Three | New CEO of IPT Guild (3)
General Trias, Cavite, Philippines
December 2045
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The rain had stopped, but the overcast night sky seemed to mirror the weight in Ace’s chest. The headlights of his car cut through the dimly lit national highway, their glow reflected on the slick, wet pavement. Ace gripped the steering wheel tightly, the soft voice of the navigation system breaking the heavy silence.
“Turn left in 10 meters,” it instructed, the mechanical tone a great contrast to the maelstrom of thoughts swirling in Ace’s mind.
He followed the turn, the car rolling steadily along the deserted road. The rhythmic hum of the tires was oddly soothing, but his thoughts were anything but calm. The long drive from Cuenca, Batangas to General Trias, Cavite should have offered him some respite, but instead, it gave him too much time to think.
'Why does each passing day feel so long now?'
Two hours later, the voice of the navigation system brought him back to reality.
“You have arrived at St. Luke’s Funeral House, General Trias, Cavite Branch.”
Ace parked the car in a near-empty lot. Before stepping out, he sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, his hands resting on the wheel. The faint sound of men talking nearby drew his attention.
“What? You were forcefully fired too?” one man’s voice carried through the air, tinged with disbelief.
“Yeah,” another replied bitterly. “I’m a C-Rank hunter, ten years with the guild, and they just threw me out. Replaced me with some Japanese newbie. Sure, he’s a B-Rank, but he’s clearly inexperienced.”
“That’s insane! Ten years of experience should count for something,” another chimed in, his voice rising in frustration.
“They don’t care about experience or loyalty anymore,” the second man continued. “It’s all about numbers—raw strength, high-profile wins, and foreign appeal.”
“And what about the automaton division? I heard the development team’s progress is falling behind compared to the U.S. and Europe.”
"Geez... I think it would be better if we apply as overseas filipino hunters at Europe now... They even pay higher salary anyways."
"What about your family then? Don't you have a growing child?"
The man face hardened. "Shit, I want to see my child grow up... But we will not survive if I don't have a job."
“Exactly. The top management’s priorities are completely fucked up. It’s ridiculous.”
Ace exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the door handle. He was prepared for backlash—he had known this would happen the moment he signed off on the restructuring plans. But knowing didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“The problem is the new CEO,” another man said, lowering his voice.
“Sir De Leon? You mean that A-Rank hunter who got promoted after the shake-up?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t it seem convenient? He slashed our jobs and salaries, and now he’s sitting pretty at the top. It’s like he used us to climb his way to the top.”
Ace’s jaw clenched. The words cut deep, even if he refused to show it. He pushed the door open and stepped out of the car, the conversation halting abruptly as the men turned to stare at him.
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“Isn’t that Sir De Leon?” one whispered.
“Shit, you think he heard us?”
“So what? We’re not in the wrong,” the other said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Ace straightened his coat and walked past them, his expression stoic despite the whispers that followed him.
“Look at him. Coming here like he has nothing to do with it.” The man looked at Ace with disdain.
“That man really has no shame.”
Their voices faded into murmurs as Ace entered the funeral house, but their words lingered in his mind. Each one felt like a knife twisting deeper into his guilt.
The quiet inside the funeral house was almost suffocating. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of lilies mixed with the sterile odor of the air conditioning. At the far end of the room stood a casket, its polished surface gleaming under the muted lights.
Ace’s steps were slow and heavy as he approached. His eyes locked on the framed photograph atop the casket—a smiling image of Vince Ivan Gallos, his once-brave tank partner. The man in the photo seemed so full of life, a stark contrast to the reality lying just beyond the lid.
Ace stopped a few feet away, his breath hitching as he stared at the picture. Memories flooded his mind: Vince laughing during breaks between raids, Vince shielding their team from a crushing blow, Vince standing beside him during their promotion ceremonies.
“I swear to you,” Ace thought, his chest tightening, “I never wanted this to happen.”
He lowered his head, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. 'Why did it have to come to this?'
As Ace stood in silence, the weight of his decisions pressed against him. He remembered Vince’s words during their last conversation:
“Are you really going to fire all these hunters? If you go through with this protocol, I’ll resign too! Don’t you dare challenge me, Ace!"
At the time, Vince’s words had felt like empty threats—just another voice among the many protesting his decisions. But now, standing in the shadow of Vince’s death, those words echoed with unbearable clarity.
Ace closed his eyes and whispered a quiet prayer. He prayed for Vince’s soul, for forgiveness, for a way to atone for the damage he had caused.
'Is this the cost of my ambition?' he thought. 'How many more lives will my decisions ruin before this is over?'
The soft murmur of voices drew his attention. He glanced around the room, noticing the small clusters of mourners whispering to one another. Many of them glanced his way, their expressions ranging from curiosity to barely concealed disdain.
“What is he doing here?” he imagined them saying. “The man who destroyed Vince’s career and life, standing here like he cares.”
The thought made his stomach churn, but he forced himself to stay. This was his responsibility, his burden to bear.
Ace left the funeral house without saying a word to anyone. The whispers followed him as he walked back to his car, their judgmental tones stabbing at his already wounded conscience.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, he stared at the steering wheel for a long moment before starting the engine. The darkened roads stretched out before him, empty and silent.
'Where did I go wrong?' he wondered as he drove. 'Today was supposed to be a day of celebration. I should be proud of my achievements, but instead...'
He gripped the wheel tighter. 'There’s no one to congratulate me. No one to share this success with. My wife has left me. My friends are gone.'
His mind flashed back to his wife's words:
"You only care about leveling up. You only care about your own success.”
A fresh wave of frustration surged through him. His foot pressed harder on the gas pedal, the car’s speed climbing rapidly. The dark trees lining the road blurred into a single, continuous shadow.
The traffic light ahead turned yellow, then red. Ace hit the brakes, but the car skidded forward, tires screeching against the wet pavement. It came to a stop just past the pedestrian line.
He exhaled sharply, his hands trembling as he loosened his grip on the wheel. But his breath caught when he heard a faint voice—low, haunting, and filled with accusations.
“Why did you let me die?”
Ace’s head snapped to the passenger seat. His blood ran cold. Sitting there, drenched in shadow, was Vince. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, and blood trickled down his temple.
“V-Vince?” Ace stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You abandoned me,” Vince said, his voice a ghostly murmur. “You abandoned all of us.”
“No...” Ace shook his head, his voice rising in desperation. “You’re dead!”
Vince’s gaze bore into him, unblinking. “You could have stopped it, Ace. You could have stopped all of this.”
Ace blinked, and the passenger seat was empty. He looked around frantically, his heart pounding in his chest.
He sat there for a long moment, his breath ragged and his mind racing. Vince’s words—real or imagined—echoed in his ears.
“You could have stopped it.”
Ace gripped the wheel once more and began driving again, slower this time. The roads stretched endlessly before him, dark and silent, a perfect mirror of the emptiness he felt inside.
For the first time in years, he allowed himself to admit the truth.
He wasn’t leading the guild. He was destroying it.
And in doing so, he was destroying himself.