#236. We Welcome Your Visit.
Hundreds of meters beneath the heart of LA, faint lights pierced the profound darkness that should have been absolute in such deep underground depths.
Yet the darkness fought back fiercely. The glow trickling along the walls couldn't penetrate its core. At the heart, where shadows lurked, something enormous crouched—but no one could see it.
No one except the carnivorous wasps guarding this place.
One carnivorous wasp approached a massive object dozens of times its size. It resembled a cocoon. Or perhaps a shrunken beehive.
Any hunter familiar with insect monsters would recognize it instantly: the royal cradle, harboring the queen wasp.
Tiny holes dotted the cradle's surface, and carnivorous wasps bustled about, stuffing something into them.
A normal bee might carry royal jelly to feed its queen, but these offerings shared only one trait with food—they were provisions. Solid lumps, closer to chunks than liquid.
"Mmmph! Ngh…"
The lumps writhed desperately. But futilely; they barely budged. Minds sharp, bodies unresponsive.
The wasps stripped away useless husks from their prey.
Tough hides tore free, followed by scraps of fabric. Iron skewers and sharp metal bits were discarded.
Nutrient-rich fare, but brimming with dangerous power.
Nothing that could threaten the queen's heir could be tolerated.
To preempt rebellion, limbs were snapped.
"Gaaahhh!"
A scream burst from a mouth too numb for speech moments before.
Concerned the heir might struggle with hard bones, the wasps pulverized the prey underfoot.
Bones shattered across the body; organs turned to mush. Injuries that should have killed instantly—but the prey clung to life.
Fresh and intact, it was tossed into the cradle.
Inside, viscous fluid sloshed. The prey rolled its eyes, scanning. In the dark corner, two glowing orbs flickered to life.
Lanterns approached. Larvae.
A larva climbed the prey.
'G-get away.'
The prey couldn't even close its eyes; nerves around them paralyzed too. Pain registered, mind razor-clear. Larval saliva dripped onto its face—reeking of brine. The prey knew the source.
Human blood.
'Damn it! A hunter, reduced to monster chow… shameful.'
Realizing countless hunters had met this fate here, it abandoned escape. Instead, it thrashed for spiteful defiance.
Grinding teeth, it summoned sensation from its numb body, circulating mana within.
'Self-destruct… take you with me…'
As it detonated, the larva plunged its maw into the hunter's heart. Tentacles shattered ribs, burrowing deep.
Amplified mana erupted outward—only to be sucked into tentacles, along with blood and mangled heart.
Light faded from the prey's eyes.
The larva devoured from chest to limbs. Blood pooled. Soon, no trace of the former hunter remained.
Yet the larva gazed hungrily at the entry hole.
Moments later, fresh prey arrived.
Insatiably ravenous, the larva spurred its sluggish body. Thus, the new heir grew.
"No contact with the LA branch."
"Happens sometimes."
Aila dismissed Alex's report from the World Hunter Federation lightly.
Vast lands meant monsters often disrupted power or comms lines en route. She assumed the same here—quickly fixed, as always. Detours or satellites if delayed.
Alex pressed firmer.
"All lines dead. Rare for a metropolis like LA. Worst case: a gate outbreak."
Aila noted his grave expression, finally sensing gravity.
Not the city's peril.
'LA guilds handle that. The issue is Raid Leader Kang Moo-hyuk.'
After Russia's mess, now America too?
This transcended Federation prestige—it shattered her credibility.
Dismissing it as unlucky timing during Kang's visit was impossible.
She'd already loaned unique items semi-permanently for past failures, barely securing final tests through pleas.
To her, Kang was the vital clue after chasing the unknown entity. Where else to find a human who understood its words?
She couldn't afford passive observation like Russia. Secure his safety, act decisively.
Alex, sharing her concerns, offered a solution.
"Got White House contacts. Feds built an emergency integrated network years back. Use that?"
"Peacetime, maybe. But a major West Coast blackout? They're likely in crisis too. No media yet—probably info lockdown. Contacting risks backlash."
"Send personnel from nearest city then. Branch knows to prioritize Kang's safety; they're moving. But we need eyes on it."
"Dispatch them. I'll try another way."
"Going yourself?"
"If needed. But I can't operate openly."
Ain race intel was top-secret. Elves must remain hidden.
"I'll go instead."
"First, another stop."
"Where…? Oh. You mean the 77th floor…."
"Yes. Desperate times."
"Not thrilled. Hate delivering bad news."
"Doesn't matter. Federation's top asset—use it when needed."
Alex nodded reluctantly, unpersuaded.
Aila reached the door first, turning the knob.
"Coming? Time's critical. Thousand Eyes will give answers fast."
PWH (Pure White House).
The impeccable East Wing annex basement housed the PEOC—Presidential Emergency Operations Center bunker.
Here, the president chaired National Security Council meetings, lately dominated by monster agendas.
Always beside him: White House Hunter Policy Director Alexander Hamilton, core power player.
Absent now. Ironically, he was in LA—the crisis epicenter.
Only the president, chief of staff, and a few East Coast guild-tied elites knew why. Others were clueless.
With the top expert gone, the rest grasped the situation alone.
"Hamilton's absent, president's on European tour—so I'll chair."
No objections to Vice President Mike's words. Expert absent, follow legal succession.
"Comms fully severed. Satellites?"
"Same. Unknown jamming blankets the city."
Defense Secretary answered for the council.
"Countermeasures?"
"Dispatched nearest available military hunter team."
Confident tone. Military hunters were their ace for this.
Post-gate era, Defense prioritized monsters over foreign armies.
Non-hunters useless against monsters, so they supported hunters, evacuated civilians.
Shrinking role meant craving wins. Their hunter team shone now—national crisis aside, the secretary beamed.
Vice President doused it.
"You installed emergency networks linking major North American cities. Why not use it?"
"Th-that's…."
"Huge budget. Issues?"
Secretary floundered. Networks didn't reach West Coast—politics, tangled interests delayed it. Explaining hurt.
Sensing distress, VP pivoted.
"Assume it's down. How long till your team assesses LA?"
"Five hours."
"Five? Hour since anomaly spotted. Severance earlier. Even immediate, too slow. Driving?"
"Military flight."
"And?"
"Hunter special teams are few. Can't cover mainland. Nearest to LA takes over five hours flying."
Flushing, confidence evaporated.
Teams built, but not for nationwide rapid deployment.
VP thought total mess.
America, monster defense superpower—yet basic comms unfinished.
Serious incident? City gone.
S-ranks on standby helped post-facto—like locking the barn after losing the horse.
'That's why Hamilton. New, hasn't grasped big picture yet.'
Resigned, VP wrapped initial response with doable steps.
"Media sniffing. Locked them for calm. Share with nearby guilds—delayed sans comms, but prepare. Route hunter contacts to me ASAP."
After repelling several wasp assaults, Kang Moo-hyuk reached Gunpowder Guild HQ, seeking General Manager Kayren Fisher in the lobby.
Somehow tipped off, hunters guarding HQ connected him instantly on name alone.
"Thought it'd be ages till next sight—yet here so soon. Bad tidings, I assume. How'd you arrive? Evacuating to us?"
"You saw our vehicle. Using Hunter Crime Division cars for evac? Luxury in this mess. And my visit might bring good news—for Gunpowder."
Fisher probed intent amid blackout. No intel, pure guesswork.
'But obvious. Good news from him? Only rider wolves now.'
Price the issue.
'Rider wolves worth grabbing anything.'
Grinning wide, arms open.
"We welcome your visit to Gunpowder Guild."