Chapter 43: THE GUILD SUMMONS
Inside, the guild was alive with energy, a living, breathing organism that pulsed with ambition, discipline, and raw, palpable power. Hunters of every rank moved like currents of lethal intent, some clad in armor that gleamed like molten metal under the overhead lights, reflecting faint sparks of ambient mana that seemed to coil around their limbs like living serpents, others gripping weapons that emitted faint harmonic vibrations, humming with enchantments whose purposes were inscrutable, deadly, and precise. Every step, every shift of weight, every flicker of movement left behind faint traces of pressure, heat, and magical resonance that the trained—or exceptionally observant—could feel radiating off them, pressing against the senses like invisible fingers brushing across skin.
Raito’s eyes flicked from one figure to another. The spear-wielder’s aura throbbed in steady, rhythmic pulses. The crimson-robed woman’s energy sliced across the room in jagged, precise arcs. The faint whine of a bowstring drawn by an unseen archer combined with the distant metallic clang of armor, forming a tapestry of sound that resonated unnervingly with the almost imperceptible hum of the guild itself. Even the air seemed thicker here, each breath carrying the faint tang of magical discharge, the scent of ozone, metal, and sweat, mingled into a dizzying, almost overwhelming sensory overlay.
"Stop staring around," Seizo’s voice snapped, sharp and sudden, cutting through the hum like a steel blade through silk. "Follow us."
Raito blinked, forcing himself to focus, forcing each beat of his heart to slow. His mind, however, refused to cooperate, cataloging, analyzing, memorizing. The glint on that blade... the heat signature there... the subtle hum of mana at that corner... if I track it, I can predict it... I need to track it all...
They weaved through the crowd like shadows through currents of water, hunters brushing past them with barely audible acknowledgment, each movement radiating its own pressure signature. Seizo’s hand hovered over a small sensor panel at the far end, and as he pressed it down, the elevator doors slid open with a soft, reverent chime, almost as if the elevator itself recognized the potential threat—or power—within Raito.
All three stepped inside. The doors closed behind them, sealing them into silence. The space felt unnaturally tight, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were observing him.
Raito leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. What’s going on? Could they know...? Could they have somehow pieced it together?
The memory of the Inferno Speedstar Demon flashed unbidden: S-rank terror, flames coiling like serpents, the final roar reverberating deep inside his chest, the air scorched and heavy with ash and blood. No one survived... no one could have... but what if they found out...?
The elevator ascended with near-silence, each tick of the floor display stretching into seconds of suffocating anticipation. The soft ding of arrival resonated louder than it should, and the doors parted to reveal a corridor of polished stone and gold-trimmed lights that threw elongated shadows, curling like specters along the floor. The quiet was almost hostile, every step echoing unnaturally, as if every sound was being recorded, observed, evaluated.
"Hey," Raito said, stopping mid-step, his voice sharper than he intended. "Where exactly are you taking me? Don’t you think this is dragging on? You’re testing my patience."
Seizo’s eyes flicked over him, flat, unwavering. "Just follow us. That door ahead," he replied, his voice calm, but heavy, weighted, deliberate.
The heavy doors swung open, revealing a room of imposing authority, polished and vast, every corner radiating precision. Behind the massive desk sat Takura Akigai, retired Rank S, a living legend whose name alone could silence entire floors. Beside him stood Ichika Nirihara, Rank A, famed across the nation for surgical precision and cold ruthlessness, her gaze sweeping across the room like a blade cutting through the air.
Raito froze, chest tightening, stomach knotting. This is real... the Dragon Fang Guild’s head, and Ichika Nirihara... here. Both. In the same room.
"Welcome once again," Takura said, calm, piercing, voice cutting through the silence like a perfectly honed blade. His eyes locked on Raito, as if peeling away every layer, every thought, every secret hiding within.
Raito bowed slightly, controlling every twitch, every micro-expression. Stay calm... just act normal... don’t let them sense how much you know...
"Sorry for the short notice," Takura continued, unblinking, sharp, deliberate. "I know your schedule is... complicated."
"Yeah... no problem," Raito replied, measured, neutral. Inside, however, his heart thundered like war drums, every beat reverberating in his chest.
Takura rose from his chair. The room seemed to shrink beneath the sheer weight of his presence. "Good. That will make this easier. You already know why you’re here, don’t you?"
"I’m... not entirely sure," Raito admitted, his voice steady, though tension coiled like a living thing in his chest.
"Alright," Takura gestured toward the door. "Let’s walk."
The corridor beyond opened into a chamber that was part war room, part battlefield of intellect. Scientists moved like live chess pieces, eyes locked on streams of data. Monitors hummed, panels blinked, every surface bristling with purpose. Every second that passed in that room felt like an hour, each tick of the clock weighted with potential consequences.
"I heard about the incident at the station," Takura began, low, precise, cutting. "The dungeon appeared suddenly. Hunters were on-site, and someone had already taken control. Rumors said it was you—but we needed confirmation. We checked your records."
Raito felt his pulse spike. They’re already digging. They don’t know the truth... yet. But they can feel it.
"Your power never manifested during your teens," Takura continued. "Even after repeated rank assessments, you had nothing. No rank. No mana. Nothing. That’s what our files show."
The words landed on him like iron, heavy, relentless, pressing into his chest. Takura’s gaze didn’t waver, piercing deeper than any blade, stripping away the armor of normalcy, revealing the raw core beneath.
Seizo and Kito lingered near, silent, sharp, calculating. Ichika’s presence sliced through the air like frozen steel, every movement deliberate, every eye blink, every shift in weight observed and recorded.
"Was it unusual for your power to manifest suddenly?" Takura continued, low, deliberate. "Not just that—on that day, your abilities awakened fully. According to the report, the person who informed us..."