Chapter 1 – Welcome to Eryndor, No Tourists Allowed
In the vast world of Veldrosia stood a massive city, glittering like a gem set among mountains of glass and steel: Eryndor. A mythical city where legends were born, and where every child bore a Divimark, a magical symbol branded at birth. Each Divimark granted the bearer a fragment of power from a forgotten god. And the higher the level of the Divimark—from Level 1 to mythical figures few dared to speak—the more revered its bearer became. Some were feared, others worshipped. Most had fan clubs.
But our story doesn't start with a royal hero or a chosen one. No, our story begins with a certain Eron Parker, a teenager freshly out of his small village of Zarion, a forgotten place buried between dusty hills and illiterate goats. Eron had one ambition: to conquer Eryndor, become a legend, and maybe—just maybe—have his own mug sold in souvenir shops.
After a long trip in a mana-powered communal cart (with a baby dragon screaming non-stop), Eron stepped triumphantly onto the main station of Eryndor, with pride in his eyes, dust on his feet, and only one thing on his mind: comfort.
> "I'm going to live like a king," he declared aloud, just as a divine pigeon dropped a heavenly gift on his shoulder.
Five Stars and a Shooting Star
His first instinct? Find a five-star hotel. He quickly spotted one: The Palace of Zephyrs, a tower of crystal where your sneeze echoed from 42 different angles.
The receptionist scanned him from head to toe—mostly toe—but, seeing his wide, hopeful grin, she accepted his request for "one night, 5000 veldras."
Eron didn't listen to the end of the sentence. He nodded like a noble, handed over all his money and proudly declared:
> "I'll take the whole month, madam!"
The receptionist gave him a smile so polite it should've been illegal.
That evening, Eron lived the dream: moon-sap bathtubs, phoenix-feather pillows, and a dinner... priced at 800 veldras for just the starter. He savored every bite like it was a kiss from the gods. Between smoked griffon pâté and crystallized mana jelly, he nearly wept.
> "This is it. This is Eryndor. I'm never going back."
But that magical night soon turned into a surreal nightmare.
In his dream, a dark figure—blurry but towering—approached him, placed a hand on his Divimark, and whispered with a voice like thunder:
> "Fulgura…"
Lightning struck, burning into his dream, and he shot awake, sweating and panting.
> "Three a.m… Why did I have the rainbow mana dessert?"
A Harsh Wake-Up… and a Harsher Reality
The next morning, Eron blinked and smelled fresh linen.
> "Oh, someone folded my clothes! This really is five-star service."
A sharp voice cut through the air:
> "Because you're being kicked out, young man. You were supposed to check out by 8:30 AM. It's 9:02."
Eron turned his head. A woman in a military-grade maid outfit stood there with a broom of justice in one hand. Her name tag read: Lyra – Chief of Dimensional Maintenance.
> "But I paid for a month!"
> "No. You paid 5000 veldras for a single night. It's written right here, clearly, size 12, Paladinium font."
> "That's... robbery!"
> "Welcome to Eryndor, Mr. Parker. Good luck."
Lyra slammed the door shut as he stumbled out, suitcase in hand, shirt inside-out, and spirit already cracked.
> "Stupid five-star hotel… For 5000 veldras back in Zarion, I could've bought a house, two goats, a solar scooter, and a small plot of land!"
He wandered down the street, mumbling curses.
> "They're all insane here… I need to find a normal inn, with a normal price, and no enchanted crystal lobby."
He walked past an inn with a suspicious name: "The Night Movement."
> "Nope. Sounds... weird."
Further down, a hand-carved wooden sign greeted him:
"The Dawn Merchant's Inn."
> "Yes. That's it. That's a real inn."
Back to Earth… Well, Almost
Inside, a cheerful red-haired lady welcomed him.
> "Welcome! Simple room, two meals a day, warm-ish water guaranteed. 2500 veldras for the whole month."
Eron nearly cried in relief. He paid instantly, went to his modest room, dropped his bags, and collapsed onto a bed that was firm and honest.
> "I've got my base. Time to build my career."
The Hunter's Guild
After a healing nap (he called it "soul restoration meditation"), Eron walked to the Guild District. There, in a massive stone building with monster skulls and magical trophies everywhere, he entered the Guild of Independent Hunters.
An elf-woman with rectangular glasses handed him a form.
> "Name?"
> "Eron Parker."
> "Origin?"
> "Zarion. Small village between two hills and three lies."
> "Skills?"
> "Uh… I run fast. And I make a mean manioc bread."
She gave him an ID card. An old card with a blank square in the middle. He hadn't officially registered his Divimark yet.
> "Here's your temporary hunter card. Limited access until magical certification. You can take Rank F missions."
> "Rank F? What's that?"
> "Catching pigeons, finding lost cats, picking slightly-biting carnivorous flowers."
> "... Fantastic."
He returned to the inn, tossed the card on the table, and sighed.
> "Tomorrow… new mission: find a school. And decent clothes. Can't become a legend in ripped pants."
And as he fell asleep on a mattress that leaned slightly to the left, he whispered:
> "Tomorrow… the legend begins. But on a tight budget."
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Chapter 2 – Voltage, Goblins, and Private School Problems
DRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!
Eron's magical alarm clock screamed through the room like a caffeine-fueled banshee. He lazily flung a hand, missed, and knocked over an empty healing potion bottle on the floor.
> "Ahhhh… today," he groaned, rubbing his eyes.
"I have to go find a school, and then straight to the F-rank dungeon to beat up that giant goblin..."
He jumped out of bed—then collapsed. The bed creaked like an old man with bad knees. Still, Eron got up, full of determination (and in desperate need of a bathroom).
