Ex Hunter Current Queen, All That’s Left Is the Actual Battle

Translator: White Lotus 

A dazzling light tapped against his eyelids, and Jackson, thinking it was unusually annoying, finally opened his eyes. The corners of his eyes stung and felt dry, as if someone had rubbed salt into them.

Am I dreaming?

All kinds of gemstones he had never seen before were gleaming, casting colorful patterns across the ceiling and floor. It was a place so beautiful it could be called paradise without any exaggeration. The stillness in the air carried an air of solemnity, pressing heavily on his shoulders.

Where the hell…?

His vision was blurred, as if he were submerged underwater. Yet the vivid colors flickering before him were undeniably mesmerizing.

Damn it, am I still drunk?

No matter how much he drank, he had never seen anything this bizarre. As the sensation slowly returned to his body, the situation became clearer. Jackson finally realized that someone was holding his hand and leading him forward.

Jackson Carter was tall, even among grown men. However, the person gripping his hand was so massive that the burly man beside him seemed small in comparison. The giant, in contrast to Jackson’s weathered and sun-tanned hands, had smooth hands, and his palms were unusually hot.

What the hell…

Dazed and half-conscious, Jackson faintly furrowed his brows. He wanted to demand an explanation, but his lips wouldn’t move. As if paralyzed, all he could manage was a slight twitch. Even trying to swallow his own saliva was difficult. If he couldn’t even move his tongue, let alone speak, something was definitely very wrong.

Eventually, a platform, taller than Jackson himself, came into view and blocked his path. While he was still struggling to awaken his dulled senses, the giant walking beside him came to a stop.

[…-, …, …–…-….]

“…….”

A somewhat solemn voice echoed above his head, but to Jackson, it sounded like nothing more than mumbling. Fuck, it wasn’t even a language humans used.

[Across the vast expanse of the universe, two beings have walked through different times. King Calint Lakron of Arachron, do you agree to take the human, Jackson Carter, as your first queen and walk the remaining time together?]

The High Priest presiding over the ceremony blinked his jewel-like eyes nervously. Though he was proceeding according to the rituals, he swallowed his own bewilderment, unable to fully grasp this absurd wedding.

A human queen!

If this unprecedented event didn’t become a laughingstock of the universe, it would be a miracle. The human, clueless about any form of etiquette, stood there awkwardly wrapped in layers of clothing, looking absolutely terrible.

After a brief silence, the being who was to become Jackson’s husband—the King of Arachron—finally responded.

[Yes. I, Calint Lakron, King of Arachron, agree to take the human, Jackson Carter, as my queen and bind ourselves in marriage.]

Poor crown prince—no, poor king!

The High Priest inwardly let out a silent scream of despair as he glanced down at the human bride. His appearance was disgraceful. The man’s black hair was slightly disheveled, his expression gloomy, and his face was patchy with unkempt stubble. His muscular frame was draped in a dress that left his shoulders exposed, making him look both ridiculous and unsightly.

It looked more like being wrapped in a pile of fabric than actually wearing a dress, the High Priest thought bitterly, as he cleared his throat and turned to Jackson.

[Human Jackson Carter, do you agree to marry King Calint Lakron of Arachron and become the Queen of Arachron?]

Jackson was still in a daze. Even if he wanted to lift his head and see the face of whoever kept speaking, his neck wouldn’t cooperate. All he could manage was to lift his heavy eyelids slightly, glaring at the strange patterns carved into the platform before him.

Damn it, what the hell is with this wrapping-paper-like outfit?

As his consciousness gradually returned, and the sensations in his limbs and extremities became clearer, Jackson felt a surge of irritation rising within him. He became acutely aware of the fact that he was dressed in something that felt as flimsy and light as a spider’s web, an odd garment that seemed just sheer enough to tease transparency.

Whoever had dressed him clearly had no idea where arms were supposed to go. The empty sleeves flapped aimlessly with every breath he took.

The brute standing next to him had somehow managed to pull one of his arms from the heap of fabric that looked like a pile of gift wrap. Still not fully comprehending the situation, Jackson shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering haze. The High Priest, mistaking his movement as some kind of response, asked again in a solemn voice.

[Jackson Carter, do you agree to the marriage vows?]

Though he couldn’t understand much of the creature’s language, hearing his own name was unmistakable. Feeling increasingly agitated, Jackson turned his head to demand an explanation, but just then, an ominous sound echoed through the hall.

