BAM!

The tuna hit the magic circuit circle with a resonant thud. It weighed a lot and it was enormous, a blue whale sized fish. Its scales were gleaming and faintly iridescent, a shimmer of mana saturation and its glassy eyes were still carrying the dim, fading light of the rift it had been pulled from.

The purification circle flared to life beneath it. Runes started to spiral outward in patterns of cold white light.

Oathran sighed behind his mask. "Purifying service, please."

Around him, the Hunter Association’s purification center hummed. But the people, the hunters waiting in line, the staff behind the counters and the administrators pausing mid-task to watch, were not quiet at all.

"It’s always a spectacle every day..."

"Yes. Every time he brings back Mana Dense gourmet ingredients from the rift, I always want to be here. It’s so amazing..."

"Yeah, we really don’t want to miss it."

"The White Mist is truly the best hunter out there."

"What do you mean? He is not number one."

"Yes, but he also never registered for the hunter’s ranking. We just know he has an S-Rank Hunter Permit. I bet he is comparable to number one."

WHIRRRRRR—SSSSHHHH—

The light enveloped the giant tuna, and the corruption that had coated its scales, that thin, black, tar-like film that clung to everything that came out of the rifts, sizzled and evaporated.

Dark smoke rose from the fish’s body in tendrils that were immediately sucked away by the ventilation system. The runes flickered, the light faded, and the tuna lay gleaming on the circuit circle, its scales now a pure, deep sapphire blue that seemed to glow from within.

"S-Ranked Mana Dense Ingredient, Sapphire Tuna, purified."

The announcement echoed from the overhead speakers, and the watching crowd let out a collective exhale of appreciation.

Oathran, as always, paid them no attention. He stepped forward, unclipped the magic bag from his shoulder, and held it open. The enormous tuna, the size of a whale, was absorbed into the bag, vanishing into the extradimensional space within.

He was about to step toward the payment counter when a black card slid across the terminal before he could reach it. He looked to his side.

The man standing there was tall and lean, his brown hair swept back from a face that was handsome in the irritating way of people who had never had to work for anything.

His violet eyes gleamed alongside a smile that was equal parts warmth and calculation.

"It is nice to see you again, Mr. White Mist."

Oathran narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "Hunter Association Director... Mr. Iondora."

"Don’t be so stiff~!" Damon chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "This purification is on the house. Please, you may leave."

"I don’t want to owe anything to you."

"This is not owing." Damon’s voice lost its teasing edge, settling into something more sincere. "This is gratitude. Thank you for using our service every day. The rifts have been closing faster when you are around, too."

It was true. Oathran had been closing rifts while hunting for mana dense gourmet ingredients. He descended into those dark, jagged tears in reality, fighting his way through whatever monsters had spilled through, harvesting whatever rare and valuable ingredients he could find, and then, as an afterthought, closing the rift behind him.

He didn’t need a party or a company. He didn’t even need backup. He simply went in, did the work, and came back out. Efficient.

"I thought you didn’t want to close the rifts," Oathran said, his voice flat, "since rifts are how the Association gets its funding."

"Likewise," Damon’s smile returned, "you close them even though you need them to get your ingredients."

The two men regarded each other in the humming quiet of the purification center. Around them, the crowd had thinned, the spectacle concluded and the staff returned to their duties.

"Alright." Oathran sighed. "Which rift do you want me to close?"

"Ah, I am serious! This is just gratitude! Just take it!" Damon raised both hands, shooing him toward the exit. "Leave! Leave!"

Oathran narrowed his eyes further. But he left, reluctantly. The black bag slung over his shoulder, the sapphire tuna secure within its extradimensional space, and he walked out of the purification center into the pale morning light.

Well. Perhaps being seen talking with the White Mist and paying the fee of the purification was also good publicity for Damon. The Association needed all the goodwill it could get, especially with the rifts increasing and the public growing more anxious by the day.

A director who personally thanked his best hunters, who comped their fees and sent them off with a smile. That was the kind of image that played well in the media.

Damon was not all that bad, Oathran supposed. He just wondered...

Why would a man like that strike a deal with that Vasiliev bastard?

Arzhen Vasiliev, the billionaire CEO whose revolutionary portable barrier designs had made him the sole supplier for the International Hunter’s Association. His face had been all over the news.

Damon Iondora had signed that contract and had given Arzhen the exclusive rights, the government backing, and the platform to become even richer and more powerful than he already was.

Such a waste of potential.

Damon Iondora could have chosen anyone. Instead, he had chosen the one man Oathran wanted nothing to do with other than planting a fist on his face.

Well. It was none of his business.

It was almost nine in the morning. He needed to drop the ingredient off at the restaurant that had hired him for supply, then get ready for his other part-time job at McKing. The schedule was tight, but it was always tight.

He slipped into the back alley behind the restaurant, a three-star establishment whose head chef had been buying his Mana Dense ingredients for years, and opened the back door without knocking.

The kitchen was already bustling, the white-uniformed staff moving through their morning prep. They turned as the door swung open, and their faces lit up in unison.

"Good morning, Chef!"

The greeting was immediate. Heh, choral, so to speak. Completely undeterred by the flat stare Oathran leveled at them.

"I’m not your chef anymore. Stop calling me that." He dropped the magic bag on the nearest steel table, the thump echoing through the kitchen. "Just dropping this off. Tell Chef Bessa to transfer the money to my account."

"Yes, Chef!"

"I said I’m not—" Oathran stopped and sighed. The staff were grinning at him, their spatulas and whisks held aloft like soldiers saluting a general. "—you know what? Fine."

He turned and walked out the back door before they could see the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

The streets were busier now, the morning rush hour filling the sidewalks with pedestrians and the roads with vehicles. Oathran took a deep breath of cold winter air, letting it clear the lingering scent of mana and purification from his lungs.

His shift at McKing started at ten. He needed to hurry home, shower, change into his uniform, and get to the franchise before the lunch rush began.

That was when he saw the flower shop across the street.

It was a small, charming storefront wedged between a bakery and a bookshop, its windows filled with blooms that seemed impossibly vibrant against everything else.

A vendor was arranging a display near the door, her hands moving gently.

Oathran paused.

He remembered the woman at home.

He crossed the street before he had fully decided to do so. The bell above the flower shop door chimed softly as he entered.

He wondered whether Cecilia was still there.

Or had she left—like she did in the morning a month and a half ago?

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This is the first half of the 12 Chapters mass release for Webnovel’s Birthday Month Event! 6 Chapters today, and 6 Chapters tomorrow.

Happy birthday, Webnovel, and enjoy!!!