It was no longer 6:45 AM. Time had crept forward, and now it was around 8:50. The hour was drawing closer.
Iwaizumi had lingered in his room longer than usual before finally heading downstairs.
In the kitchen, his mother—NiNi Han—was already up, flipping pancakes over their old flickering stove. She wore her faded café apron, eyes sharp despite the early hour, humming a soft tune.
"Morning, Iwa," she said without turning. "You've got a few hours before you need to go pick him up."
She sighed. "Unfortunately, it's no longer my day off. Got called in for my other shift. So you'll have to bring him home yourself."
Mom alone with him? He didn't say it aloud, but she seemed to read his thoughts.
"I know it's not ideal," she said gently, understanding the weight of the situation. Even though she'd been personally contacted by Chief Megnon of K-Penitentiary, she couldn't leave Iwaizumi to handle it entirely on his own.
"What about Tabaki?" she suggested.
Iwaizumi hesitated. "Tabaki's… weird."
"But he's still your friend. Is this because he has a Pulse?"
"No," Iwaizumi replied quickly. "He's just… all kinds of trouble."
His mom chuckled. "I know his mother well. Tabaki's a sweet kid."
"You don't know him like I do."
She gave him a look. "Please, Iwa…"
He let out a breath. "Fine. I'll give him a call."
He reached for his phone, scrolling through contacts to call the so-called angel Tabaki.
***
Smith residence district 4 residential zone
FAP
FAP
FAP..
More aggressive
Fap. Fap. Fap.
The sounds of frantic motion echoed in the dimly lit room, drowned only by the glow of the screen where Lady Justice fought with wild elegance.
The video title read: "Lady Justice Clears B-Rank Dungeon - 4K First-Person View." His fingers hovered near the keyboard, ready to pause at any moment.
On screen, the heroine known as Lady Justice swung her massive punches with practiced ease, dispatching another monstrous foe.
Lady Justice wasn't built to be subtle—she was built to stop hearts, break bones, and leave both heroes and villains trembling.
Her suit was a skin-tight marvel of engineered fabric, white as purity, but stretched tight enough to leave no illusions. The high-gloss material clung to every sculpted curve like a lover's hand, smooth over her toned thighs, taut over her hips, and scandalously low across her chest—where a deep, oval cutout framed the swell of her breasts with unapologetic boldness. It didn't just show skin—it dared you to stare.
Her crimson cape draped from one shoulder, pinned by a golden clasp that glittered like temptation, fluttering behind her with theatrical flair. The effect? Divine. Dangerous. Deliciously distracting.
A wide red belt hugged her waist, highlighting the hourglass curve of her body and pulling the eye lower—down to the impossibly high-cut sides of her bodysuit, baring her hips with sinful confidence. Every step she took, her thighs clashing against each other with strength, framed by long, dark gloves and thigh-high boots that gleamed like patent leather.
She moved with predatory grace, and every inch of her outfit said the same thing:
I am power. I am punishment. And I know exactly what you're thinking.
And if a villain's gaze lingered too long?
She smiled.
Then hit them hard enough to forget their own name.
Fap
Fap
Fap
More aggressively
Fap. Fap. Fap.
Every punch she threw caused her generous curves to bounce with kinetic beauty.torn slightly at the thigh from the last hit, exposing just enough to make his breath catch.
He leaned closer, eyes locked on the screen as she drove her elbow into the creature's face—likely B-rank. As the beast fell, Lady Justice exhaled, skin glistening. She swiped her palm slowly across her toned thigh, then up her side, wiping the sweat with a cloth. When she finally dabbed at the deep cleft between her breasts—lingering there—she looked up at the camera and whispered with a soft smile, "We're almost done here."
To him, it felt like she was speaking directly to him.
"I-I'm almost done here too, Lady Justice…" he murmured, voice trembling, body tense. Blood surged downward as instinct and fantasy blurred.
Then came the moment—The action on screen reached its climax as a monstrous backhand sent the heroine crashing into a pile of rubble. The camera caught her at the perfect angle: face down, backside arched, the view utterly sinful.
He slammed the pause button.
"…Bless you, camera guy," Tabaki muttered, adjusting the zoom with trembling fingers. His heart thundered in his chest as he slipped into that trance—the zone where nothing else existed but the screen.
Knock. Knock.
A voice rang from behind the door. "Tabaki? Time for mommy to clean your room—coming in!"
