"The day of beginning"
Chapter 1: The Worst Class, The Best Ending
The sky was the color of a bruised plum, choked by smoke and the stench of rotting mana.
Kim Han-wool stood atop a mountain of carnage. It was a hill made not of dirt, but of corpses. Thousands of them. The twisted, chitinous bodies of insectoid monsters lay tangled with the severed limbs of human Hunters.
He was the last one standing.
"Hah... hah..."
His breath rattled in his chest like a broken engine. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling, slick with black monster blood and the red blood of his friends.
When did it all start?
His mind, dull from exhaustion, drifted back. They called it 'The Day of Beginning.' A cruel joke of a name. It wasn't a beginning; it was the end.
Seven days. That was all it took for 80% of humanity to be wiped out. The surviving 20% were the "lucky" ones—those who awakened. They were bathed in Purple or Golden light, later classified as B-Rank to S-Rank Hunters.
And then there was him.
Kim Han-wool. Class: Thief.
"A trash class for a trash world," he spat, blood spraying from his lips.
For three years, he had survived like a cockroach. While the Sword Masters cut mountains in half and Mages rained fire, Han-wool had scavenged.
He had survived by doing the unthinkable. Thanks to a Golden-Grade Poison Immunity Ring given to him by his little brother, Han-wool discovered he could do what would instantly kill anyone else: he ate Monster Mana Stones.
And because of his 'Trash' class, he didn't just digest them. He stole the monsters' skills. That was the only reason he had survived the 'Unique Monsters'—beasts with enough intelligence to mock humans in their own tongue.
But survival wasn't enough. Not when everyone else was dead.
CRACK.
The sound was wet and sharp. A jagged bone-spear, wielded by a dying monster commander beneath him, pierced upward. It punched through Han-wool's sternum and shredded his heart.
"Gah—!"
The world tilted. Han-wool fell to his knees, the spear shaft pinning him to the pile of corpses.
Cold. It was so cold.
So this is it, he thought, his vision blurring. After three years of eating dirt and hiding in shadows, I die alone on a pile of garbage.
Regret surged through him, hotter than the pain in his chest.
"If I could get another chance..." he wheezed, his eyes losing focus. "I, Kim Han-wool, would kill them all. I wouldn't hide. I wouldn't run. I would protect my people... with this damn class."
As the darkness of death closed in, a blue light flickered in his retina.
> [System Alert]
> Conditions Met.
> The user has reached the pinnacle of 'Despair' and 'Greed' required for a 'Thief'.
> Hidden Skill — «Destiny Stealing» has been unlocked.
>
Han-wool's brow twitched. Destiny Stealing? He had never heard of such a skill in the Hunter database.
> Would you like to activate it?
>
>
"What the fuck is this..." he whispered, a bubble of blood popping on his lips. "Destiny Stealing... sounds like a thief's ultimate dream."
His heart gave one final, stuttering beat.
"Whatever. Let's just say
He willed the command.
> [Ding!]
> Skill Activated.
> Target: The Timeline.
> Stealing time... Success.
> Your soul and mind are returning to the past.
> Time Jump: 23 Years before "The Day of Beginning."
>
Twenty-three years?
That was the last thought Kim Han-wool had before the pain vanished, replaced by a blinding, sterile white light.
"Young Master! Young Master!"
The sound was deafening. It was a high-pitched, worried voice that assaulted his ears.
Han-wool tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. He tried to reach for his dagger—his instinct as a survivor kicking in immediately—but his waist was empty.
Where am I? Did I get captured?
He tried to shout, "Who's there!"
But the voice that came out was cracked, youthful, and lacking the gravel of a war veteran.
He blinked rapidly, his vision slowly adjusting. A figure in a black suit came into focus.
Han-wool froze. He knew that face.
It was his butler, Logan.
He wasn't on the battlefield. The smell of rotting blood was gone, replaced by the scent of lavender and polished wood.
Han-wool lifted his hands into his field of view. He stared.
Instead of the scarred, callous-ridden hands of a veteran Hunter, he saw soft, unblemished skin. These were the hands of a pampered child—his hands before he was kicked out of the family.
No way.
> Time Jump: 23 Years.
>
The System's message echoed in his mind.
He was 36 years old when he died. If he went back 23 years...
"I'm thirteen years old?"
He looked around the room. He was in his old bedroom in the main manor. This was before the betrayal. Before he was disowned. Before the hell started.
"Han-wool," a soft voice whispered.
He looked up past Logan. A woman with beautiful green eyes was looking down at him, her face pale with worry.
It was his mother.
The mother who had died during the first week of the Cataclysm. The mother he hadn't seen in years of suffering.
A lump formed in his throat. The hardened survivor wanted to scream, but the thirteen-year-old boy wanted to cry. He simply stared at her, etching her living face into his memory.
I'm back, he realized, the reality finally sinking in. I'm really back.
Suddenly, the blue holographic screen appeared in front of him, hovering invisible to everyone else in the room.
> [Status Window]
> Name: Kim Han-wool
> Age: 13
> Class: Thief (Red Grade - Awakened Early)
> Current Debuff Status: N/A
> Skill «Destiny Stealing» Cooldown: 99 years.
>
Han-wool stared at the window.
Red Grade?
His class used to be moked by everyone called trash that people laughed at. But now, the text that glowed an ominous, blood-red color. And the cooldown on «Destiny Stealing» was 99 years. This was it. His one and only second chance.
He turned to his butler, his voice trembling slightly. "Logan... what is the date today?"
Logan looked confused but bowed politely. "It is September 24, 2024, Young Master."
Han-wool did the math instantly.
He had 12 years.
12 years before "The Day of Beginning."
Most people would panic. Most people would despair at the thought of the coming apocalypse.
But Kim Han-wool's mouth curled into a sinister grin that didn't belong on a thirteen-year-old's face.
12 years of preparation time?
For a Thief who scrounged for scraps to survive, this wasn't just a second chance. It was a jackpot.
I'm going to steal everything, he vowed silently. Every hidden piece, every legendary item, every stock market crash. I'm going to prepare perfectly.
He looked at his mother, then at his loyal butler.
This time, no one dies. This time, I'm the one who knocks.