Chapter 35 - No More Hiding

Etzel had survived an A-Rank Epic. Technically, DK had done most of the surviving. Etzel had contributed observation, shouting, and an impressive amount of stress. None of that prepared him for the front door.

Neris stood beside him. Etzel looked at the door. Then at his sister.

“We can make a deal.”

“No.”

“I haven’t offered anything yet.”

“Still no.”

“You’ve become very difficult to negotiate with.”

“I learned from you.”

Etzel frowned. “That explains too much.”

Neris reached for the door. Etzel caught her wrist. “Wait.”

She looked at him. Etzel considered his options. Lie? Impossible. Delay? Maybe. Run? Surprisingly attractive.

“Neris.”

“What?”

“If Mom asks, can we start with the part where everyone survived?”

“No.”

“That feels unnecessarily hostile.”

Neris opened the door. “Mom!”

Etzel closed his eyes. Traitor.

Ismera appeared from the kitchen. “You’re back early.” Then she saw Neris. Dirt on her clothes. A small scrape on her arm. Her expression changed immediately. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened to me.”

“Neris.”

“I’m fine.”

Veydan appeared behind Ismera. His eyes moved from Neris—to Etzel.

Etzel had tried to clean himself before coming home. Apparently not well enough. Veydan looked at the dried blood near his sleeve. “What happened?”

Etzel opened his mouth. Neris was faster.

“Etzel is a Hunter.”

Silence. Etzel slowly turned toward her. “We could have worked on the presentation.”

Ismera stared at him. “What?”

Neris continued. “He has an A-Rank summon.”

Etzel closed his eyes again. “You could have delayed the second sentence.”

Veydan said nothing. That was worse.

Ismera looked between them. “A what?”

Etzel exhaled. “All right.” He stepped inside. “We should probably sit down.”

Nobody sat down. Etzel sat. Everyone else remained standing. That somehow made it feel like a trial.

Neris leaned against the wall. Ismera stood opposite him. Veydan remained beside the table with his arms folded.

Etzel looked between them. “So.”

Nothing. He tried again. “I touched an Ancient Tree.”

Ismera’s expression tightened. “When?”

“A while ago.”

“How long is a while?”

Etzel hesitated. Neris smiled without humor. Etzel ignored her. “I awakened as a Hunter.”

Veydan finally spoke. “We know that part now.”

“Yes.”

“What Ability?”

Etzel looked at his father. “Limited Necromancer.”

Veydan frowned. Ismera did too. They knew the name. Most people did. Rare. Unimpressive. Historically unreliable.

Ismera looked toward Neris. “You said A-Rank.”

“I did.”

Etzel rubbed his forehead. “The Ability turned out to be slightly less useless than advertised.”

“Slightly?” Neris asked.

Etzel looked at her. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

He sighed. Then told them. Not everything. Enough. He had awakened at Level Zero. He had gone into the forest. He had killed creatures. He had reached Level One. And he had received DK.

Ismera interrupted. “You went hunting alone?”

Etzel stopped. “That part sounds worse when separated from the surrounding context.”

“What surrounding context makes that better?”

Etzel thought. “None immediately come to mind.”

“Etzel.”

“I survived.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is statistically relevant.”

“Etzel.”

He stopped joking. “Yes.”

The room changed. Etzel looked at his mother. “I should have told you.”

Ismera said nothing.

“I knew you would try to stop me.”

“Of course I would.”

“I know.”

“You were thirteen when the Rupture happened.”

“I know.”

“We spent years trying to keep you and Neris alive.”

“I know.”

“And then you become a Hunter and decide the sensible thing is to disappear into forests and fight monsters without telling us?”

Etzel had no joke for that. “No.”

Ismera blinked. “No?”

“It wasn’t sensible.”

Silence.

“I just thought I needed to do it.”

Veydan finally pulled out a chair. He sat. “How long?”

Etzel looked at him. “Since the Tree?”

