A tense, electric air hung before the Treasure Hall.
The gaping entrance of the Treasure Hall, White Wolf's Den.
Where lookout Phantoms once loitered, Hunters now lined up by Party, each running through their final checks.
The plan was decided. No—it was always the case that options were limited.
In the space before White Wolf's Den, Black Gold Cross had taken up position at the center.
The Party's namesake. Their armor, forged from a special alloy called black gold, represented the pinnacle of modern craftsmanship. Hard yet flexible, capable of repelling magic and even cushioning impact—it was said to be the material closest to a Treasure Weapon.
The hardened, well-trained body encased within it trembled. Not from fear. It was the warrior's tremble.
Sven Anger was a Level 6 Hunter—a powerhouse worthy of an epithet, a first-rate Treasure Hunter among Treasure Hunters—but even he possessed neither divine strategy nor the ability to foretell the future.
And yet, he was still a Hunter.
The countless harrowing battlegrounds his Party had overcome together in the past—the request he now faced, harboring risks greater than any of those, brought Sven both dread and exhilaration.
The total number of Parties participating in this operation was twelve.
The average Party size was six. That put them short of a hundred—not a particularly impressive number for a military force. But every last one of them was a Hunter honed inside Treasure Halls.
It was exceedingly rare for Mana Material-enhanced Hunters to converge on a single Treasure Hall like this. Their combined strength far exceeded what those numbers suggested. Quite a few possessed weapon-type Treasure Weapons.
And yet, not a single person let their guard down. The Hunters belonging to Footprint understood the danger of the Thousand Trials all too well. And the outside Hunters were swept up by Footprint's fighting spirit.
White Wolf's Den was a cavern-type Treasure Hall. Treasure Halls tended to have that character (indeed, it was precisely because of that character that Treasure Hunters existed), but they were not designed for large numbers to enter and leverage their numerical advantage.
Sven decided to split his forces and subdue the interior piece by piece. He had to avoid the risk of a large group becoming a hindrance during retreat.
Each unit was assigned a survey sector and would investigate in Party formation.
Communication would be done by whistle. The number of consecutive blasts would determine the meaning.
If something was discovered or an emergency arose, they would retreat immediately. Upon finding the target Monster, they would lure it outside and strike it down together as a group.
Even if things went smoothly, they would return after a set amount of time. If someone failed to return without even sounding the whistle, they would be assumed killed instantly.
Parties not entering the Treasure Hall would wait outside. While there was a risk of being picked off individually, they could at least avoid being wiped out in a single blow.
The complete lack of intelligence on the enemy was the worst part. No—was it not fortunate enough that they knew the enemy existed at all?
Hunters did not neglect pre-mission reconnaissance. Situations like this were almost unheard of.
Perhaps it would have been better to take on an unexplored sector instead.
Sven clicked his tongue once more and glared at the Treasure Hall with hard, gleaming eyes.
"Trials, trials, huh... That bastard Krai, shoving this on me. I'm gonna punch his lights out later."
"You say that, but you're scared of Peerless Shadow."
"Shut up. An ordinary arrow can't hit that damn thing! The compatibility's way too bad."
Sven snorted irritably at the Party member who was teasing him.
Talia, carrying Citry's special anti-Slime agent, stood with her companions at a distance from the Treasure Hall entrance. She appeared to be tense—Sven could see her desperately trying to calm her breathing.
Talia—or rather, the dark potion she carried—was their trump card for this operation.
Of course, he had no intention of relying on it entirely. If the other Hunters' attacks—magic or arrows from long range—could finish the job, all the better.
But having a fallback prepared for when none of that worked was nothing short of a blessing.
An Alchemist lacked combat ability. On the other hand, when thorough preparations had been made, no profession could match an Alchemist's adaptability.
Talia's skills were apparently still rough, but the potion she carried had been brewed by an Alchemist once called "the finest." There was no doubt about its effectiveness.
Just then, a voice came from behind.
A slightly high-pitched, trembling voice.
"Um... who is this Citry person? Everyone seemed to know who she was, but..."
"Oh, Henrik—you've never met her, have you..."
Henrik had joined Black Gold Cross about six months ago. By that time, the members of Mourning Specter were already reigning as the top Party.
Each member of Mourning Specter held a face beyond that of a mere Hunter.
Among them, Citry—active as an Alchemist—was the busiest of all. As she gradually stopped appearing in public, her name naturally faded from memory as well.
"She's barely shown her face lately, Citry."
