The wooden yacht slowly went through the city, following loops and curls until it finally docked at a busy harbor.

Up ahead, a building that looked quite similar to a grand city hall stood. Instead of having doors, it had large archways that accepted ingoing and outgoing traffic. The entire first floor was open to the wind and elements while the above floors stood on the archways as though they were their legs.

Of the many docked ships at the harbor, groups of people walked out. They were all armed with various weapons. Some wore half or full armors, others wore robes like priests, and some others were dressed quite normally. If it wasn't for the Metamorphosis, Leonel would have thought this to be some sort of comic convention.

"Let's go." Damian spoke to his team before turning his attention to Leonel.

"This building is called the Southern Lookout. Those with Sectors located in the south have to come here to report every half year. In addition, it's also the place we come to introduce the new members of our elite teams."

Leonel nodded in understanding and followed along, sweeping his Internal Sight over as much as he could and committing them to memory.

Soon, the group had lined up in a long queue. The process somewhat baffled Leonel. Why was all of this so bureaucratic?

"… the rankings had some movement."

"Really? What happened?"

"I heard that 'Chasing Wind' killed a target with an S-grade evaluation so they moved up from the fourth spot to the third, pushing down 'Thunderous Clap' by one."

Leonel, in all his boredom, caught a few conversations with his Internal Sight. He found that he could use this sixth sense of his not only as an eye in the sky, but also as an extension of his other senses. If he wanted to, he could even 'feel' like he was touching someone who was hundreds of meters away from him.

That said, he was very careful with this ability. For one, it drained his spirit much faster than when he just used it for sight. Secondly, when he used it as an extension of his touch, others seemed to notice. And, thirdly… let's just say he had regretted using it as an extension of his nose already. It was just once, but to him, that was enough for a lifetime.

"There are rankings?" Leonel asked Damian.

"Rankings? Yes. How do you know about that?"

"I just overheard a conversation. Something about 'Chasing Wind' and 'Thunderous Clap'?"

"Hehe, you've heard of them too, kid?" Catwoman, as Leonel liked to refer to her, interjected, pushing her soft cheeks between the arms of Damian and Leonel.

"According to the higher ups, youths below the age of 30 adapt to the Metamorphosis far better than the older generation does. It's an unfortunate reality, but the truth. Our abilities have far more room for evolution than those old fogies.

"The ranking is just a little competition between the shining stars of the Slayer Legion. We have a list called the 'Empire's Swine' list. Threats are ranked on it. In order to move up the 'Promising Future' rankings, you gain contribution points from taking out threats on that list."

When Leonel heard this, his interest dimmed down by several measures. He had no intention of getting so involved with the Slayer Legion, and even if he did, he didn't very much like the idea of targeting people just because they were a little talented. If they had committed atrocities, that was one thing. But if they were just casually living their lives and making contributions to the Empire, Leonel didn't believe that they deserved to die.

However, there was still one more thing he was curious about.

"'Chasing Wind' and 'Thunderous Clap', those are aliases?"

"Mhm, mhm." Catwoman answered for Damian once again. "The real name of such talents are always hidden. We have our own confidential system to verify their contributions. But, the top priority is ensuring that they're not in turn targeted by the Empire."

Leonel nodded, finally understanding. If possible, he would also like to go by an alias.

An hour later, it was finally their turn. They made it to the front to find a long counter. Behind each station, there was an older gentleman or woman waiting. According to Damian, they were rebels who had already retired from service. Obviously, the Slayer Legion wouldn't treat them poorly after they had given their whole lives to the cause. So, many of the simpler, less physically intensive, tasks were given to them.

However, they might have been a bit too old because the man manning the counter Damian, Leonel and the others were assigned to was dozing off to the point of lightly snoring. Even after ringing the small bell on the counter, he wasn't stirred.

It was only after the impatient catwoman pressed the bell a few times in a row that the old man's head, which had been nodding away, snapped awake.

The old man groggily yawned, smacking his lips as though telling himself that the nap was good. The members of Damian's team seemed to realize that it wasn't the catwoman's actions who woke the old man up, but rather that he got up because he felt like it. Toward this, they could only bitterly smile.

Though this old man was just a receptionist, they couldn't afford to be rude. Sometimes, the retirees here were once bigwigs who surpassed even Damian's brother in rank. Even when they weren't such big shots, the Slayer Legion protected them to a fault. After all, if an organization didn't protect their veterans, they were finished. Who would wholeheartedly work for them?

So, they could only watch as the old man picked up a phone by the counter and dialed a number.

"… Yes… Mhm… The usual please… Extra cheese and meat… Don't forget to leave a kiss on the box like you usually do…" The old man giggled lewdly, almost like he was a teen secretly chatting with his girlfriend while trying not to wake his parents up.

The catwoman was irritated many times and was even muttering to herself, but the old man pretended not to hear anything.

After a while, he set down the phone. But, just when Damian was ready to step forward… he actually reached toward his pocket and pulled out a box of cigarettes.

"… Ah, break time." He said with a light smile, about to walk away.

Black lines formed across Damian's forehead. If the old man really left, they would need to join another queue, all to wait yet another hour. Others couldn't help but look toward them with pitying gazes.

Just as the old man was about to leave, he swept a glance over the group as though to apologize. But who would believe he was sincere with the way he had acted until now?

It was then, though, that his gaze stopped on Leonel who also had a bitter smile on his face.

The old man's eyes widened. "It's you!"

Leonel blinked in confusion. 'Could it be this man knows what I did at the Fort? That wouldn't be good right…?'

He looked toward Damian with a bit of worry in his eyes, but he could have never expected what he heard next.

"Leonel Morales, right? Greatest quarterback prospect in the last century? Can I have your autograph?!"

At this point, let alone everyone else, even Leonel was speechless.