Everyone already knew who he was.
Cain Wright, the failure of the Wright family, the E-rank who had embarrassed himself in front of the entire world. If he showed up now and revealed a D-tier level of ability, it wouldn’t go unnoticed.
It would raise questions.
Too many questions.
Hunters didn’t just improve their rank overnight, not without some form of external influence, and more often than not, that kind of influence was illegal. Which meant suspicion, investigation, and unwanted attention... all things he couldn’t afford right now.
He briefly considered alternatives, like using a fake identity or finding some kind of workaround, but neither option held up under scrutiny.
The system was too strict for that.
A simple fingerprint scan would be enough to expose everything—his name, his record, his awakening result. There was no real way around it, and trying to lie would only complicate things further.
But none of that changed the reality in front of him. He still needed to enter a rift.
So what to do?
Cain could only think of adapting on the fly.
It wasn’t a great plan, but it was the only one he had. Adjusting when necessary and surviving what comes next. It was the same approach that had carried him through Ember Isle.
At worst, he would be detained.
Even then, the system would eventually pull him into Phase 2, and if he managed to survive that trial as well, he would return stronger than before. Hopefully, strong enough to deal with whatever consequences awaited him.
It wasn’t ideal. But it would have to be enough.
With that settled, Cain pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind and headed for the bathroom.
A few minutes later, after washing away the dirt and sweat that had dried on his skin during his time on Ember Isle, he found himself standing in front of the mirror, studying his reflection in a way he hadn’t before.
His face had matured. The youthful softness that once lingered around his features had faded, replaced by sharper lines and a more defined jaw. A light beard had begun to form, not thick enough to be called a proper beard, but enough to subtly change the way he looked.
His body had changed even more.
Lean muscle stretched across his frame, built through months of constant struggle rather than carefully planned training sessions. Every gain had been earned through combat, exhaustion, and survival. His shoulders appeared broader, his arms more defined, and there was a hardness to him now that hadn’t existed before.
The transformation wasn’t dramatic enough to make him unrecognizable. But anyone who knew him well would immediately notice something was different.
Cain stared at his reflection for a moment longer before raising a hand and brushing his jaw thoughtfully.
Three months. That was all it had taken to change more than the previous several years of his life combined.
The person staring back at him from the mirror wasn’t the same young man who had been dragged into the trial. The uncertainty was gone, and so was the desperation that had followed him for most of his life. In its place was a quiet confidence born from surviving a place that should have killed him.
He wasn’t afraid.
If anything, what settled within him now was a steady sense of anticipation, because returning meant stepping into Phase 2, and Phase 2 meant more power.
Right now, that was all he cared about.
Cain finished dressing, slung the bag over his shoulder, and stepped out of the room.
The walk to the Guild Association was familiar.
The roads were the same. The buildings still stood where they always had, lining the streets in neat rows of steel, concrete, and glass. Nothing about the city’s structure had changed.
Yet something felt off.
It wasn’t anything he could immediately point to. Rather, it was a feeling that gradually settled over him the longer he walked.
There were fewer people on the streets than there should have been. Traffic was lighter. Conversations were scarce. Even the usual background noise of the city felt strangely muted, as though someone had turned down the volume of the world.
The city was functioning, but the usual energy was missing. Everything felt subdued, almost drained, and when Cain lifted his gaze toward the sky, he found the same feeling reflected there.
It wasn’t dark in the way storm clouds darkened the horizon. The change was subtler and somehow more unsettling. A gray haze hung high above the city, stretching as far as the eye could see, while fine ash-like particles drifted slowly through the air and settled over the streets below.
The layer of gray dulled everything it touched, muting colors and giving the city a worn, lifeless appearance.
Cain frowned slightly as he took it all in, but he didn’t slow his pace.
He didn’t have his phone, which meant there was no easy way to find out what had happened while he was gone.
After walking for a few more minutes, he spotted a small snack stand tucked between two buildings and made his way over.
The smell of grilled meat drifted through the air as the vendor prepared his order. While the man worked, Cain leaned slightly against the counter.
"Excuse me," he said. "I haven’t been in the city for a while. What happened here?"
The man glanced up from the grill.
"You serious?"
His expression turned strange.
"Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you should already know."
Cain paused briefly before replying.
"I would’ve preferred living under a rock. Unfortunately, I’ve been somewhere worse."
The man blinked confusedly.
"...Pardon?"
Cain shook his head.
"Never mind. I just haven’t heard anything. That’s all."
The shopkeeper studied him for a few seconds, as though trying to decide whether he was joking. Eventually, he sighed.
"That’s weird as hell, but fine."
He pointed vaguely toward the sky.
"That mess is because of a rift."
Cain’s attention sharpened.
"A rift?"
"Yeah." The man’s expression immediately darkened. "An SS-Tier Rift."