Kael's eyes fluttered open to a room shrouded in shadows. The sun had long since disappeared, leaving only the muffled sounds of voices drifting in from the street. He groaned softly, wiping sleep and saliva from his mouth.
Rising stiffly, he opened the door and stepped out for a quick bath. The cold water bit at his skin, but it cleared the haze from his mind. Back in his hut, he lit the lamp, changed into fresh clothes, and reached for the scroll tucked in his shoulder bag.
Unfurling it, he saw the words that confirmed his victory—a certificate marking him as a hunter. On the back, a note was neatly written: Practice begins tomorrow at 5:00 AM, Hunters' Training Ground.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "That's… too soon," he murmured, frustration lacing his voice. "I have to walk all the way from the lower district to the middle this early for my first training?"
He was still reading when a bell rang outside.
*tang-tang-tang-tang*
A call for the community meal. The aroma of food teased his senses. Hungry from the long day, Kael didn't hesitate. He grabbed a bowl of soup and rice and returned to his hut. Staring at the simple meal, he scowled, displeased with the portion—but hunger won over pride. Without another thought, he began to eat.
After finishing his meal, the first thing Kael did was open the system and check the options. His eyes immediately locked onto one item in the shop. He squinted, trying to see any details—but there was nothing.
To upgrade each stat bar, he needed two Echo Spirit Emblems—and he only had one. To buy that unknown weapon, he needed three. No new options had appeared in the system.
"This system sucks…" he muttered, jaw tightening, before closing it in frustration.
He prepared his makeshift bed and lay down, dimming the lamp. Yet sleep refused him. Midnight crept closer, and the moment the hour struck, a faint vibration along his back jolted him upright. Something felt… off. The sensation stirred a memory—like the holographic watch he had once worn in his past life.
Kael's eyes snapped open. Instinctively, he accessed the system—and there it was: in the Echo Market option, a yellow exclamation mark pulsed insistently, glowing like it was demanding attention.
He tapped it.
[Update: New Item]
A new item had appeared in the market, available for only twelve hours. It cost a single spirit emblem—but, as always, no description. Kael studied it closely. It was the only thing currently purchasable, so he figured it was worth a shot.
The icon looked like a small box emblazoned with a hammer and wrench—a clear nod to crafting.
"I guess… I have to try it," Kael murmured to himself.
DO YOU WANT TO BUY THIS ITEM?
[YES/NO]
He tapped Yes.
[PURCHASE SUCCESSFUL]
System Note: Items purchased will be redirected to inventory.
Kael exited the market and immediately opened his inventory. He tapped on the new item icon.
Echo Craftkit: A special tool capable of crafting weapons listed on the market by providing the required raw resources.
Below it, a single option glowed:
[USE]
He tapped it, and the item vanished from his inventory. Kael's eyes widened. Wait… where did it go?
Exiting the inventory, he noticed a small triangular arrow on the right side of the menu screen. He tapped it, and the interface glided smoothly to the right. At the top center, bold letters stood out:
[ECHO CRAFTKIT]
Beneath it, a marketplace panel unfolded, revealing a simple crafting interface. Three rectangular slots lined up in a row: the first two separated by a plus sign, the third marked with an equal sign. The layout made the process obvious—combine the first two items, and the result would appear in the third.
Kael studied the slots. The concept was clear, but what to place in them remained a mystery.
He clicked on the marketplace tab, and a familiar item appeared—one he had seen earlier. Clicking it revealed new details:
To craft this item:
250g of refined iron
100g of refined leather
He paused, his mind drifting back to the first day he went mining outside the wall. The ores he had dug up had been rusty red, brownish-yellow, and dark grey. "I'm pretty sure those are iron ores," he thought.
"But how do I refine them?" he muttered under his breath.
Suddenly, a system note blinked on the right side of the screen:
First slot: Raw resources required.
Second slot: One Echo Shard for fuel.
Processing time depends on the quantity provided.
For Kael, every piece of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. Now that he knew what needed to be done, a greater question lingered—how to gather the necessary resources without arousing suspicion.
For now, he chose to focus on himself and avoid rushing. As a newly recruited hunter, he had to be at the training ground before dawn—by 5:00 AM sharp.
