Chapter 3: The Unauthorized Hub
The main auditorium was a ten‑minute walk from the cafeteria, but the hallways had become a maze of overturned furniture, shattered glass, and dark stains that I tried not to identify.
Seo-yoon led the way, her summoned sword glowing faintly in the dim emergency lighting. The other students followed behind us in a tight cluster, their footsteps echoing off the walls. I brought up the rear, the hobgoblin's club balanced on my shoulder like a grotesque trophy.
"How do you know where the Hub is?" I asked.
Seo-yoon glanced back. "The System gave me a map when I woke up. Part of being A‑rank, I guess." Her tone was clipped, professional, but I caught the way her eyes kept scanning the shadows. "It's supposed to be a safe zone. Registration, skill upgrades, class evolutions. The basics."
"Supposed to be?"
She hesitated. "The message said 'unauthorized.' That means someone else got there first."
I didn't need to ask who. In the chaos of the apocalypse, power would consolidate fast. The strong would take what they wanted, and the weak would serve or die.
I tightened my grip on the club.
---
From a broken air conditioner outside the auditorium, a pigeon watched the group approach. Its eyes were too bright, too focused. Inside the building, a dozen figures in mismatched gear had set up a perimeter. Their leader, a man with a scarred face and a B‑rank Warrior class, stood at the entrance. His eyes narrowed as he spotted the students.
"More survivors," he said to his second. "Check their classes. Anyone above C‑rank gets conscripted. The rest can go to the processing center."
"And if they resist?"
The scarred man smiled. "They won't."
---
We reached the main corridor leading to the auditorium. The double doors were propped open with sandbags, and crude barricades had been erected on either side. Men and women in civilian clothes—but armed with System‑granted weapons—patrolled the entrance.
They saw us. One of them raised a hand.
"Stop right there."
Seo-yoon stepped forward, her sword still out. "We're survivors from the east wing. We need access to the Hub."
The guard—a wiry man with a C‑rank Archer class—studied her A‑rank Paladin screen with visible unease. He glanced back at the auditorium doors, then at me.
His eyes lingered on the hobgoblin club.
"You'll have to wait. The Hub is under guild management now. We'll process you when we're ready."
Seo-yoon's jaw tightened. "The System says it's unauthorized. You don't have jurisdiction."
"We have the firepower," a new voice cut in.
A man emerged from the auditorium, flanked by two B‑rank fighters. His screen identified him as Kang Dae-ho, B‑rank Warrior, and the name of a newly formed guild: Iron Fist.
He looked us over with the easy confidence of someone who'd already won a dozen fights today. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw, giving his smile a lopsided edge.
"A Paladin," he said, nodding at Seo-yoon. "Useful. You're with us now." His gaze shifted to me. "And you… Butcher? F‑rank?" He laughed. "You can go to the processing center. We need people to carry supplies."
I said nothing. My fingers found the hilt of my kitchen knife, still strapped to my thigh.
Seo-yoon stepped between us. "He killed a hobgoblin. He's not going to your processing center."
The scarred man's smile faded. "A hobgoblin? With that class?" He looked at the club on my shoulder, then at the dried blood covering my uniform. Something flickered in his eyes. Calculation.
"You're the one they were talking about," he said slowly. "The butcher kid."
I didn't confirm or deny. I just waited.
He studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. "Fine. You can register. But the Hub is ours. You want to evolve your class, you pay the fee."
"What fee?" Seo-yoon demanded.
"Ten goblin cores. Or one hobgoblin core." His eyes gleamed. "I hear you might have one of those."
I pulled the hobgoblin core from my pocket—a fist‑sized crystal, still pulsing with dark red light. The guards around us tensed. The scarred man's hand twitched.
"You want it?" I asked, holding it up.
His hand reached out instinctively.
I pulled it back.
"I'll make you a deal," I said. "My group gets access to the Hub. Free of charge. And you stop conscripting survivors."
His expression hardened. "And what do I get?"
"You get to keep breathing."
Silence. The guards raised their weapons. Seo-yoon's sword glowed brighter. Behind me, the students pressed closer together, their fear palpable.
The scarred man stared at me. I stared back.
I'd spent three years in a butcher shop, dealing with men who thought they were tough because they could swing a cleaver. I knew the look of someone measuring whether they could take you.
His eyes dropped to the hobgoblin club, to the blood on my hands, to the cold calm in my face. He saw something there that made him hesitate.
"You're just a kid," he said finally.
"I'm a kid who processed a C‑rank monster with a kitchen knife," I replied. "Imagine what I could do with a real weapon."
The silence stretched. One of his guards shifted nervously. Another whispered something I couldn't hear.
Finally, the scarred man stepped aside.
"Fine. Register your group. But you stay out of our way, and we stay out of yours." He pointed at me. "And I want ten percent of whatever you harvest from now on. Protection tax."
I smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"Come take it."
