Alice, Aaron’s homeroom teacher, stormed into the principal’s office, her heart pounding with urgency. "Principal, should we really have given him an ID card? He’s unawakened. If he gets into a dungeon with it, I’m afraid he’ll meet his end," she said, her voice tight with worry.
She’d been absent during Aaron’s dramatic stunt at school. The moment she learned of it, she rushed to the principal, hoping to convince him to revoke the ID card before Aaron could dive headfirst into a dungeon’s dangers.
The principal leaned back in his creaky chair, his face a mask of indifference. "Let him be. He threatened to cut his parents’ monthly support. I had no choice but to comply," he said, playing the oppressed victim with a theatrical sigh.
"But Principal, he might actually—" Alice began, her words sharp with desperation.
"Enough." The principal’s voice cut like a blade. "You’re dismissed. This discussion is over. If he gets hot-headed and raids a dungeon, it’s on him."
Alice’s shoulders slumped as she left the office, the principal’s dismissal stinging like a slap. The heavy door clicked shut behind her, sealing her failure.
"Hah. Damn boy," the principal muttered, his lips curling into a sneer. "Acting high and mighty because his parents are demi-gods. I hope he’s foolish enough to raid a dungeon. Who knows when he’ll threaten us again?" His words dripped with venom as he leaned back, savoring the thought.
Alice, undeterred, resolved to find Aaron and talk some sense into him. She couldn’t let the son of the demi-gods she revered die a reckless death in some monster-infested hole.
Meanwhile, Aaron, the center of this storm, was already deep in a B-grade dungeon, facing off against hulking B-grade ogres, their roars echoing through the cavernous depths.
After leaving the school, Aaron had booked a B-grade dungeon through his phone, his fingers tapping with calm precision. Dungeons dotted the world like scars, most claimed by guilds who cleared them regularly to prevent dungeon breaks—catastrophic overflows of monsters into the open world. Some, one, were reserved by the government and awakeners’ association for training or for free awakeners like Aaron, who paid a fee or a cut of their loot to raid.
Aaron had no trouble covering the cost. His parents’ companies funneled him a monthly allowance—a tidy sum for his needs, though a mere fraction of the fortune awaiting him. With it, he’d reserved the dungeon and hired an A-rank awakener, not out of fear but necessity. His shiny new F-grade ID wouldn’t let him book a dungeon solo.
A rugged vehicle rumbled through the desolate outskirts, carrying Aaron to the dungeon’s location—a B-grade ogre lair. He’d chosen it specifically to pit his regeneration against monsters famed for their own healing prowess, a test of his hidden potential.
At the dungeon’s entrance, a confident man in his thirties approached, a massive greatsword slung across his back. His short, curly dark hair framed a face hardened by battles, and his athletic build spoke of years honing his craft. "You the one who booked a dungeon raid with me?" he asked, his tone clipped.
"Yes, I’m Aaron Highborn," Aaron replied, extending a hand with a polite smile.
"Let’s get this over with. I don’t have all day," the A-rank awakener, Blade, said, brushing off Aaron’s handshake with a dismissive wave.
Blade and Aaron passed the dungeon administrators’ checkpoint, where the awakeners’ association verified their IDs and ensured no unforeseen chaos erupted. The air buzzed with the faint hum of magical wards as they stepped into the dungeon’s gaping maw.
"Stay behind me while I deal with them," Blade instructed, his greatsword gleaming as he brandished it. "Loot’s split—80% for me, 20% for you."
Aaron’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at Blade’s words. The nerve of this guy, trying to rip him off. Paid hunters had no claim to dungeon spoils, yet here was Blade, acting like he owned the place. *He’s looking down on me because of my rank,* Aaron thought, a spark of anger flaring in his chest.
"I disagree," Aaron said, his voice steady but laced with defiance. His eyes began to glow a faint, ominous red.
"What did you say?" Blade snapped, turning to face him, only to freeze as Aaron’s crimson gaze locked onto his.
"You will not receive anything from this raid. From now on, you heed every command I give," Aaron said, his voice low and commanding, the red glow intensifying as he wove his hypnotic power over Blade.
"Yes, master," Blade murmured, his defiance crumbling. He dropped to his knees, his eyes glazed with submission.
Aaron’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk. The hypnosis had worked flawlessly. "Stay here and wait for me. Only show up when I instruct you to," he ordered before striding deeper into the dungeon.
This was an instant dungeon, designed to seal shut once two people entered, barring further access until it was cleared or special measures were taken. Aaron had chosen it deliberately to keep his abilities hidden. Even with Blade under his control, he couldn’t risk the A-ranker witnessing his true power. A mind-reader could pry into Blade’s thoughts later, exposing Aaron’s secrets. Caution was his shield.
Venturing deeper, the dungeon’s air grew thick with the stench of damp stone and decay. Aaron’s senses sharpened, his red eyes glinting in the dim light. He soon encountered his first ogre, a hulking C-rank beast with skin like weathered leather and fists the size of boulders.
"First, to test my physique," Aaron muttered, cracking his knuckles.
He surged forward, his speed a blur that caught even him off guard. In seconds, he closed the distance, appearing before the ogre like a phantom. The beast’s eyes widened, but before it could swing its massive arm, Aaron’s fist slammed into its chest with a thunderous *boom*. The ogre flew backward, crashing into the dungeon wall with a sickening crunch. Its chest caved, ribs shattered, and its heart ruptured, ending its life before its vaunted regeneration could even begin.
"Wow," Aaron breathed, staring at his fist. "To think I one-punched a C-rank ogre to death." Even for a C-rank monster, this was no small feat. Ogres were known for their ironclad defense and rapid healing, and only the most skilled B-rank hunters—or those nurtured by elite clans—could dispatch one so easily. For an F-rank like Aaron? Unheard of.