They promised me glory... but they sold me to a grave.
Those were the last words I could remember before I fell to the ground and faced my death.
My name is Ryder Skye, codename [Blaze], and I'm one of the newly recruited hunters by the guild called [The Island Guild].
Why? You may ask. Well, let's just say I'm one of the most powerful and promising hunters at the early age of 20. And get this: I'm not even an S-rank, but a simple A-rank—who was prophesied that within the next six months, will actually become one of the youngest S-ranks, of course. After another S-rank youngster, [Demolisher].
Today, I was out on a mission in a dungeon. Of course, I wasn't alone. Ever since I joined this guild two years ago—which would mean I was only eighteen—I'd always had my team, which I was the captain of.
My team was one of the few teams that rose through the guild ranks. We had two C-ranks who were both healers, but when it came to fighting, they fought like nobody's business. Then we had two B-ranks; those ones were strategists. In most dungeons, we made it out all thanks to them.
And we had a C- and D-rank—they were more like support, really. They never did anything dangerous, and no one dared to complain in our group, as we were all equal in many ways.
I, as their leader—an A-rank—really didn't want any ill-treatment of any of my teammates.
************
**Dungeon: C-plus rank dungeon.
**Mission: Extraction of the singing rose.
**Group: Blaze's group.
**Expected Level: Medium at best.
************
That was the display of information presented to me by our loyal scout back at the base.
"Wow, you know you may be a D-rank, but you work twice as hard as the rest of us. So, tell you what: On our next mission, you get your cute behind off that office and join us," I said while waiting for the dungeon map from Stacy.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny. You know very well that I'm crippled from the waist down," she replied sarcastically, still typing on the computer.
"Well, I don't think you'd need to worry about that. I'll just carry you all the way," I flirted.
"Oh, and trust my life to your baby tiny hands? No thank you," she chuckled.
"And you wonder why you're still single," I teased.
She didn't reply after that. She fell silent, and from what I knew, it wasn't because I'd offended her. It was either she was waiting to reply with an unexpected comeback or planning to sabotage my lunch when we returned.
Eck, just thinking about that gave me the shivers.
"Okay, are you two lovebirds done with your playtime, or should we give you some space?" Abbey commented.
I chuckled awkwardly. "Oh, sorry, guys. Let's continue."
While I'd been flirting with Stacy over the com, we'd been scouring the dungeon. Our dungeon—how can I put this?—wasn't your typical dungeon. This one felt *different*.
And that's coming from a guy who's been on dungeon raids since he was sixteen, working with various freelance teams.
As we walked down the hollow alley of the quiet dungeon, the only sound was water dripping somewhere deep within its depths—strange for a C-plus ranked dungeon.
"Uh... Stace, what kind of dungeon is this?" I asked, leading the team through the dark corridor.
"What do you mean? You know it's a C-plus ranked dungeon. What're you on about?" Stacy shot back.
"I know it's C-plus. I meant, what type? This doesn't look average," I whispered, my gut twisting with unease.
"Why are you whispering?" Osborne asked, confused.
"Yo, B-ranks! What kind of monsters should we expect here?" I asked the strategists. They had an uncanny ability to sense creatures lurking in dungeon walls.
"From what I can pick up... Pangas. Low-ranked Pangas," one B-rank answered.
"Pangas?" I couldn't believe it.
Dungeons, since appearing twenty years ago, varied wildly in structure, rank, and inhabitants. Pangas—mummified pandas—were considered "baby monsters," yet they had the highest kill count of any dungeon creature.
I steadied myself. "Okay, Pangas aren't so bad. We'll get out without a scratch."
Truthfully, I was disappointed. Lately, I'd been stuck on low-rank dungeons. Normally, I'd beg to go solo, but today the guild insisted I join. Why?
"If this is just Pangas, you B-ranks could've handled it alone. Why drag me here?" I muttered.
"Let's say the rose we're after is for *me*. Does that comfort you?" Stacy interjected.
"What's so special about this 'singing rose' anyway?" I asked.
"It's a rare flower that grows in 1/3 of dungeons. They say it holds clues to solving the dungeons' mysteries," Stacy explained.
I scoffed. "Why not send [Demolisher] instead of ruining my vacation?"
"Grow some balls, Skye! You work for me, so do what I pay you for—and stop complaining!" a gruff voice screeched in my earpiece.
"Jesus Christ! What was that?" I yanked out the earpiece.
"That was the guild president. He's monitoring you via the robot bird behind you," Stacy laughed.
I turned and spotted a mechanical bird hovering nearby.
"Fuck!" I cursed.
"Language!" the president barked.
"Old man, your peers are either dead or retired. Why're you still on my ass?" I snapped.
"Don't get that rose, and I'll haunt you for a decade!" he retorted.
"Uh... Captain?" Abbey called.
I'd forgotten we were mid-raid. We'd reached a chamber surrounded by red-eyed creatures lurking in the shadows—their gazes hungry and feral.
"Are those—?" Gordon, a C-rank, trembled.
"Uh-huh," I muttered, scrambling for a plan.
"Cap, what's the move?" a B-rank asked.
I sighed.
"Everyone—draw your weapons. NOW!
"Even us?" Gordon and Allison (the D-rank) quavered.
"Yes. Now."