Veydan nodded. Etzel answered. His father listened. Then leaned back. “I knew something was wrong.”

Etzel froze. Neris looked at Veydan. Ismera turned. “You knew?”

“I knew he was lying.”

Etzel frowned. “That distinction feels important.”

Veydan ignored him. “The running.” Etzel said nothing. “The injuries.” Still nothing. “The hours disappearing.” Veydan looked directly at him. “And every time I asked, you gave me an answer just plausible enough to avoid another question.”

Etzel lowered his eyes.

“I didn’t know what you were doing.” Veydan continued. “But I knew it wasn’t running.”

Etzel remembered their earlier conversation. His father had known. Maybe not the truth. But enough. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Veydan’s expression barely changed. “I was waiting for you to decide when you trusted us enough to tell us.”

That landed harder than Etzel expected. He looked away. Neris stopped smiling. Ismera sat down at last.

Etzel breathed slowly. “I’m sorry.”

No joke. No deflection. Just that.

Ismera stared at him for several seconds. Then: “What Level?”

Etzel looked at her. “Twelve.”

Veydan’s eyebrows moved. Neris looked surprised. “Wait. Twelve?”

Etzel frowned. “You knew about the A-Rank summon and that’s the surprising part?”

“I didn’t know the number.”

“Level Twelve.”

Ismera looked even less happy. “How many things have you fought?”

Etzel considered the question. “That answer will not improve the atmosphere.”

“Etzel.”

“A few.”

Neris laughed. Ismera looked at her. She stopped.

“There’s something else,” Etzel said.

Neris stared. “Something else?”

“Why does everyone say that like I’m personally attacking them?”

“Because every new sentence gets worse.”

Etzel ignored her. He opened Soul Space. Soft green light appeared. Saeva emerged. She hovered above Etzel’s shoulder.

The entire family went silent.

Saeva looked around. At Veydan. At Neris. Then at Ismera. She flew directly toward her. Etzel watched in disbelief. Saeva landed carefully near Ismera’s shoulder.

Ismera froze. The little Wispkin made a soft sound.

Etzel pointed. “Betrayal.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Neris laughed. “She likes Mom.”

“Everyone uses me to reach more popular family members.”

Ismera slowly lifted one hand. Saeva touched her finger. Some of the anger in Ismera’s face cracked. Only some.

“What is she?”

“Saeva.”

“That’s her name.”

“Yes.”

“What is she?”

Etzel sighed. “F-Rank support summon. Healing, shielding, some other support functions.” He did not mention everything. Not the loot influence. Not every System detail. Not every mechanic. His family needed truth. They did not need his entire tactical interface.

Neris looked at Saeva. “She’s adorable.”

Etzel stared. “She has watched me get hit by things without expressing nearly enough concern.”

Saeva made an offended sound.

Neris smiled. “I like her.”

“Of course you do.”

Then Veydan asked: “And the other one?”

The room became quiet again. Etzel looked at him. “DK?”

“The one Neris described.”

Etzel glanced around the room. “This may be visually excessive indoors.”

Neris immediately said: “Do it.”

“You are not helping.”

“Do it.”

Etzel sighed. “DK.”

Darkness gathered. A figure formed beside him. Black boots touched the floor. Then greaves. Armor. Cape. Helmet. The Infernal Sovereign Set absorbed the room’s light. Thin crimson seams ran beneath the matte black plates.

DK stood fully manifested. The helmet’s eyes ignited red.

Ismera stopped breathing for a moment. Veydan stared.

Neris smiled. “Oh, that is much worse indoors.”

Etzel pointed at her. “I told you.”

Veydan looked up at DK. Then farther up. “This lives in the house?”

“Technically, he lives in Soul Space.”

DK turned his head. “My preference would be otherwise.”

Etzel looked at him. “Not now.”

Veydan stared at DK. “You understand us?”

“Yes.”

“You speak?”

“Yes.”

Veydan looked at Etzel. “You left that part out.”

“There are many parts.”

