It's been a week since Thalen was discharged from the hospital.
Thalen Gray stood in the center of his modest apartment, surrounded by the tools of quiet war.
A map of the Verdant Spires Rift lay pinned to the wall, marked with colored stickers, lines, and annotations. His once-casual room now resembled a war planner's den—every corner, every surface, dedicated to a singular goal: Arkus Vale.
The name alone was enough to make his jaw tighten. B-rank. Fast. Brutal. Popular. Arkus was everything Thalen wasn't—and that made him dangerous.
But Thalen was patient.
He had waited through the weeks of suspicion after Leo Vann's death.
Arkus had volunteered for a raid into the Verdant Spires next week.
How did he get into the raid team you say?
Thalen's skill quest granter proved useful for once.
[Quest: new recruit ]
Description: [ recruit Thalen Gray for the verdant spires raid]
Reward: 2 mana stone
Penalty: None
Status: Active
Though it did cost him some money.
" It's an investment that i will make sure to profit.Wait for me arkus"
....
Thalen wandered around the streets looking for something.
He ducked into a quiet alleyway, slipping into a tucked-away gear shop that catered to lower-ranked hunters. The bell over the door jingled softly.
"Looking for anything specific?" the owner asked, not even looking up from his desk.
"Smoke bombs. Two. Flash powder. Something for concealment," Thalen said, voice low.
"Stealth tools? That's not your style, is it?" the man chuckled.
Thalen didn't answer. He slid a small pouch of coins across the counter—enough to end the conversation. The owner nodded, stood, and fetched the items from under a locked shelf.
Thalen left with a pack under his coat and a grim focus in his eyes.
.....
At home, he laid everything out carefully: two smoke bombs, a short dagger laced with paralytic poison, a dull-gray cloak enchanted to mute sound slightly, and a small mana-dampening talisman. None of it was flashy. None of it screamed "assassin."
That suited him perfectly.
He pulled his chair closer to the desk and opened a leather-bound notebook. Its pages were filled with plans, sketched maps, names, and schedules—every detail of the upcoming Redstone Quarry raid. His fingers flipped to the marked page.
Party Composition:
Arkus Vale (B-rank, target)
Kael Morn (C-rank, melee)
Jessa Wyn (C-rank, healer)
Mardo Quin (D-rank, scout)
Roane Dereth (C-rank, tank)
A tight group. Small enough to watch, large enough to conceal a single death amid the chaos.
He rose, drew the dagger, and tested the weight in his hand. It felt light. Deadly.
In the reflection of the window, he saw himself—not the frail E-rank support they dismissed, but something new. Something hidden. An idea took form as he watched the fogged city beyond the glass.
What if this was only the beginning?
He didn't need to fight like the others. He didn't need raw power. He could reshape fate itself. Whisper truths into ears. Guide hands without being seen. Be a god behind the curtain.
Let them worship their illusions. I'll write the stories.
The city lights flickered below. In two days, they'd enter the Redstone Rift. And when they came out, Arkus Vale would not be among them.
Only then would the real game begin.
.....
The dungeon gate pulsed with a low hum, a portal of shimmering crimson anchored by steel pylons. Around it, the concrete plaza buzzed with activity—hunters checking gear, syncing team badges, and reviewing mission details.
Thalen Gray stood quietly behind a stack of supply packs, wearing the brown vest issued to porters. His role was simple: carry gear, shut up, stay out of the way.
Nobody paid him much attention. Perfect.
Arkus Vale, the B-rank team leader, stood near the gate's edge, talking strategy. Golden armor gleamed over his frame, and his tone carried that smug, razor-edged confidence Thalen had come to despise.
"We move fast. This isn't a sightseeing tour," Arkus said. "Roane, front line. Jessa, mid. Kael, cover our flank. Porter—" He glanced at Thalen. "Don't drop anything. We're not coming back for you."
Thalen gave a shallow nod and double-checked the packs strapped to his back. Mana potions, spare ammo, ration capsules. The essentials. He didn't need any of it.
Not really.
This was never about the supplies.
As they stepped through the gate, the world warped.
The inside of the dungeon shimmered like a living wound in space. Veins of violet crystal pulsed in the walls, casting ghostly light across the jagged terrain. The air buzzed faintly with ambient mana, thick and electric. It was a C-rank dungeon known as Rift 74-B, a place that spat out insectoid monsters in waves. Dangerous, but manageable for a B-rank hunter and his team.
Thalen walked at the rear of the group, bent under the weight of two packs—both real and carefully arranged to seem heavier than they were. The others barely spared him a glance. He was just a porter, an E-rank nobody. His presence was little more than background noise.
But in his mind, a quiet storm brewed.
Arkus Vale walked at the center of the formation, barking orders without looking back. Tall, broad-shouldered, his white battlecoat trimmed with silver, the man looked every inch the heroic hunter the public saw. But Thalen remembered the blood on Arkus's hands. The sneering dismissal in the aftermath of Leo Vann's death. The way he laughed during the investigation, untouchable behind connections and charm.
"B-rank monster. But still a monster," Thalen thought.
"Today's the day."