The fluorescent lights of the recruitment hall still seemed to hum in my ears, even hours later in the bustling canteen.

  That Poison kid… there was something about him. Not the usual wide-eyed rookie eager to please. A quiet intensity, a sharp focus. I had a feeling we’d be seeing more of him, and maybe sooner rather than later, given the recent uptick in monster activity.

  My curry rice arrived, the familiar scent a small anchor in the swirling thoughts of the day. As part of my job managing new hero initial orientation, I often found myself at the Hero Association headquarters, and as a member of the hero rank evaluation staff, Sweet Mask was a familiar presence.

  I often met him here. Although we weren't exactly friends, I had a sense that he held a high opinion of me, and our professional relationship was certainly amicable. I took a bite of my curry, the warmth a small comfort. Then, I saw him: Sweet Mask. Sitting alone, a half-eaten bowl of ramen in front of him, his gaze fixed on something far beyond the noisy canteen.

  Gathering a bit of courage, I walked over. “So,” I began, trying for a casual tone as I settled into the chair opposite him, “how are things with the Hero Association lately?”

  His sharp eyes flickered to me, a brief, unreadable flicker before his usual polished composure returned. “The Hero Association continues its work,” he stated, his voice smooth as always. “Maintaining peace and order is a constant endeavor.”

  Right, of course. Like pulling teeth to get anything concrete out of him. I nodded, taking another bite of my curry. “It’s just… with all the recent monster activity, I was curious about your perspective.”

  He picked up his chopsticks, his movements precise. “The rise in monster level is concerning, naturally. It underscores the importance of strong heroes and rigorous evaluation.”

  This was my chance. “Speaking of strong heroes,” I ventured, setting my spoon down, “what are your thoughts on Genos?”

  His hand paused mid-air. His gaze intensified, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw genuine admiration in his eyes. “Genos,” he repeated, the name almost a thoughtful consideration. “He is… remarkable. His dedication to becoming stronger is undeniable. His power output is already considerable, and his potential seems limitless.”

  A slight smile touched his lips, a rare and almost unsettling sight. “If Genos were to officially join the Hero Association, there is no doubt in my mind that he would swiftly ascend to the S-Rank. His abilities far surpass many who currently hold that position.”

  “So you think he has what it takes?” I pressed, intrigued.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Undoubtedly,” he affirmed, his tone firm. “Furthermore,” he added, a subtle emphasis in his voice, “one cannot overlook his… aesthetic appeal. A hero with both immense power and striking looks would be a tremendous asset to public image and morale.”

  I had to suppress a chuckle. Leave it to Sweet Mask to factor in appearances.

  “So, all in all, you have a high opinion of him?”

  “Indeed,” he concluded, returning to his ramen. “Genos possesses the strength and the… presence to become a truly exceptional hero within the Hero Association.” He fell silent again, lost in thought. His praise for Genos was surprisingly effusive.

  Taking a deep breath, I decided to just go for it. “And what about me, Sweet Mask?” I asked, a nervous edge creeping into my voice. “Do you think… do you think I could ever reach S-Class?”

  His gaze flickered over me, a brief, almost clinical assessment. His expression remained impassive.

  “While you perform your duties adequately, Sneck,” he began, his tone devoid of any warmth, “and in some aspects, perhaps even more diligently than certain current S-Class heroes, I do not believe S-Class is within your reach.”

  My heart sank a little, but I tried to keep my face neutral.

  He continued, his words precise and unwavering. “Your strength, while commendable for your current rank, appears to have plateaued. You have likely passed your prime in terms of physical development. S-Class requires a level of raw power and potential for growth that I simply do not see in you. While your dedication is noted, potential is a crucial factor at that level, and frankly, yours is limited.”

  The words stung, more than I cared to admit.

  There was a cold, hard truth in his assessment that I couldn’t entirely ignore. I nodded slowly, a touch of resignation creeping into my posture. “I see,” I murmured, picking at my curry rice, the flavor suddenly gone.

  But something inside me wouldn’t let it go. That little spark of defiance, the one that had kept me going through countless monster encounters, flickered to life. “Sweet Mask,” I said, my voice gaining a newfound firmness. “Do you have a moment? I’d like to… I’d like to spar with you.”

  His perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, a hint of surprise in his usually composed features.

  “I want to show you my strength,” I continued, a touch of desperation lacing my tone. “I’ve been developing a new martial art, the Biting Dragon Fist. I truly believe it surpasses even Bang’s Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist.” I puffed out my chest slightly, a surge of pride in my creation.

  He regarded me for a long moment, his gaze sharp and analytical. Then, a slow smile, more curious than mocking, spread across his lips. “Biting Dragon Fist, you say? Claiming it’s superior to Bang’s style is quite a bold statement.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his interest clearly piqued. “Very well, Sneck. I am… intrigued. Let us see this ‘Biting Dragon Fist’ of yours.” He stood up gracefully, his movements fluid and effortless. “The canteen might not be the most suitable arena, but we can find a training room. Lead the way.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. This was it. My chance to prove him wrong. To show him, and maybe even myself, that I wasn’t just some stagnant C-Class hero. The Biting Dragon Fist… it was more than just a martial art. It was my answer. My defiance. And I was ready to unleash it.

  Even though the initial plan to confront the formidable Ashura Kabuto was unfortunately thwarted by Sitch's intervention, the subsequent unexpected confrontation with the esteemed hero Sweet Mask proved to be a surprisingly manageable and not entirely negative experience. It offered a different kind of challenge. Hoping for a special orb to drop when I fight Sweet Mask.