Morning Fashion Show & Mirror Talk
After a cold shower—because hot water cost 3 extra veldras—Eron began picking out his outfit. But not randomly. He stood in front of his cracked mirror, hand on his chin, like a true fashion critic.
> "Not this... nope... definitely not this…" he muttered, trying on a too-small shirt.
"Oh yes, this one. Black 'I ❤️ Mana' t-shirt and pants held up with rope. Legendary."
He spun, snapped his fingers, and gave himself a flirtatious wink in the mirror.
> "Stylish. Poor... but stylish."
He grabbed his little leather coin pouch and opened it... only to find dust, a broken button, and a suspicious hair.
> "Damn. I'm broke. Not a single coin left. Even the moths moved out."
But heroes don't give up. He tied the pouch to his belt (which was actually a shoelace), and marched out of the inn.
> "Alright. Objective: punch a giant goblin, make some cash, and pay for a school. Easy."
Destination: Dungeon of the Damned (F-Rank Edition)
The city was bustling. Merchants shouted, adventurers bragged, pickpockets picked, and a shady priest sold "holy light in bottles" in a dark alley.
> "This city is really packed," Eron muttered, dodging a guy selling explosive socks.
He walked… for 36 minutes.
Yes, he counted. Mostly because he was starving and couldn't afford a single mana donut.
Finally, he stood before the Beginner's Dungeon. A gloomy stone entrance with cracked pillars, a rusty door, and a warning sign that read:
"Enter at your own risk. And your own dental plan."
He took a deep breath.
> "It's showtime."
And he walked in.
A Big Goblin, A Bigger Problem
The dungeon was dark, wet, and smelled like troll armpits. Eron moved carefully, clutching his tiny survival knife—gift from his grandma, engraved "FOR VEGGIES AND VILLAINS."
A few minutes later, a BOOM echoed through the dungeon. A massive shadow lunged from the darkness and—
WHAM!!!
Eron flew through the air like a discarded sock, slammed against a stone wall, and hit the ground, blood trickling from his mouth.
> "AH! MY RIBS! I LOST MY RIBS!"
He opened his eyes and saw the monster:
A giant goblin, 10 meters tall, with a club the size of a horse, drooling like it had just spotted a talking cheeseburger.
> "You wanna fight? Fine. I'm gonna wreck you," Eron growled.
He pushed himself up, planted his feet, closed his eyes, and focused. A strange energy surged through him. His Divimark, previously dormant, began to glow on his hair, forming a symbol of electricity.
> "It's... It's the first time I activate it," he whispered.
"Alright, let's do this."
He raised his hand.
> "12,600 volts — DISCHARGE!!!"
A massive bolt of lightning burst from his body and slammed into the goblin. The creature staggered two steps... then roared, lifting its club.
> "Oh no—"
BAM!
The floor cracked. Eron barely dodged, rolling aside.
> "Fine! Time to increase the voltage!"
He sprinted, climbed the goblin's arm like a jungle gym, dug his fingers into its rough skin, and reached its head. There, he shouted:
> "16,600 VOLTS — DISCHARGE!!!"
Lightning exploded into the goblin's skull. The creature let out a deathly groan, swayed, and crashed to the floor like a building with no foundation.
Loot Time: Sticky but Worth It
Panting, bloody, and bruised, Eron climbed down from the smoking corpse. He pulled out his knife, stepped to the goblin's chest, and searched for the Spirit Stone, a glowing gem embedded near the heart.
> "C'mon… don't be shy…"
He dug, shoved his hands in, and yanked the slimy stone free with a triumphant yell:
> "VICTORY OF THE BROKE!!!"
He leapt back, holding the gem, then limped out of the dungeon with a scratched face and a wobbly leg.
600 Veldras, a School, and a Serious Identity
He reached the Hunter Reward Booth, a shabby kiosk run by a grumpy half-dwarf.
> "Trading in a giant goblin's spirit stone."
"600 veldras. That's all it's worth."
"Perfect. Give it here. Time to buy a school."
He grabbed the money, smirked, and started looking for an academy.
A few streets later, he spotted a strange nameplate:
"Mobius Academy – The Inverted Ribbon"
> "Weird name… but I like ribbons. Let's go."
Inside, he met the headmaster—a sharp-eyed man with spiky white hair and glasses that screamed "final boss."
> "You want to enroll?"
"Yes, sir. I've got 600 veldras and a dream."
"Fine. Fill out this ID form."
Eron filled in the boxes:
---
Last Name: Parker
Middle Name: Gareth
First Name: Eron
Age: 14
Class: Second A
Gender: Male
Father: Allen Parker
Mother: Charlotte Hart
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The headmaster nodded.
> "Very well. Entrance test: 100 questions. Do your best."
Eron grabbed the pen like a weapon of destiny, furrowed his brow, and got to work.
One hour later…
> "Done!" he shouted, arm burning.
He waited anxiously for the results, fidgeting like a caffeinated squirrel. Finally, they handed him the paper.
> "Result: 74 correct answers out of 100.
Score: 67.5%.
Status: Accepted."
> "YES!!!"
He paid 500 veldras to confirm his registration. Then he walked out of the academy, smiling like a man who just ate victory-flavored ramen, and headed back to the inn.
Mission Complete, Proud but Poor
Back in his room, Eron collapsed onto the bed, arms wide.
> "Mission accomplished… I got into school…"
"I beat a giant goblin…"
"I earned 600 veldras, paid 500 for school… and I've got… 100 veldras left."
He stared at the ceiling.
> "Not much… but it's enough for a cheese bread tomorrow."
He closed his eyes, grinning through his bruises.
> "Tomorrow… a new day begins.
And maybe… a new disaster, too."
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