The Underground

The Hunter's guild provided aparments that could be rented using credits that hunters obtained from missions. Raziel went to his rented room and changed into a pair of fresh clothes before returning to the Hunter Bar to meet up with Dante. 

Dante tapped his fingers against his glass, eyeing Raziel with amusement. "This isn't your usual hunt, rookie. The underground circuit isn't just about killing monsters for sport. Some of these hunts... let's just say they attract the wrong kind of people."

Raziel didn't flinch. "And?"

Dante smirked. "And if you want in, you need more than just skill. You need people who won't stab you in the back." He leaned back, gesturing toward the bar. "Which is why you're gonna need a team."

Raziel frowned. "I don't work in teams."

"Yeah, yeah, lone wolf and all that," Dante waved him off. "But the people running these hunts don't trust outsiders. Show up alone, and they'll think you're a rat or some idiot looking to die. You need backup."

Selene, who had been listening from a nearby table, leaned over with a smirk. "And let me guess—you already have candidates in mind?"

Dante grinned. "Selene, Garrick, I heard you already met Raziel, your new friend."

Garrick exhaled through his nose, folding his arms. "He doesn't need us to babysit him."

Raziel met his gaze. "That's correct."

Selene chuckled. "You do have a habit of getting into interesting situations. And this one sounds fun."

Garrick sighed. "Tch. You're lucky I hate being bored."

Dante clapped his hands together. "Perfect! Now that we're all friends, let's get moving. The underground waits for no one."

...

The neon lights of the Hunter Guild flickered behind them as Raziel followed Dante through the dimly lit streets. Selene and Garrick flanked them, their expressions unreadable as they moved deeper into the city's underbelly. The towering buildings of the upper districts faded into rusted scaffolding and cracked pavement, the scent of damp concrete and burning fuel thick in the air.

Raziel wasn't sure what to expect. Dante had been cryptic—just enough information to keep him interested but not enough to show his hand. But he wasn't blind. There was something more to this hunt than an off-the-books monster hunt.

A set of metal doors stood before them, wedged between a pair of abandoned warehouses. Dante knocked twice, paused, then knocked three more times in quick succession. A small slot slid open. Pale eyes flickered behind it, scanning the group before the door groaned open.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke and sweat. The underground hall was packed with people—hunters, mercenaries, and those who had no business being anywhere near a battlefield. A makeshift arena had been constructed in the center, a pit lined with reinforced steel. Bloodstains marked the edges.

A fight had just ended. A massive beast, its body twisted with corruption, lay lifeless in the pit. A hunter stood victorious, chest rising and falling with exertion, as the crowd roared.

"Welcome to the real hunt," Dante murmured.

Raziel's gaze swept the room, taking in every detail. This wasn't just an illegal hunting ground. This was something else. The air felt wrong—thicker, heavier. The kind of weight that came when something unnatural lingered just out of sight.

Selene leaned in. "Feels off, doesn't it?"

Raziel nodded.

Garrick exhaled. "It's not just the fights. There are rumors about this place. Hunters go missing, only to turn up… changed. If they turn up at all."

Dante smirked. "That's the fun of it, isn't it?" He motioned for them to follow. "Come on. We're meeting someone who can get us into the real action."

They moved through the crowd, past gambling tables and traders offering illicit weapons and enhancements. Then Raziel saw it—symbols carved into the stone walls, barely noticeable under the grime. He recognized them. Not from this life, but from the remnants of his executioner's knowledge.

This wasn't just an underground fight club.

This was a hunting ground for something far worse.

A god-worshipping cult.

And they were already inside

...

As they moved deeper into the underground hall, Raziel kept his gaze sharp. The symbols on the walls weren't just random markings—they pulsed faintly, as if something was watching through them. He traced their shape in his mind. They weren't ordinary sigils. They were prayers, written in an ancient language only known to those who once served the divine.

A slow, sinking realization settled in his gut.

This cult wasn't just worshipping a god. They were feeding something.

Dante came to a stop near a rusted staircase leading to an upper platform. A figure stood there, shrouded in shadows, his presence radiating an unnatural stillness. Unlike the rowdy hunters and gamblers, he didn't move. He didn't breathe. He simply existed, waiting.

"That's our contact," Dante murmured.

The figure stepped forward, revealing a face that was almost human—almost. His eyes were too hollow, his skin too stretched. And when he smiled, it was wrong.

"Welcome," the man rasped, his voice layered, as if more than one thing spoke through him. "The Hunt welcomes those eager to serve."

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through Raziel's skull. He staggered back, clutching his temple as a phantom whisper curled through his mind.

"We remember you, Executioner."

His blood ran cold.

This wasn't just any cult.

They knew who he was—meaning he had to get rid of them.

[Quest: Defeat the God Worshipping Cult]

[Reward: 5,000 EP, Bloodforged Gauntlets (Uncommon Relic) – Increases unarmed attack damage by 10%. Grants minor lifesteal on hit.]