He felt like he'd wronged them, but excuses wouldn't help now.
With hands shoved into his pockets, head lowered, and a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, he looked completely out of place in the sweltering heat.
He knew it.
But none of these people mattered.
The Hunters Association Hospital was a four-story building, about the size of a small football field.
It wasn't the most luxurious, but it served its purpose.
His heightened perception picked up multiple hunters inside, so weak, so frighteningly strong.
Timothy kept his head down and moved quickly.
Approaching the receptionist, he spoke politely
"Hello, I'm looking for soone... rcy Walter?"
The receptionist, a woman in her late twenties, glanced up.
"Good day. When was she admitted?"
"Uh... I don't know. Weeks ago? I just got back to town and heard she was here."
She nodded and began typing.
"What's your relationship to the patient?"
Timothy hesitated.
"I... I'm her son."
The receptionist continued scanning the records.
After a mont, she frowned.
"I'm sorry, sir. There's no record of a rcy Walter admitted within the past two weeks."
His heart skipped a beat.
"No, that can't be. Please check again, widen the search to a month. No, two months."
She typed so more, the seconds stretching endlessly.
Then, she asked
"Sir, please confirm your na?"
"Timothy. Timothy Walter."
Her brows furrowed before she exhaled.
"You're in luck. There's only one rcy Walter in our records, survived by a Timothy Walter and siblings."
His blood ran cold.
"What do you an, 'survived'?"
"She was transferred out three weeks ago."
Timothy's chest tightened.
"Transferred? Where? Why?"
"The transfer was authorized by the Hunters Association along with a few others. There's a note left behind for all related mbers of these transfers, you're advised to seek out the association for an explanation."
His body tensed.
The woman looked increasingly uneasy, glancing at him as if sothing was off.
A male staff mber nearby noticed and ca to her
"lody, are you okay? Want to call security?"
The receptionist sighed.
"No, I'm fine. Just felt uncomfortable for a mont."
The man scoffed.
"Yeah, right. These hunters think they can just walk around acting all high and mighty. Good thing the boss hired hunters as security..." He cut off.
Timothy was gone.
By the ti they turned to look, he was already leaving the hospital.
Sothing else had caught his attention.
Gray, the tiny entity tucked in his pocket, was acting out, but it refused to communicate.
Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"Tim?"
The voice was unfamiliar.
Slowly, he turned around, his brows furrowing.
Who would be so familiar to call him that?
As he faced the person, a mont of silence hung between them.
Recognition flickered in his eyes.
"Dede," Timothy said, his expression unreadable.
"It's been forever since I last saw you," Dede said with a bland smile.
"I've been busy," Timothy replied flatly.
"You were always the busy one."
A brief pause.
"What are you doing in a hospital?" Timothy asked.
"Ah, just my monthly checkups. Old bones, you know?" Dede chuckled.
"I thought everyone reawakened," Timothy remarked, as it was a well-known fact that hunters had a higher life expectancy outside the gates.
"Not everyone," Dede replied with a distant look.
"I guess I didn't qualify."
Timothy nodded.
"I see. Well then, take care, Dede." He turned to leave, clearly uninterested in prolonging the conversation.
"Have you received your balance from the last raid?" Dede suddenly asked.
"There were casualties, but we were successful, and the association delivered..." His voice faltered, guilt evident on his face.
Timothy remained silent, his back still turned.
"...Look, I know everyone hates ," Dede continued.
"Hate is a strong word," Timothy interrupted.
"I'm the worst, and I regret it," Dede admitted.
"I've had to live with the guilt of my failures and their deaths. I'm getting old, and I don't know how to make up for it, but believe , I'm trying my best." His voice carried a weight of remorse.
Timothy was quiet for a while, then finally spoke.
"No, I haven't received my balance. And I understand most of it was used to support the families of the deceased. If you really want to make up for it, he had a family."
Dede hesitated before nodding.
"Then, as a friendly gesture, let handle it personally. And for what it's worth, the association covered the funeral expenses."
Timothy exhaled, his stance relaxing slightly.
"Even if I wanted to accept it, I lost my phone."
