"Elias. Life is unreasonable. It’s full of things you’ll never understand."
Those were the last words my sister ever said to me.
I’d always known she was right, but sometimes it really did feel like all that unreasonableness had somehow decided to single me out. Like the universe had looked at everyone else and thought, "They’ve suffered enough," before turning around and dumping the rest of its garbage on me.
And right now, was definitely one of those times.
I wanted to die.
Swallowing a sigh, I stared at the dingy gray ceiling of my apartment, trying to figure out what the hell I’d done to deserve this. No matter how far I looked back, I couldn’t find a single point where things had gone so horribly wrong that they should have led me here.
Maybe it started two weeks ago, when the nation’s only two S-Rank Hunters were killed in a failed Gate raid.
Or maybe things had been going wrong long before that, back when the first Gates suddenly tore their way into our world.
Either way, one disaster had led to another. Every piece of bad news had connected to the next, like the teeth of some enormous grinding machine, and somehow I’d ended up caught between them, sitting in this miserable chair with a problem that should have been left to someone far more qualified.
"Elias Gallagher. Effective immediately, you are in charge of managing a convict squad composed of former S-Rank Hunters."
"This is a job that only you can do, given your ability to control Hunters. Going forward, you will receive classified files on every S-Rank Hunter currently incarcerated in the country. Select the ones whose abilities you can actually handle and inform us."
So that was how I ended up here.
A glorified warden for the worst of the worst.
"There are only a few months left before the remaining S-Rank Gates begin to encroach upon the surrounding terrain... Please, do your best."
I took the black binder they handed me.
It wasn’t particularly large, yet it felt heavy in my hands. Not because of its weight, but because I already knew what was inside it. Somehow, just looking at that black cover made it feel like I was holding a warning for the disaster that was coming.
Can I actually pull this off?
Hell if I know.
I just have to figure it out somehow.
There was no choice. If I refused, someone else would eventually be forced to deal with it, and judging by the situation, I wasn’t exactly confident they’d do any better.
So, with a quiet sigh, I squeezed my eyes shut and opened Pandora’s box.
And out popped two lunatics.
◆ ◆ ◆
"Two weeks ago, Han’s only two S-Rank Hunters, Caleb Griffin and Aria Ellis, died in a failed Gate raid."
A grave voice echoed through the plush conference room in Stratford, where the nation’s major guild masters had been summoned. At the head of the long table stood the Association President, his expression difficult to read behind his glasses.
"If we fail to subjugate this Gate, the surrounding spacetime will begin to erode, transforming the area into a demonic land uninhabitable by humans," he continued. His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the seriousness behind his words. "The aftermath of this S-Rank Gate is expected to engulf Stratford itself."
A large screen behind him displayed a map of the area surrounding Stratford.
A red circle appeared around Port Harrow.
Then it began to spread.
Slowly at first, then farther and farther outward, covering the map like a growing stain. The red eventually reached the city of Stratford and swallowed its icon completely.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
The crimson light from the screen reflected across the faces of the guild masters, making the already tense room feel even more ominous.
"Therefore," the President continued, calmly folding his hands together, "the failure to subjugate the Port Harrow Gate is a matter of grave national security."
He paused.
"Or so they say."
"Says who?" a guild master suddenly asked from the middle of the table, his skepticism impossible to hide.
"It’s a message from the Ministry of Defense."
"Ahem..."
The moment those words left his mouth, the guild master who had spoken cleared his throat and quietly leaned back.
The President adjusted his glasses, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his lips.
"Even so," another guild master said, drumming her fingers against the table, "is it really acceptable for the government to interfere with the private Hunter industry just because they’re calling this a matter of national security? Give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile. Once they start interfering, they’ll keep finding reasons to do it."
"During our meeting with the government, we received firm confirmation that this is a special case," the President replied without hesitation. "Through that consultation, we have also prepared a countermeasure."
"And what exactly is this countermeasure?" another guild master asked, leaning forward.
The President didn’t answer immediately.
The brief silence that followed seemed to make everyone in the room tense up.
Then he finally spoke.
"...The operation of a Convict Unit composed of former S-Rank Hunters."
"What?!"
"No, Association President! How can you even suggest that? Those are criminals we locked away, and you want to..."
"The reason I have gathered the esteemed heads of the nation’s leading guilds here," the President interrupted, his voice suddenly cutting through the room, "is to find someone capable of selecting and commanding talent from among those imprisoned S-Rank Hunters."
The room erupted.
Several guild masters shot to their feet, their earlier composure disappearing the moment they realized what was being asked of them.
The President, however, didn’t react.
He simply watched them with the same calm expression, as though he’d expected this response from the beginning.
"This matter has already been decided with the President’s approval," he said. "I will not accept any objections."
The room fell strangely quiet.
It wasn’t that everyone suddenly agreed. Far from it. But the pressure coming from the man at the head of the table was enough to make the objections die in their throats.
One by one, the guild masters who had stood up exchanged uncomfortable looks before slowly sitting back down.
A few coughed into their fists, pretending they hadn’t just been ready to tear the room apart.
Once the commotion had finally settled, the Association President clapped his hands together.
The sharp sound immediately drew everyone’s attention.
"That concludes the briefing. Are there any further questions?"
Nobody answered.
The silence that followed was almost painful.
"If there are none, we will now proceed to a vote," he continued, sounding as though he’d just asked whether anyone wanted another cup of coffee. "You may cast your vote for the guild master you believe is most suitable to take charge of the Convict Unit."
The President’s secretary began making her way around the table, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she handed a sleek tablet to each guild master.
Naturally, I got one too.
I was sitting among them, after all, even if I had no idea why anyone had thought I belonged in a room like this.
"Here you are, Mr. Gallagher," the secretary said with a professional smile.
"...Thank you."
I took the tablet and looked down at the screen.
It contained the photos, names, careers, and guild information of every guild master sitting around the table. Each profile was laid out neatly, almost like a collection of impressive résumés.
At the very bottom was a blank space where we were supposed to enter the name of our chosen candidate and explain why we’d selected them.
They’re really doing this immediately?
They’d just dropped something this ridiculous on us, and now they wanted us to vote as if we’d been deciding who should lead a new branch office.
I’d been in the Hunter industry long enough to know how Gates had changed the world.
It had been quite a while since those mysterious subspaces first began tearing open across the globe. Gates connected our world to demonic realms filled with monsters, and before long, people with supernatural abilities began appearing to fight them.
The media called those people heroes.
Heroes, my ass.
They weren’t the idealistic protectors of humanity that showed up in stories. They were ordinary people who happened to gain extraordinary abilities. They still had greed, selfishness, pride, anger, and every other ugly part of human nature.
If anything, giving those people supernatural power only made their flaws more dangerous.
And honestly, people had always been more frightening than ghosts or monsters.
At least monsters didn’t pretend to be something they weren’t.
But apparently, the higher-ups sitting comfortably in their offices didn’t see things that way.
Or maybe they did.
Maybe they simply didn’t care.