Free Web NovelChapter 32: _Not Here for the Gala
’That doesn’t make any sense,’ Ambrose’s thoughts spun as he paused, scanning his gaze throughout the hall. Especially that pillar. ’He was right there.’
The cheers in the hall increased as more Hunters from the dungeon raid ascended the steps. Ambrose got so distracted with finding that mysterious man that he didn’t know someone was trying to walk past him until it was too late.
"Whoa." He stumbled back as the person brushed past his shoulder like he was non-existent. "Hey, what gives—?"
His words died in his throat when his eyes met the cold dark eyes of a Guide who loathed him.
Yep.
Guide Han.
The Guide didn’t say anything. Just scoured him like trash from head to toes before he continued moving toward the stage. It was at this point that Ambrose realised he was the only one standing still instead of heading there.
Meanwhile, Devon’s brows furrowed when the link tugged with some pressure. He’d just gotten to the first step of the stairs leading to the stage when he halted.
Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Ambrose walking slowly. Almost hesitantly. Like he was waiting for something.
Or someone.
That made him wear a smile for the people staring at him expectantly before he rushed to Ambrose’s side. "What are you doing?" He whispered.
The latter blinked, seeming a bit startled. "Hmm?"
"People are watching and the MC is waiting for us on stage." Devon grabbed his hand, much to Ambrose’s surprise. "Come on."
Any unease left in his system because of that mysterious man faded into the wind, under the warmth of Devon’s touch.
"There they all are," the MC appeared clueless about what was happening as the pair joined the line of other Hunters behind her. "Heroes of Aurelia City and indeed the entire United States Hunters Federation."
Ambrose’s cheeks reddened as Devon’s fingers slipped from his.
That sounded a little like an overstatement.
[An S-Rank dungeon could quickly become a national-level disaster if it’s not cleared before a dungeon break.]
[The praise is most worthy, hon.]
As comforting as Aura’s words were, Ambrose couldn’t stop himself from occasionally sweeping his eyes past the sea of heads and clapping hands.
Somewhere in this hall was a man who stirred a reaction from his Death sense somehow. Even if it was for a few fleeting seconds, Ambrose knew what he felt.
And he’ll be on the lookout for him again.
"Each of you," the MC’s voice resounded as she pivoted to gesture at them, "performed marvellously. Clearing an S-Rank dungeon in record time. From Alisha Simmons of the Phoenix Flight Guild..."
The hall shook with applause as Alisha stepped forward a bit with a wave.
"... To Bruce Davison. Viktor Morozov of the Glacier Talon..."
More and more names were called, each one garnering cheers from the audience. When his name was called, murmurs spread through the crowd, but they quickly died down as the MC reached the end of the list.
"And now, Devon Ferguson of the Phoenix Flight Guild, the brave captain of the mission, will come forward to give a little speech." She backed away from the podium, signalling Devon to move.
The Esper hesitated as the audience roared with applause. He’d been told about the speech he was meant to give yesterday. He’d even prepared one and practised it over and over again.
However, speaking it out before an audience composed of some of the most powerful people in the country was a whole other thing.
Eventually, his lips stretched into a practised smile as he whispered discretely into Ambrose’s ear. "Don’t miss me."
Ambrose rolled his eyes at the teasing in the middle of a stage where thousands of people were watching—both here and on live TV around the country.
When Devon stepped forward, clearing his throat on the mic, Ambrose’s expression shifted back into a serious one. ’Alright. How do we find that guy, Aura?’
[You are one relentless soul.]
[My readings suggest his energy signature is still somewhere within the hall. Although I can’t pinpoint where exactly.]
That made Ambrose’s jaw drop.
He’d subconsciously been led to believe that the system was nigh omnipotent when it came to reading people.
[As for his rank, I’m uncertain of that as well. He’s intentionally hiding his aether energy reserves. I’ll need a closer look to gauge his stats.]
’Can you make a guess at least?’
[I don’t make ’guesses’. I make estimates.]
While this conversation was going on in Ambrose’s mental space, little did he know that another Esper was watching him from the corner of his eye.
Viktor.
He stood right beside Ambrose on the stage, his icy aura surprisingly unnoticeable to the Guide.
’They couldn’t even hide their closeness on a national stage.’ He thought with contempt as his head swerved to Devon giving his speech.
Under the same breath, Ambrose was on the brink of pulling out his hair. ’Okay, fine you sadistic AI. Give me an estimate of his Rank at least. And we’re talking about an Esper, right?’
[Affirmative. If I were to make an estimate... he should be at least S-Rank.]
Ambrose’s eyes widened.
AT LEAST?
Wasn’t that supposed to mean this person might be more powerful? Perhaps an SS-Rank existence or worse?
—Wait a minute.
’That aura I felt from him.’ he pondered. ’It’s familiar. Sometime after we came back from the dungeon raid...’
His brows knitted into a deeper frown but before he could think any longer, a cold hand brushed past his. He stiffened, eyes falling to the hand.
And then trailing to its owner.
"First you ignore my texts," Viktor muttered, eyes still focused on the crowd. "Then we come to the same event. The same stage. And you completely ignore my existence."
Ambrose blinked repeatedly, mouth opening and closing once or twice. He genuinely had no clue Viktor was right there all this time.
"I... Viktor, it’s not like that—"
"If I didn’t know any better," the S-Rank’s head spun, icy blue eyes glinting with a sly light. "I would’ve suggested you’re trying hard to avoid me. Which is weird considering YOU asked for my number."
Shit.
He knew that system missions would be back to bite him in the ass one way or the other.
"V–Viktor," Ambrose swallowed, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. "I’m not avoiding you. Things have just been really complicated right now and—"
He didn’t finish. He couldn’t.
Because across the hall came that eerie feeling again. All sounds, from Devon’s heartfelt speech to his own breathing... died. Time appeared to slow to a snail’s pace.
And then the chills. Like lightning tearing through his spine.
Death Sense.
Following nothing but pure instinct, his head swung to the side. Gaze narrowed on the bar section of the hall.
There he was.
Leaning casually against the counter, with his black hair falling down his shoulders. A small knowing smirk on his face. Eyes glowing blood red.
Whether it was due to mesmerisation or fear, Ambrose couldn’t tear his gaze from the man.
Then—
A woman walked past him, blocking his vision of him and cutting the trance like scissors through thread. And just like that, the man was gone.
Again.
"Hello?" Viktor arched his brow. "What’s gotten your attention now, stubborn bird?"
Ambrose couldn’t care less about the odd name the Esper gave him. Nor was he moved in any way when the crowd stood up and cheered at the end of Devon’s speech.
He was sure of something now.
Whomever that man was, he wasn’t here for the gala.
He was here for him.