DK added: “He does that.”

Etzel slowly turned. “You are supposed to support me.”

“I have repeatedly done so.”

Neris laughed. Even Ismera almost did. Almost.

Etzel’s communicator vibrated. The room quieted. He already knew. The message was official.

HUNTER AUTHORITY	MANDATORY INCIDENT FOLLOW-UP
Target	Etzel Deymar
Status	No Active Hunter Registration Found
Action	Identity Verification Required.
Action	Hunter Registration Evaluation Required.
Directive	Report to Regional Hunter Registration Center.

Etzel grimaced. Neris leaned closer. “That looks bad.”

“Thank you.”

A scheduled time followed. Tomorrow.

Etzel stared. Veydan read over his shoulder. “You’re going.”

Etzel looked at him. “I was considering becoming an international fugitive.”

“No.”

“Worth asking.”

Ismera folded her arms. “You’re going.”

Etzel looked toward DK. “Two against one.”

DK replied: “Three.”

Etzel stared at him. “You don’t count.”

“I fought the A-Rank.”

“You count.”

The Regional Hunter Registration Center was considerably larger than Etzel expected. The next morning, he stood outside the building and looked up. Glass. Stone. Security barriers. Hunter insignia. People entering with weapons that would have caused mass panic before the Rupture.

Etzel adjusted his jacket. “This feels unnecessarily official.”

DK remained inside Soul Space. Saeva too. For now. He entered.

The lobby changed his understanding of the Hunter world immediately. Mission boards covered one wall. Dungeon classifications updated across another. Hunter teams stood around tactical displays. Equipment assessment counters occupied the eastern section. A market access terminal sat farther back. Bounty notices. Restricted-zone permits. Dungeon registrations. Medical stations. Everything existed in one ecosystem.

Etzel slowed. He had spent months interacting with the Hunter world from the outside. Forests. Rumors. Public feeds. Occasional encounters. Now he was inside it. And apparently—people knew him.

A man near one terminal looked over. Then looked again. Whispered something. A woman turned. Another person checked his communicator.

Etzel kept walking. “This is unpleasant.”

DK’s voice reached him through the Soul Link. “You are recognized.”

“I noticed.”

“You wanted to remain unnoticed.”

“Yes.”

“You failed.”

Etzel’s eye twitched. “I can still send you back harder.”

“You cannot.”

“That confidence is becoming a problem.”

Registration began with paperwork. Which Etzel immediately decided was humanity’s most resilient enemy. A clerk sat opposite him.

“Name?”

“Etzel Deymar.”

She looked at the screen. Then at him. Then back at the screen. Recognition. There it was.

“Age?”

“Eighteen.”

“Ancient Tree awakening confirmed?”

“Yes.”

“Previous registration?”

“No.”

Her fingers stopped. “You remained unregistered after awakening?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

Etzel smiled. “That question feels accusatory.”

“It is procedural.”

“Procedurally, a while.”

She stared at him. Etzel surrendered. Answered properly. More fields.

Then: “Primary Ability?”

“Limited Necromancer.”

Her fingers stopped again. This time longer. She looked up. “Limited Necromancer?”

“Yes.”

She opened another file. Etzel knew what she was reading. Rare Ability. Historically poor performance. High failure rate. Low practical reputation.

Then she opened the picnic incident report. Her eyes moved across the screen. She looked at Etzel. Back at the report.

“Your summon is A-Rank.”

“Yes.”

“From Limited Necromancer.”

“Technically.”

She stared. Etzel smiled. She did not.

“We’re conducting a full evaluation.”

“I suspected you might say that.”

The physical assessment came first. Speed. Reaction. Endurance. Weapon handling. Etzel performed well. Very well for Level Twelve. But nothing broke. No machine exploded. No examiner fainted. Etzel considered that a success.

His spear handling drew more attention. One evaluator watched him complete a sequence. “Formal training?”

“Mostly practical.”

“Meaning?”

“Things tried to kill me.”

