Time skip: A Couple Hours
Cross stepped out of a cab, his foot finally landing on the pavement in front of the New York Branch of the World Ranker Organization.
After hours of frustration trying to figure out this world’s version of GPS, which they called the Global Navigation System (GNS), Cross finally managed to find his way to the W.R.O. headquarters in New York. The streets had been a little different from the ones he remembered from his old world, but the slight alterations weren’t too bad. At least, they weren’t as bad as trying to navigate with a system that seemed to actively hate him. He had spent way too long staring at a screen, watching his location bounce all over the map like some kind of glitch.
On the bright side, his detour had led him to discover the local KFC, which offered a dish that blew his mind: a triple-cheese burger with a sweet and sour sauce they called “Heart Sauce.” It had been so delicious that the first bite had practically made his heart sing. Cross had wolfed it down, basking in the momentary joy that only greasy fast food could bring.
But that had been hours ago. Now, he stood in front of the W.R.O. building, and it was something else entirely.
It looked more like an airport than a regular office building. The scale of it was mind-boggling. There were massive glass panels, sleek steel beams, and the entire structure gleamed under the afternoon sun, as if daring the rest of New York to keep up. The entrance was filled with people, many of whom radiated that unmistakable aura of Rankers—strong, confident, and some of them clearly far more experienced than Cross could hope to be at this stage. But none of that intimidated him.
No, it excited him.
He adjusted his jacket, tugging it tighter around his body as he took a deep breath. The building almost reminded him of Singapore’s famous airport, the way it was sprawling and polished, designed to impress and overwhelm anyone who walked through its doors. Cross wasn’t sure if he was more scared or in awe.
*
Cross stood before the massive glass doors of the W.R.O. building, staring at his reflection in the gold-lined surface. He checked with his Heavenly Eyes—yup, that was real gold. Whoever ran this place wasn’t kidding around. It was grand, intimidating, and probably designed to make any aspiring Ranker feel small.
But Cross wasn’t about to feel small. He took a moment to admire himself in the reflection. His fit was fire. The slightly oversized black-grey sweater paired perfectly with his high-waisted black pants. He’d managed to cop some new BF1s—off-whites, no less—and he finished off the look with a beanie, which he planned on wearing until his hair grew back from the unfortunate buzz cut situation.
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With that extra bit of confidence, Cross was ready to walk into the building and take the first real step on his journey to becoming a Ranker.
“This is it,” he muttered to himself, glancing around. “I guess I’m really doing this.”
That was, until the door opened right in front of him.
Suddenly, he was face-to-face with a woman who could only be described as formidable. She was tall. No, scratch that—she was very tall, easily towering over his 5’10” frame. She looked like she could be about 6’2”, and everything about her screamed dominance. Her golden-red hair, tied back in a neat ponytail, gleamed like fire in the afternoon sun. Her features were sharp, clearly of European origin, and her wolf-like eyes locked onto Cross, practically burning through him with their intensity.
For some reason, he felt an immediate jolt of nerves spike through him. He had only been in this world for a day, but even he knew how expensive her outfit was, especially the long, tailored trench coat she wore. This was someone who had power—and probably a lot of it.
So what did Cross do?
He waved and said, "Hi."
Brilliant. Absolutely genius.
The woman stared down at him, her expression unreadable, and for a painfully awkward few seconds, there was nothing but silence. Cross’s hand was still raised mid-wave, and he could feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on him. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, he slowly lowered his hand, his face flushed with embarrassment.
"Uh, excuse me," he muttered, trying to slip past her to get inside.
But before he could move, he heard a voice, firm and commanding. "Wait."
Before he could react, he felt a sudden tug at the back of his collar. The next thing he knew, his feet were no longer on the ground. He was being lifted effortlessly, his body dangling like a rag doll as the tall woman picked him up with one hand, holding him eye level.
Cross’s heart practically jumped into his throat. Her eyes were the same color as her hair—a brilliant, fiery mix of gold and red that seemed to pierce right through him. She held him there, suspended in the air, and continued to stare at him with an intensity that made Cross feel like he was under a microscope.
The silence dragged on, becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and Cross let out a nervous laugh. “Uh… could you… put me down, maybe?”
Inwardly, however, Cross was completely freaked out. Who is this woman?! She had picked him up like he weighed nothing, and he wasn’t exactly light. He was 70kg, for crying out loud! Her strength—at least in terms of Body—was definitely above Stage One. There was no way a normal person could’ve lifted him like that without effort. This woman was strong. Scary strong.
Cross’s brain scrambled to make sense of what was happening. He was tempted, very tempted, to activate his Heavenly Eyes and get a better sense of exactly how powerful she was, but something held him back. Every instinct screamed that if he did, this woman might not take it well. She might even take him home to experiment on him or something—he’d read enough web novels to know where that could go.
The silence between them dragged on, and Cross awkwardly cleared his throat. “So… uh… nice day we’re having?”