"I should sleep now… it's already late," he thought, closing the system interface.
He slept in short intervals, careful not to oversleep. Each time he stirred awake, his eyes flicked to the pocket watch beside him, counting the minutes with precision. When the moment finally arrived, he lit the dim lamp to its full glow and dressed quickly.
Stepping outside, Kael was greeted by silence. A thin morning fog clung low to the dirt road, curling around the rough huts and leaning wooden lampposts. Atop each stood a clay pot with a small fire burning within, its flickering glow casting pale, unsteady light that struggled to pierce the mist.
Kael arrived at the hunters' arena ten minutes early. Three hulking figures were already there, moving with precise stretches and warm-up drills. He stepped past them quietly, keeping his head down, and made his way to a nearby bench.
Just as he was about to sit, one of them called out with a mocking grin.
"Hey, hunter! You came this early just to sit around?"
Kael didn't bother replying. He ignored the remark and sat down, lost in thought—his mind already working through the next step. The leather… he still needed to find a way to get it without drawing attention.
In this world, hunters were hailed as humanity's saviors—the shield standing between the walls and the monsters that lurked beyond. Every expedition outside could be their last, yet they were the ones people depended on the most.
People living inside the walls held different values from those whose lives depended on the resources gathered beyond them. If Kael hadn't seized the chance to become a hunter, he would've been nothing more than a mining machine—a lifetime laborer whose existence meant nothing to anyone.
Even if one of them died, they'd be replaced the very next day. Most of the lower class never had the mindset to break free from that system.
But Kael was different.
The moment he first stepped outside the walls, he understood what this system truly was.
A few minutes later, the remaining hunters arrived—some with weary eyes betraying sleepless nights, others practically vibrating with excitement.
Moments later, a towering veteran with a thick beard appeared, his muscular frame radiating authority. He looked to be in his late forties, wearing only a pair of brown shorts, his bare chest glinting slightly in the dim light. The air seemed to tighten around him, charged with authority. He was the trainer.
"Attention!" he barked.
Every hunter snapped to attention, eyes fixed on him.
"From today onward, you will follow my orders without question. The only words I want to hear are Yes, Sir Reginal! and No, Sir Reginal! Is that clear?" His gruff tone cut through the morning fog like a whip.
"Yes, Sir Reginal!" everyone shouted in unison, Kael included.
He continued, pacing in front of them. "We are heading to the hunter's boot camp now—on a jog. That is where your true training begins. For one month, you will live under strict discipline. By the end, only those who endure will be ready to serve in the hunters' army."
"Is that clear?" His voice rang sharp and commanding.
"Yes, Sir Reginal!" came the chorus, echoing across the clearing.
Without another word, the trainer started jogging, long strides eating up the ground. The others fell in line behind him. The early sun struggled over the horizon, casting a dim, golden light on the path ahead.
Half an hour later, they reached the gates of the boot camp. Two guards in brown uniforms swung the doors open.
As Kael stepped inside, the sight hit him like a punch. Around him, countless figures moved with relentless precision. Some were like him—unremarkable at first glance, yet their lean, toned muscles flexed with every pull-up on the steel bars.
Others were towering, broad-shouldered beasts, effortlessly dragging massive wooden logs across the training field as if they weighed nothing at all. The air itself seemed charged with power. All around, hunters of every rank—from the seasoned veterans to the fresh recruits—pushed themselves to their limits in a display of raw strength and determination.
The camp was massive, dotted with tents and training areas. Targets and dummies lined the open fields. Pull-up bars jutted from the ground, and thick circular ropes—like the ones Kael had seen during the hunters' trial—hung, swaying slightly in the morning breeze. This was where the real work would begin.
Kael and the other hunters were handed brooms and tasked with clearing the field of fallen leaves, while also trimming the overgrown grass along its edges.
Gripping his broom, Kael stepped onto the field alongside a few others, sweeping in rhythm with the movements of those around him. The crisp rustle of leaves under the bristles filled the morning air.
Then, a familiar voice cut through the quiet from his right.
He turned—and froze. Standing there, cup in hand, was none other than Chief Baldur, his gaze fixed directly on Kael.