Brownsville Towers. It was one of the poorest apartment buildings in the city, with cramped lives stacked precariously on top of one another, situated uncomfortably close to the street where the dungeon had breached.

  A woman living on one of the lower floors, in a room that was filled with stale air, the yellow light of a monitor cut through the darkness.

  “Sis, you’ve been glued to that screen for days. You weren’t the one in the fight, you know,” said a voice from behind.

  The woman at the desk didn’t even flinch. Her eyes darted across the hunter forums, scrolling past vitriol and conspiracy theories with practiced speed.

  “Checking subthredds all day isn’t gonna change a damn thing,” the voice came again, closer this time.

  She spun her wheelchair around. Her brother was leaning against her doorframe.

  “Then quit hovering and get out of my room,” she snapped, though there was no real heat in it.

  “Well, technically, I’m not in your room.”

  The sister, Violet, rolled her eyes before turning back to her laptop.

  She had been trapped in this bedroom on that day, because she was a paraplegic, and the breach had happened while her younger brother was out picking up her repaired wheelchair.

  She had spent the duration of the attack on her bed, glued to the window, filming the chaos below because she thought it would be the last thing she ever saw.

  Her brother scratched the back of his neck and looked away.

  “Look, it pisses me off that he’s getting all this hate online, too.”

  “Then you get it.”

  Her brother crossed his arms, stepping fully into the room.

  “I mean, if he had just shown up at the press conference, people would’ve believed he existed.”

  “He wants to remain anonymous. Is that a crime?” She scoffed.

  It was a hundred times better than the other hunters who were just trying to cash in on their fame. The ones who wouldn’t even step foot in a dungeon if it didn’t pay well, but still paraded around like heroes.

  Hunters were basically celebrities these days.

  “Well, no… but—”

  “If it weren’t for that hunter, I wouldn’t be here right now,” she cut him off, her voice dropping an octave. “He might not get the recognition he deserves, but at least he shouldn’t be getting hate. It’s just so unfair.”

  Of course, she knew there was nothing she could do. What could a single girl in Brownsville do to change the public opinion?

  She also knew she was just taking out her frustration on her brother, the only true family she had left.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Sighing, she looked away from the screen and rubbed her temples.

  “Are you gonna eat lunch?” her brother asked, finally.

  “…I have to check the footage first.”

  “The stuff you filmed that day?”

  She nodded.

  He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but there was tension in his shoulders.

  “Honestly, you could just upload it. I know you’re not posting it because you don’t want to use that hunter’s face without permission. But can’t you just blur it or something? That’s how Heather Stone got famous, right? I can help you with it if you want.”

  Violet smirked at his offer.

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Why not?”

  “Do you even know what a keyframe is?”

  Her brother bristled, but didn’t argue. Her brother didn’t know a thing about editing videos.

  But she knew why he cared so much. On the day of the breach, he had been complaining nonstop about having to cancel his plans with his friends to go get her wheelchair.

  And for the last few days, he was still feeling guilty about it, thinking that could’ve been the last conversation they ever had.

  She had forgiven him the moment he burst back into the apartment, sweating and terrified, but she didn’t mind letting him stew in it a little longer.

  “It’s been so long since I edited anything.”

  She tapped her finger on the desk.

  “I don’t even have the program anymore. I’d have to reinstall it.”

  “You’re pretty good, though, right?”

  He grinned, sensing an opening.

  “I mean, you’re the girl who waited twelve hours at a comic convention just so you could edit your own footage of that actor from the desert movie—”

  He was cut off when she grabbed a pillow from her bed and launched it at his head.

  But as her brother laughed, her concern grew.

  Anyone who had ever touched an editing program knew how much the narrative of a video could be bent. Editing decided who looked like the star and who became the villain.

  The woman rubbed her neck as she sighed.

  “If I edit it wrong, he might get even more hate. If I don’t create a clear villain, people will analyze it frame by frame until they make up one themselves. And, usually, monsters aren’t ‘fun’ enough for people to blame.”

  She was speaking from experience.

  Her brother replied as if it were no big deal.

  “But there is a villain, right? The jackass who caused the whole thing in the first place. Use Barlowe or Barley or whatever he’s called. Even if you told them not to, people are going to hate him anyway.”

  Her brother was systematically dismantling all her excuses now, because Violet was slowly being persuaded.

  “It would be bad if some Wynn fan posts their own edited video first and twists the story.”

  Was she really the only one who had filmed it, thinking it might be a record of her last moments? Surely there were others.

  The brother jumped at the chance.

  “Right? Just do what you want, sis.”

  He knew that if he pushed too hard, his sister would just shut down.

  “You are good at that stuff. You know, setting up a twist so people get invested.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. It was annoying, hearing him use her own words from her fangirl days against her. Still, he wasn’t wrong.

  People didn’t get hooked on someone who started out perfect. That’s why hunters’ lives before they awakened always got picked apart by the public. Everyone always went crazy for a rags to riches story.

  But this one wasn’t going to be able to be told as a rags to riches story. Because there was a tiny problem in her footage.

  Her hero... sometimes spoke in a stoic manner, that some might easily judge as, well, “rude.”

  Also, to make the video go viral, she couldn’t just edit a few snippets and called it a day. It had to be easy to watch, something anyone could follow even with their brain turned off, scrolling on the toilet or on the subway.

  Her brother started leaving.

  “Alright, I’m gonna go make lunch. You do your thing.”

  “I didn’t say I was going to do it yet!”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll call you when the pasta’s ready.”

  “Don’t ignore me, Henry Marcus Stone!” she yelled at his back.

  His footsteps faded down the hall. She pretended she was still thinking it over, but her hand was already moving the mouse.

  If what he did gets twisted to make someone else look like the hero…

  There was no way she could just stand by and let that happen.

  She hit download on a video editor, praying her ancient laptop’s graphics card would still hold up. The fans whirred to life, wheezing to keep up with the sudden load.

  While the progress bar crawled across the screen, she pulled up the biggest hunter forum. Because every movie needed a trailer.

  And that’s how a new post went up online.