The sun beat down on the unfinished concrete as Malachi returned to the construction site the next morning. His body felt lighter, his movements sharper. He set the toolbox down and rolled up his sleeves, expecting the sting of the cuts and bruises he had picked up in the dungeon the night before.
But there was nothing. Not even the faintest scar. His skin was smooth, unmarked, as if the injuries had never happened. The only proof of the fight with the hobgoblin was the torn shirt stuffed in his bag.
He flexed his hands slowly, gripping the handle of a steel rod and lifting it with ease. It wasn't drastic, but he knew—he felt—that his body was different. The added strength in his arms, the slight quickness in his steps, even the sharpness in his focus. The stat points he'd invested were no longer just numbers on a panel. They were real.
Kyle walked past him, yawning with his phone in hand, and Malachi quickly straightened up, hiding the satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He couldn't exactly explain why lugging buckets of cement now felt less tiring, or why climbing up the scaffolding was as natural as breathing.
This… is what growth feels like, he thought.
----------
Malachi set down his bucket and straightened, wiping sweat from his forehead. That's when he noticed it—something strange floating above Kyle's head. A faint, glowing red icon pulsed steadily, impossible to ignore.
He blinked. No way…
A panel appeared beside the icon, and the words scrolled before his eyes:
[Potential Guild-Mate Found]
Potential: A Rank
Possible Title: Knight
Can be forcefully awakened once added to your guild]
Malachi staggered back slightly, gripping the edge of the scaffolding. He'd seen the system's panels for himself, had watched stats tick up, skills unlock, XP pour in—but this?
Forcefully awakened?
He froze, staring at Kyle as if seeing him for the first time. In all the guides, all the forums, all the scattered rumors of awakenings, he'd never heard of a system allowing someone to awaken another person. Most people were lucky if they activated on their own, and even then, the chances were slim.
Malachi's mind raced. This was huge. Dangerous. And… complicated.
He took a slow breath, forcing himself to think clearly. He had to figure out exactly what that meant before doing anything—or before Kyle noticed him staring like a man possessed.
---
The day dragged on, each clink of hammer and shuffle of boots blending into the background as Malachi's thoughts spun in circles. Kyle moved lazily across the site, phone in hand, completely oblivious to the flashing red icon above him.
Malachi rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. How the hell am I supposed to tell him?
He shook his head. "I can't just walk up and say… 'Hey, I awakened a system no one else has, and I can awaken you if you join my guild that the system says I can make because I'm a Guild Master.'"
The words sounded ridiculous even in his own head. Kyle would think he was insane—hell, he almost thought he was insane the first time the panel appeared. And even if Kyle believed him, there was no guarantee he'd cooperate.
Malachi glanced back at the panel above Kyle's head, the glowing icon pulsing softly like a heartbeat. The temptation was there—he could force it, the system even said so. But the thought of acting without Kyle's consent made his stomach twist. That wasn't the kind of Guild Master he wanted to be… not yet.
So he waited, letting the day drag on. He figured he'd have to find a way to make Kyle notice him without going completely insane in the process.
----------
Malachi sighed and shook his head, letting the thought of Kyle drift away for now. He didn't need to push things yet. The system was still new, still foreign—and he had more important things to focus on: learning it, understanding its limits, and figuring out how far it could take him.
When the workday finally ended, he left the site and headed straight for the hardware district. The bent crowbar and cheap knife wouldn't cut it if he went back into a dungeon, and the torn shirt and jacket from the fight were a liability. He walked out with a sharp machete, a new combat knife, and a heavier, sturdier jacket. The pants and construction shoes were fine, though he spent a few minutes scrubbing blood out of the soles before heading home.
Back at his apartment, he sent a quick text to Ryu:
"Going in tomorrow. Ready?"
Almost immediately, a reply came through. Ryu had assumed Malachi hadn't survived the last dungeon run—he hadn't heard from him since yesterday.
"Thought you were dead. Fine, I'll meet you. Don't mess this up."
