when LICE started hitting our neighborhood harder. I was worried because we were Cuban Americans. My parents told me not to worry. They said we were citizens. That we were safe.”
She gave a humorless laugh.
“Turns out safety was negotiable.”
“The Integrity Front believed the country had to ‘correct course.’ They said Hispanic integration was weakening America. LICE raids escalated. Things got violent.”
Aria leaned forward slightly.
“You mean when it turned into open fighting?” she asked.
Camila nodded.
“2030. Full escalation. Federal enforcement backed by Integrity loyalists. On the other side, the Continental Coalition. Hispanic Americans. Allied countries.”
She glanced at me.
“You know how it went.”
I did.
My dad was Puerto Rican. My mom Dominican.
We weren’t political.
We were just… there.
“That war didn’t feel like the textbooks describe,” Camila continued. “It wasn’t heroic speeches and battlefield lines. It was checkpoints on grocery store corners. It was neighbors arguing in the street. It was armed men patrolling school zones.”
Her jaw tightened slightly.
“My parents were killed during a checkpoint escalation in 2033. I was eight.”
The café felt smaller.
“They weren’t soldiers,” she said. “They weren’t activists. They were just trying to get home.”
Silence hung between us.
“I ended up in state care for two years,” she continued. “The war ended in 2035. The Coalition won. Laws changed. Citizenship expanded. LICE dismantled.”
She shrugged lightly.
“On paper, everything was fixed.”
But she didn’t look like someone who believed that.
“I’m not here to reopen old wounds,” she said quickly. “I don’t want to reignite politics. I don’t want to expose corruption. I just…”
She looked down for a moment.
“I grew up being told my background was controversial. That I’d have to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously.”
Her eyes met mine.
“You know how that feels.”
I did.
Aria used to walk with me when tensions were high in certain neighborhoods. She’d always stand slightly in front of me if someone got loud.
Camila continued.
“I was there when the Crimson Gate opened. I filmed it. I watched people get pulled inside. And ever since then, the USHC has been silent.”
Her voice didn’t rise.
It tightened.
“Most survivors say their memories are hazy. No one can give me a clear account. No one can describe what was inside.”
Her eyes locked on me.
“You were the last one out. You were in a coma.”
Aria shifted slightly, protective instinct flickering.
Camila noticed.
“I’m not asking for classified details,” she said quickly. “Just… something real. Anything.”
I stared at the steam rising from my drink.
I didn’t want to lie.
But I couldn’t tell the truth.
“I remember creatures,” I said slowly.
Her phone remained face-down on the table. She wasn’t even recording.
“They looked like elves,” I continued. “Tall. Pale. Sharp features.”
Their teeth were serrated. They moved in coordination. Not random monsters.”
Camila’s breathing slowed.
“Organized?”
“Like a tribe,” I said. “They captured people. Hunted us. They called themselves the Vaelreth”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“No one mentioned that,” she whispered.
“I don’t remember how we escaped,” I continued. “It’s blurred. But it felt like…”
I hesitated.
“Like we had divine protection.”
Aria glanced at me.
Camila didn’t laugh.
She didn’t look skeptical.
She looked electrified.
“A structured species inside an SSS Gate,” she murmured. “Intelligent. Organized.”
To me, it felt like scraps.
To her—
It was gold.
She stood suddenly.
“You have no idea what you just gave me,” she said, voice shaking slightly. “A second Apex-class Gate. A new species. First eyewitness account.”
She pulled a small card from her pocket and placed it on the table.
“If you remember anything else… anything… please call me.”
She looked between both of us.
“Thank you.”
Then she turned and moved quickly toward the door, already writing as she walked.
The bell above the café entrance chimed as she left.
Silence settled at our table.
Aria exhaled slowly.
“You just handed her a scoop.”
I watched the door close behind Camila.
Do you think I am doing a good job so far?