Crack—!

A sudden coolness spread across his back, and blood began to circulate freely through his limbs. His stiff body relaxed as a tingling sensation spread throughout.

A sigh of dismay echoed behind him. The intricately crafted, beautiful dress had torn in half with just one rough movement. Whether Jackson was aware that his broad, muscular back was now fully exposed to the audience or not, he began stretching his neck from side to side, loosening up his body.

The bundle of fabric wrapped around him like a fool had clearly been cutting off his circulation. As he finally freed himself from the suffocating restraint, the human’s eyes gleamed with a deadly, intense light. The High Priest, seeing the fury in Jackson’s gaze, panicked and urged him to respond.

[Jackson Carter, please answer.]

“What is it with you? Why do you keep calling my name? And what’s with this ridiculous nonsense?”

[Hahaha… it seems the bride has quite a sense of humor.]

When Jackson didn’t answer, the High Priest grew more uncomfortable, desperately hoping Jackson would just agree to the marriage vows. He wanted to leave the ceremony as quickly as possible. With those pitch-black eyes glaring at him as if they could kill, only one thought filled the priest’s mind.

Had the queen been swapped out somehow?

No matter how he looked at it, this savage human was far from fitting for the role of queen. But what could be done? The law was the law. Once a matter was decided in a council meeting, no one could overturn it. The only pity was for Calint, who had to accept a human as his first queen.

Poor Your Majesty, he’s so unlucky.

As the hall stirred with murmurs, the king—dressed in equally resplendent ceremonial robes—finally spoke. His voice was so low and soft that it sent a shiver through anyone who heard it.

“Do not be nervous, Jackson. You only need to say ‘yes’ in your language, and that will be enough.”

“What?”

Hearing words he could finally understand, Jackson’s eyes widened in surprise. Just from the rich tone of that voice, he could easily tell that the giant figure speaking from above was not human.

They had been mumbling incomprehensible words, occasionally calling his name—what did they expect him to do? The constant repetition of his name had begun to grate on his nerves. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if this was some kind of courtroom. Was this a trial?

Damn it, this is worse than I thought.

They had dressed him in this ridiculous prisoner’s garb, making it hard to move. The giant next to him was like some sort of interpreter, brought along just for show, to lend legitimacy to the whole farce. The repeated calling of his name and the solemn, almost judicial tone made the whole situation all too clear.

But something didn’t quite add up. The interpreter’s voice, for all its gravity, was far too gentle and kind to be addressing a prisoner. Baffled, Jackson glanced at the massive figure beside him—his soon-to-be husband—and questioned him.

“Yes? What do you mean, ‘yes’…?”

[The queen’s inability to speak the language of Arachron is understood. But by saying that word, the queen has just agreed to the vow.]

Jackson’s inquiry was immediately dismissed. Unlike the kind and patient tone the King of Arachron had used earlier, he now spoke in a brisk, formal manner, finishing the conversation with precision.

[The vow has been confirmed….]

The High Priest, sweating nervously, hastily flipped through his book, desperate to move on to the next part of the ceremony. Though he had officiated countless weddings, he could have done it with his eyes closed—yet this situation was like no other he had ever encountered.

A wedding between different species, and with a human, no less! This was something unheard of.

Thankfully, the guests didn’t seem to find the bizarre spectacle dull in the least. The problem was that the more intrigued they were, the more the High Priest was consumed by the urge to throw everything aside and leave. Yet, somehow, he managed to remain faithful to his role and successfully uttered the final words to conclude the ceremony.

[Then, from this moment forward, these two beings are bound as one, having vowed in front of honored guests to walk together as husband and wife. Let us congratulate them all.]

Applause erupted from the guests. Jackson, who had been gradually regaining his senses, froze at the thunderous clapping.

Damn it, what the hell is going on?

Before he had a chance to voice his thoughts, the man who had been firmly holding his left hand grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around. Staring up at the being who now stood before him, Jackson’s face twisted in shock and horror.

Arachron!

His foggy mind cleared in an instant, and a shudder ran through his body. He was already sick and tired of them. Just a few weeks ago, he had taken on a job to assassinate their queen, hadn’t he?

Jackson Carter was a fairly well-known hunter. Although the term “hunter” was used loosely, he was famous for taking paid jobs to eliminate any non-human species, including alien creatures.

