Nations celebrated hunters, those who delve into danger for the safety of others. The higher you go up in rank the more laws become mere suggestions. Court interpretations loosened, misdemeanors were overlooked, even strange desires catered.
But in return for all the preferential treatment, there was an undeniable fact that was made clear; They were resources, critical to the nation’s survival.
It was why hunters, like Jan, could never leave the country without jumping through a lot of hoops. He couldn’t simply obtain a visa and transfer his services into another nation for better pay. International agreements have been signed to prevent nations from poaching each other’s hunters. A or S-Ranked hunters were held and hoarded like treasures, as one defecting could tip the balance of power in a region or enhance a country’s influence over another.
And just as any other resource, deals were struck; millions of dollars in military aid, technology transfers and looser ITAR regulations. Cold war stocks were opened and transferred from first-world nations to the country. Hundreds of armored vehicles, helicopter squadrons, surveillance drones, and tons of small arms and ammunition, all to bolster their own military and deal with the oncoming dungeon threat.
All this in exchange for the service of an S-ranked hunter.
Self-sacrifice always sounded noble, until you’re the one doing it. Worse still, is when your loved ones put themselves at risk.
Jan was torn. His brother had clawed his way to A-rank, one of the few, securing Jan’s comfort and draft exemption. Putting himself in harm’s way was the last thing his brother would’ve wanted, but Jan yearned to help, just like anyone who saw suffering and had the power to act.
Caught between two extremes, Jan chose a middle path. He would get ranked, but would underperform for a lower rank and safer assignments.
But now, Jan couldn’t help but think of the what-ifs. What if he brought the anti tank rocket up with them just in case? what if he sprinted all the way and returned much faster? What if unleashed all his abilities?
Was he a coward?
The multiple live-streams of the dungeon break playing on the monitors did little to distract him away from such thoughts. He sighed, staring blankly at the ceiling. ‘What would Marco be if he had my abilities?’ Jan wondered.
‘He wouldn’t be holed up in his condo, wasting time.’
“Fuck.” He muttered. There he was again. “Fuck me.”
The feed shifted to a long line of evacuees lining up for a bowl of porridge, doled out by volunteers. Some would return to homes burned, looted, or destroyed.
He couldn’t stand by any longer. Not with things as they were.
‘Sorry Mark,’ Jan thought to himself.
He took a deep breath and entered his room. He found the crate in his closet, opened it, and found Sisig, an axe with a short handle, and Puneg, a spear with a long-leaf shaped blade. As much as Jan hated his brother naming a pair of magical weapons along two dishes, he cherished the two expensive gifts. As the two weapons aided him on his abilities, which were focused on swift attacks, dealing damage quickly before blinking out of danger.
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Trained by the best, he couldn’t let his skills go to waste.
<hr>
Bright lights blinded. Marco''s heart raced, ears ringing. Something gripped his arm. He pulled. Something clattered on the ground but he was free. He rolled to the side and fell, slamming to the ground hard, but he didn’t care.
Strong arms seized him, pinning his shoulders in a vice-like grip. He struggled, arms flailed, snaked for leverage, all to break from the grip and escape from a blow that never came.
“-arco! Marco! Calm down!” Joy’s voice pierced through the ringing as the bright lights faded. He lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, held down by his scrawny sister. She was unnaturally strong. But that’s a hunter for you.
“Alright.” Marco said, relaxing. “Fuck. Sorry.” He was safe. “Get off me please?” he asked, seeing Joy still straddling him.
“You scared me waking up like that.” She said, softly. “Don’t do that again. Okay?”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Marco knew she wasn’t talking about how he woke up. But as much as it pained him to see her like this, he couldn’t just lie to comfort her.
He looked away. “I’ll try my best. It’s all I can do.”
Joy sniffed, then climbed off. “Once I get to A rank, you wouldn''t have to try at all.”
Marco returned to the hospital bed, noticing that his arm was bleeding. The cause was a set of needles attached to a saline bag on a toppled IV stand. He’d need it reinserted soon, but damned if he’d do it himself.
Joy sat in a chair by the corner. Marco couldn’t help but notice her nursing slight bruise on her forearm. She caught his gaze and let go. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
He gritted his teeth and nodded. “Does Mom know?”
“I don’t know. I went with her to church before I left. She’s doing her usual prayer vigils, saying she’d pray for us both.”
He shrugged. “I guess it worked.”
A nurse peeked her head around the curtains, the commotion now subsided. She assessed the damage, took away the bags and went to fetch sterile replacements. The bags weren’t the usual saline, they were mana IVs.
“What’s the damage?” Marco asked, as the nurse returned.
She glanced at Joy, Marco nodded. “You came in with four broken ribs, a broken arm, a punctured lung and severe internal bleeding. We rushed you into surgery, aided with a lot of healing potions.”
Marco turned to Joy. “See? I did say I’ll come back.”
Joy glared at him. The nurse didn’t overstay her wellcome, quickly slipping away mumbling about other patients to tend to.
“Stop it.” Jane growled.
“You know I can’t.” He whispered.
“You just don’t get it do you? I was there! I gave you the healing potion hoping to keep you alive. Even though it shouldn’t have worked. We punched through a horde just to get you here the fastest. I delayed relief operations elsewhere, risking another team’s lives, just for you.” Tears streamed down her face. “And here you are, acting like it''s nothing!”
“Joy. I-”
“I have to go.” She said, leaving before he could respond.
Marco sighed, hitting his head against the pillow. Once, twice. Stupid. Fucking stupid. Bradley was right. Being a hunter costs more than just the dangers. Worse, you don’t get to notice it until it''s gone.
But he couldn’t do anything else. He can’t go back to his old job, and he’ll still be required by law to participate during the dungeon breaks.
Now Joy is gunning to be an A-rank just to exempt him from conscription.
His little sister.
Pitiful.
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