As the next day arrived, Halstein summoned SteelArm and Dante to his office. Nearly ten minutes later, they entered with weary expressions.
"Yes, sir?" Dante asked, stifling a yawn from the exhaustion of combing the streets the previous day.
SteelArm remained silent, his gaze shifting between Halstein and Dante.
"I called you both in because we have reports of another gate that needs clearing," Halstein began, his tone measured. "Remember gate HJ-R4? It's a similar situation... it's ranked A+ this time. However, given how the last dungeon exceeded its predicted difficulty, I don't want to take any chances. To ensure safety, I'm assigning two additional hunters to your team. One is an A-rank hunter who just advanced from B-rank—his class is [Lightning Master]. The other is a A-rank support mage with the class [Buffer Mage]." He paused, shaking his head. "I swear, I wish I could rename these classes instead of the system deciding for us… Anyway, the gate is in Nevada. Are you two up for it?"
Dante hesitated before glancing at Halstein. "Isn't our break supposed to last another day?"
Halstein smiled. "That's why I'm asking, not ordering."
Without hesitation, SteelArm pulled a bag from his back, already packed with his gear. "I was planning to check in today to see if there were any gates available. This works out perfectly—I'm in."
Dante exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine. I'll go."
Halstein smiled as he handed SteelArm a slip of paper with the gate's coordinates. "The raid starts at noon, so get moving."
Both men nodded and left the office, taking their time descending the stairs—it was only 4:00 a.m., after all.
As they stepped outside, Dante stretched and let out a tired sigh. "Any idea how long the flight is?"
SteelArm pulled out his phone and did a quick search. "About four hours. We should head to the private airstrip now to make sure we're there in time."
"Sounds like a plan."
They made their way to the guild parking lot, climbing into Dante's truck. The engine rumbled to life, and Dante glanced over. "I'll let you pick the music this time."
SteelArm smirked, scrolling through the radio stations before settling on one with a steady beat. As the truck rolled onto the highway, the silence between them grew heavier—both of their minds lingering on the same thought.
SteelArm finally broke it. "Do you think… anything will happen to Stiles?"
Dante exhaled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "Hard to say. He nearly killed two guild members, but he also wiped out most of those cult bastards. Could go either way."
He rolled his window down, letting the crisp morning air rush in. SteelArm did the same, resting his arm against the door as the hum of the radio filled the space between them.
After a moment, Dante continued. "Honestly? It's just about politics now. The guild's higher-ups will have the final say. Either they'll cut him loose, or they'll sweep it under the rug like nothing happened since he did them a favor."
SteelArm nodded, lost in thought. "Yeah… I just hope he doesn't get screwed over."
The truck sped down the empty road, the city lights behind them dimming as they headed toward the airstrip.
After a forty-minute drive, Dante and SteelArm arrived at a private plane business, deciding it was their best option to reach Elko, Nevada, in time for the raid. The early morning air was cool, the dark sky just beginning to lighten with hints of dawn. The lot was quiet, save for the distant hum of engines and the occasional headlights of other vehicles passing by behind them on the highway.
As they pulled up to the security gate, Dante leaned his arm against the door as a uniformed guard approached. "We're flying to Elko, Nevada, for the newly opened gate," he said, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion from the early morning drive.
The security guard studied them for a moment before nodding and reaching into a small booth beside him. He pulled out a few sheets of paper, handing them over to Dante. "Take these to the guy in all white with a blue tie. You'll find him standing in front of plane 9812 in the back corner of the runway," he instructed, his tone flat and professional. "Park your truck in the lot just ahead, then walk over."
Dante took the papers, giving the guard a small nod of thanks. Without another word, the man pressed a button on the booth's control panel, and with a low mechanical groan, the heavy metal gates slid open.
The runway beyond was a stretch of concrete, dotted with parked aircraft, service vehicles, and a few workers moving cargo under the glow of floodlights.
SteelArm stretched in his seat, letting out a low breath. "Guess that's our cue. Let's get moving."
Dante shifted the truck into drive and slowly pulled forward through the gates, scanning the area ahead. "Yeah. Let's just hope this plane's decent. Last thing I want is turbulence waking me up mid-flight."
SteelArm smirked. "Pretty sure you'd sleep through a crash."
Dante sighed as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." He pulled into a parking spot, rolling up the truck's windows before shutting off the engine. Stepping out, he locked the doors with a quick press of his key fob, the truck beeping in response.
SteelArm adjusted his bag and stretched. "Well, here we go." He took the lead, spotting the plane tucked in the farthest corner of the runway. The dull metal body of aircraft 9812 looked old, its exterior showing signs of wear—faded paint, a few scratches along the side, and what he swore was a dent near one of the windows.
Dante followed beside him, glancing around. "I was hoping for something a little newer," he muttered.
SteelArm snorted. "What, you scared of a little turbulence?"
"Nah, but I don't wanna die because some rusty bucket decides to fall apart mid-air."
As they neared the plane, they spotted the man waiting for them—a hunched figure with a cane, dressed in a white suit with a blue tie. His silver hair was neatly combed back, but his wrinkled features and slow movements made one thing clear—he was old. Very old.
SteelArm hesitated for a second before stepping forward. "Uh… we were told to give you these." He handed over the papers, his eyes briefly flicking to the cane the man was leaning on.
The old man took the documents with a slow, deliberate motion, glancing over them for barely a second before he tore them in half.