Malachi smirked faintly, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Tomorrow, he'd dive back into the dungeon. But tonight, he rested, prepped, and let the system's lingering glow hum quietly in his mind.
---
Malachi groaned as he slid the door of his apartment shut behind him. He hadn't even made it out the block before the familiar weight of the day hit him—the exhaustion from yesterday's fight, plus the nagging thought of construction work he'd called out from.
By the time he got to the site the next morning to pick up his paycheck for a few hours of work, his foreman was already glaring.
"Malachi, third time this week," the man growled, hands on his hips. "Don't make it four. Consider this a warning."
Malachi nodded, muttering a half-hearted apology. "Understood."
He headed straight for the meeting point where Ryu waited. The man leaned casually against the truck, smirking as always.
"You can make some cash on the side," Ryu said, tossing him a small sheet of notes. "Goblins give ears. One pair, fifty bucks. Hobgoblins? Seventy. Easy to sell, easy money."
Malachi raised an eyebrow. "And… how exactly do you want me to get them to you? By the time I leave the dungeon, it's going to be late at night, and—"
Ryu waved a hand dismissively. "Text me tomorrow morning. I'll swing by and collect them. Better yet, put them in a freezer so they don't rot. I've got a pound container for you—bloodproof, smell-proof. Keeps things tidy."
Malachi weighed it in his mind, then nodded. "Fine. Works for me."
He hefted his backpack, checked the machete and knife strapped inside, and stepped toward the shimmering gate. The dungeon awaited, dark and silent, but he felt… ready.
With a steadying breath, he crossed through.
----------
The machete felt perfect in his hands, swinging with precision and cutting through the goblins quickly. Their predictable movements were easier to exploit now that he knew their tendencies. Each strike was fast, efficient—he barely broke a sweat compared to yesterday.
As he killed each goblin, he collected the ears carefully, placing them in the bloodproof bag Ryu had given him.
By now, he had:
Goblin Ears Collected: 24 pairs
Hobgoblin Ears Collected: 2 pairs
After a tense skirmish, a hobgoblin emerged from the shadows, larger and more vicious than the others. Its club swung with devastating force, forcing Malachi to retreat and dodge, feeling the sting of scratches along his arms. The fight was brutal—he lost his footing several times and took minor cuts, but he adapted, using his agility and knowledge of goblin patterns.
Finally, after a series of precise strikes and a well-timed dash to the side, he plunged the machete into the creature's chest. The hobgoblin collapsed.
XP Gained from Hobgoblin: 100 XP
Adding in his kills from the goblins before the hobgoblin:
XP from Goblins: 1,250 XP
XP from Hobgoblin: 100 XP
Total XP: 1,350 / 3,000
Malachi took a moment to catch his breath, wiping blood from his jacket. He surveyed the dungeon—one hour had passed, but he still felt capable of taking on more. The thought of the money for the ears and the XP pushing him closer to the next level kept him moving.
He also realized something important: as his level increased, the number of goblins required to reach the next level would grow. Soon, he'd need stronger monsters and possibly a tougher dungeon—but for now, this pace was manageable. Level 5 or 6 would probably be when he could tackle that safely.
Gripping the machete tightly, he pressed deeper, each step measured and deliberate, determined to maximize both experience and earnings.
-------------
After the next handful of goblins, Malachi felt a familiar surge. His vision flickered with the red panel, and the system announced:
[You have leveled up!]
[LEVEL: 4 — XP (0 / 4,000)]
[Gained 5 Free Attribute Points]
He wiped blood from his cheek with the back of his hand, expecting the warm rush of instant recovery like before. But… nothing. The gash on his arm still stung, and the bruise on his ribs still ached.
Then he noticed it—slowly, the cut on his arm was knitting together. Not in seconds, but steadily, like watching time speed up on a wound. The pain dulled with every minute, his bruises loosening as though they were fading away.
"Passive healing…" he muttered. "Not instant, but damn useful."