His soul nearly left his body.
"What the hell—Mom, no! Don't come in! Don't—!"
He slapped the desk, whispering in horror, "I'm so screwed…"
Her voice came again, calm as ever. "Honey, why can't I come in? Are you naked?"
"More than you know…" he muttered under his breath.
"I'm your mother! It's completely natural. I'm coming in."
He groaned, slamming his palm against the desk. "Mom, no! I'm not five anymore—go away! Why'd you have to start with my room?!"
The doorknob turned. The door creaked open—just a sliver.
"Don't open the freaking door, Mom!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Start with Grandma's room or something!"
"Alright, alright—fine. Teenagers and their weird puberty behaviors, tsk," she muttered. Then added, "But what's that smell, Tabaki?"
"—"
The door shut with a soft click, finally giving him peace.
He slumped into his chair like a ghost, all life drained from his limbs.
Then his phone rang.
He answered with a snap. "What?!"
"Damn, why do you sound pissed? It's just me."
Tabaki sat up. "Oh. Iwa. What's up, man?"
Iwa spoke into the phone, "I'm heading to Central Bus Stop to pick up that person I told you about. Wanna come?"
Tabaki sighed. "Sure, sure. But you owe me. Don't even bother explaining why I have to tag along."
Iwa chuckled. "Just be at Central in fifteen minutes."
***
"I'm gonna be a bit late, Iwa, so I bought three tickets for MPA," his mom said casually from across the kitchen table.
Iwa blinked. "What? Mom, you know I hate MPA."
"And I got three tickets," she continued, ignoring his tone. "Tabaki's coming too."
"You knew he was coming?"
"Of course. I called his mom. Just in case. You know, insurance."
"Mom—seriously?"
"Sorry, Iwa~!" she sang, already grabbing her purse and heading out the door.
She left in a whirlwind of perfume and poor decisions.
Iwa sighed, staring at the crumpled tickets in his hand. "She just loves wasting money, huh?" He flicked the edge of the paper. "Might as well go. Tsk."
He wondered absently if Gin Maximus, the mysterious transfer, would even want to watch something like MPA.
***
10:45 AM
"Wow," Gin said, poking his head out the car window. "What a beautiful city."
Then he gagged. "But the air? Absolutely horrible." Playfully coughing to display disappointment.
From the driver's seat, Nanami glanced sideways at Gin, who was leaning halfway out the patrol car window like an excited dog.
"Sir, please put your head back inside the vehicle."
Gin grinned, the wind blasting through his hair. "Are you always this uptight? Come on, relax! Live a little!"
Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into traffic, "I LOVE CITIES!!!"
A car honked as it zoomed by—its driver flipping Gin the middle finger.
Gin blinked in confusion, then lit up with joy. "Oh wow, a local greeting!"
He enthusiastically returned the gesture. "HELLO TO YOU TOO!"
Another car passed—he flipped them off too. And the next. And the next.
Soon, Gin was enthusiastically giving every vehicle on the road the middle finger, like he'd discovered the city's official handshake.
Nanami's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
"Sir…, that's not a—never mind," he muttered. "Just… just keep your limbs inside."
Gin pulled back into the car, still grinning. "You remind me of another tight-ass I know."
He immediately started pressing random buttons on the dash. "Ooh, what's this do? And this? What's that flashing light mean?"
Nanami internally screamed.
Nanami's knuckles turned white around the steering wheel.
"Eyes on the road, Nanami," he muttered to himself. "Don't screw this up. Chief Megnon gave you this job personally."
Then Gin whispered, half to himself:
"I wonder what happens when I press this red button…"
Nanami screamed internally.
"What red button?! There's no red button in this patrol car!"
Then—
WEE-OOO WEE-OOO!
Sirens erupted. Traffic parted like the Red Sea.
Nanami blinked.
"Oh my god. He found a red button??"
Sweat dripped from his brow. His vision swam. "I'm gonna be sick," he muttered.
"Officer Nanami?" Gin asked innocently. "You good? You're, uh…pale."
"Let's just get to Central Stop," Nanami said, breathing through his nose. "Before I pass out."
Suddenly, Gin slammed both hands on the dashboard.
"STOP THE CAR!"
Nanami's instincts kicked in—he hit the brakes so hard the car jolted. His hand hovered near his baton, ready for combat.
