Tired.
This is the only way I can describe my current condition. My legs feel no different from jelly, my lungs are burning, my arms are about to fall off, and my heart feels like it's about to burst. But I kept moving. I had no choice. This was survival. I could smell the blood on me—sharp, coppery, clinging to my clothes. I reeked of death, and they knew it.
Their eyes clung to me, heavy with disdain. Whispers slithered through the air.
"It's him again," someone whispered.
"Ugh. That smell is unbearable," another voice sneered.
"Does he still not have a ring?" A woman scoffed, "What a loser."
"Where the hell does all his money go!!??" "He should have one by now!!"
All their words were common to me by now. They would repeat these same words anytime I came around this part of the city.
I could understand their frustrations. After all, who liked the smell of a corpse?
That's right—I was dragging a terror corpse across the city. Disturbing everyone that I crossed paths with.
I had caused trouble dragging corpses through the streets before, but no one ever confronted me. They needed me too much. So they kept their insults to whispers, just loud enough for one or two to reach my ears.
I couldn't care less either way.
Dragging both my exhausted body and the Terror, I pressed forward. Twenty grueling minutes later, I arrived.
A small building with no surrounding infrastructure. It was a very forgettable place.
It looked abandoned and gave off an air of unwelcomeness.
I stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at it, before finally heading inside.
Contrary to the outside of the building, the inside was quite clean and welcoming.
The floor was luxurious and expansive, as if it was crafted from high-quality materials foreign to our world. The walls were even more impressive. They looked resistant to any type of external force and were soundproofed.
Then above me was the blinding chandelier that illuminated the entire room. It was all so grand and majestic.
I hated it.
I continued to drag the corpse across the floor until I got to the end of the room and opened the door leading to an even bigger room just as grand as the last.
It was insufferable, and all these colors hurt my eyes.
I kept moving, passing all types of things that would leave anyone else gobsmacked. But I just wanted to rest.
I finally reached the door marked [The Hollow Hunters].
I opened the door and came face to face with my boss, "Kraven".
He was leaned back in his chair, feet up on his desk, reading a magazine called "Design Porn."
I stared at him with a blank face and waited.
After a while, his nose wrinkled, and he lazily motioned his hand at me. A shadowy figure appeared beside me, and in a quiet yet smooth motion, it collected the corpse and disappeared.
As usual, it was impressive, and I still couldn't follow those movements.
Before I could turn around to leave, I heard a voice.
"Stop."
Kraven lowered his magazine and revealed his face. His hair was darker than the figure that appeared just moments ago, with strands falling over his forehead. His face was deceptively young, and his smirk caused the ash to fall from his cigar.
He was an average-looking man and didn't really have any striking features that I could point out. The only thing impressive about his looks was the amount of effort he put into them.
He took a contract from his desk and slid it to me.
"New job for ya. I'm sure you'll be quite interested."
I raised my brow in curiosity. I took a look at the contract and immediately furrowed my brow.
Noticing my look, he said, "Don't worry, there'll be no political blowback."
I gave Kraven a sullen look before turning around to leave.
He simply continued to smile and said, "Don't take too long. The contractors don't seem to be very patient people."
***
Watching the boy leave, Kraven couldn't help but feel bad for him.
"That kid's fashion sense is a crime. If the Terrors don't kill him, his wardrobe will," he muttered, shaking his head.
Now that he left, he could finally go back to reading his magazine.
He started flipping through it, enjoying the amazing decorative designs that adorned the pages, when a shadow appeared beside him.
"Do you think he'll do it?" the shadow asked.
He couldn't help but smirk and reply, "I have no doubt in my mind."
"Now, what do you think of these chairs?"
"...They look nice."
***
I stumbled into my apartment, reeking of blood and sweat. My fingers fumbled with the faucet, the cold water stinging my bruised knuckles. The red smears across my face refused to wash away easily, clinging to my skin like guilt. I stared into the mirror, eyes sunken, watching the last traces of the fight circle the drain. Looking at the mirror, I could see that my hair was finally freed from the sticky substance that shackled it, revealing my jet-black hair. The yellow glow of my eyes was dim, and my lips were dry. I drank some water and didn't waste any time going to bed. Fighting that terror was more draining than I could have predicted. I needed a break, not another contract.
Especially that contract. A contract that would likely get me killed.
But I won't lie and say I'm not intrigued by it. This could be the ultimate opportunity for me; I could be one step closer to my goal if I succeed. Plus, the pay is pretty good too.
But is it worth it? The chances that I actually succeed are embarrassingly slim. The risk is great, but the reward is even greater. Maybe I'm a fool. Maybe this is suicide. But if I don't take this chance, then what am I even fighting for?
Look at me, I'm thinking so much that I've forgotten I was tired. But at least I know what I've decided.
I'm going to take the contract.
*
Waking up the next day was more challenging than killing that terror. My body ached all over, as if it was discouraging me from taking on that contract. But I had already made up my mind. This will be my first step on the climb to the top.
I started to get ready. I equipped my suit, holstered my guns beneath my ribs, strapped daggers to my chest, and clipped my kusarigama and sword to my hip.
I went to the outskirts of the city, where the forest marked the edge of civilization. Beyond it, only the foolish or desperate ventured. I progressed inside and jumped to the top of a tree so I could move more easily and be harder to detect. I leapt from tree to tree, keeping to the shadows. The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of blood. My muscles tensed as I caught a glimpse of something slithering below, too quick to identify. I kept moving, forcing myself to stay silent.
I stopped when I finally saw a figure sitting atop a bear, eating its arm. It was a grotesque sight, but its behavior matched my target.
Despite that, I needed absolute certainty that they were who I was searching for. My grip tightened around the dagger. If I was wrong, I'd lose my element of surprise. But if I was right…
I exhaled slowly, steadying my aim, and flicked the blade toward a brittle branch. It snapped, tumbling to the forest floor with a muted rustle.
The figure stiffened. Their head jerked up, bloodied lips peeling back to reveal sharp teeth.
I frowned.
With blood caking their skin, they reminded me of a bald uakari monkey—but that wasn't what made me frown. What made me displeased were the unmistakable curves of horns protruding from their skull.
I clenched my jaw. My contract hadn't been lying—I was to kidnap a dragon.