The evaluator stared. Etzel added: “Repeatedly.”

That did not help.

Next came Soul evaluation. Etzel placed his hand against the assessment surface. Light traveled beneath his palm. The machine hummed. Then stopped.

EVALUATION SYSTEM	STATUS
Action	READING...
Action	SOUL STRUCTURE ANALYSIS...
Result	RESULT INCONCLUSIVE.

Etzel stared. The technician frowned. “Again.”

Etzel removed his hand. Placed it back. The machine activated.

EVALUATION SYSTEM	STATUS
Action	RECALIBRATING.

The technician frowned harder. Etzel looked at him. “Does it usually do this?”

“No.”

“Good.”

The man looked at him. “Why is that good?”

“It would be boring otherwise.”

The second reading completed.

EVALUATION SYSTEM	STATUS
Alert	ABNORMAL SOUL COMPLEXITY DETECTED.
Alert	STANDARD CLASSIFICATION MODEL INSUFFICIENT.

Nothing about seven Abilities. Nothing about Witness. Nothing Etzel could not afford to reveal. Good.

The technician looked considerably less pleased. Etzel removed his hand. “Can we call that a pass?”

“No.”

“Worth trying.”

Combat evaluation was better. Mostly because things were allowed to hit him. The first construct was E-Rank. Etzel dismantled it quickly. Not with overwhelming force. False Line. Position. One misleading spear angle. The construct defended the wrong line. Etzel struck the exposed joint. Done.

The D-Rank construct lasted longer. It was faster. Stronger. More aggressive. Etzel gave ground. Read it. Changed rhythm. Made it commit. Then punished the commitment. The evaluators stopped talking.

Finally came C-Rank. Etzel looked through the reinforced barrier at the construct. Then at the evaluator.

“You know I’m Level Twelve.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re putting me against C-Rank.”

“Survival and adaptation evaluation.”

“Ah.” Etzel picked up his spear. “So you don’t actually need me to win.”

“No.”

“That sounds like permission to be annoying.”

The evaluator did not respond. The construct activated. Etzel nearly got hit in the face within four seconds. “Excellent start.”

The fight became ugly. Etzel could not overpower it. Could not match it directly. So he stopped trying. Distance. Terrain. Timing. False Line. A failed feint. Another. The construct adapted. Etzel changed again.

He took a hit to the ribs. Pain flashed. He stayed upright. Watched. Tested. Learned. Witness did not trigger. Not enough understanding. Fine. He did not need it.

The construct attacked. Etzel intentionally left an opening. It committed. He rotated. Redirected the strike. Used its momentum. Spear against the neck sensor.

The test stopped. Silence.

Etzel breathed hard. “Did I win?”

The evaluator looked at the readings. “No.”

Etzel frowned. “That felt emotionally like a win.”

“You achieved a conditional disabling position after exceeding expected survival time.”

Etzel considered that. “I’m counting it.”

Then came the real reason half the staff had appeared near the test chamber. The summon evaluation. An examiner stood behind reinforced glass.

“Manifest your A-Rank summon.”

Etzel looked around. “Here?”

“This chamber is rated for A-Rank containment.”

Etzel stared at him. “That makes me less comfortable, not more.”

“Proceed.”

Etzel sighed. “DK.”

Black light gathered. The Dark Knight appeared. Full Infernal Sovereign armor. Black plates. Cape. Red eyes. Hellscript Greatblade resting at his side.

Every conversation behind the observation glass stopped. DK stood motionless. The scanner activated. One reading. Second. Third. Then:

SUMMON EVALUATION	DETAILS
Status	BOUND ENTITY CONFIRMED.
Rank	CURRENT RANK: A
Potential	POTENTIAL ESTIMATE: INDETERMINATE.

Etzel said nothing. Good. They could see A. They could not see SS Potential.

One examiner whispered something to another. The first registration clerk stared at DK. Then at Etzel. Her expression clearly said: Limited Necromancer?

