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Chapter 7|A Party of Broken Legends

Chapter 7: 7|A Party of Broken Legends

Party registration, as it turned out, required considerably more paperwork than Allen had anticipated — forms detailing each member’s role, rank, ability classification, and a formal declaration of consent from every party member involved. He sat at a cramped desk in the Association’s registration office, working through the stack with Myria beside him, occasionally offering corrections in a tone that made it clear she’d filled out considerably more of these forms in her career than he ever would.

"You’re listing Irene as combat support," she said, glancing over his shoulder. "She’s Mythic-tier pyrokinesis. Even without full mobility of her abilities post-injury, she should be listed as primary offense."

"She still has her abilities?" Allen asked, surprised. "I thought—"

"Deafness doesn’t disable pyrokinesis," Myria said flatly. "It disables her ability to hear enemy movement and coordinate verbally with a team mid-fight. Her flames work just fine."

Allen paused, pen hovering over the form. ’I’ve been assuming their conditions took away their strength entirely. That’s not right, is it.’

"What about you?" he asked carefully. "Cryokinesis doesn’t exactly require legs."

Myria’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture stiffened slightly. "It doesn’t. But dungeon combat requires positioning, mobility, dodging. I can freeze an enemy solid from a hundred meters away, Allen, but if that enemy closes the distance before I finish the incantation, I have no way to retreat." Her jaw tightened faintly. "That’s the real reason we were pulled from active duty. Not because our abilities vanished. Because the Association decided liability outweighed utility."

’They’re not broken,’ Allen realized, something hot and indignant curling in his chest. ’They’re handicapped by circumstance, and everyone just decided that was the same thing as useless.’

"Then we build around that," he said firmly. "I’ll be the one closing distance and drawing attention. You four handle the rest from range, however that ends up looking for each of you."

Myria studied him for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind her sharp blue eyes. "You say that like it’s simple."

"It’s not simple," Allen admitted. "But it’s possible. That’s enough to start with."

---

They submitted the completed registration an hour later — Party Name: pending, Party Leader: Allen Veton, Members: Myria Veton, Irene Veton, Everlyn Veton, Vivian Veton — and were directed toward a private office on the top floor, where, according to the clerk, Association President Halden personally reviewed any registration involving former S-rank or A-rank Hunters returning to active status, regardless of capacity.

The office itself was surprisingly modest for someone who sat at the top of the entire American Hunter hierarchy — simple furniture, walls lined with commendations rather than trophies, and a single large window overlooking the city below. Halden himself was an older man, silver-haired, broad-shouldered despite his age, with the kind of calm, watchful eyes that seemed to take in far more than they let on.

"So," Halden said, setting the registration papers down after a long moment of silent reading. "The four best Hunters this country has produced in a decade, all filing back into active status under a single F-rank party leader." He looked up, gaze settling on Allen with quiet, assessing interest. "That’s not a combination I expected to see on my desk today."

"Is that a problem?" Allen asked, careful to keep his tone level.

"Not remotely," Halden said, surprising him. "In fact, I find it refreshing." He leaned back in his chair, studying the four women seated around Allen with something that looked almost like respect. "The Association pulled you four from active duty because it was convenient, not because it was right. Every one of you could still level a city block if given the proper conditions. I signed off on that decision because the board demanded it, and I’ve regretted it more than once since." His gaze shifted back to Allen. "If you’re willing to give them a reason to fight again, Hunter Veton, you’ll find fewer obstacles from my office than you might expect."

Allen blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of it. "I appreciate that."

"Don’t thank me yet." Halden’s expression sharpened slightly. "I’m not naive about why this marriage happened, or which family orchestrated it. I’ve had more than a few uncomfortable conversations with Edward Veton already regarding his opinion of this new party’s formation." A faint, knowing look crossed his face. "He seems to believe it reflects poorly on the family name."

"It reflects poorly on him," Irene cut in, sharp and immediate. "Considering he’s the one who came crying to daddy every time his little brother beat him at literally anything, before Allen even awakened."

Halden’s mouth twitched, something close to amusement flickering across his composed features. "I won’t comment on internal family matters. But I will say this—" He fixed his gaze on Allen once more, tone turning serious. "The dungeon rifts don’t care about bloodlines or reputations, Hunter Veton. They care about strength, and strength is earned, not inherited. If you and your party can prove yourselves in the field, you’ll find the Association — and myself, personally — considerably more useful allies than obstacles."

He stamped the registration papers with a heavy, official seal, sliding them back across the desk.

"Party name?" he asked. "It’s customary, though not required."

Allen glanced around at the four women seated beside him — Myria’s sharp, calculating gaze, Irene’s restless grin, Everlyn’s quiet, hopeful notepad already poised in her hands, Vivian’s calm, listening stillness — and felt the shape of an answer settle into place almost immediately.

"Fallen Crown," he said.

Halden raised an eyebrow, but wrote it down without argument. "Fitting, given the circumstances." He stood, extending a hand across the desk. "Welcome back to active duty, Hunters. Try not to die in your first rift. I’d hate to lose four legends and a promising anomaly in the same week."

Allen shook his hand, and as he did, a familiar chime pulsed softly at the edge of his awareness.

[Investment Detected: Milestone — "Secured legitimate opportunity for dependents’ reintegration."]

[Sincerity: High. Emotional Impact: High.]

[Reward Generated: +120 Investment Points.]

’An anomaly, huh,’ Allen thought, filing the president’s words away alongside the memory of the evaluation chamber’s confused reading. ’You have no idea.’

Behind him, as they made their way out of the office, Irene bumped her shoulder lightly against his, grinning wide.

"Fallen Crown," she repeated, testing the name. "I like it. Real dramatic. Very webnovel protagonist of you."

"Careful," Allen said dryly. "Keep saying that and I might start believing it."

"Good," Myria said quietly from beside him, and though her expression remained composed as ever, there was something warmer threaded through her voice now. "Believing it is exactly what you’ll need to do."