After leaving the guild, Hemin's day ended without further surprises.
He spent the evening in a modest little restaurant tucked away behind the adventurers' street—a place where the scent of grilled meat and spice filled the air and the noise of cheerful drinkers never quite died down. The owner, a plump woman with a sharp tongue and a kind heart, served him a hot plate of roasted rabbit meat and barley soup for two big coppers.
It was cheap, filling, and far better than he'd expected.
Damn, Hemin thought as he chewed, the food here actually tastes better than most takeout back on Earth… and it's cheaper too.
When he returned to his rented room later that night, exhaustion hit him all at once. He dropped onto the bed face-first and didn't even bother to take off his boots. The small one-room apartment he'd paid three silver coins for—good for three months of rent—was now officially his new home.
After that, his remaining savings were modest:
1 silver, 98 big copper, and 25 ounces.
He wasn't rich, but for a beginner adventurer on the first floor, he was doing far better than most.
The economy of this world ran on a simple but layered coin system:
1 ounce—a small copper coin, barely worth a piece of bread.
100 ounces—1 big copper coin.
100 big copper—1 silver coin.
100 silver—1 minted silver coin, rectangular in shape and used for larger trade across kingdoms.
100 minted silver coins—1 gold coin.
100 gold coins—1 Royal Mint Gold, a coin so rare it only circulated among nobles and was occasionally discovered in the deepest levels of dungeons.
By that measure, Hemin's five silver coin earnings from the previous day were quite high—especially for someone who had only cleared the first floor. It was enough to live comfortably for weeks.
Still, instead of splurging, Hemin found his thoughts drifting toward his family.
If I can save up steadily, maybe I can send some money back home…
The old Hemin's parents had said he didn't need to worry about them, but after merging with those memories, Hemin could feel the quiet truth behind those words—they were just trying not to burden him. His parents likely struggled more than they ever admitted.
He clenched his fist lightly.
Alright… one step at a time.
Before sleep, he took out two small monster cores from his pouch—the condensed energy of the fang rabbits he'd slain. Placing them beside his bed, he activated his Armament, the mysterious system that governed his weapon and skills.
The two cores dissolved into faint light, absorbed by the sword that rested beside his bed. The weapon pulsed faintly in response, the hum low and soothing—almost alive.
But Hemin didn't stay awake long enough to see the process finish.
Within moments, his breathing slowed, and sleep claimed him completely.
The next morning, sunlight spilled across the streets of the dungeon town. The air carried a crisp chill, and the faint chatter of merchants preparing for business drifted in through the windows.
Hemin rose early, feeling rested, and headed toward the guild as usual. But as soon as he arrived, he noticed something strange—a young man in refined travel clothes standing near the entrance, accompanied by an elderly butler and a pair of guards. Their attire screamed nobility even from afar.
The boy's sharp eyes immediately locked onto him.
"Hemin, please come in," called Emilia from the guild doorway. Her tone was polite, but there was a subtle weariness beneath her usual smile—perhaps she'd been called in early.
Inside the meeting room, the atmosphere was heavy with quiet tension. Emilia sat behind the table, trying to mask her drowsiness with perfect poise. Next to her stood the young noble—around sixteen or seventeen, clean-faced, proud posture—and an older butler at his side, his expression unreadable.
And then, to Hemin's surprise, a familiar burly figure entered from the other door—the Guild Master himself.
"Guild Master," Hemin greeted with a respectful bow, then turned to the boy. "And… Sir Henrison, was it? A pleasure to meet you."
The young noble gave a thin smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "You're polite for an adventurer. Good. Then I'll keep this simple." He crossed his arms, his chin tilted slightly upward. "Yesterday, I happened to witness your fight. That sword of yours—it's remarkable. Too remarkable for someone of your rank."
Emilia's smile faltered slightly, but she said nothing. The guild master narrowed his eyes, already sensing where this was going.
"I want that sword," Henrison continued casually. "Name your price, and I'll pay it."
The words carried the kind of tone nobles often used when pretending to make an offer—when, in truth, refusal wasn't an option.
Hemin blinked slowly, his mind processing the situation.
Ah… so that's how it is. He wants the Armament.
Of course, the boy couldn't possibly understand that the sword's strength didn't come from the weapon itself but from the invisible bond that tied it to Hemin's armament system. Without that link, the sword would revert to a plain iron blade.
Suppressing a sigh, Hemin replied calmly, "As long as Sir can pay for another E-Series sword from the guild, I'll gladly hand this one over. It's guild property, after all."
The noble frowned slightly, not expecting such an easy acceptance. "Hmm. So you admit it's not yours?"
"It's my issued weapon," Hemin said, unbuckling the sword from his belt. "But I have to be clear—its sharpness is normal. The reason it cut through monsters so easily is because of my skills, not the blade itself."
Henrison's lips curled. "You expect me to believe that? Then prove it."
He gestured to his butler, who promptly stepped forward and set down a model made of toughened hide—the cured skin of a level 3 beast, thick enough to withstand an axe blow.
"Cut through this," Henrison challenged, smirking. "If you can slice it as easily as before, I might believe you."
Emilia's eyes widened slightly. Even the guild master looked intrigued but remained silent, his arms crossed, ready to step in if things got out of hand.
Hemin simply nodded. "As you wish."
He drew the sword in one smooth motion—no aura, no glowing skill activation. Just a simple swing.
Shhhk!
The blade flashed—clean, effortless. The hardened hide fell neatly in two. The cut was so smooth it could have been made by magic.
A stunned silence filled the room. Even the guild master's brows shot up.
"That's… that's a perfect cut," he murmured. He could tell immediately—the weapon wasn't enchanted. The sharpness came from craftsmanship and technique alone.
