I Ascend Alone-Chapter 139: The World Takes Notice

The reinforced doors of the lab hissed open behind me.

Fresh air filtered in from the corridor, but it carried tension more than relief. Agent Hale stood by the exit, hand resting near the edge of his coat, eyes scanning the hallway like he was expecting trouble—or cameras.

"Ready?" he asked, though he didn't wait for an answer. "Let's get you home."

I nodded.

We moved through the Association's main corridors in silence. Staff and operatives stood aside as we passed, whispering, bowing, staring. A few simply froze in place, eyes wide with recognition.

When we reached the front atrium, I heard them.

Reporters.

Dozens of them.

They were already outside, lined up past the perimeter rails. A wall of lenses and microphones aimed like weapons. News drones hovered overhead, buzzing faintly like anxious insects. Some people shouted my name. Others held signs. A few just raised their phones, recording silently.

The moment we stepped through the main entrance, the crowd erupted.

"Ryzen Kael! Can you tell us what happened in the Weapon District?"

"Is it true you've bound a Calamity-Class dragon?!"

"What does it mean to be a National-Level Hunter? Are you part of the military now?"

"Ryzen—were you hiding this power all along?!"

The questions came fast. Desperate. Raw. Everyone wanted something—an answer, a reaction, a quote they could blast across the world.

I stopped just past the top of the steps.

The sun hadn't broken through the clouds yet, but the light was different—like the city was holding its breath.

Agent Hale stepped up beside me, raising one hand for calm.

"Listen up," he said, loud enough to cut through the noise. "There will be an official press conference tomorrow, hosted by the Association. You'll get your answers then."

He glanced at me. "Right now, he's going home. That's all."

Some of the reporters protested. Others tried shouting more questions. But the message stuck. They didn't push further. Not yet.

I gave them one brief look.

Not a nod. Not a smile. Just enough to let them know I'd heard them.

Then I turned and walked down the steps with Hale.

-

The next morning came slowly.

City-A was still quiet, but not in the way that meant peace. It was the kind of silence before an announcement, before a verdict—before something permanent was said aloud and couldn't be taken back.

I stood in front of the mirror in my room, buttoning the collar of a plain black jacket. No uniform. No badge. Just something clean.

Agent Hale arrived at exactly 8:00 a.m.

"We've got thirty minutes," he said as I stepped out. "The auditorium's already at capacity. Overflow feeds are broadcasting live across the major world networks."

The Association's Central Press Auditorium had been cleared and fortified overnight. Rows of media teams filled the chamber. Hunter Association officials lined the flanks. International observers tuned in through wall-length holoscreens. Every major news agency had a seat.

At the front of the stage stood three people:

President Darius Vaughn.Vice Director Alastair Crowe.And me.

They handled the first part.

"Yesterday, City-A witnessed an event without precedent," Vaughn said into the mic. His voice was steady. Practiced. Presidential. "A Calamity-Class threat emerged from an unstable dungeon rupture and was neutralized... not by a unit, not by an army—but by a single individual."

The cameras zoomed in.

"Ryzen Kael," he said, gesturing toward me. "Whose power exceeds every current classification metric. Who today becomes the first officially recognized National-Level Hunter in recorded history in City A."

A wave of camera shutters snapped like applause.

Crowe stepped up next.

"The designation isn't ceremonial. It reflects capability, scope, and responsibility. National-Level Hunters are to be considered sovereign-tier assets—answerable only to the Summit Council in international-level emergencies. Ryzen Kael is now registered as such."

She turned slightly toward me. "Whether he chooses to act within that role—or outside it—is his decision."

And just like that, the mic was offered to me.

I stepped forward. Looked at the sea of faces. And paused.

For a moment, the whole world held its breath.

Then I spoke.

"I didn't ask for this title," I said, voice low but clear. "But I earned it. On the battlefield. With the lives of others at my back."

"I'm not a symbol. I'm not a savior. I'm someone who stood when standing meant something."

I glanced at the front rows—reporters already scribbling, mouths half-open.

"You want to know what I am? I'm a hunter. And whatever comes next... I'll face it the same way."

-

The moment I stepped away from the mic, the hands shot up.

Flashing lights. Voices overlapping. Dozens of reporters, some standing now, their badges swinging as they tried to shout over one another.

"Ryzen! Ryzen Kael—what does it mean to be a National-Level Hunter?!"

"Are you going to form a guild? Join an existing one?"

"Were you hiding your true power this whole time?"

Agent Hale leaned forward slightly from the side of the stage, ready to cut them off—but I raised a hand, just once. The room quieted like someone flipped a switch.

I looked toward the crowd and answered the first question simply.

"To be a National Hunter means responsibility. Not rank. Not fame. Not glory. It means that if a threat no one else can stop appears, I will. That's all."

That didn't stop the follow-ups.

"Then what now? What's your next step?"

"I'm thinking still," I said. "For now."

Another voice called out from the back, louder than the rest.

"Were you hiding your power from the public? From the Association?"

That one made the room shift. People leaned forward.

I didn't flinch.

"I wasn't hiding. I was surviving. There's a difference."

I let that hang in the air.

"If the world wasn't ready to see what I could do, then showing it before now wouldn't have changed anything. It would've only caused panic, or worse—made me a target before I was ready."

"And now?" someone asked.

"Now," I said, "they've already seen it. There's no going back."

I could feel the broadcast delay catching up—those same words now echoing across tens of millions of screens.

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Then the final question came, soft but pointed:

"Will you stand with the Association... or above it?"

I looked at Vaughn, then at Crowe. Neither answered. Neither moved.

So I did.

"I'll stand where I'm needed. If that's beside them, good. If it's ahead of them, then they'd better keep up."