Chase hadn’t solved all his problems, but he was well on his way to dealing with two of them.

He’d been collecting Talent residue under the watchful eyes of the GRA agents for the last week, and things hadn’t calmed down in that time. If anything, the GRA presence had kicked up a notch. It wasn’t completely surprising — he’d always suspected that some of Majesty’s cost-cutting efforts were either unethical or illegal — but this was a terrible time to be hampered by bureaucracy. He was on the cusp of making it big.

His two greatest bottlenecks were his supply of Talent residue and his limited access to money. Strangely enough, the solution to both those problems came in the form he least expected it.

Community service.

An overheard conversation between Hunters clued Chase into the existence of small Gates — teeny, tiny, eensy-weensy ones — that even the most junior guilds weren’t interested in. These were all farmed out to a division of the Embassy called The Sweep Team, who put the Gates on a public register then ran the Dungeons themselves if no one did them the favour of cleaning it up within a couple days. They usually sent a single A-Rank to get the job done.

It was basically just a place that rookie Hunters could go to test their skills and learn how monsters work. After all, a fifteen-metre-tall Echin in one of the supermassive Gates still acted quite similarly to the oversized caterpillars in these Sweep Team Gates, which made them convenient as a training resource.

What these Gates didn’t have was Haulers. Because who would want to do a crappy, dirty job and not get paid a wage for doing it?

Chase would.

It was the best side-hustle he could think of, and if he was lucky (or unlucky, depending who was around), maybe an opportunity to practice with his Luger. Herb was happy to help out for a very reasonable fee of 20 Credits per batch of fifty bullets, and was experimenting with new combinations all the time. He’d discovered that raw mana was the only essential ingredient for making the imbued bullets — additives like Nebula’s gems gave the projectiles additional, powerful effects.

Chase had considered selling the bullets, but he wanted to wait until they could actually produce them on a decent scale so no one else could capture the market. A patent was another option, but selling his and Herb’s creation for a measly royalty was not enticing, and to be frank, he didn’t trust that some big company wouldn’t steal his creation and get away with it.

For now, he was limited, like the seedling of an obnoxious weed waiting for a good time to burst through the soil and throttle the rest of the garden.

He brought his Luger to these ‘Raids’, though he hadn’t used it yet. There were always Hunters there, mostly sixteen and seventeen-year-olds who looked to him for directions even though he was Talentless. In return for their silence about his Hauling operation (they always got a kick out of this, like some secret, shady deal), Chase would fill their backpacks with the monster parts that he couldn’t fit into his own. He was getting quite handy with the set of carving knives he’d purchased. He could slice and dice most monsters into their valuable parts at the same pace that the Hunters cleared the Dungeons.

The operation rolled along quite smoothly until the night of his seventh Raid.

This Dungeon was bigger than most Sweep Team Raids, the kind of thing that even an A-Rank would consider taking some backup into. How it had slipped through the requirement of being teeny and/or tiny, Chase didn’t know. His crew consisted of an A-Rank named Jamie, two B-Ranks, four C-Ranks, a D-Rank, and one person’s brother who’d unfortunately heard about Chase’s shady deal, and now wanted to be a Hauler like him.

So much for buying their silence.

Nonetheless, it should’ve been more than enough, except for the fact that most of them were complete newbies to the Hunter profession. Chase probably had more kills than any of them.

Before they went in, Chase approached the A-Rank, where he was leaning on a fence waiting for orders.

“Jamie? I’m Chase, nice to meet you.” They shook hands. The clamminess of Jamie’s skin gave him a good idea of how nervous the newbie A-Rank was.

“Good to meetcha.”

“I just thought I’d get a feel for everyone’s experience — have you done many Raids before?” Chase asked.

“Not many.”

“More than five?”

Jamie fidgeted and rapped his knuckles on the wire fence. “Less.”

“More than three?” At this point, there was a good chance the Dungeon would be completely new territory for the young A-Rank, but Chase wanted to understand his general capability.

“Just one,” Jamie admitted.

“Okay, okay. That’s fine. Just…take it easy, and if you don’t feel in control, just yell out. The Embassy can clean this one up.”

Jamie nodded. Chase wasn’t sure if his pale skin was an effect of the moonlight, or queasiness. When the Hunter disappeared for a few minutes and came back wiping his chin, he knew.

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He gave his troops the usual rundown and reiterated what he’d told Jamie. If anyone was uncomfortable in there, they could turn around and head home, no questions asked and no hard feelings. His band of nine bobbed their heads and shuffled their feet, silent while he spoke.

A Hauler giving directions to Hunters, and actually being listened to? Am I dreaming?

It would only be a few years before most of these guys and girls did a complete flip and started treating Haulers such as Chase like dirt, but for the time being he would take their reverence in stride. It was a refreshing change of scenery.

They entered the Dungeon. Chase stayed behind, as generals do, assessing the scene. The Dungeon had relatively advanced infrastructure, being brightly lit by braziers — an uncommon but welcomed adornment — and wide enough to fit a two-lane road with a gap for cyclists on each side. The first room had a neat path made of dark stone; patches of hematite dotted throughout. Thick oak logs rested against the walls like seats in a waiting area. Their roots had been sawn off or torn.

Jamie dropped back to meet Chase. “Is that normal? Maybe someone’s already been here. Done our job for us.”

