Two | New CEO of IPT Guild (2)
Cuenca, Batangas, Philippines
December 2045
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The convoy snaked its way up the winding mountain roads of Cuenca, Batangas, the rain-washed asphalt reflecting the dull, gray sky.
Ace sat in the back seat of a sleek black BMW, his sharp eyes fixed on the enormous warp portal visible in the distance. Even from here, the "gate", a name designated by the World Hunter Global Association towards the portal that has dungeons inside, towered over the landscape, its swirling, iridescent light a haunting reminder of the chaos it concealed.
“Sir Ace,” his secretary’s voice broke through his thoughts, drawing his gaze away from the mesmerizing vortex outside. She sat beside him, tablet in hand, her fingers dancing across its surface. “This is the scheduled A-Rank Dungeon of Cuenca, Batangas. It’s been registered with the name 'Cuenca Forest Dungeon' by the World Hunter Global Association.”
“A forest-type dungeon,” Ace murmured. His tone betrayed neither excitement nor apprehension, just cold calculation.
“If it’s forest-type, it shouldn’t be too difficult,” he added to himself, though his mind remained restless.
“Have you deployed the scout automatons?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, her voice clipped and efficient. “Reports confirm the presence of Swamp Golems, Forest Witches, and Forest Hounds.”
Ace nodded, his brow furrowing. “Tank monsters. This will be a long raid then. As I remember during the briefing, we have over thirty guild parties participating right?”
His secretary hesitated before continuing, her tone shifting to one of subtle tension. “We’ve only gathered twenty supporting guilds for this raid. The rest of the contractual partner guilds withdrew due to the ongoing strike.”
Ace clenched his jaw, his fist tightening against his knee. “The strikes again…” he muttered under his breath, the irritation in his voice barely contained.
“It’s because of the salary cuts, sir,” his secretary added cautiously, sensing his mood. “However, we’ve prepared thirty additional combat automaton squads to compensate.”
“And the other raids?”
“They’ll have to be rescheduled,” she admitted, her hand brushing her temple as if to soothe an impending headache.
Ace said nothing more, but the weight of their situation pressed against him like a vice. The guild was bleeding—hunters were leaving in droves, disillusioned and angry at the restructuring efforts. The new imported foreign hunters lack experience and teamwork training. And yet here he was, tasked with holding everything together.
The BMW pulled into the raid site, the makeshift camp bustling with activity. Hunters from various guilds prepared their weapons, checked gear, and adjusted their armor. Amid the controlled chaos, Ace stepped out of the car, immediately flanked by bodyguards and staff. The cold mountain air bit at his skin, but he ignored it, his focus on the towering gate ahead.
“Welcome to your first day, Sir Ace!”
A line of executives and high-ranking hunters greeted him with practiced bows and polished smiles, forming a path for him to walk through. Their sycophantic enthusiasm grated on his nerves, but Ace kept his expression neutral, walking steadily toward the command tent.
Then the shouting began.
“Give us back our jobs!”
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“No to forced restructuring!”
“Down with the new CEO!”
"No to salary cuts! Give us proper wages!"
Ace’s steps faltered, his eyes flickering toward the barricade of security personnel holding back a crowd of protestors. Men and women, some with placards and others with nothing but their voices, yelled at the top of their lungs.
“Let me through, you bastard!” a man’s furious cry pierced through the commotion. He was struggling against the guards, his face red with anger.
“Hey! Mr. CEO! Do you even remember us?!” the man roared, his voice trembling with desperation. “Do you still remember me? Or Vince Ivan Gallos?!”
The name rang a bell inside his mind and struck Ace like a blow, and he turned sharply to look at the man. His breath caught as recognition dawned.
“Franz Sebastian Castillo,” Ace muttered under his breath.
Memories of Franz flooded Ace’s mind—the man who had once been his mentor, guiding him during his early days in the guild. Without thinking, Ace raised a hand, signaling his guards to step aside.
“Let him through,” he said, his voice cold but commanding.
Franz stumbled forward, his face a mask of anger and grief. “You son of a bitch,” he spat. “You’ve forgotten all of us, haven’t you? Now that you’re at the top, you think you’re untouchable?”
“If you’re here just to insult me, I don’t have time for this,” Ace replied, his tone clipped and detached. He released an overwhelming Aura at the nearby perimeter and it felt like a pinning pressure at the protesters. The Aura of an A-Rank Hunter can silence and bring fear even towards B-Rank monsters.
The protesters, executives and staffs was then reminded them again of the 40-years old veteran hunter standing before them again. It is none other than the new CEO of the IPT Guild, Hanny Ace Jimuel De Leon.
Franz’s body trembled as he struggled to find the words. “Do you even remember Vince Ivan Gallos? He was your raid partner for five years, Ace. Five goddamn years!”
Ace’s eyes widened, his aura fluctuated for the briefest moment. “Vince…”
“He killed himself last night,” Franz said, his voice breaking. “Because of you. Because of your goddamn protocols. He couldn’t take it anymore—the salary cuts, the endless pressure, the way the guild just threw him away like garbage.”
The words hit Ace like a punch to the gut, leaving him momentarily speechless. His Aura began to destabilize. The noise of the camp seemed to fade, the protestors’ cries muffled against the weight of Franz’s accusation.
“You can at least show up to his funeral,” Franz said bitterly, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “If you still have a shred of decency left in you.”
Ace opened his mouth to respond, but his secretary stepped forward, her tablet in hand. “Sir, if we delay any longer, we’ll risk the raid’s schedule. The gate isn’t stable, and we need to move now.”
“Do I have any plans tonight?” Ace asked, his voice hoarse.
“No, sir,” she replied, glancing at her schedule. "The whole night was expected to be within the raiding period."
“Fine,” Ace said quietly. 'If I can finish the raid early, I can spare some time.'
Franz said nothing more. He simply turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd of protestors.
The raid commenced at precisely 10:00 AM.
Ace led the charge, his A-Rank abilities on full display as he tore through waves of Swamp Golems and Forest Hounds. His every laser magical spell was calculated, precise—an unstoppable force in the chaos of battle. It was like an acid rain, but the ray of lights pierced the bodies of the swarming monsters along their path. Around him, hunters and combat automatons worked in tandem, their coordinated efforts pushing the dungeon’s monsters back into the depths.
But no matter how many enemies he cut down, Ace couldn’t silence the echo of Franz’s words in his mind.
By 8:00 PM, the dungeon was cleared, the final boss slain. The camp buzzed with activity as scavenging teams moved in to extract resources from the dungeon’s remains.
Ace stepped out of the gate, his armor battered and bloodstained. Engineers swarmed him, checking the status of his gear and the combat automatons that had accompanied him.
“The mining team will finish by 6:00 AM, sir,” his secretary informed him. “We need to go back here early and kill the boss before the dungeon regenerates its monsters back again. We’ve booked a nearby hotel for you to rest.”
“No,” Ace said, shaking his head. “I have somewhere else to be.”
“Understood, sir. Shall I inform the driver?”
“I’ll drive myself,” Ace replied curtly.
Without another word, he climbed into a car and sped away from the raid site, the mountain roads dark and empty.
As the car cut through the night, Ace gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. He had spent fifteen years climbing to the top, grinding day and night to reach the summit of the hunter hierarchy. He had thought that reaching S-Rank and becoming the CEO of IPT Guild would bring him fulfillment, that his sacrifices would be worth it.
But as the road stretched endlessly before him, all he could feel was the hollow weight of his success.
In his mind, Vince’s name echoed alongside Franz’s parting words:
“If you still have a shred of decency left in you.”
And for the first time in years, Ace wasn’t sure if he did.