The Hunter Association branch office was a functional, unadorned building where hunters came to register quests and sell their loot. It was always busy.
In front of a large digital quest board, two men stood with serious expressions. They were Marco and Pola, E-4 rank hunters.
"Damn it all! Look at this, Pola! The only things left are F-Rank sewer cleanups and E-Rank escort missions that take three days! The pay is garbage!"
Marco kicked the base of the metal railing in front of the board.
Pola sighed, not taking his eyes off the screen. "We have to take something, Marco. We have 3,000 credits left in our joint account. That is not even enough for dinner."
"This is all his fault! That fucking bastard with the chain! He’s the reason we’re in this mess!"
Pola finally turned away from the board. "Blaming him will not put money in our pockets. We still got credit for the Omafo gate subjugation."
"Credit? Credit?! The Association’s fee was barely enough to cover our gear maintenance! The real prize was the cores from that horde! Dozens of orcs and hobgoblins! That guy must have walked away with a small fortune, and he was an unregistered nobody!"
Marco’s voice was getting louder, and a few hunters nearby glanced over.
’This is embarrassing,’ Pola thought. ’He is making a scene over something that happened days ago.’
"Just forget it, Marco. Let’s just pick one of the escort miss-"
"No! I will not forget it! A scavenger poaching a registered hunter’s kill is a serious crime! If I ever see that guy’s face again, I swear, I am going to report him so fast his head will spin! No, forget that! I’ll personally drag him to the enforcement division myself! I’ll-"
Marco stopped his rant when he felt a persistent tapping on his shoulder. He turned around, annoyed.
"What is it, Pola? I’m in the middle of being righteously angry here!"
Pola did not say a word. He just pointed a trembling finger toward the building’s main entrance.
Marco followed the direction of his finger.
A man had just walked in. He was wearing plain, cheap clothes and was carrying a large, heavy-looking sack over his shoulder. He walked with a purpose, heading directly for the monster core exchange counter.
It was the man with the chain.
Marco’s jaw went slack. All the color drained from his face.
Luthra, oblivious to the two hunters staring at him, walked up to the counter and dropped the heavy sack onto the marble surface with a loud thud that echoed through the lobby.
"Hello. I would like to sell some monster cores."
The young woman behind the counter looked at the heavy sack Luthra had placed on the marble surface.
"Hello, welcome to the Hunter Association Exchange. May I see your hunter’s license, please?"
"I don’t have one," Luthra stated.
The woman’s hands, which were moving toward a scanner, stopped completely.
"Excuse me? You do not have a license?"
"That is correct. I am not a registered hunter."
Her professional composure broke for a moment. Around the bustling lobby, the low hum of conversation quieted as several nearby hunters turned their heads to look at the commotion.
"Sir," she started, her voice now a little more careful, "if you are not a hunter, then how did you come to possess this many monster cores?"
"I killed the monsters," he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
A wave of murmurs and scoffing spread through the onlookers who were now openly staring.
"He killed them? Without being a hunter? That’s impossible."
"Of course it is. He must be a scavenger. A parasite who looted them from a subjugation site after a real party did all the hard work."
"Tch. A thief, then. How shameless, to bring stolen goods right here to the Association headquarters."
Over by the large digital quest board, Marco’s entire body went rigid. A layer of cold sweat instantly formed on his back.
’Shit, shit, shit, shit! Did he hear me? I was just screaming about him being a scavenger! Does he know it was me talking? He’s looking this way! No, wait, he isn’t. But he could have heard me! Ah, I’m completely screwed!’
Pola placed a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed it with significant pressure. ’Calm down, you idiot. You are drawing more attention to us with your shaking.’
Back at the counter, the cashier had regained her composure, adopting a firm, rule-abiding posture.
"I am very sorry, sir, but Association policy is absolute on this particular matter. Only registered hunters are permitted to sell monster cores at official exchange counters. It is a strict regulation to prevent illegal poaching and to ensure the proper and fair distribution of dungeon resources."
Luthra was silent for a few seconds. ’This is a problem. I require money. These bureaucratic rules are a significant inconvenience.’
"I understand," he said. "In that case, how does one become a registered hunter?"
"You must first fill out the official registration forms and pay the required processing fee," the woman explained. "After your application is accepted, you must undergo a mandatory combat and power assessment to determine your official hunter rank."
"How much is the cost for that?"
"The registration fee is 10,000 credits. The assessment fee is an additional 20,000 credits. The total cost is 30,000 credits."
’Thirty thousand? I don’t even have thirty credits. This is an illogical system. A person needs money to be able to make money.’
He looked from the sack of cores on the counter, then back to the cashier.
"I have a question. Is it permissible for a registered hunter to sell these cores on my behalf?"
The cashier blinked. That was a less common, but not an entirely unheard of, inquiry from support staff or porters.
"Yes, that is possible. As long as the transaction is processed under a valid hunter license, the direct origin of the cores is not our primary concern. The licensed hunter who processes the sale would be taking full legal responsibility for the transaction."
"I see. Thank you for the information."
Without another word, he lifted the heavy sack from the counter and effortlessly slung it back over his shoulder. He turned around and began to survey the lobby, his eyes calmly scanning the faces of the many hunters who were still watching him with suspicion and contempt.
Marco flinched and tried to subtly hide his body behind a large, decorative potted plant.
’He’s looking for someone! He’s going to ask someone here to sell the cores for him! What if he asks us? What do I say? If I agree, I’m helping a criminal! If I refuse, he might remember my voice from before and murder me!’
Pola just sighed heavily. ’This situation is getting ridiculous.’
Luthra’s eyes passed over the crowd of strangers, and his gaze eventually landed on the two men who were trying, and failing, to be inconspicuous near the quest board. He recognized them immediately. They were the two E-rank hunters from the Omafo gate incident.
’Ah, it’s those two. This is convenient.’
He began walking directly toward them.