Chase peered into the next room. Two Noctants were standing by the cavern entrance like sentries, and a Marshguts loafed in a shallow puddle. “There’s still monsters, so we’re the first ones here. It’s unusual, but nothing to be worried about. I’ve seen stuff like this before.”

Jamie looked uneasy but returned to his post. In truth, some of this was well and truly out of the ordinary, though not enough to worry Chase. After all, the size of the Gate doesn’t lie.

A small Gate is a safe Gate. Not that this one was particularly small, but still.

His troops advanced through the dungeon, making short work of the first rooms. One of the C-Ranks had a couple cuts where he tripped on his own magical whip, but that was the extent of their injuries. Chase’s Hauler apprentice watched eagerly as he diced up Noctants and dug through the insides of Marshguts for their valuable hearts. He’d give one to Jamie for carrying them through the fights. The kid was a natural. Far more impressive than his nervous demeanour suggested.

They reached the boss room in record time, barely a drop of sweat between them. Before the frontrunners could sprint in, he yelled out at his crew to stop. He’d been suspicious of something for a while and wanted to get the fighters’ opinions.

“Does anyone agree that this Dungeon has been easier than other, smaller ones we’ve run?”

There were nods from some of the familiar faces.

“It’s been a walk in the park compared to my first Raid,” Jamie called. “And that one was, oh, half the size?”

Chase bit his lip and looked into the boss room. “Here’s the thing. Gates don’t lie. The boss fight and the rest of the dungeon operates like a seesaw. If the route to the boss is difficult, the boss fight shouldn’t be much harder. But if the route is extremely easy, like this one…”

“The boss could be mental,” Jamie finished.

“Correct.”

Murmurs bubbled up straight away, theories being formed and dispersed, schemes being hatched.

“It’s up to you guys if we continue or not,” Chase said. “I think we’ve done quite well so far, but I’ll admit this is outside my area of expertise. If anyone does not wish to do the boss fight, please step out. We’ll decide if there’s enough of us after we get our final numbers.”

One of the B-Ranks shifted their weight to one foot as if they were going to tap out, then paused. No one else was moving.

“Are you alright?” Chase asked. “There’s no pressure if you don’t want to—"

“I’m fine,” the B-Rank shot back. “Just gotta take a shit.”

Chase waited a while longer in case anyone wished to leave. He knew that if Jamie or both the B-Ranks caved, it was all over. Thinking about it like that — their success hinging on one seventeen-year-old kid doing his second Raid — gave him a tremor of doubt. There would be no shame in backing out, and his backpack was basically full…

“Come on you lot! Stop being pussies!”

Chase sprang from his thoughts to see one of the C-Ranks already standing in the boss room. The fool was spouting more nonsense when the thick stone doors between him and the rest of the group started to rumble. They began closing, some unseen force eager to lock the C-Rank in with the boss.

“Hey, what?” The smug look fell from the kid’s face, his next witty joke forgotten. “Guys?”

“In!” Chase ordered. “All of you! Get in the boss room NOW!”

The young Hunters stood still, undecided. The B-Rank who seemed unsure of the whole thing stepped away, something in the urgency of Chase’s voice frightening him. Others gravitated toward him, sensing that this was no longer a game or some mildly dangerous walk in the park. There was a real threat in there, a boss that might be more powerful than anything they’d ever battled.

Chase bolted through the pack, reaching the doors just before they swung shut. The C-Rank looked relieved that someone was joining him, then dismay crossed his face as he realised it was only Chase. The Hauler. The only person who couldn’t help him.

The doors were closed. They were alone.

Chase beat against the stone slabs for a brief moment, bashing his knuckles and trying to prize the doors open. He knew it was futile — it wasn’t electricity or steam-power or some feat of engineering that closed the doors on them. It was magic. And magic was what sealed them in.

“I’m sorry,” the C-Rank whispered. “I thought that…I’m so, so sorry.”

“Forget it,” Chase said. “We’re here. We’re fighting the boss. Stop crying and help me deal with it. What’s your name?”

“David.”

“Okay. David, what does your Talent do?”

The kid whimpered. Chase couldn’t believe there was only a year or two between them. “I can hold things down. I did it with the Marshguts, remember?”

Chase’s mind went into overtime. He did recall something like that. He’d seen David holding out his palms and squinting until his eyes were just tiny slits. Apparently, that was the face he made when he was using some kind of invisible energy to restrain monsters.

“Is that all?” The question came out wrong, sounding like he was accusing rather than asking.

“Hey, man, fuck off!” The Hunter swiped at his eyes, erasing the tears that had formed. “You’re a fucking Hauler. What can you do, huh?”

Jeepers, Chase thought. And so begins the Hauler-hate.

Before he had the chance to respond, there was a sound like balloons popping. He looked around the boss-room, taking in the scenery for the first time. The floor and walls were dusty — the entire space filled with varying shades of brown — and there was a line of what looked like park benches stretching down the length of the chamber to a set of granite steps at the end. Tall candelabras interspersed the room every ten or so metres, their white candles unlit and only barely visible through the oppressive beige hue.

At the end of the hall sat the source of the popping sound. A bloated humanoid monster heaved itself from its throne atop the granite steps, its sticky skin peeling off the stone and creating the pop pop-pop pop. The ground beneath it was wet, as though it had been sweating nonstop while it sat there.

“What the hell is that?” David asked.

“It’s exactly what it looks like. That’s the boss.”