The Author's Draft-Chapter 38: Hunter Association Enforcer

Aiden dismissed the system notification with a thought. The timer counted down in the corner of his vision.

Three minutes.

Two minutes fifty seconds.

He rolled his shoulders, the joints popping audibly. Cracked his knuckles one by one and tilted his head left, then right, working out the stiffness.

And then he smiled.

It wasn’t a normal smile. It was too wide, too sharp. The kind of expression that belonged on something that had forgotten what mercy looked like.

It was the same smile Azazel had worn when he’d torn Elder Feng into pieces.

’When did I start smiling like this?’

The thought flickered through Aiden’s mind and disappeared just as quickly. He didn’t care. Right now, with an army of monsters ahead and his cultivation singing through his veins, he felt raring to see some blood.

The system had said something about demonic energy influencing his personality, about increased enjoyment of violence.

Maybe it was right.

Maybe he was changing.

Or maybe this was who he’d always been, and he’d just never had the power to indulge it.

Aiden turned back toward the dungeon breaks and started walking.

The combat helicopter descended with a roar of rotors that made the soldiers duck instinctively. It landed in the cleared zone behind the barricade, the wash from its blades sending debris flying in all directions.

Before the rotors had fully stopped, the side door opened. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Five figures emerged.

Four of them wore standard Hunter Association combat gear—reinforced armor, weapons strapped to their backs and hips, the association’s emblem prominently displayed on their shoulders.

The fifth was different.

He wore a long black coat that billowed in the helicopter’s wash despite weighing far too much to move naturally. His face was angular, sharp, with eyes that glowed faintly amber. And the moment his boots touched the ground, a palpating pressure rolled off him like heat from a furnace.

Every soldier within twenty meters suddenly found it hard to breathe. Their chests tightened, their knees weakened. The air itself felt heavier, thicker, like trying to breathe underwater.

The man in the black coat didn’t seem to notice or care about the effect he had. He just walked forward, his team following behind him.

The commander forced himself to approach despite the pressure making his legs tremble. He’d dealt with powerful hunters before, but this was different. This was suffocating.

"Commander Matthews," the man in the coat said before Matthews could introduce himself. His voice was cold, clinical. "I’m Enforcer Kane. Hunter Association, Special Operations Division."

An Enforcer.

Matthews felt his stomach drop. Enforcers weren’t regular hunters. They were the association’s internal police—the ones who hunted rogue awakeners, illegal contractors, unregistered hunters who operated outside the system.

They were dangerous, powerful and they didn’t show up unless something serious was happening.

"Enforcer Kane." Matthews saluted reflexively. "We weren’t expecting—"

"You called for assistance and we came." Kane’s amber eyes swept across the barricade, taking in everything with mechanical efficiency. "Brief me. Current status?"

Matthews pulled himself together and started the report. "Twin dungeon break. E-rank and B-rank gates. Approximately forty E-rank creatures confirmed, estimated thirty-plus B-rank creatures, and sensor readings indicate an A-rank boss near the epicenter."

"Casualties?"

"None so far. We evacuated most civilians before the creatures advanced."

"Most?"

"There was one holdout. An elderly man with a bad leg but he’s been extracted safely."

Kane’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Extracted by whom? Your soldiers?"

"No, sir. A—" Matthews hesitated. This was where things got complicated. "A volunteer. An unaffiliated hunter. He went in alone and brought the civilian out."

"Unaffiliated." Kane’s tone didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. "Unregistered?"

"I... I believe so, sir."

One of Kane’s team members—a woman with short red hair and twin daggers at her hips—stepped forward. "Commander, did this ’volunteer’ identify himself? Show any credentials?"

"No. He wore a mask. Black, with demonic features."

The team exchanged glances. Kane’s expression remained neutral, but his eyes grew colder.

"A mask," Kane repeated. "Black, demonic design?"

"Yes, sir."

"And where is this masked individual now?"

Matthews shifted uncomfortably. "Still inside the affected area. He said the monsters were about to advance and went back in to—"

"To what?" Kane’s voice cut like a blade. "Buy time? Play hero?"

"I suppose—"

"Commander." Kane took a step closer and the spiritual pressure intensified. Matthews felt his knees buckle slightly. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done by allowing an unregistered awakener to operate in an active dungeon break?"

"Sir, he saved a civilian—"

"He interfered with official Hunter Association protocol, he operated without authorization and he used abilities in public without registration." Kane’s eyes bored into Matthews. "That makes him a rogue."

One of the soldiers nearby—a younger man, maybe early twenties—blurted out without thinking. "But he’s the Westfield hero! The one from the video!"

The other soldiers immediately tried to shut him up, hissing at him to be quiet, but it was too late.

Kane’s head turned slowly toward the young soldier. "What video?"

The soldier went pale. "I... I didn’t mean—"

"Show me."

Someone reluctantly pulled out a phone and brought up the viral video. Six million views. The footage showed a masked figure—the same black demon mask—fighting through a C-rank dungeon break at Westfield shopping center, destroying monsters, saving civilians and moving with speed and power that shouldn’t be possible for an unregistered nobody.

Kane watched the entire video in silence. When it finished, he handed the phone back without comment.

"So this masked individual," Kane said slowly, "has been operating for how long?"

"That video is from two weeks ago, sir."