"What is it? An attack? A gate breach?" he barked, scanning the street.
But Gin wasn't moving.
Nanami looked over—and blinked.
There, in the front seat of the patrol car, Gin sat cross-legged like a lost toddler, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, staring out the window with a dreamy expression.
"Sir Gin… what happened?" Nanami asked, cautiously.
Gin pointed, breathless.
"I think I'm in love."
Nanami followed his gaze.
A massive billboard loomed above the street. On it, the sleek silhouette of a high-tech device shimmered in the sunlight.
"Is that... the X314 Multi-Dimensional Camera?" Gin whispered like he was meeting a deity.
Gin's eyes sparkled with childlike awe as he gazed at the billboard.
"I need it," he whispered, forehead pressed against the glass. "I need it like oxygen."
Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sir, it's not out yet." He tapped the tablet mounted on the dashboard. "Launch date's in a few weeks. Also—it's expensive. About five million hunts."
Gin blinked. "Five... million?"
He stared ahead, mind spiraling into overdrive like a gambler calculating odds at a poker table. His lips moved silently. Selling organs? Probably illegal.
"Where does someone make that kind of money fast?" he muttered, voice dark with desperation. "Legally. Or, like... close-enough"
Nanami didn't even look away from the road. "Usually? Fighting, sir. That's the fastest way around here."
Gin turned his head slowly. "Fighting. As in... hand-to-hand?"
"More like Pulse combat," Nanami explained. "Yeah, you use technique, sure, but the real deal is your Pulse—how you weaponize it against others."
Gin tilted his head. "Do they even allow non-Pulse users?"
"They do. MPA's are technically inclusive," Nanami said. "But let's not sugarcoat it—most regular humans get obliterated. It's like bringing a pillow to a sword fight."
Gin slumped back into the seat. "So you're saying it's possible."
"No, I'm saying it's stupid," Nanami replied flatly.
Gin smiled. "Perfect. Then I must find this MPA."
Nanami wondered if he even heard him at all what he just said
Gin's thoughts hit a wall.
His body still wasn't fully healed.
He had just over three million hunts left—barely enough to gamble with. Food? Shelter? He didn't even know how much those cost yet. And worst of all—he had no Pulse.
The memory of Chief Megnon's warning echoed in his head like a war drum:
"Try anything stupid, and I'll introduce you to consequences you've never imagined."
Gin had seen what that "introduction" looked like.
Detainees who crossed Megnon didn't just disappear—they came back... different. Shaken. Silent. One guy started clapping every time someone sneezed.
Even the toughest warriors in Gin's old world would've hesitated around a man like that.
He sighed and slumped deeper into the passenger seat as they drove through the city. Sleek cars zipped by, neon ads flickered like ambient magic, and giant holographic billboards glared down like gods of capitalism.
And then—he saw it.
A massive poster towered over the skyline like a declaration of dominance.
A man, arms crossed, back straight, face carved from stone figuratively. Cold eyes. Hair like midnight iron.
Prime.
Gin leaned forward, eyes wide. "...Whoa."
Nanami followed his gaze. "That's him. Prime," he said with a shrug. "You'll see more of his face around the city than actual street signs."
Gin's voice dropped to a reverent murmur. "Where does he live?"
Nanami blinked. "Who even asks that?"
"I do."
"Some say he's stationed at HQ," Nanami offered. "But honestly? Nobody knows. He hasn't made a public appearance in years. Not since the A-rank gates stopped appearing."
Gin blinked. "Wait. No A-rank gates? In seven years?"
"Yep," Nanami replied. "Even B-ranks are rare now. We're scraping by on C-rank rifts. Some of the top hunters are scrambling to stay relevant—fake raids, rumors about people creating gates illegally… whole industry's on edge."
"Yup. Even B-ranks are rare now. The Hunter's Association is bleeding money. C-rank gates aren't enough to fund the big names, so a lot of A and B-ranked hunters are… getting creative."
"Creative?"
"Faking raids. Leaking gates intentionally. There's talk of manufactured breaches—but that stuff's deep under wraps. Way above our clearance."
Gin frowned. "Right. Wait—what's a gate, exactly?"
Nanami looked at him like he'd asked what shoes were. "...You don't even know what a gate is?"
Nanami shot him a sideways look, like the question physically hurt his soul.
"You're telling me… you seriously don't know what a gate is?"
