Stepping through the portal felt like gravity had been turned off. A wave of weightlessness washed over them, and just like that, Lucas was back on Earth.


A harsh, blinding glare forced Lucas to squint, shielding his eyes against the sudden brightness.


As his vision cleared, he realized they were completely surrounded. A swat team of soldiers stood in a tight formation, their guns leveled and ready.


"Wolfe!" one of the soldiers shouted, his voice cracking with excitement as he recognized the figure beside Lucas.


"It's over. The Xenobeast is down," Wolfe announced, flashing a tired, lopsided grin.


A collective sigh of relief rippled through the squad. A Xenobeast that powerful running loose in the city? That would have been a straight-up apocalypse for the civilians.


Several soldiers shifted their gaze toward Lucas, who was hovering awkwardly in the back. Their eyes narrowed with skepticism. Was this kid the reinforcement Wolfe called in?


He looked way too young to be hunting monsters.


The shock in their eyes was unmistakable. Being stared down by a platoon of armed soldiers gave Lucas a serious case of the jitters—he wasn't exactly used to being the center of attention in a combat zone.


But then, ping!


A notification from The System popped up in his mind. Lucas's eyes snapped open.


Credits. So many Credits!


There were at least a hundred soldiers here, and every single one of them seemed stunned by his presence. Between this crowd and the news of him beating Zack Jagger starting to go viral, his Credit counter was going haywire. It had already shot past eight thousand.


He was about to break nine thousand!


"Get a team to haul the Tier 3 Xenobeast carcass back to base," Wolfe ordered. He heaved the massive black body bag containing the Crimson-Eyed Direwolf off his shoulder and dropped it onto the pavement with a heavy thud.


Lucas rolled his shoulders, feeling instantly lighter. Even though Wolfe had been doing the heavy lifting, that monster was dense as a tank.


A transport truck rolled up, and a squad of soldiers rushed over to hoist the bag onto the flatbed. Lucas watched the black bag with a sudden spike of greed. He'd read on the forums that Xenobeast steaks were high-protein and crunchy—supposedly delicious. Plus, the hide made great armor and the bones could be refined into weapons.


That bag was basically a pile of cash.


"Lucas, ride with me back to Headquarters," Wolfe said, interrupting his daydream.


......


"He's an Apprentice Warrior? Seriously?"


Back at the government Headquarters, Wolfe had cleaned up the blood and patched his wounds with gauze. In the office, a staff member—Old Tom—was staring at Lucas with bulging eyes. Lucas, who was currently peeking around the room like a curious tourist, looked about sixteen. Maybe seventeen on a bad day.


"That's right," Wolfe said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "If it wasn't for this kid, I probably wouldn't have made it back." He smiled. "Thanks for handling this, Old Tom."


Tom shook his head, still looking stunned.


"Lucas, go with Tom. I've got some paperwork to file, but I'll be right back," Wolfe said.


"Oh... okay."


Lucas glanced at the man Wolfe called Old Tom. The guy only looked about thirty, but his temples were already streaked with gray hair. Stressful job, apparently.


As Wolfe walked away, Lucas hesitated for a split second before following the clerk.


"Lucas, right? This way," Tom said, eyeing him up and down as he grabbed a stack of files.


Lucas felt a bit weird about the scrutiny but followed him into a large back room filled with high-tech measuring equipment.


"Let's get your height and weight first," Tom instructed.


Lucas realized what was happening. They were logging his stats into the government's System.


In no time, his biometrics and Origin Points were recorded.


"How far along is your skin and flesh Tempering?" Tom asked, typing furiously on a computer terminal.


Lucas answered, and Tom nodded.


"Martial Warriors possess immense strength," Tom explained, his tone shifting to official protocol. "Even as an Apprentice Warrior, a normal human doesn't stand a chance against you. For public safety, every Martial Warrior at the Apprentice level or higher has to be registered in the bureau's database."


Lucas wasn't surprised. It made sense. You couldn't just have super-powered teenagers running around unregistered.


"Technically," Tom continued, stamping a seal onto a small booklet with a satisfying thump, "you can't get a full license until your skin and flesh Tempering is 100% complete. But, considering you saved the day out there, we're fast-tracking your Warrior's License."


He closed the booklet and handed it to Lucas.


"Keep this safe. Your Tier 1 Warrior certificate."


A Martial Warrior... certificate?!


Lucas took the Warrior's License from Tom, his eyes widening as he stared at the official document. This was it. He was official.


The Warrior's License was about the size of a standard student ID, though the cover had the texture and color of an official passport. Three heavy, gold-embossed words stamped across the front made it clear this was no library card: Warrior's License.


Lucas flipped it open. Inside was his photo against a sharp blue background, accompanied by his birth date and vital stats. But the line of text underneath that really grabbed the eye was bold and unmistakable:


Tier 1 Warrior.


"The license gets you free public transportation. No lines, no tickets," Thomas explained, his tone serious. "You get access to specific social benefits, too. But remember, the perks come with obligations."


Thomas met Lucas's gaze, his expression solemn. "You'll understand the fine print once you log into 'The Warrior's Guild.'"


Lucas knew about the Guild. It was the official, government-backed network for martial artists. Rumor had it you could find information there that didn't exist on the regular web, pick up high-paying bounties, and even buy black-market gear. But it was a gated community—members only.


"Your username is your ID number," Thomas continued, seeming to read Lucas's mind. "The temporary password is printed on the license. Change it as soon as you log in."


"Got it. Thanks," Lucas said, nodding. He stared at the booklet in his hand, a surge of adrenaline spiking his pulse.


Tonight, it was official. He had actually crossed the threshold. He was a real Martial Warrior.