3 months have passed…

After a heat wave, the weather in mid-October quickly cooled off. The world was still fogged up though. Looked like the fog was here to stay.

Jeff had been busy with monster hunting during this time. He’d lost count on the number of monsters he’d slain. 150? 200?

Only completed 52 Unique Missions though. Killing monsters of the same type won’t trigger a mission.

Yet, despite Jeff’s efforts, there wasn’t any less of them.

In fact, over time, the monsters had been growing in numbers and strength.

Sitting by the bar table, taking a sip of ice-cold whiskey, Jeff flipped through his tablet. Lots of hunting missions were up. But there were no new monster variants spotted.

Oh. More people had joined the Sanctuary by the way. The hunter community here had been growing quickly as usual.

More people meant more spar requests for Jeff.

What could Jeff say. There’s always ambitious newbies eager to make a name for themselves. And the best way to do that? Simple. Defeat an S-rank head-on in public.

Lots of fresh blood. Lots of new S-ranks.

Yet, Jeff still hadn’t met a ‘Monster’ or ‘Maniac’.

S-rank. A-rank. B-rank.

To be honest, they were about the same. None of them could stand a single serious blow anyways.

Buuut. BUT. Jeff still got his hair. Also, there’s still monsters Jeff couldn’t beat with a single punch.

(^ One Punch Reference. In case it’s not clear… Yep…)

Swirling the whisky in his cup, Jeff sighed. ‘Looks like I’m still not strong enough.’

As an S-rank, Jeff had built up a good sum of Sanctuary Credits.

Mission rewards from the sanctuary. Personal hires attracted by his fame. Selling lots of equipment…

Children-sized armor. Women’s armor. Overweight and clunky equipment. Footwear that weren’t his size.

A big scythe? Scythe… Seriously. Who the heck knows how to use a scythe in battle? Isn’t that a gardening tool?

Monster drops were simply lottery draws, most likely a miss than a hit.

‘In fact.’ Jeff took a look at his credit in his account.

[ 258, 905.87 SC ]

A single Sanctuary Credit had the same value as a Franklin of the old days…

(Franklin = $100 USD Bill)

‘I just might be the richest hunter around… But what’s the point!’ Jeff downed his drink.

“Another please.” Jeff nodded at the bartender.

Other than making donations from time to time, and paying his small rent, there weren’t any other uses for these credits.

Jeff made big offers to info brokers. They all made big promises. Yet, all of them failed to deliver.

Are those thugs still alive? Are they still breaking into people’s homes?

Jeff couldn’t be certain. Jeff just knew that he wanted Lord Rammus, his pet turtle back. Also, kick those thugs’ asses along the way.

Feeling that someone had taken a seat beside him, Jeff looked to his right.

It’s a young man and a teenage girl. Based on their looks, they were probably siblings.

The young fella looked like a college student who’d never hit the gym. Thin-framed glasses. White dress shirt. Plain jeans. A small beer belly. Wearing a polite smile, this dude looked like an intellectual overall.

The teenage girl behind this guy was dressed like it’s still summer. White tank-top. Ragged jeans shorts. Her hair faded from a blond to neon-green. Chewing on gum, she looked around this bar with her chin up. She looked a little impatient and haughty.

“Looks like you are not so welcomed here.” The girl smirked and looked to Jeff’s left.

There were two empty seats.

Before these two came, Jeff had two empty seats by his right as well. A rather uncommon sight in this congested bar.

“Well. I see it as respect.” Jeff shrugged. “I do appreciate some personal space.”

“Got to admit, you’ve earned that respect. You are the Mission Machine after all. The only hunter with 100% Mission Success rate.” The dude raised his hand. “Lager of the day please.”

Jeff’s cheek twitched a little. Whoever came up that title, Jeff wouldn’t mind giving that person a nice tight hug… around that person’s neck… with his hands…

‘Sons of bitches of bitches of bitches. Making up names for me without my permission.’ Jeff waved his fist in his mind. ‘Am I a cold-blooded monster-slaying machine to you?! Am I?!’

‘Go suck a bag of chips!’

‘What’s wrong with Jeff, the S-Rank Hunter?’ Jeff sighed in his mind. ‘… People don’t like it. What can you do… What can you do…’

“Pina Colada.” The girl took out her phone.

“Wait. Are you even 14?” Jeff raised his brows.

The teenage girl replied with her middle finger.

Jeff turned to the dude.

“Sorry about that. But Everly is 16 now.” The dude apologetically nodded.

“And you brought her to a bar.’ Jeff looked at the dude with an ‘are you serious’ expression. “Then let her have an alcoholic drink.”

“Yeah. Eh. What can you do about it.” The dude shrugged. “By the way. I’m Liam Evanstein.”

“Uh huh…” Jeff nodded. ‘… Ok?’

“Well, who am I to complain.” Jeff sighed in defeat. “So are you here to challenge me to a fight, or do you have actual business for me.”

“Straightforward as usual I see.” Liam Evanstein pushed up his glasses. “We need you to distract a S-rank monster for us.”

“For at least 15 minutes.”

“S-rank?” Jeff raised a brow.

“Well Mr. Mission Machine.”

“It’s Jeff.”

“… Well… Jeff. The classification by threat level is a little outdated now. Turns out, the size of the monster doesn’t always have a direct correlation to its threat. Class 1 Class 2. Who knows what that means. Let me give some examples.” Liam seemed to get excited with this topic.

“Just cut to the conclusion please.”

“… S-rank hunters are capable of holding their ground against an S-rank monster. The characteristics of S-rank monsters: Human level intelligence. Able to talk. Significantly stronger than A-rank monsters. It’s like these things are on a whole different level.”

Jeff tapped the bar table in thought.

“And what do you have to offer.”

“A glow-tier dagger.” Liam placed an elegant dagger onto the bar table.

Double-edged blade. Only about 4 inches long. A black luster. It looked like coated steel. This thing barely reflected any light. Its handle looked translucent, like fogged up glass.

“Glow-tier?” Jeff asked.

Turning on [Aura Vision], Jeff took another look at this dagger. It was steadily emitting a warm creamy-white glow.

“Yep. No-Glow. Glint. Glow. If you could detect energy, that’s what you’d observe.”

“The stronger the glow, the higher-tier the equipment. Which meant more mana in-take capacity. Stronger and sturdier material. Stronger effects. There’s an overall gap between each tier.”

“So far, the highest-tier equipment we know is glow-tier. So this could be the strongest dagger in the world.”

“Also, we heard that you are looking for some information?” Liam Evanstein looked at Jeff with a confident smile.

“I’m listening.”

“We might have a clue. I can bring you there to take a look. This information and this glow-tier dagger. Is that enough?”

“Let’s go then.” Jeff squinted.

Thinking of those thugs, Jeff subtly tightened his fist then let go. ‘I’m back, assholes!’

— Sanctuary Ranks and System Attribute Levels —

E – A Rank: Common Tiers (Common in fantasy world standards)

S-Rank: Supernatural-Early Tier

SS-Rank: Supernatural-Mid Tier

It takes many D-ranks to stand against a C-rank.

It takes many C-ranks to hold off against a B-rank

Many B-ranks are needed against an A-rank

Only an S-rank can fight off another S-rank

Many S-ranks are needed for SS-rank threat