The interpreter who had spoken to him so kindly in human language was, in fact, an Arachron. And now, convinced that they had forced him into answering as part of some hastened trial, Jackson’s hand trembled with rage. Judging by the cheers from the creatures behind him, the trial had clearly ended in his defeat.

Still reeling from this revelation, Jackson instinctively patted the waistline of the voluminous dress. Unsurprisingly, there was no gun—hell, there wasn’t even a pocketknife. He was in deep trouble. Meanwhile, the face of Calint, the one holding his shoulder, was drawing closer.

Damn it, he’s not an interpreter, he’s an executioner! I killed their queen, and now they’re going to sentence me on the spot. Is this really how my life ends…?

Jackson swallowed hard, convinced that the creature was going to tear out his throat.

A sharp nose, a chiseled jawline, and impressive pectoral muscles—at least from the waist up, the Arachron weren’t all that different from humans. In fact, the beast before him could have been considered ruggedly handsome, even when compared to the New Humans.

But there was no denying he was a monster. Where his eyes should have been, a solid, armored covering was in place, adorned with eight dazzling gemstones arranged like flowers. The effect was reminiscent of a spider’s eyes, though far more mystical and beautiful than any spider could ever be.

However, it wasn’t the Arachron’s intricate, mask-like eyes that marked him as a monster. It was his lower body. It was the ultimate embodiment of the grotesque. His lower half was an unholy fusion of a spider and a scorpion. In short, the Arachron resembled some ancient, mythical centaur—only instead of a horse, his lower half was that of an arthropod.

Realizing his end was near, Jackson squeezed his eyes shut and thought grimly.

So this is how I go—executed by a monster. Just when I thought I’d finally escape this miserable, cursed life.

Seeing his reaction, Calint gave a faint smile. The poor human seemed utterly terrified for some reason. Before kissing his new bride, the king of monsters leaned in and whispered in a low voice, just loud enough for only Jackson to hear.

“Thank you for becoming my queen, Carter. As the King of Arachron, I will do my best for you.”

“What? Wait, mmph!”

What the hell, did I hear that right?

Before Jackson could fully process Calint’s words, the king pressed his lips against Jackson’s, sending his eyes flying open in shock. Reflected in the glittering eight jewels that served as Calint’s eyes, Jackson saw his own stunned face framed by the king’s high, sharp nose.

The guests erupted into raucous cheers and shrieks as they witnessed the passionate kiss. Some were likely screaming out of revulsion, thinking the pairing was grotesque, while others, lost in wild fantasies, were celebrating what they saw as a love transcending species.

I killed the queen of the Arachron, and now I’m their next queen?

As Calint’s tongue slipped into his mouth, gently exploring the sensitive inner lining, Jackson shuddered. His hands twitched, and his arms jerked involuntarily as he fought to keep control of his body. But the more he struggled, the more difficult it became to think clearly, his mind clouded by the deep, sensual intertwining of their tongues. As soon as the other’s tongue wrapped around his own, only one thought crossed his mind.

These crazy bastards. They’re completely out of their minds.

******

Everything began a few weeks earlier.

Late in the morning, Jackson lay sprawled on his couch, sleeping like a dead man. Empty bottles and crushed cans littered the floor beneath him, and the coffee table was covered in cigarette butts overflowing from an ashtray, surrounded by piles of ash.

In this chaotic room, Jackson slept soundly, cocooned in a thin, stained blanket that he had wrapped tightly around himself. He snored softly, one arm lazily thrown over his face to block the sunlight streaming in through the window. To anyone who saw him, it was clear: this was a man who had drunk himself into oblivion the night before.

—Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!

A sharp alarm jarred him awake. Still lying on the couch, Jackson waved a lazy hand in the direction of the noise, not bothering to open his eyes. He had no idea that this call would change the course of his life forever. The motion of his hand triggered the phone, automatically answering the incoming call.

“…Hello.”

Jackson’s voice was thick with sleep as he greeted the caller, his tone sluggish and drowsy. On the other end of the line, a cold, emotionless voice responded.

—Are you still sleeping, Carter?

The monotone voice was as lifeless as the sound of the phone’s alarm. Recognizing the mechanical tone, Jackson bolted upright on the couch, the blanket slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare chest.