He opened his status panel to assign the free points. After a moment of thought, he spread them evenly to strengthen his body further:
Strength: +2 (now 13)
Agility: +2 (now 10)
Endurance: +1 (now 10)
The difference was noticeable. His swings with the machete were quicker, sharper, and his body felt lighter—like a heavy weight had been lifted. His breathing was steadier too, recovery coming faster between fights.
[ Status Panel]
Name: Malachi Grey
Title: Guild Master (S+)
Level: 4
XP: 0 / 4,000
Attributes:
Strength: 13
Agility: 10
Endurance: 10
Intelligence: 6
Perception: 6
Skills:
Passive: Passive Healing
Active: Recruitment
Active: Dash]
He glanced at his watch. Inside, only 2 hours had passed. But outside, that would mean nearly 11 hours gone—his entire day, eaten up by the dungeon again.
Malachi slung the bag of ears over his shoulder and tightened his grip on the machete. The blood on his jacket had dried, his body ached, but his wounds were already beginning to fade. Slowly.
He thought about pressing deeper—money and XP both weighed heavily on his mind—but for now, he decided it was smarter to cash in today's gains and recover.
Malachi made his way back toward the dungeon's exit, the eerie stillness of the cavern broken only by his steady footsteps. The adrenaline was wearing off now, leaving behind the weight of exhaustion. His cuts still stung, but as he walked, he noticed the smaller ones had already faded to thin lines. Bruises were loosening, the stiffness melting bit by bit.
By the time the shimmering light of the dungeon's exit came into view, he pulled the bag from his back to check his haul.
Collected:
Goblin Ears: 32 pairs (=$1,600)
Hobgoblin Ears: 3 pairs (=$210)
Total: $1,810 if Ryu's word held true.
Malachi exhaled slowly. "Not bad… not bad at all." Between the construction pay and dungeon runs, he'd finally found something that felt like progress.
The air outside hit him hard—cool, crisp, and heavy with the smell of the city night. His phone buzzed back to life as he crossed the threshold. He pulled it out.
[Time: 10:45 p.m.]
Inside, he had only been there a little over two hours. But outside, the entire day had slipped away again.
He stripped off the blood-soaked jacket and stuffed it into his pack, switching into the spare shirt he'd packed just in case. His shoes, though scuffed and dark-stained, would pass for now. Ryu was nowhere in sight; not surprising.
The walk home was quiet. Malachi's legs felt heavy, but there was a small, stubborn fire in his chest. He'd survived, gotten stronger, and earned money in a world that had tried to rob him of both.
Back in his apartment, he tossed the bag of ears straight into the freezer. The bloodproof container worked just as Ryu said—no leaks, no stench. He stripped down, hit the shower, and let the warm water sting his healing wounds. By the time he stepped out, the ache had dulled even more, proof that the passive skill was doing its work.
He checked his bank app before collapsing into bed. Even after subtracting the $1,000 he'd paid Ryu, plus the costs of his gear, he was still holding steady with his savings and had tomorrow's payout waiting.
Malachi pulled the thin blanket over himself, stomach filled with the leftover rations he'd saved from the dungeon. As he drifted off, the red panel flickered faintly at the edge of his vision before fading.
Tomorrow, he'd cash in. Tomorrow, he'd go again.
------------
When Malachi woke the next morning, he blinked in the dim light of his studio and flexed his arm. The scratches and bruises from yesterday were gone—not even a scar left behind. The passive healing had done its work while he slept.
"Guess that's one less thing to worry about," he muttered, pulling on his work clothes.
He didn't dare miss another shift. A fourth absence this week would almost guarantee he'd be kicked from the site, and construction was the only stable paycheck he had. By the time he clocked in, the morning sun was already glaring off the half-finished steel frames, and the air buzzed with the familiar noise of drills and hammers.
During a break, Malachi slipped his phone from his pocket. He fired off a quick message to Ryu.
[Text sent: Let's meet tonight. I'll be done with work around 9.]
