SSS-Ranked Demon Hunter: The Prodigy
Chapter 85: Black Hole Sun

Chapter 85: Black Hole Sun

One day, Adam and Shingen were ordered to inspect the territories on the outskirts of the city. The rural zone was considered promising due to its livestock, and, surprisingly, the pasture owners had agreed to raise animals for food.

Meat was produced at automated farms raising various species. The safety and operation of those facilities were overseen by specialized personnel.

There were also ordinary people living in the countryside, unaffected by the fear of demons. They had been warned before — if they were attacked, the authorities wouldn’t be able to respond quickly, but trying to convince the locals was pointless.

To one such pasture, the two S-ranked hunters headed. Stepping out of their military van, they approached the first site — a wooden house with a large vegetable garden and livestock yard.

The area felt wild, and the muddy roads hadn’t yet dried after the previous rains.

"Tell me, Adam, why the hell were we sent out here? Are we supposed to be livestock experts now?"

Smirking, Adam puffed up his chest:

"I don’t know about you, but I was born and raised in the countryside!"

"It shows."

"What’s that supposed to mean? Anyway, the Association is concerned about possible livestock infection. Sure, we don’t know yet whether animals can turn into demons on their own, but we’ve got to be cautious."

Their green uniforms stood out against the rustic scenery. Mud was everywhere, but Adam stepped forward confidently.

Shingen, feeling his boots sink into the sticky ground, merely grunted and followed with his crimson eyes.

"Something tells me... we’re going to run into trouble."

Soon, they arrived at the house. When they knocked on the wooden gates, the door creaked open to reveal an elderly farmer wearing an old-fashioned hat.

"Well, hunters, you’re here earlier than expected. Come on in, make yourselves at home."

"Thank you for your hospitality. We won’t be long."

The two hunters entered and saw stables along with chicken coops.

"It’s been a long time since anyone visited," the old man muttered nervously. "A bit embarrassed, really... haven’t had the chance to tidy up."

Walking past the curtain into the livestock area, Shingen asked:

"Do you live alone?"

"Ah, yes... I’m sorry, I’m not used to talking about it."

"Don’t worry, carry on with your business. We’re just here to inspect."

The old man entered his house.

While the hunters examined the stables, Shingen couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling brought on by the gloomy atmosphere.

"Still... I don’t like this place."

"Why not?" Adam didn’t take him seriously. "Looks like a normal farm. We haven’t even started the inspection yet. Don’t tell me the city boys are getting soft?"

Adam held a checklist in his hand. The document contained a list of potentially suspicious signs; all he had to do was check a box or mark an X.

Turning his head toward the adult horses, Shingen scrutinized them carefully:

"I’ve never seen horses up close before. Are they supposed to stare at us like that?"

"Oh, that? Animals don’t see people very often these days, except their owners. They’re just curious, just like you are about them."

"Still... those black eyes," Shingen whispered.

All of the horses had fixed their gaze on the Japanese hunter. It was as if nothing else mattered to them, not even feeding time.

A grey sky loomed over the area, with only a few faint rays of sunlight breaking through the thick clouds.

Adam marked the first X on the document.

"Let’s go. Next up — the sheepfold, cowshed, and pigsty."

Their mud-covered boots squelched forward.

While Adam inspected one part of the farm, Shingen headed toward another. Passing by the curious chickens and cows, he couldn’t shake the thought of how cautiously the animals were observing him.

People living in cities had grown detached from the rest of the world — for them, nothing felt more alive than concrete and skyscrapers.

Shingen had white, well-groomed hair and jet-black streaks — a strange color palette for this region. Though his parents had moved to Korea in search of a safer life, Shingen himself had been born and raised in Seoul.

He recalled how his family always told him to take pride in his appearance and heritage. They also taught him about the duty of a hunter and how important it was to be a patriot.

Walking through the livestock yard, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

In his eyes, there were no muddy roads — only a fragment of the past, through which he wandered as if still living it.

"Hey, Ping-Peng!" kids used to shout at him in school. "Or whatever your name is — you remember how things work around here, don’t you, Japanese boy?"

They were still in elementary school back then.

A bully walked up to Shingen and glared at him with contempt:

"You foreigners should be thankful we let you live in our country. Hand over what you’ve got, or we’ll show you what we do to outsiders."

Shingen met their eyes with his crimson gaze and turned his head away in silence.

"Freak," the bully spat, yanking at his white hair. "Didn’t they teach you any manners?"