His body was well-built—bronzed skin, broad shoulders, and muscles rippling across his torso, all of which spoke of years of hard work. Even when he sprawled across the couch in a drunken stupor, his imposing frame had been evident. Standing at over 185 cm, Jackson was a man who commanded attention.

“Yes, boss.”

He addressed the person on the other end as “boss,” his voice now steady and respectful. He cleared his throat with a slight cough, but his expression clearly showed his displeasure.

What the… It’s only 11 in the morning.

—There’s a client in the office who wants to personally hire you.

“Personally?”

Jackson’s voice was full of skepticism as he questioned the mechanical tone on the other end of the line. His boss, however, continued in that same monotone, unbothered.

—That’s correct. If you’re going to accept the job, please come to the office.

“Wait a minute, what kind of job are we talking about? You’ve got to at least give me some idea.”

No way he was just going to agree blindly.

Someone who wanted to hire a hitman at 11 on a Wednesday morning was not your average person. And on top of that, instead of going through the usual process with his boss, they wanted to hire him personally.

Jackson’s instincts kicked in. This had to be big. Sensing money, the seasoned hunter shoved the blanket off his body, tossing it to one corner of the couch, and sat up, immediately searching for his prosthetic leg. While stalling for time with his questions, his boss responded with a clipped answer.

—It’s an external termination request.

“I’m on my way. Tell them I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

Still groping around the couch, Jackson scratched his head. He vaguely remembered stumbling onto the couch drunk last night, having tossed his prosthetic leg somewhere in the process. Finally, he found it abandoned under the coffee table.

Most people these days had fancy, seamless prosthetics that worked perfectly, but Jackson wasn’t in a position to afford one of those. Still, it was better than nothing.

The prosthetic leg was made of plastic, designed with a geometric, almost polygonal, structure, though it was surprisingly ergonomic. Once Jackson slipped it on like a shoe, he stood up and walked briskly to the bathroom, splashing water over his body to wake up fully. The hot water cleared the last remnants of his hangover.

In less than five minutes, he was out of the shower, pulling a sock over his prosthetic and sliding into a pair of pants. No one could tell by looking that his right leg ended just below the knee.

A quick shake of his damp black hair sent droplets flying, and he swiftly slicked it back with some cheap mousse. As his wild hair fell into place, his rugged face was revealed. He shot a quick glare at his reflection in the mirror before grabbing his motorcycle keys and heading out the door.

******

The hired gun arrived at the office shortly after. Climbing the creaky steps of an old, dilapidated building, he opened the rusty metal door to reveal a small, damp space that greeted him like an unwelcome guest. As soon as Jackson stepped inside, he locked eyes with his boss, suppressing the irritation he felt toward him.

What a disgusting pile of scrap metal.

In the center of his boss’s smooth, hairless, curved face were two red eyes. The sensors glowed red, blinking as they registered Jackson’s presence. The eerie movement sent shivers down his spine.

Jackson Carter was a hunter, working under a robot boss who was designed specifically for killing.

With the rapid advancement of technology, humans had passed on most unpleasant tasks to machines—including killing. However, high-performance killing machines were expensive, and soon it became more cost-effective to hire cheap humans to do the dirty work. It was common for hunters like Jackson, who were desperate for cash, to work under assassination machines in exchange for money.

—You’ve arrived. This is Jackson Carter. One of our most reliable workers.

The boss introduced Jackson to the client as if he were showcasing a product. Every time his mechanical voice made such statements, Jackson felt a twinge of discomfort. Still, he was used to being treated like this, so he shrugged it off and walked confidently toward the client.

As soon as Jackson saw the client’s golden hair, his heart skipped a beat. Though the figure sat upright on the old sofa, with their back still turned to him, Jackson knew without a doubt who it was.

A New Human.

They were a breed apart from the hunters, who scraped by, living day to day by destroying others’ lives. Jackson had only ever seen New Humans on screens, never in person. Unable to contain his curiosity, he moved to the front of the sofa to get a good look at the client’s face.

Damn. It’s Perfect.

The moment Jackson saw the client’s face, a curse slipped into his thoughts. It was flawless. Their skin was porcelain smooth, without a single blemish. Tall and slender, the client exuded an ethereal beauty that was impossible to ignore. Jackson thought that no one could meet this person and not be captivated. They were so angelic, he could almost believe they’d fallen from heaven itself.

“I hear you specifically asked for me. What’s the job?”