A soft click echoed as a young man entered a vacant hotel room, dragging his luggage behind him.
His expression revealed a mix of relief and fatigue as he pulled his suitcase and several bags of groceries inside. The sheer number of bags was overwhelming—even for someone of his build. It wasn't the weight, but the awkward bulk that made them hard to carry without risking damage.
This man was Raven.
Raven glanced at the clock on the wall.
10:48 PM
He hadn't expected it to be this late by the time he finally got settled.
He placed the groceries in the refrigerator, then sighed deeply as he held his head and collapsed onto the bed.
Thinking back to the hunter registration process, Raven sighed again. Although the magical energy measurement didn't take long, everything after that had been a tiring ordeal.
Once his energy was measured to determine his rank, he assumed the next step would simply be a display of ability to classify his combat style. But instead, after completing the assessment, he was forced to attend a mandatory seminar for newly awakened hunters. It was meant to explain the rules, dungeon protocols, and the broader system—but the session dragged on for three and a half hours.
The seminar covered hunter ranks and classes, guild structures, dungeon mechanics, monster classifications, laws, and other topics. While much of this was available online, certain sensitive information had been withheld from public access. The Association used this time to provide cautionary insights on what to expect—and what to avoid—when venturing into dungeons.
Though the seminar lacked the depth elite guilds likely provided, it was still useful for new hunters like Raven.
Of course, not everyone appreciated it—especially since most of the information focused on common monsters like goblins, kobolds, insects, and other low-rank creatures.
Except for him, the rest of these people had never encountered a living monster. They had no idea how dangerous monsters really were. Blinded by confidence, they subconsciously overestimated themselves.
Many believed that a hunter of a given rank could automatically deal with monsters of the same rank. They failed to understand that rank only measured magical energy—it didn't reflect combat experience or actual ability.
Even within the same rank, there were vast differences. One E-rank hunter might be strong enough to overpower two others of the same rank. And the higher the rank, the more pronounced those differences became. The same applied to monsters.
Not all monsters were equal in strength just because they were the same species. This wasn't a game where enemy stats were fixed. Newly awakened hunters failed to grasp this reality—one of the main reasons for high casualty rates, especially among low-rank hunters.
The Association admitted they couldn't match the knowledge held by high-ranking guilds and didn't see the need to educate low-rank hunters about monsters they were unlikely to encounter.
Any hunter who scored highly during evaluation had already been recruited by mid- or major-tier guilds and was receiving elite training.
Compared to those individuals, the seminar felt more like a safety net—to reduce the death toll during first-time dungeon raids.
By the time everything was over, it was late. Raven abandoned his original plan to inspect the hotel beforehand and immediately booked a room after ensuring there were no negative reviews or suspicious comments.
Had he skipped that, he might've had to spend another night at his old apartment—and that was risky. He was certain a new weekly quest would arrive by morning.
He didn't want a repeat of the last incident.
So Raven chose an extended-stay hotel room.
He paid upfront for the entire week and stocked up on groceries. That way, if he got injured, he wouldn't need to leave the room for essentials. From the 90,000 credits he had after trading mana crystals, only around 12,000 remained.
He also bought kitchen utensils, knowing he'd be cooking for himself.
The next morning, Raven—already used to waking early—rose before dawn.
4:47 AM
He got out of bed, warmed up his body, and began prepping some items he had brought with him.
He pulled on a pair of charcoal-gray jogging pants made of quick-dry fabric that hugged his legs without restricting movement. Thick enough to resist thorny underbrush and insects, light enough to preserve agility. Elastic cuffs sealed off his ankles from anything that might sting or slither.
Over his torso, he wore a long-sleeved athletic shirt—breathable yet tightly woven to prevent bites—topped with a zip-up hooded jacket that was wind-resistant and equipped with a high collar. Thumbholes kept the sleeves snug over his wrists, minimizing exposed skin.
His gloves were reinforced gardening gloves, offering grip and protection without sacrificing dexterity. His trail-running shoes had thick soles and reinforced toes, ideal for uneven terrain and sudden shifts.
Finally, he pulled his hood up, casting a shadow over his face. Not armor—but a thin barrier between him and nature's venom.
He then glanced at the kitchen knife he had carefully selected. Holding it in his hand, he swung it a few times, testing its weight and balance.
