Takeoff

District Seven—otherwise known as the Lodge.

For a place holding such an enormous amount of significance inside Babylon, the exact parameters of the district were largely undefined. It was home to Babylon's Hunter Association and sat somewhere on the borderline between Ravenspurn and Dunwich for various administrative reasons, the main one being that the Association's base of operations had been constructed atop the spawn point for the first genesis gate that appeared in the world.

The lodge served as a convergence point—a spacious training ground where provisional hunters could gain experience by exploring nearby dungeons. No matter the time of day, a few swirling portals could always be found floating somewhere within the confines of district seven.

Babylon's administrative board—not the Association—controlled the dimensional grid projected by the towers. Per their directive, District Seven was designated as a filter site for rogue gates that had already been cleared. These gates were relocated there for training purposes and to ensure that any damage or chaos resulting from dungeon battles wouldn't spill over into the city in the event of an unforeseen incident.

Aside from the giant iron towers and swirling portals that occasionally popped up around the place, the district was part of a completely normal metropolitan landscape you could find anywhere.

"Still no answer...where is she?"

Cyril approached the largest corporate building in the area, cocking his head to one side and mumbling to himself as he walked. The number he had just dialed went straight to voicemail, much to his displeasure—Carissa wasn't usually one to miss her calls. All three attempts had ended in failure, so for now, he decided to try again later and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

The glass doors of the Hunter Association stood directly before him, but in his preoccupied state, he neglected to truly see them. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the large blue portal swirling in the adjacent lot. Unlike last time, the portal didn't take on the jet-black hue of a murky swamp; instead, it appeared as a standing vortex.

A semi-circular assembly of people gathered before the gate; each one fitted in custom battle gear. The gate's radiant glow cast sharp shadows across their forms and illuminated their fantastical attire in cinematic fashion. Even from a distance, the assembly of people looked just shy of being called fictional.

Still, it was all very real. Nothing about what the provisional party was about to do could be called a hoax.

Cyril stopped two paces short of the welcoming glass doors, taking a moment to glance down at the armband clinging to his right bicep. It had a simple design, a strip of white fabric banded with thin black stripes that converged to form the image of a small wolf's emblem stitched near its center. The armband was customary for all provisional hunters and needed to be on their person at all times when they were conducting official hunter work.

It was a trademark item typically worn by high schoolers, as they were underage. However, possessing the association's armband was enough to grant the bearer numerous privileges, including exemption from curfew and the ability to use it as a globally recognized travel document.

Moments after stepping past the automatic doors, Cyril froze in the middle of the lobby. Hunters of all sizes and ranks were shuffling about here and there, but even though it wasn't that crowded his eyes instantly picked out the Chairman's conspicuous stature near the back of the room.

No wonder the lobby's so quiet, he thought, turning on his heels as he headed toward Wilhelm.

"You're here early." Wilhelm greeted him mid approach. Cyril smiled and returned a small wave; he had mostly done it out of instinct. It was surprising to see the Chairman in anything but one of his favored charcoal-grey suits, but he was dressed differently today.

Instead of his usual crisp grey color, the Chairman wore a brown, buttoned-up lapel overcoat, every inch of it pressed so sharply it looked freshly ironed.

"Your eagerness doesn't surprise me, but arriving a full hour before the planned meeting time is a bit much Cyril."

"Yeah, about that..." Cyril looked away, scratching his neck as he fished for the appropriate response. "I was actually trying to get in touch with Carissa, she hasn't been taking my calls lately. She's not home either, I ended up wandering over here after running out of leads to follow."

"Carissa?" Wilhelm said, raising a brow. "She's been busy. The phoenix guild has ramped up its raid efforts after Marcel got his hunter license back—his investigation was declared o be inconclusive due to the lack of evidence beyond witness testimonies. A unit of theirs—the one Carissa is a part of— recovered another dungeon core recently. As we speak, they're negotiating the terms to re-enter Ba'als labyrinth and clear it once and for all. As of now, we haven't settled on anything conclusive, but the negotiations could conclude as early as today."

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"She got a dungeon core? Looks like her stride is still going strong." Cyril muttered, smiling to himself. "Sometimes I forget how good Carissa really is."

"You don't sound very surprised about Marcel's absolution. I'd think that would be the first thing to catch your attention—wouldn't it?"

"No, not at all." Cyril shook his head, not even bothering to mull over the question. "The same thing happened during the incursion incident last year. He's got the backing of an Origin clan, which in itself is an arm of the crown—there's nothing surprising about it."

