Chapter 47: The Hunters' Guild

The cold and damp sewers echoed with strange, eerie cries as several shadowy figures crouched furtively in a corner, gathered around a square black object at their feet. The object emitted bizarre sounds that reverberated throughout the labyrinthine tunnels.

Clad in pitch-black robes, surrounded by unsettling noises and darkness, the scene resembled the legendary gatherings of cultists. The scout pressed the stop button, and the amplifier's looped shrieks abruptly ceased. Turning to the others, he said, “That’s the fifth one. Mission accomplished. Begin withdrawal.”

Whenever such shrieks resounded in the sewers, it rarely took more than an hour before a team of monster hunters descended to investigate. The Hunter Guild, with branches spread across the entire nation and accessible in every region, owed its ubiquity to its role in maintaining public order—especially regarding monsters and other uncanny events. The Guild typically handled these matters first, preventing escalation, and only afterward demanded compensation from local lords or rulers.

Except for a few special regions, almost no one refused the Guild’s presence. After all, for minor creatures like green goblins, the nobility could hardly mobilize their knightly orders every time; such efforts would exhaust them. The knight orders’ main duty was to respond to large-scale disasters or repel foreign invasions.

The shadow guard, wearing an iron mask, nodded slightly, and with a gentle wave of his hand, the shadows swept up everyone, vanishing from the sewer.

Minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed from a bend in the tunnel, and a group of monster hunters emerged, torches in hand.

“Damn it! How did it escape again? Where is this monster hiding?” a warrior in armor grumbled irritably.

For days, the team had wandered these cold, wet sewers, searching for the rumored monster, but they hadn’t glimpsed so much as its shadow. If not for the occasional bizarre howls, the hunters would have doubted the monster’s existence.

“What’s the kingdom thinking, refusing to share information while people keep dying?”

“Exactly. If there’s a monster, just post a commission for us to deal with it.”

The rest of the squad echoed their complaints. Anyone forced to patrol these foul, freezing tunnels day after day would grow frustrated.

“All right, enough complaining. Finish today’s patrol, and I’ll request a rotation from the Guild. Let another team take over,” the captain soothed.

Hearing this, the team’s mood improved slightly. In the end, they were mercenaries; this dirty, exhausting, poorly paid work was something they’d avoid if not for the Guild’s strict requirements. They had once hoped to slay the monster and claim a bounty from the kingdom, but after days with not even a hint of it, their patience had worn thin.

Compounding their frustration, strange events had erupted throughout the capital recently: ghostly flames flickering in the night streets, inexplicable beams of light, people dying for no clear reason, and the eerie cries from the sewers—oddities sprouting like mushrooms after rain.

Moreover, members of the royal knight order had reportedly been injured, or even killed, fighting some unknown monsters. Tension gripped everyone, rumors grew wilder, and even the skeptics found themselves haunted by paranoia. Those with experience sensed something ominous: frequent bizarre incidents with no culprit pointed to only one possibility—demons. Only demons could wreak havoc under everyone’s noses without being discovered; ordinary monsters would have been exposed long ago.

...

Inside the Hunter Guild’s grand hall, hunters hurried to and fro, fatigue etched on their faces. The Guild was busier than ever; the surge of strange happenings had generated a mountain of commissions. Nobles and wealthy families reported monsters lurking in their homes or nearby.

Ordinarily, this would be cause for celebration: more commissions meant more income for the Guild, and hunters could profit handsomely. But now, the workload had become overwhelming, manpower was insufficient, and each hunter team worked from dawn till dusk, sometimes going days without sleep.

Most capable monster hunters now sported dark circles under their eyes, looking almost drained. Those seeking to post commissions grew increasingly anxious upon seeing the exhausted hunters.

Had the capital’s monsters become so numerous that even monster hunters could not keep up?

A strange atmosphere weighed over everyone; nothing seemed amiss, yet all felt threatened, as if death might strike at any moment. Anything around them could suddenly transform into a monster and attack.

...

In the Guild President’s office, a slightly overweight, middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses sat across from a beautiful red-haired woman clad in black armor.

President Roy shook his head apologetically. “I’m sorry, Princess Irene. Although you are our gold-ranked hunter, we cannot provide you with support. That’s the rule.”

The Guild never involved itself in royal succession—an iron law none dared break. Even though Irene was a gold-ranked hunter, almost part of the leadership, she could not receive the Guild’s backing. If the Guild intervened in Dawn Kingdom’s succession, tomorrow it might meddle elsewhere, risking suppression by the various kingdoms.

Allowing such a powerful organization to operate legally within their borders was already an act of great tolerance. If that group interfered with royal authority, it would become a ticking time bomb.

The Church of Holy Light was a prime example—its frequent meddling in royal transitions had earned it the enmity of most kingdoms and nobles.

The Hunter Guild had achieved its current status by focusing solely on business, never risking it for a single kingdom.

Moreover, if Roy dared help Irene seize the throne, the other Guild presidents would soon come and twist his head off for sport.

“Well, that’s a pity,” Irene replied, unsurprised. She shifted topics: “Then I need all information you have on the Grand Duke of the Eastern Marches.”

This was her true purpose in coming today. Driven out of her kingdom, the Guild was now her only source of intelligence.

Roy hesitated. Irene’s eyes narrowed, her voice cold: “President Roy, are you unwilling to provide even this information? My request does not violate any rules.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Your Highness, but we truly have little on the Grand Duke,” Roy answered with a bitter smile, realizing he’d fallen into her trap—a request impossible to fulfill, followed by one merely difficult.

“You understand what those people’s appearance means, don’t you?”

“The Highborn, that glorified race,” Irene answered without hesitation.

Years as a monster hunter had made her intimately familiar with the term; in every ancient ruin, tome, or local legend, the Highborn appeared.

“Since you know what they are, you should understand the Guild has little information and dares not investigate deeply,” Roy said, adjusting his glasses with a serious expression.

When those mysterious individuals first entered Dyna City, the Guild took notice, suspecting they were con artists. But as the number of black-haired, black-eyed humans grew, that theory collapsed. One or two might be imposters, but hundreds or thousands could not be.

“I just want to know what you currently know,” Irene pressed, leaning forward, uncompromising.

“The Guild must have investigated, especially since the Green Goblin Disaster was resolved so easily by them,” she added.

The Green Goblin Disaster had spread rapidly through Dawn Kingdom, and the Guild was first to respond. Gold-ranked hunters began preparing to return from the Abyss; Irene was among the advance forces.

But just as the gold hunters readied to deploy, the Dawn Guild reported the disaster had been resolved—by a group of black-haired strangers.

Roy was silent for a moment. “They are very mysterious, and very powerful. They possess no aura, yet wield weapons comparable to royal artifacts. The Green Goblin Disaster stood no chance before their iron monsters; it was as effortless as crushing ants. The goblins’ fortress, guarded by countless elites, was razed to the ground in mere minutes.”