He tucked the phone back away, grabbed his gloves, and went back to hauling boards and shifting supplies. It was the same grind as always, but every now and then, he caught himself remembering the dungeon—swinging the machete, earning XP, watching his wounds fade away.
Tonight, he'd go again.
----------
By the time Malachi's shift ended, the sky was already stained with the deep orange of twilight. His muscles didn't ache the way they used to, his stamina carrying him through the heavy lifting with ease. It was strange, but he had to admit—leveling up was changing him in ways no workout ever could.
Before heading to meet Ryu, he stopped by his apartment. He crouched by the fridge, pulling out the sealed bag Ryu had given him. The goblin and hobgoblin ears were packed inside, still cold and stiff.
As he straightened, his eyes fell on the pile of clothes he had worn into the dungeon. The jacket, shirt, and pants were still streaked with dark, dried blood. He grimaced.
"Damn… can't forget about that," he muttered, tossing them into the laundry bin. If his landlord—or worse, a neighbor—saw those, he'd have a whole different problem on his hands. He made a mental note to wash them as soon as he got back tonight.
He grabbed the bag, slipped on a fresh jacket, and headed out into the cooling night air.
Ryu was waiting at their usual meeting spot, a quiet corner near the back of a convenience store parking lot. His eyes immediately went to the bag in Malachi's hand.
"Looks like you've been busy," Ryu said, smirking.Perfect, here's a smooth continuation with all that tied together:
---
Malachi handed over the pouch heavy with ears, the faint metallic smell of dried blood seeping through despite the lining.
Ryu whistled low when he counted them. "Not bad at all. That's $1,810. I'll square up with you tomorrow."
Malachi gave a short nod, then asked the question that had been burning in his head. "You know any harder dungeons? Goblins are fine, but… if I'm ever gonna climb higher, I'll need something more."
Ryu smirked, tucking the pouch away. "I'll let you know. Places like that don't come cheap—or easy—but you'll hear from me when I find something worth your while."
With the deal settled, Malachi shouldered his pack and stepped into the dungeon. The air shifted instantly—heavy, damp, and reeking of earth. He tightened his grip on the machete, his eyes already searching for movement.
He needed 4,000 XP to climb again, and that meant a long night ahead. Goblins came in waves, their shrieks echoing in the tunnels, and though his body ached from each clash, his strikes grew sharper, his reactions quicker. Blood painted his jacket and boots, his breathing ragged but steady as he pressed deeper.
Hours blurred. He counted kills, stashed ears into the pouch Ryu gave him, and fought through the sting of every shallow cut until his passive healing dulled them into fading lines. By the time he carved through the last hobgoblin of the night, his arms trembled but victory thrummed in his chest.
When the dungeon's exit shimmered into view, Malachi checked his watch. Inside, it felt like five or six hours at most. Outside—nearly the whole night had slipped by.
He stepped out into the cool morning air, sweat still damp on his skin, and hurried home. There was no time to rest. He tossed his bloodied jacket aside, scrubbed himself clean under the shower, and pulled on fresh clothes. The clock ticked mercilessly forward.
He hadn't slept a wink, yet as he grabbed his bag for work, he realized something startling—he wasn't all that tired. His body, reinforced by the system, carried him forward with ease.
[Status Panel]
Name: Malachi Grey
Title: Guild Master (S+)
Level: 4
XP: 3,300 / 4,000
Attributes:
Strength: 13
Agility: 10
Endurance: 10
Intelligence: 6
Perception: 6
Skills:
Passive:Passive Healing
Active: Recruitment
Active: Dash ]
Malachi ran his fingers over the machete's handle, feeling the weight of his progress. He could sense his body was sharper, faster, more resilient than yesterday. His wounds from the dungeon were already fading steadily, a reminder that his passive skill was working.
He exhaled and glanced at the XP bar. Only 700 XP left to level up. "Not bad… not bad at all," he muttered. "Once I hit that next level, things are really going to start changing."
With a final glance at the panel, he shoved it away mentally. Work wouldn't wait.