Hitting the rank ceiling

Wandering among other worlds takes several degrees of complete knowledge wipe. Not only must you let go of what the religions the you be born to learn. Letting go of what you had once assumed as defined dictionary terms you know. Even aspect of history or languages. It has to be torn apart.

Once you can accept that, then you have to go through the levels of torture to adapt. Just as a example, if you cross a world that the air is toxic, then you have to have a way to get around it. You have to accept that maybe there is no point in risking it. Just how many worlds you will walk to get to where you wish to be. Let go of the lifetimes you knew, forget your purpose in life.

Not all gods are going to care or save us. Heck, forget the definition of what makes a god. They just better adapting beings whom can change the worlds around them. Being a god follower is just selling your soul to pump chair warmers.

I guess not all of the gods that do. There the ones that aren't even credited for their dedication to keeping things from falling apart.

Anyone or anything with enough cross travel can become a hunter. The lowerest folks are just accidents whom fall into trouble. The more serious lot because adapt to the sigil ranking system.

It is a universal used interface that levels anyone from 5 to 100. Past 100 level goes into the metal ranking; copper, tin, bronze, Silver (which could include plating has sub levels of the previous metals), Gold (repeating what silver does if plating applies) and then the only known highest from there is platinum. There is higher but they get secretive and are included by other realms system then from just sigil system ranks.

If your famed, then your given a title that reflects your line of work. This becomes the public name everyone calls you. This is what gods are often, three different system type ranks with four public titles. Anyone can be a demi-god: if you bother being that strong and risk turning into a creature.

Hunters of oath have many jobs. There a job for everyone under the hunter of oath entitlement. Its just a blanket name people use to just understand somewhat what you are. Its like being the police, ambulance, coast gaurds, mountains rescue and more. Tradesman that rebuild destroyed areas of myth status or sell lost gear.

Savagery are the highest demanding, risk your but for a suicidal attempt for making any confirmation that other hunters whom lost stuff. Bring back the finger bone that was left of the last guy whom did your job.

There are bounty hunters and mercenary sets too. They directly go for kill contracts agreed by realm system authorities or just big scary faces to keep peace between demon factions. Demons have riots between each other normally. They are bloodiest when their winged counterparts nose in too. Blood bath, for sure.

There internal workers whom are mediator, translators, document makers, lawyers and book keepers whom fill in the advertisements for what work is to be offered in a neutral area.

Today at the front desk of the largest peace ground is having a slow day. This place is famously nickname Valhalla. The locals are constantly fighting, eating and drunk. There is no dying in this world, only that you raise from a table like the golden mirror in the sky raises from the west and sets at the east.

I stumbled here on accident, died in a car accident by a lorry carrying tinned macaroni and cheese. I wasn't religious in my life and I totally just accepted the grim reaper that laughed at me the whole time. Clearly the unprofessional found the how accident hilarious. Once my name was marked in his leather torn book, he left me behind... staring at my mangled mess of a corpse. So I started exploring the world as a spirit, not much regret to dealt with. I was pushed into Valhalla when I was stood watching a film crew making a TV show.

I wasn't up to part taking like the locals here. They taught me the language and fighting and rules. Sort of just forget me from then on. I just wanted to talk and be civil, I tired.

I got this desk job when I found someone that wasn't like the locals. On a interesting day, I fill out requests about what other stranger need. Missing bodies. Lost weapons. Someone asked me if a dragon had ate anyone nearby. I didn't know dragons existed here.

Sadly, its just a day to see if Ragnar the 1st can slay all his grandchildrens children into muddy puddles again. If blood tooth is going to have his head lobbed off the 1037 time. Several weird names that kill the son of some other name. I wrote them all down somewhere and if you pointed to someone, I can take a educated guess.

"Bounty payment." A new face, she looks very fit. Better was how fancy her accent is. I soon had second thoughts as she removed her face to show a void space inside.

I seen this type before. A Damned whom was reborn wrong, incomplete memory erasing and cursed half ghost and half China plate. There a lot of high ranked ones whom are secretive freaks. She likely one of them, but I not going to assume that should be the treatment.

"Is it a request your making or a dead person your cashing in to the hold cells?" I pose with having a crystal tech slate at ready to fill.

"I am filling a request on behalf of someone else." This is normal and she does provide three guild letters of approved. A hunter whom just spreading other realm requests. Some hunters take one way postal requests like this. I examine what I need, do the check the guide told me to be double sure.

