An hour later, the atmosphere in the VIP hospital room suite was thick enough to choke on.

  The suite was divided into two main sections: a private bedroom where Shane Ashwell lay unconscious, and a luxurious living area where three men were currently holding a wake in secret.

  Luke Hinton, a man who wore several hats—head auctioneer of the prestigious New York Auction House, underground information broker, and the director of Dr. Spencer’s research institute—sat on the leather sofa with a stiff look on his face.

  “...This is a lot to take in,” Luke murmured, his usual polished demeanor cracking around the edges.

  Henry Stone, perched nervously on the edge of an armchair like a schoolboy called to the principal’s office, nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Hunter Hinton, but it’s all true. I can back up what Dr. Spencer said. I was trapped in the dungeon with him.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Hunter Stone,” Luke said, loosening the knot of his silk tie with a sigh. “It’s just... one unheard-of thing after another.”

  He leaned back, steepling his fingers.

  It would be a lie to say he wasn’t shocked. But in a twisted way, he’d almost expected something like this, subconsciously.

  Ever since Shane Ashwell had appeared on his radar—specifically, the night he walked into the private auction with Troy Winter—Luke had been digging. He had resources that could uncover the dirty laundry of senators and guild masters alike.

  But with Shane? He’d found next to nothing.

  A birth certificate. A driver’s license. A hunter registration. And a phone number and his home address. That was it.

  No school records, no medical history, no taxes. Shane was almost a ghost.

  A man who had to be hiding something massive. Something so big the government had to intentionally wipe his records clean. That was Luke’s conclusion.

  But that theory had holes.

  Usually, if the government wipes a record, they create a fake backstop to blend the person in.

  Why would they leave his records so conspicuously empty if they were just going to let him walk around in the open?

  And now, the top genius researcher in the inudstry, Ray Spencer, had been trapped in a dungeon with this mystery man in front of dozens of researchers and hunters. There was no way to cover this up.

  A man who understands the language of the Seraphim. A man enduring four curses of a rank that shouldn’t even exist, thought Luke.

  A chilling conclusion began to form in Luke’s mind.

  What if... he wasn’t someone the government let walk free?

  What if he was someone who was supposed to be declared missing, presumed dead, and was now out and about right under the government’s nose?

  Luke almost laughed out loud.

  It was absurd. If that were true, Shane was the boldest man he’d ever seen, casually registering as an F-rank hunter in that situation.

  Henry hesitated, shifting in his seat.

  He looked at the half-opened bedroom door, then back to Luke, asking the question that was clearly eating him alive.

  “Hunter Hinton, do you think... the Captain has some kind of connection to the Seraphim?”

  Luke thought for a moment, then looked straight at Henry with piercing eyes.

  “Have you noticed anything strange about Hunter Ashwell?”

  Henry frowned.

  “Well...”

  “During the breach, he acted like he had more than just a high [Curse Resistance],” Luke pressed. “Especially since he faced the [Hallucination Spores] of the Sacred Roses all by himself.”

  Henry looked uncomfortable, but Luke continued, nonetheless.

  “Or... yes. You saw his fire skill up close, didn’t you? Tell me, Hunter Stone. Did it feel a little... similar to the Seraphim’s [Consecration] skills? The holy fire that burns ‘impurities’?”

  Henry didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor, his hands clenching his knees.

  That was an answer in itself. Luke sighed.

  “The conclusion we reach here today could be the key to solving a global crisis in the future. This isn’t something you should hide based on your own personal judgment.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  But there was someone eavesdropping into this conversation.

  Right across the living area, inside the bedroom.

  So, even Hinton’s panicking, Shane thought, keeping his eyes closed.

  He was lying in bed, listening to every word through the half-opened door. They probably left it open in case Shane woke up, but unfortunately for them, it gave him a nice chance to listen in on everything.

  And it seemed he woke up just in time to listen to the important parts.

  To be fair, he couldn’t blame them for panicking.

  Even he knew he was suspicious in more than a few ways.

  In a world where perfectly normal people get swayed by the whispers of the Seraphim and turn into monsters, it wouldn’t be weird for a Seraphim spy to be hiding among humans.

  That was probably why Luke was uncharacteristically losing his cool.

  Great, Shane thought dryly. Now they think I’m a sleeper agent for the monsters.

  But the conversation took a turn he didn’t expect.

  He heard Henry say, “The Captain... he’s on humanity’s side.” His voice was full of conviction.

  “I never said he wasn’t,” Luke replied calmly.

  “...Excuse me?” Henry sounded confused.

  Even Shane was confused.

  “There was an experiment,” Luke began, his voice dropping to a whisper. “One the government conducted a long time ago. To test the theory that the earlier you awaken, the higher your chances of becoming a high-rank Awakened. Have you ever heard that conspiracy theory... about how they shoved orphaned kids into low-level dungeons to try and force an early awakening?”

  Huh?

  Shane almost opened his eyes in sheer confusion.

  What the hell was Luke talking about?

  “...I believe Hunter Ashwell is a survivor of that experiment.”

