Early in the morning, Pan drove his new Silverline Asterion 4S toward the Wilderness Outskirts Zone-24 — one of the controlled sectors established just beyond the main city wall.
The highway leading there was wide and reinforced with energy-absorbing barriers. On one side, he could see tall concrete fortifications stretching endlessly, embedded with faint blue circuits that pulsed at regular intervals — the defense barrier network that separated the human world from the outer wilderness. Massive watchtowers stood at set distances, each one equipped with spirit cannons and rotating turrets that scanned the horizon.
As he drove farther, civilian traffic thinned out until only armored jeeps and hunter transports remained. The scenery beyond the final checkpoint shifted from the structured streets of the city to a wilder, open land where nature grew unchecked. The air was heavier, tinged with the faint smell of metallic dust and soil.
Just outside the main city wall, there was another smaller fortified perimeter enclosing a wide training ground — Outskirt Wilderness Zone-24. This sector acted as a buffer area between the city and the true wilderness beyond. It was relatively safe, with low-level monsters occasionally wandering in, providing perfect conditions for beginner training.
At the heart of the sector stood a sleek, reinforced structure made of steel-gray panels and energy glass — the Central Training Hub. Its design was practical yet modern, with guard towers and automated defense drones hovering along the perimeter.
Pan parked his car in the designated civilian parking bay and stepped out. A faint hum of engines, the distant sound of shouting instructors, and the rhythmic thud of practice gunfire filled the air. There was energy in this place — disciplined, sharp, and faintly dangerous.
He walked up to the main entrance, where a line of new recruits and civilians waited near the reception. The interior was clean and efficient — large screens displayed maps of the surrounding terrain, safety protocols, and current training batches.
Pan followed the signs and approached the registration desk. The officer behind the counter — a woman in her mid-thirties with a military cut uniform and an earpiece — gave him a brief, assessing look.
"Identification card, please," she said curtly.
Pan handed over his ID and completed the basic form on a digital slate. The registration went smoothly.
As he waited, his gaze drifted to a large screen mounted on the nearby wall, showing the training schedule for the day:
> Wilderness Zone-24 Civilian Training Program
Duration: 8 Hours
— 08:00–10:00: Theory and Monster Awareness
— 10:00–12:00: Weapons Handling and Combat Basics
— 12:00–13:00: Lunch Break
— 13:00–15:00: Wilderness Survival and Navigation
— 15:00–17:00: Controlled Monster Engagement Practice
The details beneath each section mentioned the respective instructors, safety limits, and the type of monsters to be used in practice — usually small, low-tier creatures bred or captured specifically for controlled environments.
Pan exhaled softly. Eight hours... that's a long day, he thought, though a small part of him was curious.
The officer handed back his ID and a slim badge that flickered with a faint blue symbol. "Batch E, Room 3-B. Report in five minutes," she instructed.
Pan nodded, clipped the badge to his shirt, and walked toward the designated hall. The air inside smelled faintly of gun oil and polished metal. Screens displayed combat footage, instructors reviewed safety demonstrations, and rows of new participants — some nervous, some excited — filled the seats.
As Pan found a place near the back and sat down.
Soon, the door to the classroom slid open, and the low hum of idle conversation fell silent.
A woman in her mid-twenties stepped inside — tall, graceful, and carrying herself with the composed sharpness of someone long used to command. Her dark combat uniform fit neatly, her badge glinting faintly under the white ceiling lights.
She gave a brief nod to the class, her expression calm but firm.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Instructor Vega, your guide for the first phase of the training — Monster Theory and Awareness. I expect you to pay attention, because out there—" she gestured toward the projection of the outer wilderness displayed behind her "—even the smallest mistake can cost your life."
The room straightened almost instantly. Pan leaned forward slightly, curiosity already lighting up his face.
With a smooth motion, Vega tapped her wristband, and a large holographic image appeared — a shifting three-dimensional map of the world marked with crimson zones.
"The world outside our cities," she began, her voice steady and clear, "is no longer the world our ancestors once knew. Since the Expansion Era, nature itself evolved in unpredictable ways. Monsters appeared, ecosystems merged, and human territories were pushed into isolated strongholds."
Her finger moved through the projection, switching slides. Silhouettes of various creatures appeared — some recognizable, others grotesque.
"First, let's begin with classification."
"The first category is Beasts — animals that we recognize, though often more aggressive due to exposure to monster energy. Wolves, boars, lions — things that still resemble their natural origins."
Images of enlarged wild animals flashed by — their muscles distorted, eyes glowing faintly.
"Next, Monster Beasts. They're evolved or mutated versions of normal beasts. Tougher, faster, sometimes capable of limited energy projection."
Then came the image of Insect Monsters — massive, chitinous bodies crawling over ruined plains.
"Insects," Vega continued, "are some of the most adaptable lifeforms in the wild. Don't underestimate them — a single swarm can wipe out a patrol if caught unprepared."
Pan swallowed lightly as he looked at the hologram of a beetle the size of a tank, its shell gleaming like black iron.
"Next are the Humanoid Monsters. These are races with intelligence close to ours — Orcs, Lizardmen, Goblins, Trolls, and others. Some of them can communicate. Most prefer to enslave or eat humans."
The room grew quieter. Even the hunters-in-training seemed tense. Vega's tone didn't change.
"Finally, we have Undead Monsters. Corpses reanimated by residual monster energy or curses leaking from corrupted portals. They vary from weak husks to terrifying anomalies."
