The crowd swelled around the practice ring.

Lev stepped inside with a posture so casual it bordered on lazy. His shirt hung loose, his movements unhurried, as if this were no more serious than a morning stretch or a leisurely stroll. His opponent, on the other hand, cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders like a predator about to pounce.

“You sure you can handle this, pretty boy?” sneered Sandro, the A-rank examinee, earning a chorus of snickers from his group.

Lev only tilted his head. “I’ll try my best.” His voice dripped with meek apology. Almost humble.

The timer blinked: 30 minutes.

How should I deal with this guy? Lev wondered.

Sandro lunged first, raw aggression in motion. Lev raised his arms sluggishly, letting the blow drive him back, stumbling like he was already running on fumes. His shoulder slumped.

The truth was simple. If Lev took this seriously, these fragile humans would be flattened in seconds by a single strike. But that wasn’t the game he wanted to play. For now, he had to look like someone who wasn’t strong… but not utterly useless either. Just capable enough to ‘try’.

Human combat styles were laughably easy to read.

In that moment, a memory flicked through Lev’s mind, a recollection of the fighting styles he’d encountered on a gaming machine back at PK Arcade with Chichi. It was so out of the blue that a hint of a grin threatened to surface, his lips briefly twitching as he suppressed it.

Lev shifted lightly on the balls of his feet, arms lifted in what might loosely pass as a fighting stance. To any observer, he seemed like someone who’d picked up combat from a cheap arcade brawler. The wild swings, uneven steps and even a punch so unbalanced it almost sent him spinning. Laughter erupted from Sandro’s group at the edge of the ring. Some couldn’t help but mock openly.

He reset his stance, stealing a quick glance to his right. There was Uno, standing by the corner with Annacia, their attention riveted on him. In a flash, Lev bit his lower lip. A hint of an almost imperceptible smirk ghosting across his face. It was so quickly that only Uno caught it.

Then, something in him shifted. His step landed sharp, his sway became rhythm, and for a heartbeat, his fists cut the air with a predator’s precision. It was smooth, controlled and lethal.

Sandro faltered. “Wait–”

But Lev smothered the moment, tripping over his own feet and crashing to the mat with all the grace of a puppet whose strings had snapped.

He pushed himself up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

Sandro’s group erupted in laughter, but Sandro himself stood silent. He felt it. Like something had shifted. In the middle of the match, Lev changed. Just for a split second, Sandro’s chest constricted, like prey sensing a predator nearby. It was as if the air darkened, and something far worse than a fighter began walking toward him like a devil in disguise.

He cursed inwardly.

Where the hell did that come from?

Uneasy, he barked at his lackeys. “Fight him.”

They exchanged glances, surprised, but climbed into the ring grinning.

Just like before, Lev managed to land a few punches and kicks. But with their larger builds giving them the advantage, he was eventually overwhelmed and lost. That led Sandro to dismiss the earlier moment. He’s convinced it had only been a fluke, a result of his own carelessness and overconfidence.

Once the friendly matches were over, Lev let out a sigh, feeling slightly drained from the act of playing the weakling. When he looked back over at Uno and Annacia’s direction, he saw them still standing there. Annacia offered a reassuring wave, as if to console him for losing earlier.

But Uno’s eyes locked onto him, sharp and unyielding. Lev couldn’t decipher his thoughts, but the weight of that glare spoke volumes. There was irritation, doubt… maybe even disdain. As if those matches had only confirmed what Uno already believed. That he wasn’t cut out to be a hunter at all.

Lev waved back, flashing an innocent smile as he tilted his head like a curious child. Uno simply shook his head and turned away without a word. Lev just shrugged it off.

Then he turned to Sandro’s group, face darkening for the briefest instant before slipping back into sunshine.

“You guys are really strong. I can only hope to be like you someday,” Lev said with a gentle smile, tilting his head as though in awe. His voice carried the softness of admiration. Perfectly harmless, almost naive.

They scoffed and snickered, mocking him with glances that screamed he wasn’t worthy of the vice captain’s position. Still, they humored him and took his hand.

Lev’s smile never faltered. But as soon as Sandro’s palm met his, something sharp flickered beneath that innocent façade. A predator’s grin hidden behind wide-eyed humility. His ability slipped into the contact so cleanly that even the hunters standing nearby wouldn’t notice until it was far too late.

Juho and Aris hurried over as Lev stepped out of the ring, both looking ready to comfort a kicked puppy.

“Those guys are experienced fighters. It’s normal to lose,” Juho said with his ever-bright smile.

“It was practically 1v5,” Aris added. “And you still landed some clean shots. That counts for something.”

Lev smiled back, unbothered. Letting them think what they wanted.

Later that afternoon, Lev was dragged back into the office for his vice captain duties. The routine had settled into him. It was boring and predictable but tolerable. At least it gave him an excuse to observe hunters up close.

“Heard my vice captain lost a lot today,” Matthew teased, leaning back like he already knew the punchline. He hadn’t seen the matches himself because he was too busy with his guild, but of course the news traveled fast.

Lev clasped his hands politely. “Well, they were really strong,” he replied smoothly, while mentally filing a request to downgrade that entire group to Rank Mediocre.

Matthew slung an arm over his shoulder like they were the best of pals. “It’s fine, Lev. Strength isn’t everything. You think all hunters are as strong as me? Of course not. We also judge based on intelligence.”

Lev blinked at him. Intelligence. Coming from him. The sheer audacity almost deserved applause. His lips twitched, just once, before he smothered it under his usual innocent mask.

Knock, knock

The door swung open, and a guy slightly older than Lev stepped inside. He’s clutching a form.

“I-I’d like to withdraw my application.”

Matthew blinked in surprise. Lev recognized him immediately. The guy’s from Team Emerald, too. He also noticed him near the ring earlier.

“This is… sudden.” Matthew took the paper and glanced at the name. “Geon-u. If you’d like, we can talk it over. Lev was just about to head out anyway.”

Lev arched a brow. There was still time left. Putting the pieces together, he quietly gathered his things.

“I’ll leave now.”

“Alright. Take care,” Matthew said with a grin. “And don’t sulk about losing earlier.”

Lev didn’t bother answering. He was finished entertaining Matthew’s jabs. He left the office wearing a faintly smug expression.

Lev took the stairs instead of the elevator, preferring to avoid running into anyone. But at the final landing, he spotted a man leaning casually against the wall as if he’d been waiting all along.

Uno.

Lev walked past him without a word.

“You fought like an idiot today,” Uno said flatly.

Lev didn’t so much as glance his way, brushing past as though he didn’t exist.

Uno’s jaw tightened. He reached out and caught Lev’s arm.

Lev exhaled through his nose, slow and theatrical, before turning with a smile too sweet to be genuine.

“Oh. I didn’t see you there… sir.” The title dripped with mock politeness.

“I know you saw me.”

Lev tilted his head. “What do you want?”

Uno held his stare for a long, silent beat, like he was weighing every word. Finally, he spoke.

“Do you want me to train you?”