Dante's eyes widened. "Wait, what the hell—"
"Alright, get in," the old man interrupted, his voice gruff yet filled with an unsettling energy.
Before either of them could question him, the cane in his hand shimmered—transforming in an instant into a large battle-worn axe. Pulsating blue mana leaked from the blade, crackling as it surged toward the plane, causing the door to hiss and unlock on its own. The moment the door opened, the old man smirked as his axe shifted back into a cane.
"Don't just stand there, boys. Get in!" he barked, waving them forward.
Dante and SteelArm exchanged a nervous glance.
SteelArm leaned slightly toward Dante, lowering his voice. "Hey… is it just me, or does this guy not seem like a pilot?"
Dante gulped. "Yeah… and considering he just tore up our paperwork like it was nothing, I don't know if I feel good about this."
The old man stomped his cane against the ground. "I ain't got all day! Move it!"
They both climbed aboard. The inside of the plane was surprisingly clean—though it had a distinct old smell, like a mix of leather, dust, and something faintly metallic.
SteelArm took a seat near the back while Dante cautiously strapped himself in. Meanwhile, the old man walked straight to the cockpit and, without hesitation, flipped several switches. The engine coughed before roaring to life, vibrating beneath their feet.
Dante exhaled sharply. "Man, I really hope this guy knows what he's doing."
SteelArm, gripping the armrests a little tighter than usual, muttered, "Yeah… me too."
The plane's engines whined louder as the aircraft began rolling toward the runway.
The plane rumbled as it rolled down the runway, the engines whining louder with each passing second. Dante shifted in his seat, gripping his seatbelt as he felt the vibrations intensify. SteelArm, sitting across from him, tapped his fingers against the armrest, his usual composure showing the slightest crack of unease.
Up in the cockpit, the old man casually adjusted a few levers and flipped switches, his movements slow yet oddly confident. "Alright, boys, sit tight," he called back over his shoulder. "It's been a while since I've flown one of these."
Dante's eyes widened. "What do you mean it's been a while?!"
But before he could protest further, the plane suddenly lurched forward. The force pressed them back against their seats as the aircraft picked up speed, the dull screech of the wheels barely audible over the roaring engines.
SteelArm inhaled sharply. "I swear, if we die, I'm haunting you."
Dante clenched his jaw. "Not if I haunt you first."
The runway lights blurred past the windows as the plane surged ahead. Then, in one sharp motion, the old man yanked back on the controls. The nose of the plane lifted, and gravity pressed them down as they finally broke free from the ground.
For a moment, Dante thought the whole thing would shake apart. The interior rattled as the aircraft climbed, the engines straining under the old metal frame. But then, after what felt like an eternity, the turbulence eased, and the plane steadied as it ascended into the early morning sky.
Dante exhaled, finally relaxing his death grip on the armrests. "Alright… we didn't crash. That's a good start."
SteelArm chuckled, though there was still tension in his posture. "Yeah, but we still gotta land."
Dante groaned. "Why'd you have to remind me?"
Up front, the old man let out a raspy chuckle. "Relax, boys. I may be old, but I've been flying longer than you've been alive."
Dante muttered under his breath, "That's what I'm afraid of."
The plane leveled out, and soon enough, they were cruising through the sky, heading straight for Nevada. Below them, the city lights gradually faded, replaced by the vast darkness of the landscape stretching endlessly beneath them.
SteelArm leaned back, glancing out the window. "Well… guess there's no turning back now."
Dante sighed, finally letting himself settle in. "Yeah. Let's just hope this gate isn't another mess like the last one."
Neither of them spoke after that, both staring out the window as the plane carried them toward whatever awaited them in Elko, Nevada.
Four hours later, the plane touched down on the runway of Elko, Nevada, jerking slightly as the wheels met the ground. The engine roared before gradually quieting as the old man guided the aircraft to a slow, steady stop.
Dante and SteelArm let out synchronized sighs of relief.
"Well, we're alive... I think." Dante muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt.
"Yeah, but I think I aged a few years from that landing," SteelArm replied, rubbing his temples.
The old man chuckled from the cockpit. "You boys worry too much. That was one of my smoother landings."
Dante shook his head but couldn't help the small smirk that formed. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the flight, old man. Hopefully, next time we get something a little newer."
SteelArm stood up, stretching before giving the man a respectful nod. "Appreciate it."
The old man waved them off. "Just don't die in that gate. Hate to waste a good flight on corpses."
Dante and SteelArm exchanged glances before making their way off the plane. The Nevada air was dry and crisp, the morning sun rising over the horizon, casting a golden hue over the quiet airstrip.
Dante pulled out his phone and quickly booked an Uber. "Alright, got one. Should be here in—" He checked the app and groaned. "—twenty minutes."
SteelArm sighed, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Guess we wait."
The two of them leaned against a nearby railing, letting the exhaustion from the flight settle in. The occasional airport worker passed by, giving them little more than a glance before continuing their tasks.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a bright green sedan pulled up near the curb. The Uber driver, a middle-aged man with sunglasses and a backwards cap, leaned over and rolled down the window. "Dante?"
"Yep, that's us."
"Cool. Hop in."
Dante and SteelArm slid into the backseat, shutting the doors behind them. The car smelled faintly of mint air freshener and coffee.
"Where to?" the driver asked as he pulled away from the curb.
Dante gave him the coordinates for the gate's location, and with a nod, the driver merged onto the road, heading toward their destination.