"OK, I will get the paperwork sorted." Database file fetching, stamping request approval and last authorisation email requests, "All registered into the local system. It take 3 mirror flicks for a realm system order. The rank leveling of this request is very high... so. It take 12 flicks to reach authorisation hunter of oath." She hissed in slammed a dagger into the desk, "Well, in the meantime. Welcome to Valhalla. When you die, you just wake up at the food Hall. Good luck."

"Excuse you! I am already dead. How can I die again?" I sigh at how newbie this person would have to be. The poor chick does know that she given a temporary life when walking a world away from a grim reapers reach.

"Blood fist! We have a lunatic!" I call and a fighter jumps right to hitting the poor lass. No care in the worlds for her gender or high and mighty assumptions. A good learning curve. For this chick to realize her situation. I guess her waiting for the request isn't going to take long for her.

Her clay body smashed into dust across the floor. Blood fist disappointed in how she didn't fight back.

"You might have to try the clay face tomorrow too." He grins with missing teeth. He goes flying in several body segments everywhere. I blink with not knowing what weapon that was.

"You!" She came back together, the sound of glass fixing back together in slow motion. It was how it looked to me.

"I can't make the process any faster then I have." I prove this with pulling a glass chunk from a steel block, handing to a postal bird and feeding it random scoop of guts from someone's corpse nearby. It flew as fast as possible.

"You..." She watched the bird leave, "Do you know how many guilds I been to for someone to sent it in glass like that." She was livid with how the void inside was making strange growls.

"And yet, your still clueless. Seriously. You have lost a few screws somewhere, miss."

"Miss!" She retaliated once again and with blade through my gut. I took it because I am used to this world and its rules, "I was a man!"

"You could have been a male when you died a human life. Now you are a.... thing. I don't know what you are. I seen you types before. Mute manners. No so talkie like you." Pose with exaggerated hand moves, posing forward, prayer hold and knocking the counter as I say words, "You are a dead status now. It doesn't actually mean being dead like what you assumed when you were alive." I see that she been told this and still don't get it... or something.

"I am a royal!" She snarls, "I demand that you respect your place." stabs through another organ. She really stood back with indifferent of emotions I am. No even intermediation at this point.

"Suit yourself. Clearly your helpless. I did my job unless you have anything else to request to the hunters of oath. What your request was is something for the cogs of the universe to answer." She changes her demeanour quickly, putting away the fencing sword. Unsheathing a small dagger and putting it to the counter.

I don't need to touch it to know what that is. Only cog rank hunters have them, the secretive ranks above platinum. She worked her ass off to be this far from many worlds and to hold a rank like this.

"I am not the one whom can give you a rank rise... only cogs know. But your in the right place for meeting them. They cross here to the undead cities all the time." She gasps and then hissed. She grapples my head, jumps the counter and snapped me.

I woke up off the dinner table, I share the ritual toast of mead. I fix my shirt, taking it off and sewing it with a needle kit from my pocket. I got all the way to my desk.

She laying across, talking to my corpse head. I sigh and toss my old body out of the way. I sign into my crystal slate and work with ignoring her.

"Lively as always in here." A request maker whom constantly come in, it a slime ink body with a mute mask face. It shares my ignorance of the chick laying on the counter talking to herself, "Here..." A stack as always to system flex, "Anything interesting since last visit?"

"No. Just her... sorry, him. Another sad traveller whom has cross a few to many worlds. All to put a bounty for some group of shadow beings." The inky mass posed in thinking about this information, "Here, I share it to you. It a cogs thing."

"Sure..." The mass took hold and ate the papers, spitting them into a neat pile, "Marcus Darkcraft... I knew you crawl from punishment eventually." It snatches the lass in a strangle. She isn't gasping for air since she doesn't breath it nor does it bother her. She just glares into the inky mass, "Jepson, I need her paperwork ready by 1." I get right to ID, verification and ranking copies. A hold file sorted in one minute. They leave to the undead cities, I wave then away.

"Just another slow boring day." Sigh in sitting back, watching the folks fighting. I can help it but watch them, "I guess it isn't so bad."

Real bloodshed between fierce warriors of all sorts. It wasn't just one sort here. All sorts of folks whom want to improve survival came here. As nut cased as the locals whom call it home.

"Excuse me..." What a strange pair, a child and pink haired weirdo. They look... military.

"Welcome to Valhalla, what can the hunters of oath do for you?" The child confused, looking around at every in a new light. I focus with the pink hair, whom smile was just a sly poker face.

"Ah... you got it wrong. We are undertakers. You little soul are in the wrong world. A foul spirit of improperly reborn... You what were what were looking for." Something was taken from me.

No table to wake from this time. No... Whats words?