  Luke had the confidence of a man who had just solved a tricky puzzle.

  “Trapped in a dungeon at a young age, somehow survived and... was raised by the Seraphim.”

  Shane bit the inside of his cheek while Henry and Dr. Spencer quietly gasped.

  “That’s insane,” murmured Dr. Spencer.

  “It explains everything. How he knows their language. How he seems mostly unaffected by [Curses]. His environment probably forced him to adapt to survive. That explains the empty records. Because the government erased all records when the experiment ‘failed.’”

  Except for the birth certificate, all other records were made recently. Luke smirked.

  “Of course, that doesn’t mean Hunter Ashwell isn’t a madman. Nonchalantly getting a driver’s license and a hunter registration when he should be hiding from the government.”

  In that single moment, the entire framework for Shane’s non-existent past was built.

  They were convincing themselves before Shane even had to make an excuse.

  Raised by the Seraphim. It was the most ridiculously perfect, wildly inaccurate misunderstanding he could have ever hoped for.

  The real reason he couldn’t explain his past was because he didn’t have one in this world.

  He’d just been transmigrated into this game a few weeks ago.

  This ready-made backstory would filter through Henry to the number 2 rookie hunter Troy Winter, and Wynn Gild’s HR manager, Josh Miller.

  Shane Ashwell. Orphaned by a dungeon breach. Forced into a dungeon by a cruel government experiment. Kidnapped by the enemy, then raised by the very hands of the monsters he now hunts.

  It even fit it into his [Predator of the Seraphim] backstory somehow.

  This explained everything, not just his past.

  His weird, formal way of talking? That was how the Seraphim talked.

  His suspicious skills? Probably picked it up from the Seraphim.

  His total lack of social skills? Well, he never communicated with humans until now.

  Shane almost felt like he should send Luke Hinton a thank you card with a fruit basket.

  While he half-listened to them flesh out his new life story, Shane mentally opened his System window.

  He hadn’t gotten a chance to check his A-rank dungeon rewards because of the whole White Wing fiasco. He had a bad feeling about it, especially after that forced mana stat increase.

  Right now, raising his stamina to deal with his [Mana Hypersensitivity] was way more urgent.

  Surprisingly, he felt pretty okay for someone who just coughed up a pint of blood. Looked like his +30% recovery from his [Hit Me Harder] passive was really paying off.

  Of course, he couldn’t forget Dr. Spencer’s quick thinking; the IV drip hooked into his arm was pumping him full of high-grade painkillers and mana stabilizers.

  Wait, Shane thought.

  But for Dr. Spencer to prescribe this amount and quality of medicine that worked on an Awakened...

  He wouldn’t bill Shane for this, would he?

  A notification popped up.

  [Reward: New Skill Slot Unlocked]

  Sweet.

  He got a new skill slot as a reward.

  With this, he immediately unlocked the next skill in the [Bloodcraft] skill tree.

  [Skill Acquired: Bloodsteel (Bloodcraft Tree - Stage 2)]

  It was a skill that let him control and solidify blood to use it however he wanted. Though its true purpose was something else. A special feature, if you could call it that. Coincidentally, iit looked similar to a skill used by a certain Seraph.

  This is going to pour more fuel on the “raised by a Seraphim” fire, Shane grimaced.

  But at his normal pace, he likely wouldn’t have unlocked it before the First Cataclysm, so he had zero complaints about getting it now.

  He dumped the other reward, a pile of stat points, all into stamina and constitution.

  He hoped Dr. Spencer could quickly whip him up some drugs fast. As long as his body could hold out, he’d have no problem dealing with the events to come.

  And the stronger the drugs, the easier it would be to endure his [Insomnia] and [Mana Hypersensitivity] quirk.

  Plus, since the drugs would be smokable, he could satisfy his [Chain Smoker] quirk and medicate himself simultaneously.

  He had put up with all this annoying guard duty nonsense just to get his hands on that specific cocktail.

  He wondered how much he would have to pay Dr. Spencer to get him to drop his other research and make Shane’s personal drug the doctor’s top priority.

  As he tried to hold onto his hazy thoughts from the fatigue and the heavy dose of medicine, his phone buzzed on the nightstand next to his head.

  A text message.

  [Adrenaline Junkie: You run this time and you’re dead]

  Shane let out a soft sigh. It looked like Troy was rushing over to the lab after hearing the news from Henry.

  With that stress added, he let all the tension drain from him and flopped back onto the ridiculously comfortable bed.

  He had more pressing business to attend to than Troy Winter.

  Sleep.

  Shane could hear some muffled voices, probably reacting to him waking up for a second, but he muted them out.

  Thanks to the blood he coughed up from his [Mana Hypersensitivity], he could feel a wave of sleepiness wash over him, a rare blessing for his [Insomnia]-ridden body.

  The number 2 rookie might be a good test subject for my new [Bloodsteel] skill, he thought idly, his consciousness fading.

  ***

  Shane Ashwell was unconscious for a whole week.