The Hunter Association headquarters rose like a glass mountain in the heart of the administrative district. Leon sat in the back of the armored transport, watching the building grow larger through bulletproof windows.
His new sword rested across his knees. Shadowedge hummed with contained power, making his fingers tingle. The Champion's blood had already dried on the blade's dark surface.
The transport pulled into a secured garage beneath the building. Armed guards flanked the vehicle as Leon stepped out. Their eyes held a mixture of respect and wariness that he had grown used to.
Director Arieth Landstan waited in the elevator lobby. She was in her mid-forties, with steel-gray hair and a sharp suit that probably cost more than most hunters earned in a year. Her handshake was firm and professional.
"Mr. Graves. Thank you for what you did today."
Leon nodded. "Just doing my job."
The elevator climbed sixty floors in silence. Leon watched the city shrink below them through glass walls. Somewhere down there, cleanup crews still scraped alien blood off broken concrete.
The ceremony hall buzzed with reporters and Association officials. Cameras flashed as Leon walked to the podium. The crowd's energy felt different from that of the underground tournament—respectful and awed.
Director Landstan spoke into the microphones. "Today, we witnessed something unprecedented. A B-Rank threat emerged from a routine dungeon. One hunter stood against it when others fled."
She turned to Leon, genuine pride in her eyes. "Leon Graves, by the authority of the Hunter Association, I hereby promote you to B-Rank status."
The new badge felt heavier than the old one—bronze instead of iron. It caught the camera lights as Leon pinned it to his jacket.
"Your reward package reflects the magnitude of today's victory," Landstan continued. "Boss loot validated. Full bounty paid. And a special commendation for extraordinary service."
Leon's bank account showed numbers that made his head spin—fifty thousand gold. More money than his family had seen in three generations.
The crowd applauded, and reporters shouted questions. Leon answered a few basic questions before security escorted him to a private office.
"I have a proposition," Landstan said once they were alone. "The Association could use someone with your... unique capabilities. Full membership. Elite unit command. Resources you can't imagine."
Leon leaned back in his chair. "What's the catch?"
"No catch. Just service to humanity. Fighting threats like today's Champion before they reach civilian populations."
"I'll consider it."
Landstan's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course. Take your time."
Leon left the building through a side exit. The main entrance was packed with reporters and camera crews. He'd had enough public attention for one day.
His phone buzzed nonstop during the ceremony—text messages, missed calls, and email notifications. Leon scrolled through them as he walked.
Guild recruitment offers, interview requests, and sponsorship deals are worth obscene amounts of money. One message claimed to be from a talent agent for action movies.
The internet had exploded.
Jinocam's stream had hit two million views and was climbing. Forum threads dissected every frame of the boss fight. Memes comparing Leon to legendary hunters were already going viral.
"F-Rank to Boss Killer in 30 Days - Speedrun Any%"
"When the quiet kid in class actually fights back"
"POV: You picked the wrong necromancer"
Leon couldn't help grinning at some of the edits. Someone had overlaid the Champion's death with dramatic music and slow-motion effects.
Hunter forums were less humorous. They were filled with detailed analyses of his zombie tactics, speculation about his actual rank, and comparisons to elite guild members that made Leon's chest tighten with pride.
A local café caught his attention—a small place with outdoor seating and the smell of fresh bread. Leon's stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since dawn.
He ordered a sandwich and coffee, settling at a corner table with his back to the wall—old habits from dangerous places.
The first few minutes passed peacefully. Leon savored the normalcy of hot food and civilian conversation around him.
Then someone's head snapped up from their phone.
"Wait. Isn't that the guy who killed the boss?"
Silence spread through the café like ripples in a pond. Every eye turned toward Leon's table.
"Holy shit, it is him."
"Can I get a picture?"
"Dude, you're famous!"
The café erupted. Customers abandoned their tables to crowd around Leon. Phone cameras flashed from every angle. A teenage girl thrust a napkin at him for an autograph.
"What skills did you use?"
"How strong are your zombies really?"
"Are you joining a major guild?"
"You're the man, Leon!"
The crowd pressed closer. Leon felt the walls closing in, civilian excitement becoming more desperate and hungry.
He dropped money on the table and pushed toward the side door. "Thanks, everyone. Gotta run."
Shouts followed him into the alley. Leon ducked between buildings, taking the long way through back streets until the noise faded.
Fame was a double-edged sword—helpful in opening doors, dangerous in drawing the wrong attention.
Leon made it home as the sun was setting. His apartment building looked the same but somehow felt different, as if he no longer belonged in its cramped hallways and peeling paint.
Halfway up the stairs, he noticed the figures waiting outside his door.
Five people in expensive suits and tactical gear. Professional bodyguards flanking a woman who radiated authority like heat from a forge.
Sophie Hwang. Leader of Dragonspire Guild.
Leon knew her by reputation—she was in her mid-thirties, charismatic, and ruthless in business and combat. Her guild specialized in high-risk operations that other organizations wouldn't touch.
She studied Leon as he approached, bright eyes taking in every detail: designer clothes that probably cost more than his rent and jewelry that hummed with subtle enchantments.
"Isn't he the man of the hour?" she said, her voice carrying the confidence of someone used to getting what they wanted. "The man I've been waiting for."
Leon kept his expression neutral. "Ms. Hwang."
"Call me Sophie. We have a lot to discuss."
Her bodyguards shifted position, not threatening but definitely present—professional muscle with gear that suggested serious backing.
"Do we?"
Sophie's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Oh yes. What happened today was impressive. But it was also just the beginning."
She stepped closer, close enough that Leon could smell her expensive perfume over the stench of the Shadow Quarter.
"The Champion mentioned a master. That wasn't random monster behavior. Something is orchestrating these attacks."
Leon's blood chilled. That detail wasn't mentioned in his official report.
"And you think I can help with that?"
"I think you're the only one who can. Your zombies aren't standard necromancy. Whatever system you're using, it's beyond conventional magic."
Sophie gestured to her bodyguards. "I'm offering you resources the Association can't match—funding, equipment, access to restricted information."
"In exchange for?"
"Partnership. Your unique abilities combined with Dragonspire's infrastructure and connections." Sophie's eyes gleamed with predatory interest. "We could reshape the hunter industry."
Leon studied her face—beautiful, intelligent, dangerous. This kind of person collects helpful items like other collectors gather art.
"I'll think about it."
Sophie's smile didn't waver. "Of course you will. But don't think too long. Opportunities like this don't wait forever."
She turned and walked away, her bodyguards falling into formation around her. Their footsteps echoed in the narrow hallway until they disappeared around the corner.
Leon stood alone outside his apartment door, key in hand. Three different factions wanted to claim him now—the Association with their official authority, major guilds with their resources and influence, and somewhere in the shadows, whatever force controlled the Champion was planning its next move.
He looked down at his new B-Rank badge. The bronze caught the hallway's dim light, reflecting possibilities and dangers equally.
The quiet life was officially over.