While the others charged into the forest with reckless excitement, Ysaac and John deliberately took the opposite approach.
"Let them burn out," Ysaac muttered as he adjusted Fenrir's Claw on his belt. "Half of them will waste stamina, potions, or worse, get themselves killed before sundown."
John smirked, balancing his mace across his shoulders. "Yeah, and then we'll swoop in looking all smart and prepared. Classic."
Their strategy was simple: start at the very edge of the monster zone, where the weakest creatures lurked. Grind until they leveled, invest in Heal from the system shop, then slowly push deeper. No rushing, no gambling. Survive first, shine later.
The plan is for them to grind low leveled monsters and when they both leveled up and was able to purchase heal on the system shop that is when they will start to proceed little by little toward the dungeon where the higher leveled monster roam. and in the eight or ninth day when they feel they are ready since the beginner dungeon is at level 5 And the boss is an ELITE skeletal Warrior at level 6.
As the two friends wander the outskirts of the forest.
John produces a bag of chips from his inventory "Hey princess want some?" Ysaac tried to banter but he heard rustling from the bushes ahead.
Ysaac signalled to John to hold but the towering boy had already took off toward the bush. A giant rat emerge and attacked. John immediately used his shield to block the monster attack and used his mace to bash the head of the rat. Ysaac with no choice followed his friend and began slashing the giant rat. After a few attacks the giant rat perished and system notification sounded in Ysaacs head.
Your party has killed a Giant Rat. Obtained.
Rat tail x 1
gold x 7
experience points x 8
The notification window blinked in front of Ysaac's eyes, its cheerful chime almost mocking compared to the pounding of his heart. His grip on Fenrir's Claw trembled as he pulled the blade free from the rat's mangled body.
"Nice! Easy peasy," John said, grinning ear to ear, as if they'd just swatted a fly.
Ysaac kicked his shin. "What the hell, man! Why did you charge without inspecting first? What if it wasn't a rat but something higher leveled?" His voice was sharp, though his chest still heaved from the adrenaline.
John rubbed his leg, frowning. "Hey, princess, we're at the outskirts. Don't be a worrywart. It's just rats out here."
"That's how you die!" Ysaac snapped, jabbing a finger at him. "What's the point of us buying Inspect if you're just going to bullrush every bush you see?"
For a moment, John looked sheepish. But then his grin returned, brighter than ever. "Relax. You're here to cover my back, right? With you and your shiny dagger, what's there to be scared of?"
Ysaac groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable…"
Still, deep down, he couldn't deny it—the fight had been… exhilarating. The clash of steel, the sound of bone cracking under John's mace, the brief pulse of danger before victory. His blood was still humming with it.
He sheathed Fenrir's Claw carefully, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the deeper woods where darker shapes slinked just out of sight. That was just one rat. A warm-up. The real battles are waiting inside.
"Next time," Ysaac said firmly, "we do it my way. Inspect first. Fight second. Got it?"
John saluted with mock seriousness. "Aye aye, captain."
But Ysaac knew better—his friend wasn't going to change that easily.
The outskirts became their training ground. Giant rats, wild boars, and the occasional horned rabbit fell beneath John's crushing mace and Ysaac's flashing dagger.
Day after day, the rhythm set in:
Inspect. Plan. Strike. Loot.
Rest. Eat. Repeat.
By the third day, Ysaac's movements were sharper, his hesitation gone. His cuts landed with precision, his footwork lighter. The Fenrir's Claw no longer felt like a relic too heavy to wield—it was becoming an extension of his arm.
John, on the other hand, only grew more reckless. His shield bore fresh dents from every fight, but he laughed them off, calling them "battle medals." Yet even he began to learn restraint, grudgingly listening whenever Ysaac barked at him to wait and use Inspect first.
Their system windows glowed with steady progress.
[Level Up!]
Ysaac: Level 2 → Level 3
John: Level 2 → Level 3
With their newly earned system points, both boys bought Heal, a basic recovery spell in the System Shop. The moment Ysaac used it on a shallow cut across his forearm and watched the wound stitch itself closed, a surge of confidence bloomed inside him.
"Now we can take more risks," John said, swinging his mace with a grin.
"No," Ysaac countered immediately. "Now we can survive mistakes. That's not the same thing."
John only laughed louder.
By the end of the seventh day, their packs were stuffed with rat tails, boar tusks, and low-grade monster cores. Their gold count had doubled, and their bodies moved with the ease of seasoned beginners.
And when they stood at the forest's midpoint on the eighth morning, the distant dungeon gates looming in the mist, Ysaac felt it—a quiet thrill thrumming in his veins.
We're ready. Not for glory. Not for some title. But to prove… I'm not a failure.
"Princess," John said, adjusting his shield, "let's go hunt ourselves an Elite."
Ysaac tightened his grip on Fenrir's Claw, his lips curving into the faintest smirk.
"Yeah… let's carve our way forward."
As the two made their way toward the dungeon, the faint sounds of battle drifted through the trees—steel clashing, sparks crackling, the sharp cry of a monster.
Ysaac and John exchanged a look, no words needed. Curiosity burned in both their eyes. They had been grinding at the outskirts for days, rarely crossing paths with other students. This was their first chance to see how the others were faring.
Silently, they moved closer, careful with their steps as the noise grew louder.
When the clearing came into view, Ysaac froze.
A horned rabbit—but not the kind they had been butchering. This one was larger, its fur shimmering faintly with static. Three jagged horns jutted from its head, and arcs of blue electricity danced across its body with every movement.
And standing against it, blade gleaming under the flash of lightning—
Was Mina.