Drax Magna didn't like fancy buildings.
They always smelled like polished marble, corporate perfume, and secrets.
But right now, he was standing inside the headquarters of the Inner World Association, flanked by Isis on his left and two silent black-suited escorts on his right. The elevator rose so smoothly that it felt like time itself held its breath.
Isis leaned in, whispering low, "I still think this is a trap."
"Maybe," Drax murmured, "but if someone wanted me dead, they should've tried before I got out of bed."
Isis smirked. Her tension eased—slightly.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
A spacious office stretched forward, walls lined with floating scrolls, artifact cases, and a panoramic holographic display of the Inner World itself—rotating like some forbidden planetarium.
At the center stood a man with silver-white hair tied back in a low knot, wearing a long obsidian coat embroidered with golden sigils. His eyes were a deep, unsettling gold, like a lion who learned to walk on two feet.
He turned toward them with a calm warmth that didn't match the oppressive aura rolling off him.
"Welcome," he said. "I am Kaelor Vantheon, President of the Inner World Association."
Isis subtly flinched.
Drax didn't.
Kaelor's eyes lingered on Drax with the same expression a seasoned hunter would give a wolf who wandered out of its forest—curious, cautious, and slightly impressed.
"You caused quite the tremor," Kaelor said. "The Abysmal-Rank Dungeon, the anomaly readings, and… Kane's brother."
Drax exhaled sharply. "If you're here to ask how I survived, don't. I don't know how to die properly yet."
Kaelor chuckled, a surprisingly human sound.
"No, Drax Magna. I'm here to tell you something important."
He motioned toward a floating desk, and the room dimmed as a holographic map flared to life.
At least twenty red points blazed across the earth like open wounds.
"These," Kaelor said quietly, "are Abysmal-Rank and higher dungeons that awakened after your encounter. The stronger hunters—Hunters you've never met, Hunters we don't publicly acknowledge—have been watching you."
Isis stiffened. "Because of Drax?"
Kaelor nodded slowly.
"Because you do not behave like an Inner World Master."
He looked directly at Drax.
"You behave like something that walks above the Inner World."
Silence.
Drax folded his arms. "So what do you want from me?"
Kaelor breathed out with a weight only leaders carried.
"I want you to join the Inner World Association. Not as a simple hunter. Not as staff. But as a top-rank asset, protected by our strongest shadows. You'll have access to restricted realms, forbidden research, Elders—"
"No."
The refusal was instant.
Calm.
Unembellished.
Kaelor froze for a moment—not insulted, but intrigued. "May I ask why?"
Drax's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of jagged steel.
"Because every organization that grows afraid of its own hunters eventually puts leashes on them. I don't wear leashes."
Kaelor stared at him.
And in that moment something changed.
He saw it.
Not rebellion.
Not arrogance.
Not ego.
Inevitable evolution.
A force that belonged to no association, no faction, no chain of command.
Kaelor's expression softened—not in surrender, but in realization.
"So that's what you are…" he whispered.
"Not someone we can manage…
but someone we need to survive."
He stepped forward and touched his datapad. The ground beneath them shimmered.
"Then come," Kaelor said, "let us evaluate your true rank. Not with the toy-level scanners the branch offices use… but with the core crystal."
Isis blinked. "The core crystal? Isn't that for—"
"Supreme-tier candidates only," Kaelor finished.
They were transported into a vast chamber hidden beneath the association: a coliseum-sized dome with a single pillar in the center. On it rested a massive crystalline orb, swirling with storm-like black mist.
Kaelor gestured.
"Place your hand on it, Drax."
Drax stepped forward with a bored sigh. "Fine."
The moment his palm touched the crystal—
The entire chamber shook.
Black lightning exploded from the orb.
Gravity warped.
The walls screamed.
Symbols lit up across the dome as the crystal flashed from black… to red… to violet… to a color that wasn't supposed to exist.
Sirens blared.
The temperature dropped to freezing.
Isis stumbled back, eyes wide.
Kaelor's mouth fell open.
The crystal cracked.
Then—
BOOM.
It shattered, not outward—but inward, as if it couldn't withstand what it was reading.
When the violence settled, the crystal's pedestal glowed with a single line of text:
RANK: UNMEASURABLE.
CLASSIFICATION: BEYOND-SOVEREIGN.
STATUS: UNCLASSIFIABLE ENTITY.
RECOMMENDATION: DO NOT PROVOKE. DO NOT RESTRICT. OBSERVE. PROTECT.
Kaelor whispered, voice trembling despite himself:
"…Drax Magna…
what are you?"
Drax turned around, shrugging. "Hungry."
Isis burst into laughter—half fear, half relief.
But Kaelor Vantheon stood silent.
Because in the broken light of the shattered core crystal, he understood one thing…
A storm had appeared on Earth.
And it didn't belong to the Inner World.
It wasn't born from dungeons.
It wasn't created by hunters.
It was Drax.
And whatever was coming next, only one truth mattered:
The world would either stand beside him—
—or burn behind him.