"I'm with cash," Dede said with a small smile, pulling out a thick wallet, far too conspicuous for comfort.
Without even counting, he handed over the entire bundle.
Timothy glanced around, feeling the weight of several eyes on them.
People are going to think this is a robbery, he thought.
"Thanks," he muttered awkwardly, shifting the cash between his hands.
He adjusted his grip, mindful of the small companion tucked into his pocket, and turned to leave.
"Where are you headed now?" Dede asked.
"I'm just going with the flow," Timothy answered, his face unreadable.
"If you're still in the hunter line of work, I could recomnd you to so of my colleagues," Dede offered.
"I'll take you up on that," Timothy replied without looking back.
"Be safe, Dede."
As he walked away, he could still feel Dede's eyes on him, watching with a faint, bittersweet smile.
Inside the taxi, Timothy finally examined the bundle of cash.
He counted it carefully, ₦125,000. About $75.
Was he trying to get mugged as a form of retribution? Timothy mused.
His first thought was to buy a phone and contact his family.
But his sister didn't even have one yet, and she would likely just use their mother's.
Besides, the association ca first, considering he might ibd both of them there.
Seated in the four-seater taxi, Timothy brought out Grey onto his palm.
They had developed a rudintary way of communicating, though it wasn't vocal.
He kept asking silently why Grey had been so unsettled earlier.
But the little creature refused to respond, rely twitching its antennae up and down in a strangely submissive manner.
The other passengers weren't particularly surprised.
Timothy wasn't either.
His perception had already picked up on the fact that they were all awakeners, weak ones, possibly around his previous level or slightly stronger.
One of them even attempted small talk about ants, but Timothy wasn't in the mood.
He shut the conversation down after a brief exchange.
The ride took a while, as the association was quite far from both his house and the hospital.
When they finally arrived, he paid the fare and stepped out.
Before moving forward, he picked up Grey and placed it near his collar, tucking it under his scarf.
"Stay put," he murmured.
The silk-like cloth naturally adjusted, making space for Grey to nestle in covertly.
Timothy had already figured out that it responded to his intent, almost instinctively.
But how to grow or enhance it? That was still beyond him.
Stepping through the association's gates was easy, no one stopped him.
But the mont he set foot inside the main building, his perception flared.
Warnings.
The influx of information was overwhelming, but he quickly sorted it into four categories:
Normal: The everyday workers, likely non-combatants like cleaners and receptionists.
Strong: People like him, with so asure of strength.
Very Strong: Those who clearly outclassed him.
Unbelievably Strong:Beings whose presence alone made his senses recoil in warning.
Timothy didn't feel fear.
Strangely, he felt... nothing.
With quiet confidence, he walked into the familiar building.
The reception area was just as he rembered, bustling with activity, staff working hard to maintain order.
The place was never empty, always bustling with activity, it almost resembled a custor service center.
Timothy navigated toward the reception desk, choosing the shortest line.
Slowly, he inched forward until it was his turn.
"Good day. How may I help you?" the receptionist asked in a flat, robotic tone.
"Good day," Timothy replied.
"I'm here to inquire about my mother's whereabouts. I was inford that she was transferred from the association hospital about three weeks ago. Her na is rcy Walters, and a note was left instructing any related personnel to co here."
The receptionist barely hesitated before responding,
"I'm sorry, but there's no one by that na here. Do you have a recomndation letter or a voucher?"
Timothy frowned.
"Why would I need a recomndation letter or a voucher just to see my mother? Please check again. I haven't been around for a while, and I just want to see her."
The receptionist typed furiously, but her response remained the sa..
Before Timothy could push further, a looming presence cast a shadow over him from behind.
"Excuse , sir," a deep, slow voice rumbled.
"You're causing a commotion. Co quietly, or I'll be forced to get rough with you."
Timothy didn't need to turn around.
His perception had already locked onto the three n behind him.
Strong.
At least C-rank in the world system.
anwhile, he was only E-rank, though he had no real grasp of where his strength stood within this ranking system.
He remained unfazed, his hands still tucked into his jacket pockets.
His eyes bore into the receptionist's, and gradually, the frantic typing of her fingers slowed to a halt.
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