A few minutes before the end of the Quest of the Worthy,

Amidst a sprawling square thrumming with anticipation, the towering stage stood like a beacon, adorned with the proud insignia of the World Hunter Association. From a distance, one could see the vast sea of faces—each eagerly awaiting the appearance of the world’s most powerful man.

Dozens of media vans were parked in the vicinity, and helicopters were flying above to get a good angle of what was going on below.

Stepping up to the podium, the man looking in his forties emanated a magnetic presence.

His blue hair, a unique shade that had become synonymous with his identity, caught the sunlight and shimmered, making him easily distinguishable even from afar.

His chiseled jaw, complemented by a perfectly groomed mustache, gave him an air of both regality and authority.

The gathering of high-ranked officials in crisp uniforms, each flaunting a unique badge of honor, surrounded him, subtly emphasizing the importance of this gathering.

He sported the famous delicately carved blue eyepatch on his right eye.

Nobody saw it only as a loss of his right eye but as a mark of bravery and morality in the face of darkness.

Everyone knew he got it during his epic battle with the Corrupted Prince.

Apparently, he chose to not put in a new eye to bear it as a scar for failing to see the darkness of someone he considered his good friend. Something to always remind him of his grave mistake. This made the people feel even more respect and appreciate his integrity as a Hunter.

The high-ranked officials, including the President of America, gathered on the stage and saluted upon his presence, their expressions stoic.

It was a silent yet common knowledge that Derek Sterling, the President of WHA, far outranked any president of any country across the world.

How could any of them match up to the most powerful and influential man on the planet?

His achievements and the number of powerful demons he killed alone could make a person shiver in awe and respect.

“The Bulwark of Justice is finally here! Oh my god!”

“He looks even more charming and powerful in person! My hero!!”

“Days like this should be a national holiday. I don’t want to get fired from my job for standing out here, but I don’t wanna leave, uwaahhh!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Derek began, his voice resonating through the square, confident and unwavering. And as if his voice carried some magic, the bustling crowd immediately became silent.

Derek smiled and slowly nodded upon seeing them calm down, “Today marks the dawn of a new era for our world and its brave protectors.”

The crowd listened intently, their attention undivided.

“In our ongoing eternal battle against the demons, we have always sought to evolve, to adapt, and to be a step ahead,” Derek continued, “And to ensure this, the World Hunter Association, under my suggestion, has decided to open new mini-academies for our young, budding heroes across the globe.”

Murmurs of approval and surprise swept through the audience.

“This initiative,” he paused for emphasis, “will allow us to scout talent earlier. Those who graduate from these mini-academies will gain direct entry to the main Hunter Academy. No further evaluations, no unnecessary red tape, and no nepotism.”

A wave of applause erupted, drowning the square in a sea of claps and cheers.

“Our world,” Derek continued once the applause subsided, his tone turning somber, “will always be plagued by demons. They may try to terrorize us, but one thing I promise: every time our heroes stand up to them, these demons will tremble in fear!”

The crowd erupted into another roaring applause, their spirits uplifted and hopes renewed.

The high-ranked officials around Derek exchanged approving nods and smiles, knowing well that under his leadership, the future was brighter than ever.

The vast crowd watched with rapt attention, Derek’s every word captivating them, “And to commemorate this significant stride,” he began, his voice carrying gravitas, “I have the honor of inaugurating the very first mini-academy right here—”

Suddenly, Derek’s voice trailed off. His piercing blue eye, once sharp and focused on the sea of people before him, now darted to the side, distracted by something he heard in his mind, “Rachel returned?” he whispered to himself, his brows raising and a hint of a relieved smile forming on his lips.

The audience, already on the edge of their seats, exchanged puzzled glances.

Whispers began to permeate through the crowd, turning to gasps as many reached for their phones, scrolling through breaking news.

“The Quest of the Worthy has ended?!” murmured a voice, echoing a sentiment many had just discovered.

The square, which moments ago was filled with fervor and enthusiasm, was now blanketed in a curious mix of excitement and anxiety.

Derek turned swiftly to his side, where the stately figure of President Viden stood.

Mr. Viden, a tall, salt-and-pepper-haired man with a stern face softened by years of leadership, nodded at Derek’s unspoken question.

“Mr. Viden,” Derek began, urgency in his tone, “Would you be kind enough to oversee the inauguration? I need to attend to this matter immediately.”

Viden smiled reassuringly, his years of diplomatic experience shining through, “Of course, Mr. President. You attend to your matters. We’ve got this.”

“Thank you,” Derek replied as he swiftly exited the stage, an entourage of men and women in crisp suits, their expressions unreadable but their demeanor unmistakably professional, followed closely behind him.

Their synchronized steps and sharp attention to their surroundings gave away their elite training.

–

Couple hours later,

Inside the lavish Sterling Mansion, muted blue curtains billowed gently, hinting at a tension that was thicker than the plush velvet carpeting.

In the ornate guest hall, adorned with beautiful paintings and glistening chandeliers, sat a group of people. The heartbeats of their anxious hearts seemed to synchronize with the gentle ticking of the grandiose clock on the mantle.

At the head of the grand mahogany table sat Derek.

Across him was a middle-aged man whose face now was an emblem of pain and restrained rage.

He was none other than Gregory Hart, the Head of the Hart Family.

