Rosaline remained silent. On the other end, the voice pressed on.
[…In a place where you can't talk, I assume?] the old man asked, his tone gravelly. [Fine. Listen closely. I need you to scout the newly manifested Dungeon.]
Drake Plate. One of the 'Five Golden Seats' of the Hunter Association. A man nearing a century in age yet still revered as one of the most powerful entities in the Hunter world. His title was 'Stand'—the man who had never once fallen in the long, bloody war between humanity and the De-vons, despite facing them with nothing but his bare fists and unyielding spirit.
They said his strike was no different from a heavy artillery shell, his body a pillar holding up the world. A living wall between the weak and the monsters. Though few had seen his full power, rumors likened his all-out attacks to the eruption of a volcano.
Rosaline, however, shared a peculiar closeness with this living legend.
"And?" she uttered, her voice a flat line.
The line went quiet for a moment. [Regen won't be joining this mission.]
"What if I still refuse?" she asked bluntly.
[…Then I'll have to send another support.]
"Then send them," Rosaline cut him off and ended the call. Immediately, an unknown number flashed on her screen again.
"You're persistent," she sighed as she picked up. "Why me?"
[…The Royal Knight requested you. He was specific. He wants you as the support for this operation.]
"And what does that have to do with me?" she countered, her voice cold. "What is he planning now? Is the fame from the Healing Crystals not enough for him?"
[That... you'll have to ask him yourself,] Drake replied. [But if you persist in refusing... I will be forced to invoke Association Protocol against you.]
Rosaline froze. She could turn down any job for personal reasons, but if a Golden Seat invoked 'Protocol,' the rules changed. It was a clause stating that if a Dungeon posed a threat to human existence, the refusal of a qualified individual was a capital offense.
The Association was a military machine in all but name. In fact, it was often harsher.
Her mind drifted to her father—a man who had left home under the weight of Hunter duties while her mother lay dying, leaving a middle-school Rosaline and a primary-school Leslie to fend for themselves. He had vanished shortly after.
That was twenty years ago. The cycle was repeating itself. Rosaline closed her eyes and let out a long, weary breath.
"Is it just 'him'?" she asked, walking away from the sales floor with measured steps.
[One other... but don't worry. He's a Mid-Rank Hunter from Zenis's guild. A specialist in Appraisal and Analysis.]
"Just the three of us?"
[Yes.]
"And the Gate's appearance?" she asked, her mind already shifting into mission mode. She never moved without data.
[I'm sending the files to your phone. But... from the satellite feed... it's beautiful,] Drake noted. [A 'Floral Dungeon' that bloomed right out of the pavement. We've code-named it: 'The Bloom'.]
Flowers? As a Dungeon? Rosaline repeated the thought, skeptical.
[You might not be able to picture it. You'll understand when you see it. But remember—beauty always masks the deadliest stings.]
…
…
"Are you going now?" Edgar asked, his appearance an exact replica of Rosaline's. The child-like demeanor was fading, replaced by a mirrored efficiency. Except for one thing. "Will you bring back sweets?"
"I will. Help me out here, and I'll get you whatever you want," Rosaline replied, summoning her grey hoodie and combat trousers. She swapped them for the office attire Edgar was wearing. "I don't have much time to scout before the first wave of De-vons arrives. If they even arrive..."
"Rosalineddd... you're so pessimistic," Edgar pouted, cheeks puffing out. "Even though you're this strong. Even though you possess 'Aeternum'... oops!"
The huntress instantly clapped a hand over the clay doll's mouth, whispering fiercely. "Don't. Ever. Speak that name."
"Sorry... my mistake," Edgar muffled. "It's your 'secret'... just like... me."
Rosaline softened as she saw a flicker of genuine hurt in Edgar's eyes. She couldn't tell what the construct was thinking, but it felt like a child being scolded.
"I'll bring the sweets," Rosaline promised, sliding her black mask into place. "If you want the good stuff, be helpful. Work hard. And never mention 'that' again."
"Deal!" Edgar brightened instantly.
"I'm off." Rosaline vanished like the shadows, slipping through a gap beneath the steel shutters like a ghost.
She moved with blurred speed across the slick, deserted streets. Rain still drizzled from the sea-blue vortex above, even as the evening sun began to pierce through the clouds. The manifestation was complete. News helicopters buzzed in the distance, hovering like vultures over the disaster zone. She stayed in the shadows to avoid their cameras.
After four kilometers, the helicopters were left behind. Rosaline checked the data on her phone, then looked at the scene before her. She gasped.
"That... is 'The Bloom'?"
Before her lay a vast field of white flowers, swaying gently in the wind. At the center sat a colossal, multi-petaled white blossom of divine beauty—an artistic masterpiece that looked more like the work of a god than a portal to hell.
The flora didn't stop at the soil. It climbed the skyscrapers, wrapped around cars, and blanketed the houses. The entire district had been swallowed by white petals.
Rosaline hesitated. Entering unprotected was a rookie mistake. She scouted the perimeter and, once she was sure the helicopters were out of range, she scaled the tallest building nearby to get a bird's-eye view.
The field spanned roughly a kilometer in diameter. Her Hunter's eyes saw no sign of De-vons. She couldn't even see the Dungeon entrance. It's either at the center of that giant flower or beneath the roots, she reasoned.
"Let's see what you're made of," she whispered. She reached out with a gloved hand, touching a petal and activating a basic Appraisal skill.
It wasn't a plant from this world. Her skill couldn't analyze the chemical makeup, but it gave her the basic structure. Petal count, stamen, pistil...
The scent is intoxicatingly sweet. She crushed a petal between her fingers. A clear, viscous mucus trailed from the tear. Mucus? I don't like the look of that...
She pulled back, staring at the slime on her glove. Nothing happened yet.
Better safe than dead, she thought, drawing on twenty years of survival. She closed her eyes and uttered a single word.
"Aeternum."
At the command, a pitch-black shadow surged from beneath her feet. It raced up her clothes and over her mask before sinking into the fabric, vanishing completely.
At ten percent power, no one should notice. I don't know what these flowers can do or how dangerous this place is. Protection is a priority.
She called Drake to report in. He informed her that Zenis's team was nearing the site and told her to wait on the rooftop.
Then, her phone rang. A voice she knew all too well.
[It's been a while, Hermit.]
Rosaline walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at the street.
"I'm on the roof. Should I come down to you, or are you coming up to me?"