Each swing cut through the air in a blur, leaving white streaks in its path.
It looked impressive—but Raven knew the visual flair came not from technique, but raw strength.
An ordinary swing became a lethal strike in Raven's hands. Yet doubt crept into his mind.
'Can this knife even hold up against a monster?' he wondered.
Though magical creatures' skin wasn't unbreakable, their durability was no joke. Their bodies were flexible, but strong—like steel wrapped in flesh.
Firearms might injure lower-rank monsters like goblins, but killing them? It felt like humanity needed heavy weapons just to handle such basic threats.
This was also why hunters were now considered a country's national fighting force.
Because if humanity needed advanced weapons to deal with low-level monsters, how could they possibly handle high-ranking ones? It's not like they could just drop a nuclear bomb every time.
If countries really resorted to that, it would only hasten humanity's downfall.
So when Raven looked at the plain kitchen knife in his hand, the idea of using it as a weapon felt almost laughable.
Still, it was better than nothing.
Time seemed to pass quickly. Then—floating into view:
Quest Notification
[ Ding! ]
[ Weekly Quest: Monster Hunt Fest! ]
Goal: Hunt 500 Monsters
Time Limit: 24 hours
Location: Forest of Death
Mission Starts In: 59 minutes, 52 seconds
Failure Condition: Unable to kill 500 monsters during the time limit
Penalty: System Quest will be suspended for one week
Rewards:
- +5 Attribute Points
- Mana Crystal [E] x1
- Random Loot Bag
Raven eyed the notification, his expression skeptical.
Same interface. Different goal. And unlike his first quest, this one didn't center on survival—it was all about taking initiative. Failure didn't mean death this time.
"Is it because the first quest was about survival, so failing meant death?" he wondered.
It should've been reassuring, but unease still clawed at him.
He frowned, taking a deep breath to clear his mind.
"No matter what, I've already decided. Even if failing doesn't guarantee death, I still have to complete the quest."
If this were before his first weekly quest, maybe he wouldn't have cared as much. But after fighting goblins and everything he'd learned over the past few days, Raven had realized a brutal truth:
He was at the bottom.
Almost every hunter he'd met was stronger. And those around his level? They were weak too. There was no slow climb with conveniently arranged stepping stones.
This wasn't a novel where weaklings stirred up drama only for stronger allies to bail them out later.
No—every encounter was overwhelming. If Raven acted like a typical face-slapping protagonist, he'd be the one getting slapped. No—he'd be smashed by a giant hammer of "justice."
That's why he had to improve—fast.
Right now, even an ordinary person could mess with him. Why?
Because he was still under the grasp of the law, his fate still in the hands of those above him. Worse—he was still too small for anyone to care about, let alone consider his thoughts.
More than 60% of the hunters he'd met could beat him to a pulp without even trying. So even retaliation required careful consideration—lest he end up in a worse position.
And then there were the magical creatures—whose sole goal is humanity's eradication.
No one could guarantee he'd never face a dungeon outbreak. Even the strongest nations couldn't claim complete safety—let alone the Philippines.
Dungeon breaks didn't just depend on rank. Timing and location mattered too. Many occurred because the dungeon was discovered too late.
So Raven had to prepare—incase something went wrong.
He waited for an hour, conditioning his mind to sharpen his focus for the task ahead. Yet as the time ticked by, a slow dread began to creep in.
Even though this wasn't his first time being transported to that dangerous forest, there was no guarantee things would go smoothly again.
If he really thought back on the last quest, all he remembered was desperation—pure survival instinct.
His current strength far exceeded what he had before—but that didn't mean he felt safe. There was no assurance that the same types of monsters would appear.
Even if goblins were the main enemy again, the true threat lay in the unknown.
And to complete the quest the biggest challenge, however, was time.
Raven believed he could kill 500 goblins—but could he do it within 24 hours? That depended on whether there were even that many monsters to hunt. What if there weren't enough? What if stronger creatures appeared instead?
Then he'd have to study them and craft a strategy—all while the clock kept ticking.
"Do I have to fight recklessly again?"
He sighed.
Again.
He had already lost count of how many times he'd sighed out of helplessness.
Now seated on the sofa, Raven steeled himself—mentally cycling through every possible strategy he might need inside that forest.