Wilhelm pursed his lips and swallowed hard. As much as he would have liked to disprove Cyril's claim, he had no grounds for it. "I see your point. But that aside Cyril, why were you even looking for Carissa in the first place?"

"Oh that. I wanted to ask her for advice about healing magic. The [life surge] skill I have is supposed to heal me automatically, but I'm still not really sure how it's supposed to function. I want to see if there's any way for me to consciously affect its activation."

"That does sound like a good idea." Wilhelm agreed, curling a few fingers to his chin. "It would be nice if you could influence those passive skills of yours somehow."

"And what about you Chairman, what are you doing down here in the lobby, of all places?"

"Thanks to Yelena's efforts yesterday, we received information late last night suggesting Scarecrow will appear in this district today. I wanted to give your party a brief rundown before that happens. I had planned to introduce everyone once your party arrived, but it seems that wasn't necessary; you're already familiar with them."

"I am?" Cyril asked, tilting his head with the question.

"Yes, you are—look, here they come right now." Wilhelm pointed at something behind him, prompting Cyril to turn around. He saw two familiar faces, neither of whom he'd been expecting to cross paths with anytime soon.

"I wasn't expecting you two to volunteer for this mission—Arden, Percy."

For various reasons, he wasn't sure what kind of expression he ought to have made upon seeing them, a flood of memories from their last encounter came rushing back, leaving his mind lagging a few seconds behind the present moment. Cyril's expression twitched briefly, but once he saw the welcoming smile spreading across Arden's face, all of his hesitance evaporated, and his expression naturally relaxed into a reserved smile.

"Good to see you man!" Arden was the first to make contact, his handshake—initiated with an unnecessary amount of force— was returned with rivaling gusto, its impact reverberating throughout the lobby.

"The Chairman brought me up to speed for the mission but man...who knew someone could change this much from a single rank up." Arden commented with a discerning look in his eyes. There was some amount of genuine awe to be found in the way he obsessively scanned Cyril's face for any trace of his old appearance.

"That's what everyone says, but besides the hair, I really don't think I've changed that much."

"Hah? There's no way that's true. Even the way you dress is completely different now."

"The way I dress...?" Arden's implication made Cyril glance over his appearance, it was his first time trying on this outfit but for some reason he already felt completely attuned to the dimensions of his new garments.

It was an unusually comfortable set of specialized battle gear, closely resembling a combat uniform of sorts. The white-and-black outfit was accented with buckles and a thin blue stripe along the waist. A dark sash crossed his midsection, complementing the black sleeves and flexible trousers. Supposedly, the sash served as a convenient place to store bladed weapons—but for now, it would remain empty.

"Oh, this is something I got from an artificer a few days ago. She said it was stitched from a special kind of monster silk that absorbs impacts. Now that you mention it, I guess this outfit really is a bit too fancy for dungeon diving."

"Who cares how fancy it is? That outfit looks good on you—I'd say it goes nicely with the hair, what do you think Percy?" Arden threw the question to the magician standing beside him. Percy's hand slipped out from beneath his thick robe to adjust his glasses, shifting them against the ambient light reflecting off the lenses. Once realigned on the bridge of his nose, the frames revealed the sharp, discerning gaze hidden behind them.

"It does stand out quite a bit Severin, however, I can see why Shaw would find your outfit fashionable—even though it spares no effort to mask your presence."

"That's some opinion you've got there." Cyril retorted, "I'm not sure if that's supposed to mean it suits me or not."

"No, it suits you just fine, but that outfit makes you stand out—a lot actually."

"Right?" Agreed Arden, nodding in assent of Percy's claim. "From the day we first met Cyril's always made it a point to stand out no matter what, he always ends up acting like a main character for some reason."

"Those were just coincidences...." Cyril made to continue, but after a quick moment of recollection he came to a realization. From an outsider's perspective, he really did have a way of making himself the center of attention. It was a surprising moment of truth, one he couldn't dismiss with any amount of certainty.

".....for the most part anyway."

"Hehe! Don't worry kid, it's fine! Really—there's nothing wrong with being a little flashy once in a while."

"You give some pretty bad advice for an adult, you know that?" Percy swiftly dismissed Arden's flippant declaration with an incredible air of indifference.

His sudden input, made without the slightest trace of empathy, left even the usually upbeat Arden looking a bit glum.

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