Henrison's face lit up with greedy delight. "Excellent! I'll take it!"
He snapped his fingers. "Brinton, the payment."
The butler stepped forward with a small, elegant pouch. "Twenty minted gold coins, as per the young master's instruction."
Twenty minted gold…? Hemin nearly dropped the sword from shock. That was an enormous amount—enough to buy several houses in this district.
Still, he composed himself, handing over the sword with an easy smile. "Then the deal's complete."
Henrison took the blade eagerly, admiring its form—but he didn't notice the subtle flicker of light as the Armament's link dissolved. The weapon in his hand was now nothing more than a common E-series sword.
Meanwhile, Hemin accepted the pouch with quiet disbelief. The weight of the gold felt unreal in his palm—smooth, rectangular coins embossed with the insignia of the Askalon Kingdom: two crossed swords behind a great oak tree.
Twenty minted gold… he thought, almost dazed. What the hell do I even do with this much?
Henrison, oblivious, smirked proudly. "Pleasure doing business, adventurer."
As the young noble strutted out, the guild master let out a heavy sigh and muttered under his breath, "That boy's going to regret this…"
Emilia glanced at Hemin—a hint of amusement flickering in her tired eyes. "You handled that well, Sir Hemin."
Hemin chuckled softly. "I suppose… luck's still on my side."
The noble boy's footsteps faded beyond the guild doors, leaving only the gentle rustle of parchment behind the counter. Emilia quietly exhaled, her usual calm returning as she turned back toward Hemin.
He was still there—leaning slightly against the counter, as though the short exchange hadn't affected him in the slightest.
"…Sorry for the interruption earlier," Emilia said softly.
"No need," Hemin replied, his tone even. "Actually, there's something I wanted to ask before heading out."
She straightened a little. "Yes?"
"I'll need new gear—C-series. A sword, light leather armor, and joint protectors."
That made her pause. "C-series?" she repeated, a trace of surprise slipping through her professional tone. "That's… quite an upgrade, Sir Hemin."
He nodded lightly. "I can pay for it."
Without another word, he reached into his pouch and placed a few minted gold coins on the counter. The engraved insignia of the Askalon Kingdom caught the morning light, shining faintly across the polished wood.
For a brief moment, Emilia just looked at them—at him—her expression unreadable. Minted gold wasn't something an early-stage adventurer ever carried. But she asked nothing. She merely gave a polite nod and said, "Understood. Please wait here; I'll bring them right away."
The guild hall remained hushed, morning air still cool and clean. A distant broom brushed against the wooden floor somewhere in the back, and the faint hum of mana stones lit the quiet space.
When Emilia returned, she placed the set neatly before him—fine leather armor with tight stitching, alloy-reinforced guard plates, and a balanced sword with a silvered edge that gleamed faintly in the light.
"All C-series," she said simply. "The sword's balance should fit your grip. The armor will adjust to your frame with a bit of mana flow."
Hemin tested the sword briefly, the air slicing cleanly with a soft sound. "Good craftsmanship," he said. "I'll take them."
Emilia offered a small, genuine smile. "Then, please—hunt safely."
He nodded once, fastening the armor in quiet efficiency.
Outside, the cool air carried the scent of damp earth and mist. Hemin made his way toward the dungeon entrance, the silent gates looming ahead, their runes glowing faintly as if greeting him again.
"Status," he whispered.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Hemin
Level: 2
HP: 120 / 120
MP: 120 / 120
Profession: Villager Lv. 1 / Swordsman Lv. 2
Hidden Profession: Hunter Lv. 2
Passive Skills:
Low-Strength Boost (×2), Low-Stamina Boost, Low-Agility Boost, Natural Sense
Active Skills:
Chop Lv. 1, Accel Lv. 1, Feather Step Lv. 1
His vision sharpened immediately, every detail around him more vivid—the shimmer of mana veins along the dungeon stone, the faint ripple of air currents across the floor. The Hunter's senses elevated everything; it was as if the world itself had slowed just for him.
He drew his sword and moved inward, footsteps silent.
A horned rabbit appeared ahead, its body tensed, ears twitching. Before it could flee, Hemin whispered, "Feather Step."
The world blurred. In a breath, his blade flashed—clean, controlled. The creature fell, dissolving into blue motes, three drop items clinking softly onto the stone.
He crouched to collect them, eyes calm.
After an hour of hunting, he finally stopped beside a moss-covered pillar, breathing evenly. A faint glow pulsed from his sword—the living armament at his side. The warmth flowed through his limbs, easing fatigue and soothing muscle strain.
"…Natural recovery," Hemin murmured, lifting the blade to inspect its faint light. He called up its information.
[ARMAMENT STATUS]
Type: Armament [Growth]
Level: 1
[Core Skill: Horned Rabbit]
• Active Skills: Sharp Edge Lv. 1, Physical Boost Lv. 1
• Passive Skill: Natural Recovery Lv. 1
[Core Skill: Armament]
• Active Skill: Absorb Lv. 1
"So it really worked…" he whispered.
The red-horned rabbit core had been a gamble—but it paid off. He could feel the difference in his body: strength flowing smoother, reflexes crisper, and fatigue fading twice as fast.
He sheathed his sword with a quiet grin. "Looks like I'll have to start testing what else you can do."
The dungeon's stillness deepened, broken only by the soft hum of magic stones in the walls. Somewhere farther in, a low growl echoed faintly—something stronger than a rabbit.
Hemin's smile thinned, eyes sharpening. "A challenge, then."
And with one steady breath, he stepped forward again, the quiet morning swallowing him as the dungeon accepted his return.