Days passed after the battle that changed everything.
The city of Gesir still bore the scars of war, but within those wounds sprouted a strange hope. The people moved differently—no longer shuffling in fear but walking with pride. They spoke in hushed tones of the man who danced through battle, of the monster who turned the tide alone.
That man now stood silently in front of the Adventurer's Hall.
"Ivan," the new receptionist called, breaking his thoughts. She was young, tidy, with a nervous smile. "You're here. This is your S-Class emblem."
The metal badge gleamed gold, the symbol of the highest recognized rank in the city. Only two S-Class adventurers had ever emerged in Gesir.
And now, Ivan was the second.
"You can now form your own Associate," she continued. "It's like your own guild. Adventurer branches from other cities will send you requests—missions they can't take. You and your Associates can take them. Minimum members is 30, max is 100. Also…" she hesitated. "The other S-Class… he's already been recruited by the Viscount, so don't be surprised if someone tries to pull you into their side."
Ivan took the badge and clipped it to his belt. The weight was symbolic, but heavy nonetheless.
The receptionist bowed slightly. "We're… expecting great things from you."
He didn't respond. Just gave a subtle nod and walked out, the emblem now glinting in the sun.
This was what he had waited for.
A team. A base. Influence. A mask of legitimacy.
And behind it all, a silent hand would pull strings.
He would rise—and take revenge, one thread at a time.
That afternoon, he moved quietly, choosing a wooden table near the entrance of The Roasted Boar, the busiest tavern in the district. He took out a piece of parchment and nailed it to the post.
"Now Recruiting: Associates under Ivan.
Adventurers welcome. Safety guaranteed. Power promised.
Report here for screening."
Crowds began whispering the moment they saw it.
"Is that Ivan?" someone muttered.
"The one who wiped out Kaurst's knights alone?"
"They say he heals faster than magic…"
By sundown, people flocked to the table.
And Ivan… observed.
He interviewed thirty people over the next day. He didn't ask for history—he asked for usefulness.
Race, gender, background—it didn't matter.
But what did matter… was information.
Each one, Ivan noted in silence.
1. Keela – Beastkin Scout
A rabbit-eared woman with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue. She could move without a sound, and her tracking skills were unparalleled. Claimed to have mapped a dozen forests solo.
2. Bram – Dwarf Engineer
Thick arms, soot-stained beard. Built a crossbow that could pierce a troll's hide. Bragged a lot, but Ivan saw the blueprint sketches hidden in his tool bag.
3. Marelle – Human Sorceress
Elegant, cold, and dangerously intelligent. Specialized in illusions and enchantments. Ivan noted how she made the room quieter just by being in it.
4. Harn – Orc Brute
Silent. Towering. Carried a slab of metal masquerading as a sword. He didn't talk—only nodded. Ivan appreciated that.
5. Felian – Elf Herbalist
Soft-spoken with piercing green eyes. Her knowledge of poisons was far more interesting to Ivan than her healing claims.
6. Raeg – Half-Drake Berserker
Scales down one arm, a broken horn, and a bloodthirsty grin. Said he'd follow whoever let him fight.
7. Nyssa – Feline Beastkin Thief
Agile, curious, and mischievous. Already stole Ivan's dagger mid-interview. He hired her on the spot.
8. Yoren – Human Scholar
Spectacles, a satchel full of books, and encyclopedic knowledge of monster habits and ancient ruins. Seemed weak—but useful.
9. Janna – Halfling Cook
Claimed to be "the best damned fire-grilled skewer maker in Gesir." Ivan hired her when she said she could recognize forty types of poison by smell alone.
10. Targun – Goblin Tinkerer
Made a small bomb go off mid-demonstration. Everyone screamed. Ivan smirked. "You're in."
And on it went.
He gathered archers, tamers, warriors, and even a bard. Not because he liked music, but because bards heard things. Things that passed through taverns and borders.
He chose them for skills. For influence. For intel. Not loyalty. Loyalty could be faked.
What mattered more… was positioning.
He even hired a man with suspected underworld connections.
Ivan didn't want to be surrounded by saints.
He wanted tools.
By the end of the second day, he had 30. Each from a different corner of life. Different talents, different desires.
Some respected him. Some feared him.
None understood him.
As his new recruits filled the tavern's lower hall, chatter buzzing like a hive, Ivan stood at the head table.
He stared at them all.
The murderer.
The scholar.
The drunk.
The priest.
The spy.
The beast.
And slowly, he smiled.
"This," he said, "is not a family. It's not a guild. This is an Associate. You follow missions. You take contracts. You do not betray each other."
He leaned forward.
"You're here because you want gold. Power. Purpose. I offer all of that."
He let the silence linger.
"But understand this: betray me, and you will die."
Some stiffened. Others nodded.
Felian raised her hand. "Do we have a name?"
"You ask for a name," he said, voice low, almost amused. "Something that will be remembered. Something that will be feared."
He tapped his chin, as if in deep thought.
Then he chuckled.
"Let's call it… Akatsuki."
A few tilted their heads.
"A foreign word," he explained. "From a world I once imagined in my dreams. It means dawn."
"But dawn of what?" Nyssa asked.
Ivan's eyes gleamed as he stepped forward, his voice dropping to a chilling calm.
"A dawn after war. A dawn that comes after everything is burned. After kingdoms fall, after screams echo across valleys, and the people realize—true peace cannot be begged for. It must be forced."
He raised a hand slowly, almost theatrically.
"You all want gold. Power. Respect. But you do not know pain."
He turned, walking among them, each step like a sermon.
"You do not know what it means to lose everything. You do not know betrayal that carves your bones. You do not know helplessness until you've watched the world spit on your corpse and call it mercy."
He stopped.
"I know pain. And that's why I'm still alive."
His voice dropped to a whisper that still echoed across the room.
"That's why I'll never die."
One of the beastkin visibly swallowed.
"Follow me, and you'll walk into a world that will never accept you. But you'll live. You'll become wolves hiding in sheep cities. You'll become daggers at the throat of empires. And one day—one day they'll beg for mercy."
He raised his badge—the golden S-Class insignia—and pointed to it.
"This means nothing. But Akatsuki… will mean everything."
There was no applause this time.
Only a heavy silence.
He raised one hand slowly, theatrically, and said:
"Those who do not understand true pain..."
"...can never understand true peace."
He paused.
Some in the crowd looked confused. A few nodded slowly.
One beastkin whispered, "That... sounds oddly familiar."
Ivan smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief.
"I read it in a very old book," he lied. "Very philosophical. Very… dramatic."
The crowd blinked.
Ivan turned, cloak swishing dramatically as he walked off.
"Now let's cause some pain," he muttered under his breath with a grin.