Chapter 41 – Hidden Event 1: Clear! (1)
[ The sealed ancient monster “Manticore” resurrected in the modern era!]
During the 616th LAMPAS Hunter Examination held in a hidden underground labyrinth beneath Mediale Island—home to the World Hunter Association... (omitted) ...in an unexpected turn of events, the examinees bravely confronted the monster, buying enough time until a Special-Class Hunter of the Imperial Rank arrived on the scene.
The Special-Class Hunter swiftly subdued the ancient monster and praised the 616th batch of examinees for standing their ground instead of fleeing. Acting as the secret examiner for this LAMPAS Hunter test, he declared all of them to have passed.
Thus, a golden generation of twelve new hunters was born from the 616th batch! The preliminary hunters selected by the Imperial Special-Class Hunter would undergo several months of training at the facility... (omitted) ...Regarding the cause of this incident, Pan Tveron, the president of the World Hunter Association, pointed to Zeraphe Gnaude—one of the examinees and a renowned genius mage—and to Gregory Jaeger, head of the association’s Council of Elders.
This conclusion came after an investigation proved that, despite fierce opposition from the president and the executive board, Gregory Jaeger had pushed for a combat evaluation in the underground labyrinth and instigated the incident through Zeraphe Gnaude.
President Pan Tveron announced the dissolution of the Council of Elders, holding them accountable for the situation.
He also declared that the fugitive would be apprehended and punished severely... (omitted)
“No need to read any further.”
Gale, who had been reading the special report as it fluttered in his hands, set it down without hesitation.
Then—fssht!
He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
“Phew—”
White smoke coiled upward with his exhale. Gale tapped the ashes off onto the newspaper on the ground.
Clicking his tongue as he watched the paper slowly catch fire, he muttered,
“Just like the Virga Village incident. Pretty straightforward. At least they’re not lying.”
The article laid out the actual sequence of events and causal relationships with clarity.
“Well, all the critical info was conveniently left out, though.”
Things like the objectives of Zeraphe Gnaude and Gregory Jaeger, the perpetrators. What exactly they hoped to gain through the Manticore.
Or how they even managed to break the ancient sealing magic.
The report slyly glossed over the key issues, instead redirecting public attention with vague mentions of the culprits’ whereabouts and a dramatic promise of harsh punishment.
“And what’s this about twelve people? Other than us and Zares Helthurio… was there another survivor?”
Gale Garav, Sercia Edelweiss, Calix Tutatio Zahardt, Abito Yully, Timur, Melasa, Batan, Frau, Natuia, Duran, and... Zares Helthurio.
As far as Gale knew, there were eleven survivors in total, including himself—not twelve as the paper claimed.
Gale stared at the ashes of the burned newspaper, then slouched with a sigh.
“Ugh, I don’t get it. That brat just smirks whenever I ask. So irritating.”
Even if his sudden appearance during a moment of despair was chalked up to coincidence...
“There’s the fact he insisted on hiding his identity, yet intervened in the test. And told the chief examiner, ‘There were no casualties.’”
There was no doubt he had an agenda...
“But I just can’t figure out what it is.”
—I know the coordinates connected to the surface. Everyone, please go ahead first. I’ll stay back and check if there are any other survivors.
As the last of the examinees to teleport out, Gale had seen it.
Elwin picking up something—a crimson circular object—left behind where the Manticore had been.
Lost in thought for a moment, Gale eventually ruffled his fluttering gray hair with both hands and sighed.
“Ugh. Better to die than to obsess.”
Standing up from where he sat, he fussed over straightening the wrinkles in his slightly crumpled clothes.
Knock knock—
A neat knock echoed from outside the door.
“Excuse me, Master Gale. Would you like some coffee… hmm? Heading out somewhere?”
“Oh, right. I probably won’t be back until late tonight. No need to prepare my share, butler.”
“I see. Understood.”
Nahrhan smiled gently.
“Please return safely.”
“…I’ll be back.”
Today, there was somewhere he had to visit.
***
“Ah, Mr. Gale!”
“You're here.”
Gale casually raised a hand in greeting toward Abito and Timur, who both lit up at the sight of him.
“Hey—how’ve you been?”
“Thanks to your concern, we’re doing well. Timur’s recovering smoothly too.”
“Mhm.”
Timur, draped in patient garb and hooked up to various lines, raised a thumbs-up. Just then, a nurse approached.
“Mr. Timur, it’s time for your mana precision scan.”
“...Do I have to get a shot? I hate those.”
“You’re not a kid! Get going! You’ll only heal faster if you get proper treatment!”
With a short sigh, Abito waved Timur off, shaking his head.
“He hasn’t changed a bit. Big as an ox, still scared of needles. Surprising, isn’t it?”
“Sheesh. Always like that. You’d think he’d have grown up by now.”
“Must be tough playing caretaker for a grown man.”
“Haha! Well… he got hurt in my place, after all.”
Abito always spoke brusquely to Timur, but Gale could still see the genuine affection and camaraderie in his eyes.
There’s definitely something deep between those two.
Gale had a hunch, but he didn’t voice it. Sometimes, it was better to pretend not to know.