Another Party member, the Mage Marietta, narrowed her eyes with a hint of nostalgia.
But deep within those eyes was a strong undercurrent of fear.
Those who possessed extraordinary ability sometimes inspired not just admiration, but fear.
Sven was no stranger to gazes tinged with awe, and Marietta and the other members had surely felt the sting of jealousy before.
Citry Smart was the same.
Quick-witted, absorbing every scrap of knowledge—even in this Imperial Capital, home to the foremost academy and brimming with talented practitioners—she stood out, possessing a prodigious talent as an Alchemist that drew envy from all. She had once been called the practitioner closest to achieving the Philosopher's Stone, the Alchemist's ultimate dream.
But she was feared not because of that ability.
He looked down at Henrik, who was directing a somewhat hesitant gaze toward him. That guarded look reminded him somewhat of a certain Alchemist.
Sven held his breath for a moment, then spoke in a strained voice, his brow furrowed.
"Well, to put it simply... Citry is... a 'strong' weakling."
"A strong... weakling?"
She had been strong. She had talent.
But above all, she had been utterly, incomprehensibly "different" from everyone else.
And so, now that her glory had become a thing of the past, her name was whispered by no one.
It was not that people shunned her. But naturally, no one spoke her name anymore—as if erasing her from memory.
And in reality, the current Footprint now had members like Henrik who didn't even know her name.
Sven raised his gaze, shifting his eyes from Henrik to Talia, who was clutching a bottle of the dark potion.
"And several Parties—including us, Black Gold Cross—joined the establishment of Beginning Footprint at Citry's persuasion. She was an extraordinary Alchemist who once stood in Mourning Specter with the second-highest Level after Krai."
"Sven. We're ready over here."
"Yeah, got it. Sorry, but I'll finish the story later."
Called by Lyle, Sven took a step forward.
Morale was at its peak. No one was afraid.
Footprint was exceptional. There was a reason for their high average level.
The weak had already been weeded out. The cowards had all long since left the Clan.
Those present were the very elite, having survived countless Trials to varying degrees—and they were comrades-in-arms.
That fact fueled their confidence.
Beginning Footprint was strong.
It was led by top-tier Parties.
Its facilities were well-equipped, its management structure sound.
But all of that—if Sven was being blunt—was nothing more than a bonus.
The bond forged through sharing battlefields drenched in blood and littered with the dead—that was the true essence of this Clan. That was why it had grown so large in just a few years.
The Footprint's emblem represented the trail they had carved. It had since become a source of pride.
That was more than enough reason for Hunters to stake their lives.
Outside Parties were among them too, but who cared.
Sven drew a deep breath and roared, his voice like the rustling of grass and trees.
Morale surged. As if the excitement were contagious, the Hunters' expressions hardened.
"Listen up, you bastards! Get fired up and charge in! Crush them! Carve your footprints! Everyone get back alive and tell that shitty master this was nothing! Got it?!"
"Oooooohhh!"
An explosive roar shook the surrounding forest.
Every Party—both Footprint's own and the outside ones—screamed until their voices gave out.
And then, with a force that could only be described as a turbulent, unruly torrent, the Hunters launched their invasion.
--- After finishing the Treasure Hall selection and heading down the stairs to the underground training grounds with documents in hand, a sharp, whistling sound cut through the air.
The training facilities built into the Clan House were virtually indistinguishable from those found throughout the Imperial Capital. I rarely showed my face to avoid getting caught up in the training, but whenever I descended underground, I always encountered someone putting their skills to the test.
It was just training, but the fighting spirit pouring off them was real. Feeling it gave me the illusion that I'd somehow become a Hunter myself.
Well, technically I still was one.
Descending the stairs at a steady, rhythmic pace, I pushed open the heavy, reinforced metal door of the first underground training floor (it had been blown off its hinges and replaced several times since the facility was built).
The first underground floor was suitable for checking katas and forms. If you wanted to use magic, the second floor—with its anti-magic treatments on the walls—was more appropriate, and the third floor and below, with their various specialized equipment, were ideal for practicing special techniques.
The moment I opened the door, cold air and sound greeted me.
Riz stood on the metal-plated floor at the center of the vast, empty training hall.
Her sparring partner was Tino. True to form, she wore the black-dominated Hunter attire, crouched low in her stance, glaring at her master—a smaller figure standing before her.
The sound of the door opening echoed through the training hall, but those pitch-black irises remained narrowed, with not the slightest hint of acknowledging my presence.
Those sharp eyes gave no indication of the constant bullying she supposedly endured from her master.