"Nope," Gin replied, completely unbothered. "Enlighten me, oh wise one."
With a resigned sigh, Nanami adjusted his grip on the wheel.
"Alright, fine. Short version: Gates are basically glitches in space-time. Holes. Rips. Call 'em whatever you want. First time they appeared, people freaked out. Tried to close them. Contain them. No luck."
Gin squinted out the window. "How bad can they actually be?"
"Bad," Nanami said. "Some of the stuff that comes out of them makes bombs look like firecrackers. But here's the twist—the government figured out they could use the gates. Not just seal them."
Gin raised a brow. "Use them? Like… for what exactly?"
"For Pulse users," Nanami clarified. "Think about it. You've got all these gifted individuals—people who can shoot fire from their arms, jump high, crush tanks with their pinky finger—but stick them in a desk job and they burn out fast. Bored. Unstable."
"So they gave them something to punch?"
"Exactly. Gates became the solution and the sandbox. Turned them into a whole industry. Gear, guilds, rankings, sponsorships—it blew up. Nobody expected it to get this big."
Gin tilted his head. "Where do they show up? I don't see any floating around."
"They only pop up in cities," Nanami explained. "Places thick with Pulse activity. And they're ranked, just like fighters. F through S."
Nanami continued to explain.
"F-rank? Open to the public. Good for newbies.
E to C—managed by guilds, you need guild permits.
B and A? Federal clearance or private company contracts.
S-rank?" He lowered his voice. "Nobody talks about S-ranks. Not if you value your life."
Gin blinked. "What, like it's cursed?"
"No," Nanami said. "More like… if you see one, you're either Prime, or you're dead. Simple as that. They showed up once, caused massive chaos, and vanished. Like a warning shot from the universe."
Gin whistled. "Damn."
"And then there's the undefined ones," Nanami muttered, like he didn't want to say it out loud. "No rank. No logic. Just rumors and bodies."
"So urban legends?"
"Conspiracy blogs, mostly. But enough people vanish around them that I wouldn't bet against it."
"So how do people know which gates to hit?" Gin asked.
"There are two lists," Nanami said, pointing to a screen built into the dash. "The Federal Gate List—only for emergencies and certified users. And then there's the Hunter's List. That one's more… community-run. Schedules, group runs, permit tracking."
Gin was quiet for a moment, then smirked. "What about Hero Tube when i first got here i heard that?"
Nanami groaned like the name physically hurt him.
"Dungeon streamers. Cosplay fighters. People who film themselves clearing gates while dancing or doing stunts. It's a circus."
"I like circuses," Gin grinned.
"Of course you do."
A beat of silence passed before Gin asked, "So when was the last big one?"
Nanami's fingers drummed the steering wheel.
"Seven years ago. A-rank. Prime cleared it solo. No one's seen another A or S since."
"And he's just been… waiting?"
"Pretty much. The whole city's like that now. Holding its breath."
They passed under a glowing street sign. Gin noticed a huge digital billboard flicker overhead—advertising Gate Permits Now Available with cartoon explosions in the background.
Gin's expression tightened. "So some people think Prime's retired?"
Nanami nodded. "Wouldn't be surprising. But no one's confirmed it. He might just be waiting."
Gin looked back at the poster one last time. Something in his chest ached.
"I'll wait for you to come out," he whispered under his breath.
Nanami checked his watch. "Fifteen more minutes to Central Stop, sir. Hold on tight."
They moved forward.
The city around them buzzed with noise, but for a moment, all Gin could hear was the echo of his own excitement.
***
***
Infocard :
[ GATERANKGUIDE – PlanetX ]
SystemGates are spatial rifts leading to dungeon zones filled with hostile entities and unknown phenomena. Ranked by danger level and access clearance.
F-Rank
Open to public
Entry-level danger
Good for training or collecting minor resources
E to C-Rank
Guild-monitored
Permit required
Moderate threats, ideal for group runs
B & A-Rank
Government & corporate controlled
High-level danger
Requires federal clearance
Hunters make real money here
S-Rank
Classified
National emergency level
Appear once, disappear forever
Most hunters avoid talking about them…
Undefined
???
Theories only
Don't ask. Don't search. Don't go near.
Gates only appear in high Pulse density areas (usually cities).
Gate access is monitored by two main systems:
Federal Gate List – for emergencies & law enforcement
Hunter's List – public permit tracking & gate schedules