Chapter 1:
The last copper coin
Fox in the Dungeon
The air in Seoul smelled of the future and rust. It was a peculiar odor, a mixture of the artificial sweetness of the tteokbokki stalls with the metallic and oily smell of the generators powering the low-level containment barriers. The night sky, once a blanket of stars, was now streaked with the bluish beams of light from the mana scanners, relentlessly sweeping the outlying districts in search of dungeon eruptions. It was the year 2030, and the city was an organism that had learned to coexist with a cancer, trying to contain it, ignoring the knife hanging over its head.
In this labyrinth of shadows and neon, a boy moved with the stealth of a hunted animal. Paulo. His name sounded strange and out of place, just as he felt. He was sixteen, but his eyes, a faded brown, carried the weight of a lifetime. His faded sweatshirt was pulled up as far as it would go, his hands deep in his pockets. Even so, if anyone looked closely, they would see two strange little bumps on the hood, as if he had ears... larger than normal. He walked quickly, his shoulders hunched, avoiding the pools of light from the lamps. Every sound made him shudder; the loud laughter of a group of Class D hunters leaving a bar, the rumble of a bus powered by mana core energy passing by. They were heroes. He was... something else.
Lily must be sleeping, he thought, his mind wandering to the small one-room apartment they shared. I promised I'd bring chocolate today. The thought was a sweet burden. He opened his hand in his pocket, touching the few coins he had there. It wasn't enough. Not even close. The rent was overdue, the Hunter Association's electricity bill would cut off the power in three days, and little Lily needed new shoes. His own, with the cat ears that had sprouted a few months ago, were getting too tight.
His status window, a translucent blue hologram that only he could see, blinked in front of him, a constant reminder of his mediocrity.
Name: Paul LeeClass: FLevel: 4Attributes:
· Strength: 8· Agility: 11· Vitality: 9· Intelligence: 12· Senses: 15
Skills: [None]
Titles: [None]
Fifteen in Senses. It was the only thing that stood out in that sea of pathetic numbers. That's why he could hear the whispers of other hunters, smell the corrupted mana of a dungeon miles away. A heightened sense in a weak body was no blessing; It was torture. It was like being blind and suddenly gaining sight, only to see all the dangers he couldn't avoid.
His destination was the Seoul South Hunter Association, a building that looked more like a dimly lit industrial warehouse. While the main headquarters in the city center were glass and steel skyscrapers, gleaming with the holograms of Class A and S hunters, this place was rock bottom. The air smelled of sweat, despair, and sterilex used to clean low-level equipment.
The waiting room was full of shadows. Men and women with sunken eyes and battered weapons, all waiting for the same thing: a mission. Any mission. Paul leaned against a wall, trying to go unnoticed. He knew those faces. They were the disposable ones, the ones who went to Class F or E dungeons and sometimes didn't come back. His death would be a tiny paragraph in the Association's daily report.
"Next!" the employee's voice behind the steel counter was as monotonous and worn as his suit.
Paul stepped forward, head down.
"Paul Lee. Class F," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
The man, a fat-faced fellow with greasy hair, didn't even look at him. His fingers scanned a tablet.
"Dungeon F-77. Inruption two hours ago. Anyang suburbs. Confirmation of three Dust Goblins. Reward: fifteen thousand won. Standard Class F equipment to your right."
Fifteen thousand won. Barely enough for a decent meal and a cheap packet of biscuits. Three Dust Goblins. The weakest creatures known, little more than stupid little green men with pieces of wood. But even a Goblin could kill, if it found a frightened sixteen-year-old boy.
Three. I can handle three. I've dealt with worse. His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the equipment: a steel dagger so poorly sharpened it barely reflected the light, and a pair of boots with rubber soles that were already falling apart. No armor. Class F hunters weren't entitled to such luxuries.
"—Do you accept?" the officer asked, finally raising his eyes. There was a glint of boredom in them.
Paul swallowed hard. The image of Lily, with her big green eyes and her cat ears twitching with excitement when he arrived home, filled his mind.
"—I accept."
In this labyrinth of shadows and neon, a boy moved with the stealth of a hunted animal. Paulo. His name sounded strange and out of place, just as he felt. He was sixteen, but his eyes, a faded brown, carried the weight of a lifetime. His faded sweatshirt was pulled up as far as it would go, his hands deep in his pockets. Even so, if anyone looked closely, they would see two strange little bumps on the hood, as if he had ears... larger than normal. He walked quickly, his shoulders hunched, avoiding the pools of light from the lamps. Every sound made him shudder; the loud laughter of a group of Class D hunters leaving a bar, the rumble of a bus powered by mana core energy passing by. They were heroes. He was... something else.
Lily must be sleeping, he thought, his mind wandering to the small one-room apartment they shared. I promised I'd bring chocolate today. The thought was a sweet burden. He opened his hand in his pocket, touching the few coins he had there. It wasn't enough. Not even close. The rent was overdue, the Hunter Association's electricity bill would cut off the power in three days, and little Lily needed new shoes. His own, with the cat ears that had sprouted a few months ago, were getting too tight.
His status window, a translucent blue hologram that only he could see, blinked in front of him, a constant reminder of his mediocrity.
Name: Paul LeeClass: FLevel: 4Attributes:
· Strength: 8· Agility: 11· Vitality: 9· Intelligence: 12· Senses: 15
Skills: [None]
Titles: [None]
Fifteen in Senses. It was the only thing that stood out in that sea of pathetic numbers. That's why he could hear the whispers of other hunters, smell the corrupted mana of a dungeon miles away. A heightened sense in a weak body was no blessing; It was torture. It was like being blind and suddenly gaining sight, only to see all the dangers he couldn't avoid.
His destination was the Seoul South Hunter Association, a building that looked more like a dimly lit industrial warehouse. While the main headquarters in the city center were glass and steel skyscrapers, gleaming with the holograms of Class A and S hunters, this place was rock bottom. The air smelled of sweat, despair, and sterilex used to clean low-level equipment.
The waiting room was full of shadows. Men and women with sunken eyes and battered weapons, all waiting for the same thing: a mission. Any mission. Paul leaned against a wall, trying to go unnoticed. He knew those faces. They were the disposable ones, the ones who went to Class F or E dungeons and sometimes didn't come back. His death would be a tiny paragraph in the Association's daily report.
"Next!" the employee's voice behind the steel counter was as monotonous and worn as his suit.
Paul stepped forward, head down.
"Paul Lee. Class F," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
The man, a fat-faced fellow with greasy hair, didn't even look at him. His fingers scanned a tablet.
"Dungeon F-77. Inruption two hours ago. Anyang suburbs. Confirmation of three Dust Goblins. Reward: fifteen thousand won. Standard Class F equipment to your right."
Fifteen thousand won. Barely enough for a decent meal and a cheap packet of biscuits. Three Dust Goblins. The weakest creatures known, little more than stupid little green men with pieces of wood. But even a Goblin could kill, if it found a frightened sixteen-year-old boy.
Three. I can handle three. I've dealt with worse. His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the equipment: a steel dagger so poorly sharpened it barely reflected the light, and a pair of boots with rubber soles that were already falling apart. No armor. Class F hunters weren't entitled to such luxuries.
"—Do you accept?" the officer asked, finally raising his eyes. There was a glint of boredom in them.
Paul swallowed hard. The image of Lily, with her big green eyes and her cat ears twitching with excitement when he arrived home, filled his mind.
"—I accept."
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