From an older man’s perspective, the guilt, indebtedness, and other heavy emotions occasionally shadowing that young boy’s face couldn’t be doing him any good.
But if no cure existed to heal that lingering burden, it was better not to stir it up and risk making it worse. Gale understood that well.
“Anyway, where are the others?”
Gale glanced around.
“Is Timur the only one in the room?”
Currently, the eleven survivors were staying at Mediale General Hospital.
Out of accountability for what one of their former members had done, the World Hunter Association was fully supporting their recovery and rehabilitation.
Thanks to that, those like Gale, Sercia, and Abito—who had fought from range—recovered quickly.
But those who endured the brunt of the Manticore’s assault up close, like Timur and Calix, still needed more time.
“Ah, well… about that.”
“Don’t tell me someone took a turn for the worse? Got moved to the ICU?”
Abito hesitated, and Gale’s eyes widened in alarm.
The eleven examinees had forged a bond through the ordeal, surviving the brink of death together. Their shared trauma had built a strong sense of closeness.
Rooming together and talking often had also played a part in deepening that connection.
“No, no! Everyone’s safe. No one’s condition has worsened. It’s just… uh, it’ll be easier if you see for yourself.”
Abito said, then led Gale down a hallway.
“There’s an open area in the hospital’s central wing. Everyone’s there—except for Duran, who’s getting a graft compatibility test.”
But as they got closer to their destination, strange sounds reached their ears.
Clang! Clang!
The sharp clash of metal on metal.
“—Die, Calix Zahardt!”
Zares lunged with terrifying intensity—but to no avail.
Clang!
Calix dodged with a single step and sent Zares’ sword flying in one move.
“Zares Helthurio. You’re not yourself. Your strikes lack edge.”
He added coolly,
“Fighting while not fully healed isn’t wise. You should take care of yourself.”
“...Tch! Just you wait! Once I’m fully recovered, I’ll sever that useless neck of yours!”
“Oh? Such zeal. I look forward to that day. But don’t expect me to go down so easily.”
Gale’s jaw dropped.
What kind of deranged conversation is this?
One guy was threatening murder, the other was encouraging him for it…
These guys are full-blown lunatics.
And yet, Abito beside him looked oddly relieved.
“They’re getting along better than usual today.”
“...That’s better?”
BOOM!
A loud explosion echoed. Turning around, they saw—
“Hahaha! I feel lucky today! This time, I’m winning, Natuia!”
“Frau, arrogance, victory, mine!”
Frau and Natuia were in a fierce melee, fists clashing against spear.
Elsewhere, two others were absorbed in their own worlds.
“So many wounds… You’ve been through a lot.”
Batan, kneeling beside an array of golems in various shapes and sizes, inspected each one with heavy-lidded brows.
Despite his massive build and coarse hands, typical of a half-giant, he gently wiped the blood and dust off each golem.
“My proud family. Thank you for all your efforts. You saved me.”
As he spoke kindly, the cores embedded in the golems flashed with light.
“Yes, yes. Good clay and clean water, right? I’ll get them for you. Now, now, don’t rush. Just wait a bit longer.”
Batan nodded or frowned, seeming to hold full conversations with the glowing lights of the golems.
And behind him, a giant cauldron bubbled…
“…Fluorescent horned firefly, morning dew, slug antenna, and…”
Behind the cauldron crouched the witch, Melasa.
Muttering blankly, she tossed ingredients into the pot with one hand while stirring vigorously with the other.
“Kekeke! This is it—!”
Disheveled hair, face covered in soot, eyes sunken beneath dark circles.
The elegant beauty was nowhere to be seen—what remained was a living caricature of a witch.
And in a far corner of the open space—
“The structure of the ancient sealing array consists of ancient language equations interwoven with symbolic geometry from traditional magic circles… These were linked in a complex network to maximize the seal’s power, and from firsthand observation, it was highly effective. Therefore, to interpret this—”
“Ooooh—! What a brilliant idea!”
“My goodness…! That’s a completely unprecedented approach! You’re a genius!”
Sercia scribbled incomprehensible magical formulas on the ground, using the dirt as her canvas. Around her, scholars in lab coats and Mages in pointed hats crowded around in awe.
One Mage couldn’t hold back and shouted,
“Miss Sercia! After training, won’t you join the Mage Tower as a dispatched Hunter? Let’s study ancient magic together!”
“What nonsense! Miss Sercia is destined to make major contributions to ancient civilization research! She’s obviously joining our research society!”
The academics protested fiercely, and a verbal brawl erupted between the two sides.
“What!? Someone as innovative as Miss Sercia would never rot away studying some dusty ancient civilization!”
“And what about your unprovable magical mumbo jumbo? Can you even prove how magic manifests?”
“Outdated fogeys!”
“Magic-obsessed lunatics!”
As Mages and scholars began yanking each other’s hair, Sercia remained laser-focused on her formulas.
“…What a madhouse. Now I see why you said I should see it for myself.”
“Right?”
“…”
“…”
The two exchanged glances, then quietly retreated from the scene.
They wanted no part of that mses.