Riz, on the other hand, turned toward me as I approached, her composure breaking into a grin.
"Oh, Krai. Your turn finally?"
"——!"
At Riz's casual, almost deflated tone, black hair whipped forward. A fist wrapped in leather gauntlets shot out, compressed with a short burst of fighting spirit.
The thrust left the sound behind, a brief whistle splitting the air. Pressed by the display, I involuntarily took a step back.
Riz dodged with a smile, not even glancing in that direction, shifting her body sideways in a half-turn.
"I was training, you see. But if I beat her to a pulp, it might get in the way of your request, right?"
"! ! !"
Tino's attacks left nothing but afterimages. Spheres of sweat flew through the air, and the ribbon binding her black hair at the back flickered in and out of sight.
A speed-focused thrust. A low kick launched simultaneously with a step-in closed in on Riz.
The sharp killing intent—palpable even from a distance—made the air shimmer. Combined with her outfit, the scene looked like a black gale given form.
Sweep. Thrust. Palm strike. Roundhouse kick. Elbow strike. Every single movement flowed seamlessly into an attack.
If there had been even a tenth of a second more, she would have been caught for certain. The exchange was fierce yet beautiful, almost like a choreographed dance.
A thin mist of white breath escaped parted lips. A kick launched mid-rotation brushed past Riz's face, shaving off a few strands of her bangs. From where I stood, it looked like it had connected—but she'd dodged by the slimmest margin.
She's incredible... Riz's talent really is something.
Even as she was kept busy deflecting the relentless onslaught, Riz narrowed her eyes and smiled with a twisted grin.
"See? Amazing, right? The gap between us is huge. I used to get annoyed when people said I had no sense, but watching T reminded me that aptitude really does matter... I didn't think I needed a disciple, but I'm glad I took her on just like Krai said!"
When Riz had come to the Imperial Capital and become Peerless Shadow's disciple, she had reportedly been told right off the bat that she had no talent for close-quarters combat. She had since reached Level 6, but that bitter remark was still etched into her.
Well, from my perspective I couldn't tell the difference—and the fact that she was dodging her prodigious disciple's attacks was already impressive enough—but Riz set her bar high.
However, when I'd watched their training before, Tino's attacks hadn't so much as grazed Riz's hair. The gap in their abilities did seem to have narrowed.
Tino wasn't reaching now because they were unarmed, but perhaps if she used the short sword she always wore at her hip, she might finally land a hit?
Even so, the gap between them was still obvious. But after several years of apprenticeship, perhaps Tino was no longer just chasing Riz's back.
Lost in such thoughts while watching with admiration, Tino suddenly called out in a strained voice without breaking her assault.
"Hah... hah... I... can't! Hit—! Why!?"
Despite the intense exertion, her attacks only grew sharper. Her fist grazed past Riz's head.
Riz had lowered her stance ever so slightly.
Tino let out an anguished cry—completely unlike Riz, who maintained her smile throughout.
My eyes couldn't even process what was happening. If I were in Riz's position, I'd have been knocked unconscious on the first strike.
Riz clapped her hands lightly and danced through her steps with feather-light movements.
"Come on, T! A little more! Stretch those fingers a little further! Burn your life away! Don't slow your movement! Focus your nerves! Don't back down! Attack! Don't be afraid!"
"——!"
Tino's eyes locked onto Riz, blazing with fierce light—the same eyes Riz always showed before a fight, as if burning with her very life.
Watching that scene, I stopped in my tracks and scratched my cheek.
"...Are you still holding back?"
"Hm? Did it look like I was in trouble?"
No, it didn't look like trouble exactly... but after going on about the gap between them and all...
Tino clenched her teeth. Riz's eyes went wide.
Perhaps Tino's speed had increased again—the impacts were sounding heavier, more intense.
Her limbs now lanced forward with the sharpness of a spear thrust, yet she still hadn't touched Riz a single time.
If even increased speed couldn't land a hit, it meant Riz was dodging with the absolute minimum of movement.
Tino was taller than Riz. Her limbs were longer too. And yet she still couldn't reach.
"T, your short sword."
"——!"
The instant Riz said those words, Tino's eyes flew wide open.
Her hand drew the short sword at her hip without hesitation—not the blunted training version, but the well-hammered weapon she always brought to Treasure Halls.
Without breaking speed, she unleashed a sweeping horizontal slash—greatly extended in reach. Riz took a single step back and dodged without a change in expression. The bare blade passed within centimeters of her face, and she didn't even blink.
