George

Dante made his way to his new apartment, where he would be residing. He decided to halt his dungeon conquests for the night, choosing instead to prepare for the Medal exam scheduled for the following day.

To obtain a Medal, one must undergo both a written exam and a practical evaluation, where the Holder demonstrates their Skills. 

A Medal serves as a definitive marker of a Holder's status, and most acquire theirs while still at the 1-star rank, finding it advantageous for their future dungeon conquests.

The nature of the practical examinations varies each time, contingent upon the specific Skills of the Holders being evaluated.

Upon entering his apartment, Dante was met with a pleasantly cleaned and freshly decorated space.

He opted for a refreshing shower before donning his new attire, then proceeded to place an order for a meal fit for ten.

While waiting for the delivery, he ventured into the living room and settled onto the sofa.

As he reclined, his thoughts turned to his future plans.

"I still lack experience. I should have conquered the dungeon without standing out, it would take long but at least I'm slowly growing, but regret won't change anything." Dante's sudden surge in strength occasionally clouded his mind.

"Actually, forget it! I'll forge my own path. You tried to trample on me? I'll make sure you regret it a thousandfold!" He declared to the empty air, his resolve gleaming brightly in his eyes.

After a while.

Ding Dong!

"Delivery!"

Dante swiftly donned his mask before opening the door. The delivery man seemed taken aback. Why wear a mask indoors? Was he trying to hide something? The thought flickered through the man's mind as he handed over the ten bags.

After settling the payment, Dante retreated indoors and swiftly devoured the meal.

Suddenly, a memory jolted him. He retrieved a business card and dialed the number listed.

Ring! Ring!

In just two rings, the call was picked up.

"Hello? You've reached an agent from the Tribunal Guild. How may I assist you today?" Manny's cheerful voice emanated from the phone.

"Hello, it's me, Eka," Dante stated, pausing briefly to swallow a mouthful of food. Upon hearing the guild's name, he found himself unable to recall any guild by that name.

On the other end, the sound of shattering glass reached his ears.

"Si-Sir Eka?!" Manny's breathing grew rapid, a multitude of thoughts racing through his mind, until one conclusion dominated.

"A-are you planni–"

"Answer my question first," Dante interjected.

"O-of course!"

"Can you ensure my identity remains concealed during my Medal exam?"

"Wait? You don't have it yet?!" Manny was surprised but didn't dwell on it as his next answer will decide if he will be able to recruit this Holder.

"Yes we can achieve that. You will be considered as our "property" so they will have to go through with us." Manny hurriedly said, fearing that Dante will be impatient.

"Okay, what do we need to do?"

Hearing this question, Manny is in euphoria. He never thought that when he was just feeling depressed a miracle happened.

"We just have to sign a contract, but don't worry sir, we can revise it to your liking." After that, they talk about the basics about the contract, most of which are favorable to Dante.

"Send it to me now, this is my address." Dante forwarded his address.

"Ah! I will immediately go there sir!" Manny hurriedly changed his clothes and even though it's in the middle of the night, he didn't complain.

Dante awoke early in the morning, donning his characteristic white mask and matching suit. He set out, driving to the examination site for the coveted 'Medal'. Upon entering the building, he was met with a throng of fellow applicants already in line.

Silently, Dante took his place in the queue. As his physique underwent changes, so did the pressure and aura he exuded, and his attire also play a great part. The Holders nearby instinctively turned their attention toward him. Some gazed at him with heightened sensitivity, even flinching. This particular area catered to applicants testing for 1-star or 2-star rankings, while those aiming for 3 stars and above were directed to a separate section.

'Do I look cool?' Dante mused with a smug grin.

Yet, some regarded him with indifference, and a few even sneered.

"Wow, so scary!" A voice echoed from behind Dante, laced with unmistakable sarcasm.

A burly man, muscles straining against his attire, strode purposefully in Dante's direction. Clad in armor reminiscent of medieval times, he carried a massive shield slung behind him, nearly as tall as himself. Four others trailed behind him, their physiques echoing a similar robustness. Donned in matching medieval armor, they brandished formidable greatswords and shields.

Upon hearing the voice, Dante's eyes narrowed, and he fiercely reined in his rising bloodlust. He recognized that voice—it belonged to one of the individuals on his list for revenge. Dante turned his gaze toward the 'man' and nearly drew his sword upon seeing the face.

"What are you staring at?!" George Heidil barked. When George had arrived at the location, he had relished the way the other Holders looked at him with a blend of fear and awe. However, his enjoyment had been disrupted by the arrival of another individual who seemed to garner the same response. Frustration surged within George, and upon sizing up the man's attire, he couldn't contain his anger, prompting him to confront Dante.

"Why are you dressed like some noble?" George sneered. This was quintessential George—stubborn and narrow-minded. Unfortunately, there were plenty of folks cut from the same cloth, some of whom could be found performing outrageous stunts on the internet.

Though with George's background, no one dared to pull out a phone and document the irrational spectacle unfolding before them. A few who were unfamiliar with George tried, but they were promptly halted by the surrounding Holders. Even though they recognized George's irrationality, they were powerless to intervene, well aware of his reputation for tormenting the vulnerable.

"Strong prey on the weak." This saying was common knowledge, and everyone understood that, in the current world, this phrase will stay forever.

Since acquiring the system, Dante hadn't encountered individuals of this sort. After he soloed the dungeon, he did notice some looking at him with a mixture of envy and resentment, but none dared to approach and challenge him because they regarded him as formidable.

Furthermore individuals with audacity and a sense of superiority, like George, wouldn't spare a glance at an F-class dungeon. Why bother with a place teeming with mere weaklings? The reason George, Lucius, Sarah, and Michael opted for an F-class conquest was to formalize their squad status, a prerequisite being the conquest of at least one dungeon. They even chose to undertake it at night, hoping to reduce the "eyesores" in their view.

Dante simply observed him, saying nothing.

As George noticed his silence, he boldly stepped forward, causing onlookers to instinctively retreat.

"What's your name?" George demanded.

"None of your concern," Dante replied icily.

"What? Say that again!" George, irked by Dante's response, couldn't resist raising his hand, seemingly aiming for Dante's neck.

Clutch!

George's hand froze in mid-air as Dante's grip tightened around it.

"Let go—argh!" George could feel the pressure on his hand intensifying, causing him to grunt, his anger surging. In response, he raised his other hand and swung a punch at Dante!

Whoosh!

A gust of wind swept around them, but that was all as Dante tilted his head to the side, elegantly evading the blow. They were barely three feet apart, yet Dante dodged the punch with effortless grace.

Crack!

George winced as the sound of bones breaking reached his ears, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hey! Don't just stand there and help me!" George's voice rang out, directed at his companions.

The surrounding Holders had already distanced themselves.

George's other allies snapped out of their daze and drew their weapons, forming a circle around Dante.

"Release Young Master George!"

"F*ck you! Fight us instead!"

"You coward!"

The trio hurled insults at Dante, while the fourth member gripped his weapon, carefully studying Dante's movements. Seeing their young master restrained by a single hand, they acknowledged the formidable strength behind the white mask. Yet, they remained convinced that their numbers were enough to handle him.

They exchanged determined glances and nodded in unison. The four of them lunged toward Dante.

"Stop!"

A commanding shout reverberated throughout the vicinity, prompting some to cover their ears.