The front gate of the Copper Horn Boar training ground.
Grand name for what was basically a fenced-off slaughterhouse where shiny-eyed kids walked in and zipped-up body bags rolled out.
Now, I know what you're thinking—are they brainless, charging in to die like that?
Answer's yes. Of course yes.
But put yourself in their shoes. What would you do if someone dangled a chance to change your life? Sit on your ass until it rots into the chair? Or crawl, bleed, and gamble everything for even the slimmest shot?
Even ants claw their way to the dawn. So why not six-sense bugs like us?
But enough philosophy—back to this fucking circus.
The guards did their job the same way every guard does: badly.
One leaned on his spear, eyes drooping.
"Yesterday… you hear the screams? Monster, maybe?"
The other yawned like he'd been born tired.
"Yeah. Probably tore each other apart. Who cares? We guard the gate. What happens inside—that's the higher-ups' problem."
Then he laughed. Soldiers of Cosmos. Real professionals.
Meanwhile, Ajay Meer—our beloved preacher with muscles—stood tall before his shiny-eyed recruits. His voice rang out like gospel on cheap caffeine.
"Welcome, trainees, to the training grounds of C.O.S.M.O.S!"
Cue the cheer. Trained seals, clapping for their fish. Give them a slogan and they'll scream until their throats bleed. Humans are funny like that—die for bread, cheer for chains.
Ajay launched into the Chakra sermon, hands waving, words like blessings from a false god.
Stone Chakra—Root. Bulldozers. Walk through walls, shrug off falling cities.
Blaze Chakra—Sacral. Human grenades. Get too close, and congratulations—you're now paste.
Volt Chakra—Solar Plexus. Lightning with legs. Scar your nervous system just by looking at you funny.
Soul Chakra—Heart. Angels with scalpels. Heal their allies, gut their enemies, all in one heartbeat.
Echo Chakra—Throat. Words sharper than blades. Whisper and your bones crack.
Mind Chakra—Brow. Illusions, visions. They'll know the flowers on your grave before you draw your weapon.
Crown Chakra—Top of the skull. God-mode. Bend space, time, gravity—until reality itself breaks.
Ajay spoke about them like prophets. I just heard weapons. Tools. Things meant to delete you from existence without blinking.
The kids? Ate it up. Wide eyes, slack jaws. Congregation of lambs in a slaughter sermon.
Then Ajay dropped the hammer:
"Theory means nothing without practice. To grow into warriors of Cosmos, you must fight!"
The cheer was deafening. Like fish worshipping the knife.
The guards finally had something to do besides scratching themselves. They swung open the gates, and the herd shuffled in. The chatter was predictable.
"Let's see what kind of beast we're fighting!" one puffed, chest swollen with fake courage.
"It's only an E-rank. We'll be fine if we stay sharp," another muttered, knuckles white around his blade.
Sharp. Cute. Sharper than what? Monster teeth? Fate's claws?
And then—silence.
The herd stopped. Mouths hung open. Eyes wide as if someone had stolen their souls mid-breath.
"What the fuck happened here?"
The Copper Horn Boars, the very monsters they were meant to train against, sprawled dead across the dirt. Massive carcasses split, blood painting the earth like spilled ink.
But it wasn't the corpses that froze them—it was the corpse.
The Iron Hide Copper Horn Boar. The boss. Dead.
Killed clean. Precise. Like it hadn't even had time to fight back.
Ajay staggered, his script stolen. The trainees trembled, their script shredded.
Training day had officially gone off the rails.
And that's why I said—listen to the bastard who's already bled. Experience doesn't lie. It only scars.
Meanwhile, me?
I leaned back on my "park" bench in the outcast slums. If you could even call it a park. Cracked cement, weeds for grass, one rusted swing clinging to life. My bench was so lopsided I had to lean sideways just to stay on it. Perfect throne for an outcast like me.
I flicked open my profile window.
CORE COMBAT STATS
Strength: 19
Agility: 19
Endurance: 19
Vitality: 19
Black Essence Capacity: 3400 / 4000
Petal Stage: 1 / 24
Cute. All nineteens. Enough to bully an E-rank mutt. But that D-rank yesterday? Yeah, almost made hamburger out of me.
Tapping Strength popped a window:
"+1 for 500 Black Essence Units."
I groaned.
"Five hundred? For one lousy point?"
+1 Agility: 400
+1Endurance: 400
+1Vitality: 500
I dragged my hand down my face.
"Great. A grindfest. A paywall. Except instead of cash, the currency is blood and dead monsters."
In other words—hunt. Or "harvest," as the system politely put it.
Inventory check:
30× Copper Horns
30× Copper Horn Boar Meat
1× Ironhide
5× Ironhide Copper Horn Meat
1× Ironhide Copper Horn Boar
"Nice," I muttered. "Portable fridge with infinite shelf life. At least I don't have to play butcher every damn time."
Then I tapped Petal Stage.
"Cooldown time for next stage: 119:49:27… 26… 25…"
"Guess I'll grind until then."
I stretched, bones creaking, sighed. Same cycle. Hunt. Harvest. Level. Repeat.
Then a new window flashed.
"Someone is watching you."
My lips curled into a grin.
"Well, well. Saved me the trouble."
I rose from my crooked throne. Turned.
"Vashir."
He stood there, smirking like a thief caught red-handed but still proud.
"Glad to see you in one piece," he said.
I arched a brow. "Really? That's your opener? Bring me a straw hat next time if you want to impress me."
He chuckled. "Of course—after you give me what I asked for."
I snapped my fingers. Ten copper horns slammed into the dirt, dust spiraling up. The onlookers gasped. They knew where it came from. Vashir didn't. Not yet.
His eyes narrowed.
"So… awakened your Mind Chakra, out of nowhere."
"Do I need to answer that?" I replied, flat.
He shook his head. "Not necessary. But next time, I'll bring the hat."
I scoffed. "Stick to the deal. We agreed on terms."
He smiled, sly. "So you do remember." He pulled a USB drive from thin air and handed it over.
I turned it over. "What's on it?"
"The valuable information Victor wanted."
"And what's actually on it?"
He smirked. "Do I need to answer?"
My grin cut sharp. "Not necessary."
I brushed dust off my palms. "Well… goodbye."
I turned, halfway gone, when his voice struck—not a request, not a plea. A command.
"Work for me."
I froze. Smiled crooked. Of course. The fox finally bared teeth.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
SIDE MISSION: Work for Vashir
Rewards: Relationship increase with Vashir.
Bonus: Money?? Information??
The bastard knew. And me? I was curious enough to play.