Etzel smiled at her. She did not smile back.

“Any additional summons?”

Etzel froze. The examiner looked at him. Etzel considered saying no. Then remembered the picnic. The videos. The inevitable future. He sighed. “One.”

Saeva appeared. Green light. Tiny body. Small wings. She floated beside Etzel.

Silence. The examiner looked at Saeva. Then DK. Then Saeva again. The scanner activated.

SUMMON EVALUATION	DETAILS
Status	BOUND ENTITY CONFIRMED.
Rank	CURRENT RANK: F

Etzel spread his hands. “My portfolio is diverse.”

Someone behind the glass laughed. Finally. A civilized person.

Saeva landed on Etzel’s shoulder. DK looked enormous beside them. The contrast was ridiculous. Etzel liked it.

The final result took almost an hour. Etzel sat outside the evaluation room. Saeva had returned to Soul Space. DK remained there too.

Eventually, the clerk approached. She carried a card. “Etzel Deymar.”

He stood.

“Your evaluation is complete.” She handed it over. Etzel looked down.

┌────────────────────────────────────────┐

│ HUNTER ID: ETZEL DEYMAR │

│ Status: REGISTERED HUNTER │

│ Hunter Rank: D │

│ Level: 12 │

│ Primary Ability: LIMITED NECROMANCER │

└────────────────────────────────────────┘

Etzel stared. “D-Rank.”

“Yes.”

He pointed toward himself. “D.”

“Yes.”

He pointed vaguely toward Soul Space. “DK?”

“A-Rank.”

“Saeva?”

“F-Rank.”

“Yes.”

Etzel nodded slowly. “Balanced team.”

The clerk almost smiled. Almost. Then she handed him the evaluation summary.

EVALUATION SUMMARY	STATUS
Combat Assessment	High Variance
Tactical Adaptability	Exceptional for Current Level
Summon Threat Capacity	A-Rank
Operational Status	Special Review Recommended

Etzel read the last line twice. “What does special review mean?”

“It means your file is unusual.”

“That sounds like bureaucracy for ‘problem.’”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You thought it.”

She walked away. Etzel looked at his new Hunter card. Official. After everything—official.

DK spoke through the bond. “D-Rank.”

Etzel’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”

“Low.”

“I will put you back in Soul Space.”

“I am already there.”

Etzel paused. “That was strategically poor wording.”

Saeva’s amusement traveled through the bond.

“Both of you are becoming unbearable.”

Then Etzel activated his new Hunter account. The interface changed immediately. More information. More permissions. Mission listings. Dungeon access requests. Bounties. Wanted Hunters. Restricted hunting zones. Official loot markets. Team recruitment. Incident archives.

Etzel stopped scrolling. For the first time, he understood what registration actually meant. He had spent all this time operating outside the system. Now doors were open. Legal dungeon access. Official missions. Restricted information. Markets. Bounties. Hunter networks. He could work inside the structure instead of constantly avoiding it.

That was dangerous. Also useful. Very useful.

He continued scrolling. Then stopped. A restricted notice sat near the top of the regional incident feed.

RESTRICTED NOTICE	MASS CREATURE CONVERGENCE INVESTIGATION
Update	Observed migration behavior cannot be explained by known dungeon attraction mechanisms.

Etzel’s expression changed. He opened it. The same phenomenon. The center. The creature migration. The dungeon structures. Nineteen confirmed. Seventeen still active.

But this was not the public report. This was the Hunter version. More detail appeared. Observed routes. Threat estimates. Restricted zones. Unexplained behavior.

Then one line. Etzel read it. Read it again.

[Observed migration behavior cannot be explained by known dungeon attraction mechanisms.]

The humor left his face. DK felt the change immediately. “What?”

Etzel stared at the screen. Yesterday, he had been outside. Reading public warnings. Guessing. Watching. Now—he had a door into the system that was investigating the same mystery.

Etzel slowly smiled. “Apparently registering was useful.”