Professional Assessment

The warehouse smelled of metal polish and coffee when Alex arrived at 10 AM sharp. David Kim stood before a wall of monitors, footage from yesterday's dungeon run playing in slow motion. The older Korean-American man's weathered face showed a mix of impression and concern as he rewound the same sequence for the third time.

"You see this moment?" Kim pointed at the screen where Alex dodged the Rat King's claw swipe. "Seventeen different ways you could have died right there."

Alex winced, watching his past self stumble backward. On screen, his Lightning Slash looked clumsy compared to Marcus's fluid technique. "But I didn't die."

"Luck." Kim's finger traced Alex's erratic movement pattern. "Pure, dumb luck. And that Lightning-Ice combination at the end? Impressive power, terrible execution. You're burning through energy like a broken faucet."

The warehouse's main floor buzzed with activity. Twenty-three freelancers formed the Brooklyn Network, and half of them had shown up for Alex's debrief. Some tinkered with equipment at workbenches, others sparred in the padded training area, but Alex caught them stealing glances at the monitors.

"Numbers don't lie," Kim continued, pulling up biometric data. "Heart rate spiked to 180 BPM during the boss fight. Energy depletion hit 88% in under four minutes. Your sister's medical assessment was generous—you were running on fumes and adrenaline."

A woman with intricate tattoos covering her arms approached. Maya had introduced her yesterday as Lisa Chen—no relation, despite the surname—a C-rank support specialist who'd been freelancing for three years.

"That boss shouldn't have been there," Lisa said, studying the footage. "E-rank dungeons don't spawn D-rank bosses. System classification error, or something's changing."

Kim nodded grimly. "Fifth anomaly this month. Tunnel systems under Queens, abandoned subway sections in the Bronx, even a pocket dimension that opened in Central Park last week. The dungeon ecosystem is destabilizing."

"What does that mean for us?" asked a lean man with cybernetic implants replacing his left eye. Alex remembered him as Jake Torres—former military, specialized in electronic warfare.

"Means the game's changing," Kim replied. "Guild contracts assume stable classifications. We work the margins, the forgotten places, the jobs too small for big organizations. But if E-rank becomes D-rank overnight..."

"We're dead," Jake finished. "Equipment rated for E-rank monsters won't stop D-rank claws."

Alex felt the weight of twenty-three pairs of eyes evaluating him. Yesterday's solo kill had earned him entry into this community, but survival required more than one lucky victory.

"Which brings us to the elephant in the room," Kim said, switching the monitors to show equipment catalogs. "Alex, your gear is garbage. Military surplus camera equipment, basic shield generator, no armor beyond a Kevlar vest. You killed a D-rank boss with E-rank tools."

"I had technique mastery—"

"You had 25% mastery on one technique and barely 18% on another," Kim interrupted. "Real awakeners spend months reaching that level. You're either lying about your background, or something very unusual is happening with your development."

The warehouse fell silent except for the hum of fluorescent lights. Alex felt the familiar weight of secrets pressing down on him. Combat Data Archive remained his closely guarded advantage, but these people deserved some explanation.

"I learn fast," Alex said carefully. "Always have. Visual memory, pattern recognition. When I watch someone execute a technique perfectly, I can... understand it faster than normal."

Maya stepped forward from the crowd. "That's not normal fast learning, Alex. That's analysis-type awakener ability. Rare as hell, valuable as diamonds."

"Analysis-type?" Alex's pulse quickened.

"Awakeners who can break down and optimize combat techniques," Kim explained. "Most guilds have one, maybe two if they're lucky. They're worth their weight in awakener crystals because they can improve entire teams' effectiveness."

Lisa whistled low. "And you're doing it instinctively? Without formal training?"

Alex nodded, feeling increasingly exposed. The attention was flattering but dangerous. If these freelancers understood his true capabilities...

"Explains the efficiency problem," Jake muttered. "Analysis-types usually spend years studying energy flow optimization. You're raw-dogging advanced techniques with zero foundation."

Kim crossed his arms. "Which brings us to the choice, Alex. You've proven you can kill above your weight class, but yesterday nearly killed you. Can't repeat that performance without proper preparation."

