The world of that era was drowning in chaos. Dark dungeons stretched into infinity, teeming with merciless, monstrous creatures. Brutal wars raged between humanity, beasts, and cryptic entities. Nowhere was truly safe; even the mightiest fortified cities teemed on the brink of collapse. In the heart of this desolation lived a youth named Novarion, raised in a small village far from the cacophony of the great capitals.
His life was shrouded in mystery and fear from the start. The abyss-like dungeons surrounding his village hid horrors whose true nature remained unknown. His father, Kallias, was the village's guardian—not a mere hunter, but one of the greatest legends the Guild had ever known. He held the SS-Rank, a rare distinction reserved for those capable of facing the deadliest threats single-handedly.
But Novarion was nothing like his father.
While the world whispered tales of Kallias's heroism, Novarion struggled with a profound weakness. He couldn't compare to other hunters, or even the ordinary village youths. He possessed no extraordinary skills, no special mana, no spark of talent. Despite training daily until his body collapsed in exhaustion, a heavy truth weighed on his soul: no matter what he did, he would never be like his father. The dream felt unreachable, and the shadow of failure grew heavier with every passing day.
Then came the day that changed everything.
His father departed on a perilous mission into an SS-Rank dungeon—a place notorious as a "Hunters' Graveyard." Novarion waited, but days bled into weeks. Finally, the news arrived: Kallias was gone. Nothing remained of him except the shattered remnants of his gear and the scars of a ferocious battle against unknown monsters.
Novarion's heart shattered. The loss was an unspeakable blow, leaving a hollow void within him. Yet, in the depths of his grief, a spark ignited. He made a vow: no matter how weak he was, no matter how impossible the path, he would become a great hunter. He would not remain a mere shadow of his father; he would forge his own name.
The path, however, was paved with thorns. When he attempted to join the Hunters' Guild, he was rejected in front of everyone. He had neither the strength nor the talent—he was just an ordinary boy. The words of rejection pierced his heart like a dagger, but he did not retreat. Instead, he chose to start from the absolute bottom: the weakest dungeons, where the risks were low, to hone himself step by step.
During one of his earliest expeditions, he reached an ancient, forgotten dungeon. The air was frigid, the walls cloaked in layers of black moss. The atmosphere was heavy, as if no soul had stepped inside for centuries. As he wandered cautiously, his eyes fell upon something strange: an ancient cavern, and deep within sat a mysterious old man, looking as though he had been waiting for someone for eons.
The old man opened his eyes slowly, his gaze piercing Novarion with an eerie intensity before he spoke:
"At last... the one I sought has arrived."
The elder raised his hand, and a colossal surge of energy erupted—power so vast Novarion couldn't even comprehend it. The energy slammed into him, coursing through his entire being, leaving him reeling before he collapsed into unconsciousness.
When he finally awoke, time having lost all meaning, his body felt... different. Confused but determined, he pushed deeper into the dungeon. Soon, he encountered his first foe: a weak Goblin. He gripped his rusted sword and, with a swift strike, cut it down.
The surprise wasn't the kill itself, but what happened next. Floating in the air before his eyes, a glowing message appeared:
[Target Eliminated: Goblin – F-Rank]
[50 Experience Points Acquired]
Novarion froze, breathless. He whispered to himself, "What is this...? Where did this message come from?"
Suddenly, another window flickered into existence:
[I am the System. I have been manifested to assist in your evolution.]
He didn't know if he was dreaming, but he had no choice but to move forward. He hunted the goblins one by one, and with every fallen beast, his points grew. Despite his physical exhaustion, for the first time in his life, he felt a flicker of hope. He could become stronger.
After a long struggle, with the corridor littered with the remains of the monsters, Novarion stood panting, a small, grim smile tugging at his lips. With heavy steps, he reached a different area: a colossal gate etched with mysterious runes, radiating a terrifying aura.
He reached out to touch it, whispering to himself: "What waits for me behind this gate?"
To be continued…