"Two weeks of illegal hunter activity, public displays of power, no registration, no oversight." Kane turned back to Matthews. "And you let him walk back into an active dungeon break?"

"He was trying to help—"

"He’s a rogue." Kane’s voice was final and absolute. "And rogues are my jurisdiction."

He gestured to his team. "Martinez, Zhang, Reyes, Santos. We’re going in. Primary objective: neutralize the dungeon threats. Secondary objective: locate and detain the masked individual for questioning."

"Sir," the red-haired woman—Martinez—said carefully, "the masked individual has demonstrated significant combat capability. Based on the video, he’s at least B-rank equivalent, possibly higher."

"Then we’ll be appropriately cautious." Kane’s coat billowed as he turned toward the dungeon breaks. "But make no mistake—he will be detained. Unregistered awakeners operating without oversight are a threat to public safety. That’s not negotiable."

The team moved out, weapons drawn, heading into the affected area.

Matthews watched them go and felt a knot forming in his stomach.

The masked hero had saved his father, saved civilians and risked his life when the major guilds refused to help.

And now he was being hunted by an Enforcer.

’God help him,’ Matthews thought. ’Because Kane won’t.’

---

Aiden moved through the streets like a ghost.

Silent, efficient and deadly.

He’d encountered maybe thirty E-rank creatures so far—kobolds mostly, with a few goblins mixed in. Each encounter lasted seconds. A slash of Sword Aura here, a Phantom Step into a blind spot there. Bodies fell, blood pooled. He kept moving.

The B-rank creatures were harder to avoid. They moved in packs, coordinated, clearly more intelligent than the E-rank fodder. Aiden had spotted three groups so far—demon warriors similar to the ones he’d killed earlier, some kind of armored ogre thing, and what looked like dark elementals made of living shadow.

He avoided direct confrontation. Not out of fear—the timer in his vision showed three minutes remaining—but out of pragmatism. Why fight when he could wait until he was at full strength?

So he stuck to the shadows, moved between buildings, picked off isolated E-ranks and left the B-ranks alone.

For now.

Aiden crouched behind an overturned car, watching a group of kobolds scavenge through an abandoned shop. Six of them. They were easy kills.

He moved.

Phantom Step carried him across the street in a blur. The first kobold died before it registered his presence—Aiden’s finger, coated with Sword Aura, punched straight through its skull like a drill through wet paper.

The other five turned, screeching.

Too slow.

Aiden’s hand swept through the air. Five slashes of projected Sword Aura cut through them simultaneously and their bodies fell in pieces.

He straightened, pulling his finger free from the first kobold’s skull. Blood and brain matter dripped from his hand.

Aiden wiped it on the creature’s crude clothing and checked the timer.

One minute forty seconds.

Close now.

He was about to move to the next street when a shadow fell over him.

Massive, dark and moving fast.

Aiden’s instincts screamed. He activated Phantom Step and blurred to the side.

Something enormous slammed into the ground where he’d been standing a heartbeat before. The impact cratered the pavement, sending chunks of concrete flying. Dust exploded outward.

Aiden landed ten meters away and looked at what had attacked him.

His breath caught.

It was a wolf. A massive, bipedal wolf standing nearly three meters tall. Its fur was midnight black, muscles rippling beneath the pelt. Claws gleamed like polished steel, each one the length of a kitchen knife. Fangs dripped saliva, and its eyes—glowing yellow—fixed on Aiden with predatory intelligence.

[Wow, a Lycan. Now, your fucked buddy cause if one found you, the rest probably already did.]

"How? I definitely covered my tracks."

[You dumbass! They’re wolves, they can smell the blood on you.]

A lycan. B-rank. And Aiden had just killed dozens of kobolds, their blood soaking his clothes, creating a scent trail any predator could follow.

’Shit. Should’ve been more careful.’

The lycan growled, a sound like grinding stone. Then it threw its head back and howled.

The sound echoed through the empty streets, primal and terrible.

And other howls answered.

One. Two. Five. Ten.

Aiden’s enhanced hearing picked them up from all directions. Close. They were getting closer.

Within seconds, they emerged from the shadows.

Lycans. A dozen of them, maybe more. All B-rank and all focused on him with that same predatory intelligence.

They spread out automatically, surrounding him in a loose circle. Pack tactics, coordinated and professional.

Aiden stood in the center, fingers flexed, his expression calm and peaceful like he was taking a walk in the park.

He should have been terrified. Should have been calculating escape routes and planning how to survive.

Instead, he smiled.

That same too-wide smile. That same expression Azazel had worn.

Because at that exact moment, the timer in his vision hit zero.

[Synchronization Complete: 100%]

[What dog-shit luck you have.]

[I was hoping you’d suffer a bit.]

Power flooded through Aiden’s body. That feeling like he could probably pull mountains and overturn seas filled him. That was just an illusion he got from the sudden increase in strength. Every technique, every skill, every ounce of strength he’d earned in the cultivation world—it was all here. All real and his.

The lycans sensed the change. Their growls intensified, muscles tensed, and preparing to attack.

Aiden’s smile widened.

"Alright then," he said, his voice carrying across the circle of predators. He cracked his knuckles slowly, deliberately. "Let’s dance."

The lycans charged as one.

And Aiden met them.