With bright green eyes that mirrored deep anguish, his fingers kept rubbing his neat, short blonde beard, which added an element of ruggedness to his otherwise refined features, “Derek, I am losing my patience here. Should I involve the Judge?” he stated, his voice a mixture of desperation and command.

Sitting beside him, a woman looking in her early thirties, Lena Hart, the image of her father but with softer, feminine features, leaned forward. 𝑜𝓋xt.𝒸𝔬𝑀

Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, shimmering with each move.

The bright green of her eyes was now clouded with a hint of ferocity, “You are right, father. Maybe the Judge needs to get involved,” she declared, her gaze sharp and landing on Rachel, who was sitting on the adjacent sofa, her expression blank, making it hard to guess what she was thinking.

Trying to diffuse the mounting tension, Cecilia Sterling, with her shiny, neck-length blue bob that framed her face perfectly, intervened, “Greg, Lena, understand our position too. Rachel has just returned from a nightmarish quest,” she said gently, her voice filled with motherly concern.

Rachel, the epicenter of all the attention, sat silent, her usually vibrant demeanor replaced with a hollow gaze. She looked lost, as if a part of her had stayed back in that treacherous quest.

Derek, taking a deep breath, finally spoke, “There is no need to involve the Judge. My daughter will tell us what happened to Victor,” Derek said as he looked at Gregory, whose hands were clenched firmly.

Derek then turned to look at his daughter and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, “Rachel, I know this is hard, but we need clarity. The world outside is frenzied with rumors and stories. Only the truth will help us now before things get complicated for all of us. And Uncle Greg has the right to know.”

Slowly, Rachel raised her eyes, a mix of pain, resentment, and resolution in them. They first met her father’s, fraught with a myriad of emotions, before hardening as they settled on Gregory Hart.

“If you want to involve the Judge, Uncle Hart,” Rachel began, her voice steady yet cold, “be my guest. But if the Judge finds out that Victor tried to kill me to save himself… well, don’t come pointing fingers at me.”

The unexpected words from Rachel seemed to echo, and the immediate uproar was palpable.

Gregory’s face turned a shade redder, disbelief and anger contorting his features, “What nonsense are you spewing out?!” he roared.

Lena furrowed her brows, her brows raising but remained silent.

Catching Gregory’s sudden outburst, Derek’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, “Greg,” he started firmly, “please calm down.”

Cecilia’s blue eyes flashed with protectiveness, “Greg, don’t shout at my daughter,” she warned.

A beat later, her demeanor softened as she turned to Rachel, the worry and shock evident on her face, “My dear, is what you’re saying true?”

Seeing the chaos, Derek shifted in his chair and rose, moving to sit beside Rachel.

Taking her hand in his, a gesture of comfort and support, he looked deep into her eyes, “Rachel, did Victor really try to hurt you? And if he did, why? Why would he do such a thing? He was your fiance.”

A heaviness settled in Rachel’s chest, her throat constricting, “Hellbringer,” she began, her voice quivering, “offered Victor a way out. He said all Victor had to do was to kill either me or Amelia. I… I never thought he’d consider it, especially because a demon said it. But he did. He nearly killed me,” She paused, swallowing hard, “But taken by Hellbringer. And then the news came that Hellbringer had killed him.”

Gregory was shaking, his eyes glassy, “That’s impossible. My son would never do such a thing!” His voice broke.

Rachel’s gaze hardened once more, meeting Gregory’s trembling eyes, “Then call in the Judge, Uncle Hart. Let’s see if I’m telling the truth or not.”

Lena frowned while Gregory’s facial features quivered, his nose wrinkling as he gritted his teeth and muttered, “My son is dead, and I am supposed to believe this is what happened?”

“I am sorry, Greg, but I don’t believe my daughter is lying. She never would,” Derek sighed, though his tone was confident.

Gregory grunted as he got up and walked toward the other side of the room, as if he needed a moment alone to process what he just learned.

Derek turned to Rachel with a concerned look, “Rachel, I had no idea you had to go through all that. Victor was so good to us, and I

—”

“You couldn’t have known what kind of a person he really was…

right, dad?” Rachel asked, her eyes staring right into his.

Derek softly exhaled as he nodded, with his eye closing briefly, “It’s my fault for being blind. I am sorry.”

Rachel’s eyes kept searching for any hint as she asked, “Just like how you were blind to who Golden Prince really was?”

Derek’s eye briefly stiffened, but then he lowered his head as he nodded with a heavy look, “I know. It seems like my weakness is blindly trusting those closest to me.”

“Then I shouldn’t also make the same mistake, right?” Rachel asked as Derek slowly raised his gaze to look at her.

But before he could say anything,

“Oh, my little angel,” Cecilia hugged her daughter, her eyes tearing just then, a group of Russian hunters barged in, attacking Hellbringer. It gave me a chance to escape, but Victor… he was up while caressing her arms as if to comfort her, “It’s not your fault, dear. We all were mistaken, just like how we were about Corrupted Prince. I can’t believe Victor was capable of such an evil act. Who could have corrupted him like that? How did we all not know?”

Rachel bit down on her lip, her eyes quivering with a myriad of emotions.

Lena kept staring at the three before she saw Derek shifting his gaze towards her, his eye piercing, making her shift her gaze abruptly.

But suddenly she felt something buzzing in her pocket and took out her phone, only to have her eyes widen as she got up and hurried towards her father.