After completing all his physical and internal energy tests, Mike finally had a clear sense of his limits. His strength, stamina, speed, reflexes—each trait now had a value in his mind. His energy center, too, had shown signs of slow growth. He was far from powerful, but he was grounded. A cultivator at Human Grade Level 2, still standing at the base of a vast mountain.
In the world of Umbarkloud, once someone awakened as a cultivator, they were expected to choose a path—to join a military corps under the United Government, enroll in an advanced academy, or become a hunter affiliated with a faction. Most chose the third. Cultivation was expensive—insanely expensive. Normal jobs couldn't fund the progression needed to rise through the ranks. Hunting beasts, collecting cores, and trading resources was the only viable route for many.
And Mike knew it.
He wanted to join a faction—not just for money, but for access. Missions, resources, training, connections. A lone cultivator without backing couldn't go far.
So, the next day, Mike headed to the Pearl City Grand Library, where official faction recruitment posters and application terminals were displayed. As he entered, holographic boards shimmered across the central hall—some listed the top factions, their elite requirements glowing in red; others showed mid-tier and low-tier faction opportunities.
Mike ignored the S-rank and top-tier factions entirely. He wasn't ready for those.
Instead, he browsed through middle and lower-tier factions. Using his wrist whisper device, he scanned application forms into his wristband and began filling them out one by one. He didn't lie about his level—he listed himself as a Human Grade Level 2 cultivator. As for his ability, he left it unnamed, simply marking it as "Unknown (Combat Type)".
One by one, he submitted the applications.
He didn't expect much. But maybe—just maybe—one of them would give him a chance.
Later that evening, as he stepped out of the library and headed toward his apartment, his wristwatch buzzed. Notification after notification appeared, filling the hologram screen with one word: Pending.
Mike sighed, tossed his jacket aside as he returned home, and made himself a simple meal. He cleaned up, lay on his bed, and tried not to think too much.
"They'll respond tomorrow," he muttered, staring at the ceiling.
And they did.
Just not in the way he hoped.
The next morning, his wristwatch began vibrating violently. Dozens of notifications poured in—each one stamped with the word Rejected. Faction after faction. Rejected. Rejected. Rejected.
He sat on the edge of his bed, watching the screen.
"They didn't even give me a reason…"
But he knew why.
He wasn't strong enough. His grade was low. Worse, his ability had no name, no classification. Factions wanted water users, sensory types, healers, barrier makers—supportive abilities that could balance a team.
Mike's ability was a mystery. An unverified combat type that couldn't be explained or trusted.
Frustrated, he got up, skipped breakfast, grabbed his coat, and drove back to the library. His father could've pulled a few strings, gotten him into a military program or a private hunting guild. But Mike didn't want to ride on his father's name. He wanted to stand on his own, even if that meant starting from the bottom.
He scanned the poster board again. Most mid-tier and low-tier factions had already closed their recruitment.
But then his eyes locked on a new poster, freshly projected at the bottom of the hologram wall.
> RECRUITMENT NEEDED
Joint Hunt Operation
Light Devils Faction – Pearl Division
Open to all cultivators: Human Grade Level 1–5
Report directly to Light Devils base
Temporary hunter pass will be issued upon approval
Mike blinked.
The Light Devils?
That wasn't a mid-tier faction. That was a high-ranking, A-tier faction—just a step below the top-tier S-rank groups. They were known for their discipline, strength, and clean operations. They didn't normally recruit new cultivators for field missions—especially not ones with unknown powers.
But the poster said "anyone."
Mike didn't hesitate.
He got back in his car, tapped the navigation screen, and set the course for the Light Devils base located on the outskirts of Pearl City.
After a thirty-minute drive, the road led him to a massive open area secured by high metallic walls. The Light Devils' compound stood tall—three rectangular buildings surrounded four dome-shaped structures, and the sky above buzzed with airships, drones, and training fighters.
As he pulled into the parking zone, Mike could already see a long line of hopeful cultivators waiting at the recruitment entrance.
He stepped out, zipped his coat, and joined the line.
Time passed slowly. The sun climbed higher as one candidate after another was interviewed.
Eventually, Mike reached the front. A small table hub was set up near the main gate, manned by three officers wearing light-blue uniforms with dark blue stripe the standard gear of the Light Devils.
One of them, a tall man in his early 30s, looked up as Mike approached.
"Name?" he asked.
"Michael connor Jason.
Age: 20
Human Grade Level 2."
The man nodded, tapping a wrist-pad to bring up Mike's submitted details. "I'm David. C-Rank hunter of the Light Devils."
Mike gave a respectful nod.
David's eyes scanned the file and paused. "Ability listed as... 'Unknown, Combat Type.' What's it called?"
Mike hesitated.
He'd never actually named his ability. Not once. Not during the Awakening, not during training, not even while testing.
Absolutely. Here's a revised and majestic version of the backstory Mike remembers
what his grandfather once told him,
He had felt it—used it—witnessed its destruction firsthand. But naming it? That was different. You couldn't name something you didn't understand.
Dozens of ideas stormed through his mind. Destruction Pulse. Core Break. Absolute Collapse.
None of them fit.
Then, somewhere deep in his memory, a distant voice echoed. A story he hadn't thought about in years—something his grandfather had once whispered to him on a cold night under a starless sky, long before Mike even understood what cultivation meant.
"When the world was young," his grandfather had said, "there was nothing but void. No light. No time. No balance. Only silence… and Chaos."
Mike remembered that moment. His grandfather's eyes had burned like torches as he spoke his voice low, steady, and filled with reverence.
"Before the first breath of wind, before the first flame lit the dark, there was only the formless storm. Chaos a force beyond gods and beasts. It consumed stars before they were born. It tore through realms that hadn't yet existed. It did not destroy out of hate… it simply was."
Mike had felt it even then the weight of that story, the gravity of a power too vast to comprehend.
"From the infinite, Chaos birthed all things," his grandfather continued. "And when Order rose to tame it, they did not kill it. They simply gave it shape… and locked it away. But sometimes, boy… sometimes, a sliver of that forgotten force finds its way into the hearts of men. It doesn't ask. It doesn't wait. It awakens."
That story—those words—they had lived in Mike's bones ever since.
And now, standing before a high-ranking hunter, trying to explain a power that even he couldn't control, the answer finally came.
He looked David straight in the eye.
"I call it Chaos Aura."
David tilted his head slightly. "Chaos Aura, huh?"
Mike's voice was calm but sharp, like a blade drawn in moonlight.
"It's not elemental. It's not a trick or technique. Whatever it touches… breaks. Inside. Out. And it doesn't stop there—it makes sure it can't heal. Like the old force that came before all things… it just wants to return the world to silence." rang inside Mike's head
David stared at him for a second longer than usual, the air thick between them.
"…Not bad," he muttered, then tapped their wrist interfaces.
David tapped a few keys on his pad, then looked back at Mike.
"Well, you're lucky. We're short on combat types for this operation. We're preparing for a joint hunt against a wild beast surge. You'll be part of a temporary strike team. Prove yourself there, and we'll consider a permanent position."
Mike nodded firmly.
David reached forward and tapped their wristwatches together. A chime sounded, and a new file appeared on Mike's screen—a temporary Light Devils hunter ID, valid for mission operations.
"You report to the Light Devils base at 0800, day after tomorrow. Full gear and briefing will be provided then."
Mike stared at the ID confirmation.
For the first time since awakening… he was officially a hunter.
He walked away from the booth, holding back a grin.