My battered suitcase lay open on my modest bed, a chaotic testament to my life as a mid-A-class hero who consistently tangled with threats far above his pay grade. Spare scale-patterned gauntlets, half-eaten protein bars – fuel for those late-night patrols – and my well-worn copy of “Advanced Monster Weak Point Analysis” were scattered around. A slightly off-key hum escaped my lips, a rare outward sign of the anticipation bubbling inside me.

  My official ranking might hover in the mid-A-class, respectable enough, but hardly glamorous. Yet, after years of dedicated training, I possessed a raw strength that could give even the top A-class heroes a run for their money.

  The primary draw of Z-city this time, of course, was Asura Kabuto, the strongest creation of the House of Evolution. A Dragon-level mutant, a force of nature capable of turning cities into rubble. For a hero officially ranked where I was, even thinking about a confrontation bordered on the absurd. I knew the odds were astronomical, victory a distant, almost comical notion. I knew the stronger the monster, the higher the chance to get a special orb by fighting it.

  And then there was Saitama. The bald-headed resident of Z-city’s deserted district. The tales surrounding him were outlandish, bordering on the mythical. Whispers of single punches obliterating monstrous beings that entire hero teams couldn't even scratch.

  Despite my generally grounded perspective, I couldn't entirely dismiss the sheer volume and consistency of these accounts. A week in Z-city offered the perfect opportunity to witness this phenomenon firsthand, maybe even forge an acquaintance. Having someone with Saitama’s rumored power nearby would certainly be a considerable safety net if my encounter with Kabuto went south.

  I carefully folded a spare set of my signature scale-patterned gauntlets, my mind already racing with potential applications for my newly developed Biting Dragon Fist. It was a technique forged in the lonely hours between training sessions and late-night monster patrols, fueled by lukewarm energy drinks and sheer stubbornness. Designed to pierce even the most formidable defenses, I was itching to test its limits against Kabuto’s notoriously thick hide.

  I wasn't delusional enough to think it would defeat the Dragon-level monster, but even a superficial wound, a momentary disruption of its power – that would be a personal triumph.

  My phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table, the jarring ringtone shattering my focused anticipation. I glanced at the caller ID. Sitch. A familiar knot of apprehension tightened in my chest. Calls from the Hero Association’s upper echelons rarely heralded good news, usually involving inconvenient assignments or unwelcome restrictions.

  I answered, attempting a casual tone.

  “Sneck here! Ready for deployment!”

  Sitch’s voice, typically sharp and efficient, carried an unusual note of urgency.

  “Sneck, I’m calling regarding your planned excursion to Z-city.”

  “Yes, sir! Just some advanced solo monster hunting,” I replied smoothly, mentally wincing at the blatant fabrication.

  “I’m afraid that’s no longer advisable,” Sitch stated firmly.

  “The situation in Z-city has deteriorated rapidly. Monster activity has surged, and we cannot authorize A-class heroes, regardless of their individual capabilities, to operate independently in such a high-threat zone.”

  My shoulders slumped imperceptibly. My carefully laid plans were crumbling before me. “Understood, sir. Any alternative assignments then?” I asked, striving to mask my disappointment.

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  “Indeed,” Sitch responded, and I could almost visualize the strategic calculations unfolding in the man’s mind. “We are experiencing a significant influx of aspiring heroes registering at the headquarters this week. We require a capable and approachable individual to manage their initial orientation.”

  Orientation? Guiding fresh-faced rookies through the labyrinthine bureaucracy of hero registration? It wasn’t exactly facing down monstrous threats or rescuing civilians from collapsing buildings.

  “And the remuneration for this task?” I inquired cautiously.

  A brief pause hung in the air. “The board recognizes the critical importance of this initial interaction with potential future heroes. Positive first impressions are vital for recruitment and retention. The compensation for this week-long assignment will be substantially higher than your standard rate, Sneck.”

  My ears perked up. Substantially higher? That could translate to a significant financial boost, perhaps enough to finally invest in some much-needed upgrades for my students’ rudimentary training facility.

  “Could you elaborate on the specifics of this role?” I asked, a spark of interest igniting within me.

  “Your primary responsibilities will include welcoming the new aspirants, overseeing their registration process, clearly explaining the different hero classes and their associated duties, and providing a comprehensive overview of the expectations and realities of professional hero work,” Sitch detailed. “Essentially, you’ll be their initial point of contact, setting the tone for their entire experience with the Hero Association.”

  I weighed the offer.

  No pulse-pounding confrontation with a Dragon-level monster, no desperate gamble for a potentially life-altering orb, but a secure, well-compensated task that could directly benefit my students. I thought of their eager faces, their unwavering faith in my abilities, even if they sometimes overestimated my official rank.

  “Alright, Sitch,” I began, a newfound resolve forming. “I’m willing to take on this orientation assignment, under one condition.”

  There was a brief silence on the other end. “And what would that be, Sneck?” Sitch asked, a hint of caution in his voice.

  “While I’m managing the orientation, if a Demon-level monster appears anywhere within reasonable response range of headquarters, I need to be informed immediately. And I will be the one to handle it. No excuses about protocol or my current assignment. If a Demon-level threat emerges, you call me, and I deal with it.”

  Another pause, this one longer. I could practically hear the gears turning in Sitch’s mind. He knew my track record, knew I was more than capable of handling threats that often required multiple higher-ranked heroes. This orientation duty, while important, was also a way to keep me out of Z-city and away from Kabuto. Perhaps this was a compromise he could live with.

  Finally, Sitch sighed. “Very well, Sneck. If a Demon-level threat emerges, we will inform you and authorize your engagement. However, your primary responsibility for the week remains the orientation program. Understood?”

  “Perfectly,” I replied, a wry smile gracing my lips. This wasn't Z-city and a shot at a Dragon-level, but it was a chance to earn a significant amount of money for my students and still get the opportunity to stretch my legs against a worthy foe if one presented itself.

  “Consider it done, Sitch. I’ll be at headquarters bright and early tomorrow, ready to inspire the next generation of heroes… and take down any stray Demons that might wander by.”

  I disconnected the call, a sense of pragmatic satisfaction settling over me. My week of daring adventure had morphed into a week of explaining the intricacies of hero code violations and the proper disposal of monster byproducts, with the added bonus of potential Demon-slaying on the side. It wasn't the epic battle I had envisioned, but it was a meaningful contribution, a financially rewarding one, and still held the possibility of a decent fight. I closed my well-traveled suitcase, the image of Asura Kabuto’s menacing form and the shimmering special orb receding into the realm of future possibilities, replaced by the hopeful gazes of aspiring heroes, ready to embark on their own, hopefully less immediately perilous, paths.

  I knew, with a quiet certainty, that I would approach this new responsibility with the same dedication and perhaps slightly more measured enthusiasm that defined my approach to every challenge.

  After all, someone had to guide these newcomers through the chaotic realities of their chosen profession, even if my own strength technically punched significantly above my official weight class. And who knew, maybe one of those wide-eyed rookies would witness an A-class hero handle a Demon-level threat firsthand. That would certainly make for an interesting first impression.