The portal spat me out into the cool evening air. Outer Bank X's Hunter's District wasn't much compared to the mega-cities, but tonight it was alive—stalls crowded with gear traders, potion sellers, and, most importantly, buyers for monster cores.
My pouch felt heavy at my hip, each glowing shard whispering its own value.
The hunter's exchange was a squat, stone building lit with crystal lamps. Inside, the noise hit me first: haggling hunters, clerks calling prices, the hum of mana detectors measuring cores. Behind reinforced counters, buyers in suits handled business with clinical precision.
I stepped up to one.
The clerk, a thin man with glasses and sharp eyes, gave me the practiced look-over. New face. Rookie. "You selling?"
"Yeah."
I untied the pouch and laid the cores out one by one. His brows rose slightly as the pile grew.
[Appraisal Ongoing…]
He scribbled on a slate as a faint scanner light swept across each core.
Wolf Cores (F-rank, x12) – $500–$15,500 each. Mine were on the higher end thanks to purity. Total: $92,000.
Snow Fox Cores (E-rank, x7) – $20,600–$95,500 each. Total: $410,000.
Musk Ox Cores (E-rank, x3) – heavier mana density. Total: $198,000.
Ice Bat Core (E-rank, x1) – rare, refined. $95,000.
Polar Bear Core (D-rank, x1) – the prize, radiating with frost mana. $240,000.
The clerk looked up, lips pursed. "Not bad. Especially for someone I don't recognize. You hunting with a squad?"
"No."
His eyebrow twitched, but he didn't press.
[System Notice]
Total Sale Value: $1,035,000 credits.
I almost staggered. More than a million credits. For a single dungeon.
I signed the slip, transferred ownership, and the credits hit my hunter's account instantly.
The temptation to celebrate buzzed in my chest, but I forced it down. Cores could be flaunted. Skills, however, were investments.
The Skill Hall loomed at the heart of the district, a domed structure etched with glowing sigils. Inside, floating tomes shimmered within crystal cases, each radiating faint auras of their element.
A guide clerk approached, bowing slightly. "Welcome. Looking to expand your arsenal?"
"Yes. Show me what's available in D-rank and below."
She gestured, and the shelves lit up.
I walked through the aisles, eyes catching on the glowing names:
Offensive Skills:
[Fireball (E)] – Launches a concentrated fire projectile. Cheap, efficient. Price: $50,000.
[Fireblast (E)] – Creates a short-range explosion of flame around the caster. Risky but devastating. Price: $75,000.
[Ice Blast (D)] – Fires a cone of frost, slowing and freezing enemies. Price: $260,000.
[Earth Control (D)] – Manipulate earth and stone to attack, defend, or reshape terrain. Price: $300,000.
Defensive / Utility Skills:
[Safeguard (D)] – Summons a protective barrier that absorbs one direct strike before shattering. Price: $280,000.
[Minor Heal (D)] – Restores moderate injuries, cuts, bruises, and burns. Price: $220,000.
High-Tier Temptations (Out of Reach):
[Regeneration (B)] – Gradual, passive healing of all wounds over time. Price: $600,000.
[Greater Heal (B)] – Direct, high-level healing of severe trauma. Price: $900,000.
One million credits… but not enough for both a B-rank healing skill and my future plans. If I bought Regeneration or Greater Heal, I'd be nearly broke. Worse—people would notice. No rookie had that kind of cash.
Safeguard tempted me too. Fire for offense, Arctic Armor for defense, and Safeguard as a failsafe? It would round me out.
my weakness wasn't defense. It was sustainability. I could burn and blast for eternity with infinite mana—but when I got hit, I had nothing.
I stared at Minor Heal [D]. Affordable. Subtle. Lifesaving.
The clerk tilted her head. "A practical choice for solo hunters."
I pressed my hand to the tome. The knowledge seared into me, sharp and clear. A cool light pulsed at my fingertips. I whispered:
"[Minor Heal]."
A pale glow enveloped my palm. The soreness in my muscles eased, the stinging burns along my knuckles faded. It worked. Not dramatic, not flashy—but dependable.
Trn I went back to safeguard description,Safeguard gave me something I couldn't replicate with mana alone: a safety net.
I touched the tome. The knowledge sank into me instantly, lines of light etching themselves across my vision.
[Skill Acquired: Safeguard (D)]
When I willed it, a faint shimmer formed around me—a translucent shield, like glass, humming faintly with mana. One strike, that's all it could take. But one strike could mean the difference between life and death.
I dismissed the shield, the afterglow lingering on my skin.
I left the hall with the tome's afterglow still in my chest, credits lighter but spirit steadier. One step closer to the strength I needed.
Still, the image of those higher-tier skills lingered. Regeneration. Greater Heal. Someday, I promised myself, I'd return for them. Not as a rookie scraping by—but as someone powerful enough to claim them without hesitation.
For now, Minor Heal and safe was enough. Enough to keep me alive for the next dungeon. Enough to keep moving toward Rank B.