A bicycle ride through the streets of Voulton City wasn’t the fastest, but it was just right—steady, nimble, weaving through morning traffic like a whisper.
The city at dawn was always alive. Cars, motorbikes, and delivery drones filled the roads, each headed to so corner of the sprawling tropolis. Commuters going to work, Hunters on their way to guild halls, and others leaving the city to reach dungeon sites before the portals shifted or surged.
So vehicles bore symbols—custom-painted emblems of Hunter Guilds. Each insignia carried a story: prestige, power, or tragedy. Those with badges of high-ranking guilds drew glances of admiration. Others bore no recognition at all, only quiet prayers that they’d return in one piece.
This was the rhythm of life in Voulton. Death ca with the job. Dungeons and monsters were part of the ecosystem now, woven into the fabric of society. Hunters died. The world moved on. Only the powerful were rembered.
Who mourned for F-Rank Hunters? Who shed tears for the naless, the unrecognized—unless, of course, they did sothing significant?
River kept pedaling, his breath calm, his eyes scanning the streets. Despite everything he’d been through—the Trials, the plan with Freya, the weight of the future—his mind wandered to soone close. Soone important than any sche at the mont.
His little brother.
He was on his way to the restaurant where Barn had just started working—River’s old job, the one he’d passed down after quitting. It wasn’t glamorous, just dishwashing and prep, but it was sothing. A small step forward. Sothing that might help Barn to have an inco to rely on.
River was proud of him. But he was also worried.
The restaurant staff had a reputation—particularly the older guys in the kitchen. River hadn’t forgotten the bullies, the passive-aggressive comnts, the petty sabotage. He had endured it.
"They’re definitely going to give him a hard ti," River muttered, his brow furrowed with concern as he made a sharp turn onto a narrower street.
He didn’t plan to say anything. He didn’t want to show up and embarrass his brother. He just wanted to see how things were going. To make sure Barn was okay.
When he finally reached the place, the familiar greasy signage of the diner greeted him like an unwanted mory. Instead of entering through the front, River quietly parked his bike near the alley behind the building and crept to the kitchen’s back entrance.
There was a small gap in the doorway. Just enough to peer through.
His heart beat faster. Maybe Barn was just washing dishes. Maybe he was getting yelled at. Maybe—
River’s eyes widened.
"What the hell...?" he whispered.
Inside, Barn stood calmly on one side of the kitchen, arms crossed. His posture was firm, almost authoritative. Across from him, two grown n knelt on the floor—shivering, their faces red, blotchy, and wet with tears.
The Head Chef. The Manager.
Both had clear handprints burning across their cheeks.
They weren’t shouting. They weren’t scolding. They were begging.
River froze.
It didn’t make sense.
Barn stood like a king while two of the most insufferable n River had ever worked with groveled before him like whipped dogs.
What the hell happened here?
River’s lips parted, but no sound ca out. All he could do was stare.
And Barn?
He hadn’t even noticed River yet. He was too busy quietly wiping his hands with a towel, calm and composed like the storm had already passed.
This wasn’t what River expected.
Not at all.
River continued to watch the scene in stunned silence, eyes wide with disbelief, as he crouched near the narrow gap in the backdoor. He made sure to stay hidden—he didn’t want Barn or anyone else to spot him. Not now. He just needed to see how things were going.
Whatever had happened inside that kitchen, one thing was certain.
Barn was in charge now.
The Head Chef and the Manager—two n who used to bark orders and throw plates when things didn’t go their way—were reduced to trembling sses. And Barn... Barn hadn’t even raised his voice. His presence alone was enough to command the room.
It was only his first day.
River blinked a few tis, still not sure if he was hallucinating. How had this happened? What could’ve possibly occurred between sunrise and now that flipped the kitchen hierarchy on its head?
This... this was the kind of mont River used to dream about. Back when he was still working here—scrubbing dishes, taking verbal beatdowns, and enduring the slow grind of being at the very bottom. He used to imagine what it would be like if soone just walked in and shut those bullies up. If soone made them taste their own bitterness.
He just never expected that person to be his little brother.
River lingered for another minute or two, watching Barn turn away from the two trembling n and return to washing his hands at the sink. Calm. Collected. Like it was just another part of the job.
Eventually, River let out a slow breath and turned away. He stepped back from the door and returned to where he’d left his bike.
Along the way, a bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"Guess I didn’t need to worry after all," he muttered under his breath. "He can handle himself... maybe even better than I ever could."
The thought was humbling—but not in a bad way. It made sense, the more River thought about it. Barn wasn’t the type to let people walk all over him. Not really. He’d been quiet, sure. Timid at tis. But underneath, he was steel. He was soone who would charge headfirst even if it ant risking everything. He had that sa fire River once carried—maybe even stronger.
River hopped back onto his bike and began pedaling again, this ti heading to his next destination.
With Barn doing fine, River could now focus on his next destination.
An E-Rank dungeon had recently appeared on the Hunter’s official listings. It wasn’t repeatable, aning once it was cleared, it would vanish forever. Dozens of F-Rank and E-Rank Hunters were already en route—eager to get loot and materials.
The dungeon was infested with Rotlings—zombie-like creatures that moved in packs and overwheld their targets with sheer numbers. Dangerous for the unprepared, deadly for the careless.
River planned to clear it too.
He had a week and a half left. A week and a half to get stronger. To sharpen every skill, stockpile resources, and prepare for what was coming.
It was inevitable anyway.
River was just going to nudge the tiline forward—a month earlier than intended.
Would it change the future? Not significantly. He’d made sure of that. But people would die if he did nothing. And that... he couldn’t allow.
Even now, guilt lingered in his chest.
Yes, he was manipulating events. Yes, he was forcing a confrontation to happen earlier than scheduled.
But if he could reduce the casualties?
Then it was worth it.
He sighed as he sped down the sidewalk, passing another group of Hunters headed in the sa direction.
This is going to be the second dungeon he’s going to enter after coming back to the past.
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