In the city of Avil.
A place overflowing with ambition and noise, where the scent of ale and iron mingled in the air.
At its heart lay the newest treasure of the continent—the Dungeon of Artelis.
A new dungeon meant new riches: unclaimed relics, undiscovered monsters, and, of course, new business. Even a gold-ranked party had once descended into its depths, only to emerge battered and shaken after reaching beyond the fiftieth floor, declaring they had yet to find its end.
That was all it took.
Merchants, mercenaries, thieves, and hopeful dreamers flooded the city from every corner of the land. Taverns multiplied. Guilds expanded. And before anyone realized it, Avil had become a city that never slept—its streets echoing with laughter, steel, and the desperate cries of those chasing glory.
Among these countless adventurers was a boy named Hemin.
A poor villager by birth, Hemin had clawed his way into this city of opportunity. For a month, he fought, bled, and survived within the upper floors of the dungeon, gradually earning enough coin to stand on his own. In a city where most novices died within days, that alone was a miracle.
But miracles never lasted long.
That night, in the dim light of his rented room, Hemin lay dead—poisoned by the very wine he had bought to celebrate his survival.
When consciousness returned, he was no longer that Hemin.
"...So this is the body," the young man muttered, flexing his fingers and gazing at his reflection in the cracked windowpane.
The soul now inhabiting the body was from another world—Earth. The god who brought him here had explained it clearly: Hemin's original body was beyond saving, so a new one had been created—a perfect replica, improved slightly with the essence of reincarnation.
"Not bad," he murmured, rolling his shoulders. "Let's see what I've got."
He spoke softly.
"Status."
A flicker of blue light danced before his eyes, forming a translucent screen in midair.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Hemin
Level: 2
HP: 120 / 120
MP: 100 / 100
Profession: Villager Lv. 1 / Swordsman Lv. 2
Passive Skills: Low-Strength Boost, Low-Stamina Boost
Active Skills: Chop Lv. 1, Accel Lv. 1
"So that's it… huh."
As memories from the body's previous owner flooded in, Hemin quickly pieced things together. Leveling in this world wasn't as simple as killing monsters and collecting experience. Each advancement required a Trial—a life-or-death battle where one had to overcome their own limits. Only after passing it could they gain the right to earn experience normally.
The original Hemin had failed his first Trial — a fight against a level 3 beast deep within Artelis. In despair, he had turned to drink... and never woke again.
"An idiot," the reincarnated Hemin sighed. "He could've just leveled his skill first."
Still, it wasn't entirely the boy's fault.
Most adventurers here couldn't even see their own status. Identification was a rare magic, controlled by nobles or the Church. Appraisal stones cost more than a house. To know your abilities was a luxury—one most commoners could never afford.
But Hemin… he was different.
He glanced at the bedside table, and information appeared in his vision without him doing anything.
[Wooden Bed—Common Quality]
Material: Oak. Durability: 64%. Notes: Poorly maintained. Squeaks excessively.
"…Auto-identify?"
No mana drain. No skill activation.
It wasn't even listed on his status.
"Oh? Auto-identification without a skill tag…" he muttered with a faint smirk. "Now that's something."
Unlike most adventurers, his ability wasn't a simple skill. It didn't consume mana, and it didn't appear on the status screen. It was... innate.
A gift from the god who had sent him here—or perhaps, a hint of something much greater.
And so, under the silent glow of the moon, a reincarnated soul opened his eyes in a foreign world once more.
A new story had begun—one where gods rolled the dice, mortals moved the pieces, and fate itself awaited to be defied.
"At least, I have a clear idea of my current position in this world," Hemin murmured under his breath.
There was a trace of excitement in his tone—not the kind born from arrogance, but the quiet thrill of discovery. The air around him still felt unfamiliar, the scent of magic and steel woven into the city's dawn. This wasn't a game. The thought lingered as he tightened the strap of his sword belt. No respawns. No safe zones. Only reality—one that hummed with life, danger, and opportunity.
Thanks to the fragments of his predecessor's memories, Hemin wasn't entirely lost. The former owner of this body had been an adventurer, or at least one struggling to become one. Those experiences—the instincts for dodging a monster's strike, the muscle memory of wielding a blade—had bled into Hemin's soul. It wasn't mastery, but it was enough to keep him alive.
In this world, an adventurer's license wasn't just a badge—it was the only legal means to earn coin without falling into the underworld. With no trade skills and no connections, Hemin's options were painfully limited. Either he delved into dungeons… or starved.