Dragging him outside, the boys beat him up. Shingen resisted, but he couldn’t take on four at once. That’s when he realized:

"There’s no justice in this world."

His parents sought a better life, but all the boy saw was grayness. No matter where they moved, foreigners were met with hostility.

"What is pain? I’ve never really felt it. I was born without it."

His parents grew concerned about his apathy. After medical evaluations, they learned Shingen was emotionally numb. That’s why he became a machine, operating through sheer discipline.

Study. Fulfill the wishes of his parents. Become a respectable citizen of Korea.

But why? The boy had no answer.

Once he learned to fight back, the bullies left him alone.

"Look!" the boys would say. "It’s that pale kid again."

"He’s so mysterious~" the girls whispered in awe.

"Hey, Jap," the bully said in high school. "I saw what you did to those punks from another school. They won’t let that slide — they’ll come for your head."

Four familiar faces, now older and tougher, stood before him. Their hands were covered in scars.

"And why should I care?" Shingen said calmly, stepping past them.

The bully grabbed his shoulder:

"You know they’ll chase you down, right? You won’t survive — they’ll crush you and leave you in an alley. Better join our fight club. You’ll grow stronger. Maybe then our whole school will have your back."

School versus school. A typical scenario in the rougher parts of the Orange Zone.

"Gosh, you’re so damn annoying," the bully hissed. "Your indifference pisses me off. Name’s Kim Hojin. Got that?"

Hojin was anxious and often awkward.

Turning halfway, Shingen replied:

"Shingen Hattori."

Despite his emotional detachment, Shingen treasured these memories. Thanks to school, he realized that childhood — no matter how painful — was a fundamental part of growing up.

He often wondered: what would’ve happened had he rejected Hojin’s offer... or never stood up for himself at all?

Just then, Adam’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. They were now near the pigsty.

"Stop slacking off! You’re always doing nothing while I do all the work!"

"Hmph. You’re the one begging for it — so annoyingly righteous."

Looking at the pigs, Shingen was struck by their existence. Covered in mud, eating whatever came their way.

"Just like humans."

"Huh?" Adam glanced at the animals. "What are you talking about?"

"You’re no different from them. Same lifestyle."

"Damn it, will you quit messing with me already?!"

Adam was irritated, and Shingen enjoyed teasing him.

Suddenly, Shingen noticed one pig lift its head and stare at him. Its eyes, disturbingly human, froze in place. Unlike the others, it stood perfectly still.

"Hey, Adam."

"W-what now? Can I please finish this job in peace?"

"Is it normal for pigs to raise their heads like that? I thought they couldn’t."

"Huh? Oh, that one... Maybe it’s just really into you. Don’t turn your back — might lunge at you and eat you! Just kidding."

Adam chuckled, adjusting his short hair.

"Not funny."

Such behavior was unusual for pigs. Shingen noticed immediately.

Once the inspection was complete, they found no signs of viral infection.

"Mister!" Adam called. "Thanks for your help. You don’t need to worry — your livestock is virus-free, at least for now."

"Oh, what a relief," the frail old man said as he stepped out. "Every year, my back gives me more trouble. Hard to manage it all alone. If you’d like, you’re welcome to visit on the weekend — I’ll treat you to some fresh meat."

"We appreciate your kindness. But it’s time for us to go."

As the hunters left, the old man waved goodbye.

"All right, we’ve got one more site to check."

Walking down the path, Shingen cast one last glance toward the pigsty. Even from a distance, his eyes locked with the pig’s — it was still staring.

That grim look, surrounded by filth, filled Shingen with unease. Hands in pockets, he lowered his gaze and began to suspect something was very wrong here.

Later, after inspecting another farm, he realized those animals hadn’t shown such eerie interest in people.

By now, the moon had risen, casting silvery light over the evening streets.

Inside an empty stable, Shingen turned to his partner:

"My friend... I think something is seriously wrong."

They sat quietly on the hay.

"What is it? None of the animals had rabies, as far as I saw. No signs of demon blood."

"That’s not it. They’re not infected, that’s certain. I mean the old man’s livestock. I think... he’s feeding them human meat."

"...And how do you figure that? I mean, I believe you, but I didn’t see anything unusual."

To his surprise, Adam took the concern seriously.

"I saw... all of them staring at us without blinking. Not eating. Not doing anything. Their empty eyes said more than simple curiosity."

"That... really might be possible. If that’s true... then all of the old man’s animals are man-eaters."

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