She paused, then changed the projection again — now displaying towering silhouettes that dwarfed mountains.
"And above them all," Vega said, her tone lowering, "exist the Special Category Monsters — beings capable of destroying a city on their own. They are classified not only by their nature but also by their impact potential. These are rarely seen, but their existence is why humanity never lets its guard down."
Her hand slid to another chart. This one showed rough size silhouettes labeled Standard, Giant, Behemoth, and Titan.
"Every monster type can fall under one of these size categories," she explained. "Size doesn't always equal strength, but it often correlates. Titans are few, but each one recorded in history has left a crater in the world map."
The next slide showed humanoid silhouettes glowing in crimson hues.
"And then," she said slowly, "there are humanoid monsters whose strength evolves far beyond measure. Once they surpass natural limits, they are classified into four escalating threat levels: Disaster, Proto, Primordial, and Ancient."
Her tone sharpened slightly.
"A Disaster-class monster can obliterate a nation's defenses. Proto-class monsters have been recorded only a handful of times — their biology doesn't fully align with this world's laws. The Primordial-class are the old kings of chaos — remnants of the first Expansion. And then... the Ancient Ones. Those are not myths. They are history."
The hologram flickered with ancient murals — blurry depictions of colossal beings wreathed in flame and mist, striding through shattered landscapes.
Pan sat utterly still. His mind buzzed as the weight of the information sank in. Humanity truly lived on the edge of extinction every single day, yet somehow — they had not only survived but built cities, systems, and order amid the chaos.
A quiet awe rose in him. No wonder hunters are respected so much...
As the projections faded, Instructor Vega leaned back slightly against the podium.
"The next part," she said, "is about weapons — your first and last friends in the field."
The screen displayed a rotating set of images — standard rifles, energy pistols, and close-combat gear. She explained calmly,
"Firearms are common for civilians and patrol troops. They're easy to maintain and good against lower-tier monsters. But once you go beyond the mid-level zones, these won't do much. Monster hide evolves faster than human metal."
She swiped again — now the screen showed great swords, gauntlets, axes, and blades forged from glowing ores.
"That's why most high-ranking hunters rely on melee weapons made from monster materials themselves. The energy of a monster is best countered by the essence of another monster."
Pan's attention lingered on a curved sword shimmering faintly in the projection — it almost looked alive.
Vega's gaze swept over the class.
"Still," she said, voice steady but firm, "the best weapon isn't steel or spirit — it's your body. Hunters who survive long enough learn to strengthen themselves, to become weapons of their own. The stronger your body, the greater your chance to stand against the unknown."
Her words echoed in the quiet room, firm and heavy.
Then, with a brief smile, she tapped off the display. "That concludes the first session. Weapons handling will begin in twenty minutes. Dismissed."
As the lights brightened and people began to move, Pan remained in his seat for a moment longer. His heart was beating faster than before.
For the first time in his life, he truly felt the scale of the world beyond the walls — the danger, the courage, and the thin thread that kept humanity alive.
Soon the time for next training came.
The instructor stepped down from the podium and motioned toward the next room.
"All right, everyone, stand and follow me. We move to the weapons hall."
Pan stood with the others and walked along a wide corridor. The scent of metal, oil, and sterilized equipment filled the air the closer they got. When they entered the weapons hall, the atmosphere changed entirely.
It felt like stepping into the armory of a futuristic fortress.
Gun racks lined the walls—sleek rifles, compact submachine guns, heavy handguns. Large glass cases displayed specialized blades collected from monster materials: jagged bone daggers, chitin-coated longswords, and alloy-infused spears that shimmered faintly with energy.
Trainees murmured in awe.
Pan wasn't immune to it either. His eyes shifted from display to display, tracing the elegant curves of blades and the brutal design of war hammers carved from monsters stronger than anything he'd ever want to meet.
"This section," the instructor said, tapping a digital board, "covers basic firearms only. You'll each receive a practice rifle shortly. Remember—hunters might rely on melee weapons at higher levels, but firearms are an essential foundation for everyone."
She pointed toward a sealed chamber behind thick glass.
"That's the live-fire simulation room. All ammo today is low-penetration training type, so do not think you're suddenly a soldier. Follow instructions to the letter."
Pan nodded with the others, though his gaze kept drifting to the exotic melee weapons.
As the instructor handed out rifles, Pan felt the weight settle comfortably in his hands.
"Safety on. Finger off the trigger. Stock tight to the shoulder," the instructor reminded them. "Let's begin."
Pan lined up in the shooting booth excited . The targets flickered into place on holographic rails. When the countdown ended, he exhaled and fired.
Tap—Tap—Tap.
Each shot produced a satisfying recoil, and the faint smell of propellant drifted through the chamber. His accuracy was mediocre, but he didn't care, he was enjoying this.
When the shooting session ended, they were moved outside the building to a mock wilderness zone. Rocky terrain, artificial foliage, and scattered debris recreated a scaled-down version of the real wilderness.
"This is your two-hour wilderness survival introduction," another instructor announced. "Movement, cover, emergency methods, and identification of safe areas."
Pan practiced rolling, low-walking, sliding behind cover, and even basic rope techniques. By the end of the segment, his muscles were screaming, and sweat drenched his back.
Lunch came next—simple army rations eaten at metal tables under a steel roof. The food was bland and heavy, but after the training, it felt like a feast.
Finally, after a short rest, the announcement everyone had been waiting for echoed:
"Batch C, assemble! Monster-hunting simulation begins!"
Pan swallowed." This is what I have been waiting for. "