Thrusts, sweeps, kicks timed to exploit her focus on the blade—every attack missed by a hair's breadth. Riz dodged attacks steeped in killing intent while smiling. She looked like she was having the time of her life.
"While training T, I can train myself too! Isn't that amazing?"
"...Yeah, yeah. Sure is."
She's way too carefree... It seemed like Tino surpassing her master was still a long way off.
Tino's breathing grew labored. Her normally pale skin flushed red, and sweat-plastered bangs clung to her forehead.
But even so, her grip didn't waver. Her core remained steady, her movements still nimble.
If I were Riz, I'd call it a perfect score. And if I were Tino, I would have been satisfied with my own strength and never bothered training again.
Ducking a full-commitment lunge, Riz said matter-of-factly: "Well, I'll wrap it up here... I'm warmed up now."
Come on, that was just a warm-up?
The barrage of attacks didn't loosen no matter how many times they missed—even when she had clearly read every move. It was a storm of blows with no opening whatsoever.
And yet, Riz took a single step forward.
It should have hit. Riz's position was completely within Tino's attack range.
But the kick, the thrust, the descending short sword—all passed through Riz as if she were a phantom.
I rubbed my eyes, unable to process what was happening. An afterimage of Riz effortlessly caught Tino's fully extended arm, and her foot lightly swept Tino's feet out from under her.
That was all it took. Tino's movement stopped—she, who had seemed as though she might keep moving forever. She let out a small, involuntary sigh.
Tino's stance crumbled. Her limbs scraped at the air reflexively, but with her wrist pinned and her body thrown wide open, there was nothing she could do.
Her eyes flew wide, and by then Tino's body was pressed flat against the ground. A small whimper escaped her throat.
Riz's hand rested on the neck of Tino, lying face-up on the floor.
"Okay, done."
Tino's body convulsed violently on the ground. The sound of her pounding heartbeat seemed almost audible.
Her limbs shook and rattled. Choking on the grip around her neck, tears forming in her eyes, Tino coughed and sputtered. Her gaze wandered through the air before finally finding me.
Riz removed her hand from Tino's neck and dusted off her palms.
"Hah... hah... bet... ter?"
"I've got work to do from here. T, you're sweaty. Stop lying around and go get ready, okay? Don't keep showing Krai a pathetic face, alright? Come on!"
At her master's heartless words, Tino's eyes went wide.
No—I didn't mind waiting a bit, or rather, I hadn't asked for anything and she didn't need to leave... Tino probably needed rest right about now.
I looked down at her with those thoughts in mind, and Tino's cheeks—already flushed from the intense exercise—turned an even deeper red as tears welled up in her eyes.
"I-I'm heading out!"
"...Huh? No, that's not—huh!?"
Tino sprang to her feet. I involuntarily stepped back. It was like watching a corpse rise.
She stood up firmly on legs that had been convulsing moments ago, and though she swayed, she broke into a run and disappeared.
I worried she might collapse halfway there.
"How long have you been at it?"
"Hm? The whole time?"
That wasn't an answer.
The whole time... It had been about two hours since I'd seen Lyle and the others off to White Wolf's Den...
This was clearly overdoing it. Hunters were supposed to treat rest as part of the job.
Riz, on the other hand, hadn't even broken a sweat. Was she even human?
"Are you going to stop taking Tino along?"
"Aww, it's fine. T makes a decent fighter anyway... Krai, you're so strict. ...What's that you've got there?"
Strict how? I wasn't issuing a formal notice of dismissal or anything.
Riz asked, noticing me frowning over the damage to my reputation. I sighed and held out the Treasure Hall information files I'd dug up from the archives.
The Clan had comprehensive data on Treasure Halls in the vicinity of the Imperial Capital. I'd holed up in the archives for the first time in a while, gathering materials.
Though "gathering" was generous—I'd mostly just been sorting through what was already there.
Flipping through the files, Riz tilted her head adorably.
"Hmm? These are all low-Level places? And there are quite a few of them?"
Treasure Halls were formed by the accumulation of Mana Material. Due to their nature, low-Level ones tended to form far more frequently than high-Level ones.
In the Imperial Capital, where multiple Ley Lines converged, there were dozens upon dozens of low-Level Treasure Halls.
Even with the added constraint of distance from White Wolf's Den, my indecisive nature couldn't narrow it down to a single choice.
Smiling to cover that fact, I answered: "Yeah, I thought I'd have Tino pick the one she likes."
She always had a terrible time, but for this, it should be fine.