The older man gestured toward two different equipment layouts on nearby tables. One featured standard E-rank gear—lightweight armor, basic weapons, standard shield generators. The other showcased military-grade equipment that made Alex's heart race with possibility.

"Option One: Safe assignments. E-rank dungeons with known parameters, backup teams, regulated environments. Guaranteed survival, steady income, slow growth. Perfect for someone who wants to stay alive and comfortable."

Alex examined the basic gear. Reliable, proven, completely insufficient for his ambitions.

"Option Two: Investigation contracts. Dungeon anomaly assessments, classification verification, emergency response backup. High risk, high reward, accelerated growth through necessity."

The advanced equipment gleamed under warehouse lights. Combat armor rated for C-rank threats, energy weapons designed for awakener use, shield generators that could withstand direct boss-level attacks.

"Option Two gear comes with strings attached," Kim warned. "Network investment, profit sharing, mandatory training protocols. We're betting on your potential, but you're betting your life on our support system."

Alex studied the faces around him. These freelancers had chosen independence over guild security, gambling on their skills against an unforgiving world. Some showed encouragement, others skepticism, but all displayed the hard-earned confidence of survivors.

"What kind of training protocols?" Alex asked.

Lisa grinned. "The kind that keeps analysis-types alive long enough to reach their potential. Energy management, defensive casting, team coordination basics you clearly never learned."

"Plus physical conditioning," added Jake. "Your body can't handle the techniques you're copying. Need to build the foundation to support the superstructure."

Maya nodded agreement. "I've seen promising awakeners burn out their nervous systems attempting techniques beyond their physical capacity. Power without preparation is just elaborate suicide."

Kim pulled up a holographic display showing the Northeast megalopolis. Red dots marked dungeon anomalies across the region—far more than Alex had realized.

"Here's what we're facing," Kim said. "Standard classifications failing, monster power scaling unpredictably, established patterns breaking down. Guilds are scrambling to adapt, government's forming task forces, and freelancers like us are caught in the middle."

"But we're also positioned to take advantage," Lisa added. "We're mobile, flexible, willing to take risks the big organizations won't. Investigation contracts pay triple standard rates because they're desperate for reliable intelligence."

Alex's mind raced through possibilities. The safe path offered survival but trapped him in mediocrity. The investigation path promised rapid growth but demanded everything he had—and more than he currently possessed.

"How long for the training protocols?" he asked.

"Depends on your baseline," Jake replied. "Physical conditioning takes months, but analysis-types often show accelerated development once they understand the theory behind what they're doing."

"Could be looking at B-rank effective capability within six months," Kim added. "Assuming you survive the learning curve."

Alex thought about yesterday's near-death experience, the feeling of techniques slipping beyond his control, the terror of realizing his body couldn't support his ambitions. Then he remembered the exhilaration of defeating the Rat King, the system's approving messages, the sense that he was finally becoming something more than ordinary.

"What's the first assignment?" Alex asked.

Kim smiled—the expression of a mentor recognizing a student's hunger for growth. "Queens underground network, Section 7. Three E-rank dungeons showed D-rank spawns this week. We need someone to go in, document the anomalies, and figure out what's causing the classification failures."

"Solo?"

"Hell no," Maya laughed. "Investigation means backup, support, proper safety protocols. You're valuable enough to keep alive now."

Alex looked around the warehouse one more time. These people offered him something the guilds never had—respect earned through proven capability rather than demanded through hierarchy. They wanted him to succeed because his success strengthened their entire community.

"I'll take Option Two," Alex decided. "When do we start?"

Kim's grin widened. "Equipment fitting starts now. Training begins tomorrow. First mission deploys Friday."

As the freelancers moved to surround Alex with measurements and gear assessments, he felt Combat Data Archive pulse with what almost seemed like approval. The system had remained quiet during the entire discussion, but now subtle interface elements flickered at the edge of his vision.

Analysis Mode: Enhanced Training Protocols: Compatible Growth Potential: Accelerated

Perhaps, Alex thought as Maya began explaining energy flow optimization theory, he was finally ready to stop surviving and start thriving.