"Shall we head out?" he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He changed out of the worn, blood-stained clothes the previous host had died in—tossing them into the bin with an expression of faint distaste. In their place, he wore a simple but sturdy outfit: dark trousers, a reinforced tunic, and a long cloak that hid most of his gear. His newly restored sword rested comfortably at his waist, its weight both strange and reassuring.
The apartment's door creaked softly as he stepped out into the dim hallway. The gallery beyond was silent, lit only by the faint glow of mana-lamps. The city of Avil was still asleep—its noise and chaos buried under the calm veil of 4:37 a.m.
No footsteps. No chatter. Just the sound of distant wind chimes and the rustle of morning air.
"Well," he muttered with a grin, "I guess I'm one of those weirdos now."
There were always a few—the dedicated, the obsessed, or the desperate—who entered the dungeon before dawn. Hemin chuckled, recalling a faint memory from Earth: an anime where a boy with white hair used to run off to the dungeon at dawn. Back then, it was just fiction. Now… he was living it.
As he walked toward the dungeon that loomed at the city's heart, Hemin checked the "gifts" he had brought with him—his so-called cheat items.
A sword, a bow, and a magic staff.
At a glance, they were nothing remarkable—just ordinary gear any rookie adventurer might carry. But appearances were deceiving. Each weapon was a growth-type armament, capable of absorbing a monster's crystal core and evolving alongside its user. Moreover, they could camouflage themselves, taking on the appearance of whatever weapon Hemin currently wielded.
The sword in his hand shimmered faintly as he equipped it. The nicks and cracks that marred its surface vanished instantly, the metal returning to pristine condition.
"Oh," he muttered with a satisfied smile, "it even repairs itself. That's going to save me a fortune in maintenance."
Each weapon possessed the ability to devour crystal cores, learning and evolving new combat techniques based on the type of core consumed. Of course, unequipping them meant losing access to their respective skills, but that was a small price to pay for what they offered. To feed them, however, he'd need a steady supply of crystals—and that meant delving deeper into the labyrinth than most novices dared.
The dungeon entrance loomed ahead—a grand stone structure pulsing with faint runes, guarded by two sleepy soldiers in half-plate. The sigil on the ground before the gate was a teleportation array, glowing with faint blue light.
As Hemin stepped onto it, the circle flared, and the air shimmered. The last thing he saw before vanishing was the guard's raised eyebrow—a silent question, half amusement and half pity.
'Guess I'm officially part of the crazy ones now,' Hemin thought wryly.
A pulse of light—and then silence.
The world around him shifted.
He stood in the middle of the dungeon's outer city—a liminal zone between safety and the unknown. The faint glow of the horizon filtered through the barrier that separated the "safe zone" from the field beyond. A few early risers jogged past him, checking their gear and party formations, their chatter carried by the cold morning breeze.
Beyond the faintly glowing boundary, the land stretched endlessly—a wild expanse where every shadow could hide a monster and every step could be your last.
Hemin exhaled, the breath misting in the chill air. His hand brushed the hilt of his sword.
"Alright," he said softly, eyes fixed on the faint light spilling from the field beyond.
"Let's see what this world really has to offer."
And with that, he stepped beyond the safety zone—into the unknown.
+
It all started with him being killed in an accident that was caused by the overheat and a nearby not-so-well-maintained gasoline truck exploding under the heat, causing him to die instantly, and well, the taste of it was really spicy.
After that, he was called by a certain deity to visit his world for no reason, but it was like soul transfer and balance, given that one of the souls from his world got reincarnated back into earth, so he was asked if he would like to go into his world to maintain the order, and along with that, he was given a chance to get a list of things he can use for this reincarnation.
And since it was the world of Isekai.
'So, I completely agreed with god.' As a fan of isekai-based novels. He was truly tempted by the sound of it and agreed.
The wish was much easier to decide.
As he asked for flexibility in growth. So, god gave him the ability to have multiple classes. Although, he had to acquire them himself.
Secondly, he asked for something that can give him an initial boost and, if possible, can continue to help him out even in the future. So, for that he got those armaments, which are said to be very OP, not something provided to anybody.
Third, he asked for a healthy body with the 18+ age group. Well, why, if you ask? then think about it a little, buddy; it is quite obvious.
So, after walking out of the town premise, which is called a safe zone.
And after walking over thirty minutes, he finally found a big white rabbit standing on its two feet, with sharp claws appearing within his vision.