He opened his mouth, then closed it. The calculations in his head had shifted. I could see him trying to figure out if I was bluffing, if the hobgoblin kill was a fluke, if he could afford to call my bluff in front of his men.
He decided he couldn't.
"Move along," he growled, waving us through.
I walked past him without looking back. I felt his eyes on me the whole time, burning with resentment.
Let him burn. He wasn't my problem. Not yet.
---
From a rafter above the auditorium entrance, the pigeon watched the exchange with what might have been amusement.
"Clever," it whispered to itself. "But clever only takes you so far."
Its gaze followed the boy as he entered the Hub, where a massive floating crystal dominated the stage. System screens flickered around it, listing classes, rankings, and available evolutions.
The pigeon tilted its head.
"Let's see what you choose."
---
The auditorium had been transformed. The stage was dominated by a floating crystal, easily ten feet across, pulsing with blue light. System screens flickered around it, displaying information in a language that somehow I could read.
\[SYSTEM HUB – SEOUL ACADEMY BRANCH\]
\[Rank: Unaffiliated\]
\[Services: Class Registration, Skill Enhancement, Class Evolution, Material Exchange\]
\[Current Administrator: None\]
\[Warning: Hub is contested. Control may be seized by any registered guild.\]
Seo-yoon was already studying the screens. "We need to register our group. It'll give us access to basic services and protect us from being forcibly conscripted."
"How does that work?"
"We form a party. The System recognizes groups of five or more as a 'faction.' Once registered, we can't be absorbed by another guild without our consent." She looked at me. "We have fifteen people. That's enough."
I looked at the students behind us. They were scared, exhausted, looking to me and Seo-yoon for direction. I hadn't asked for this responsibility. But Seo-yoon was right—if I walked away, they'd be picked apart by people like the scarred man.
"Do it," I said.
She nodded and approached the crystal. A screen appeared before her, and she began filling out the registration.
I turned to the students. Most of them flinched when my eyes passed over them. Only a few met my gaze.
"I'm not a hero," I said. "I'm not going to pretend to be. But I killed that thing out there, and I'll kill anything else that tries to hurt you while you're with me. That's the deal."
A boy near the front—maybe fifteen, with glasses and a C‑rank Scholar class—spoke up. "What do we have to do in return?"
"Stay alive. Learn to fight. And when the time comes, fight back."
They looked at each other, uncertain. Then the Scholar boy nodded.
"Okay."
Others followed. One by one, they agreed.
I turned back to the crystal just as Seo-yoon finished the registration. A new screen appeared.
\[FACTION REGISTERED: UNNAMED\]
\[Leader: Kang Jin-ho (Butcher, F-Rank)\]
\[Members: 16\]
\[Status: Neutral\]
\[Hub Access: Basic\]
Seo-yoon stepped back, a small smile on her face. "Congratulations. You're now a faction leader."
I stared at the screen, at my name at the top, at the word Leader.
In my past life, I couldn't even get a promotion at a butcher shop. Now I was responsible for sixteen lives.
"What's our faction name?" someone asked.
I looked at the hobgoblin club still in my hand. At the blood drying on my uniform. At the students watching me, waiting.
"The Butcher's Block," I said.
It was grim. It was honest.
It was mine.
---
I approached the crystal. The screens shifted, showing me options.
\[CLASS EVOLUTION AVAILABLE\]
\[Current Class: Butcher (F-Rank)\]
\[Evolution Requirements Met: Harvested creature two ranks above level.\]
\[Choose Evolution Path:\]
Path 1: Master Butcher (D-Rank)
Enhanced processing speed, ability to harvest skills from defeated enemies, +50% stats from all harvests.
Path 2: Flesh Sculptor (D-Rank)
Ability to modify harvested materials into weapons and armor, enhanced crafting skills, +30% durability to crafted items.
Path 3: Anatomist (D-Rank)
Unlock enemy weak points, +100% critical damage against harvested targets, ability to learn enemy skills without harvesting.
I read each option carefully.
Master Butcher was the straightforward combat upgrade. More stats, more skills. The safe choice.
Flesh Sculptor turned me into a crafter. Useful for equipping my faction, but it would slow my personal growth.
Anatomist was the riskiest. No stat boost, no crafting. But the ability to see weak points and learn skills without harvesting? That could make me exponentially more dangerous against future enemies.
I remembered the hobgoblin. How my first cut barely broke its skin. How I almost died because I didn't know where to strike.
I needed precision. I needed knowledge.
I reached for the third option.
\[CLASS EVOLUTION CONFIRMED\]
\[Butcher → Anatomist (D-Rank)\]
\[New Skill Acquired: Weak Point Detection Lv.1\]
\[New Skill Acquired: Skill Theft (Passive)\]
The world shifted.
Suddenly, I could see inside things. The guard at the door—I could see the weak point at his throat, the gap in his ribs where a blade could slip through. The crystal before me—I could see the energy flowing through it, the points where it could be broken.
I blinked, and the vision faded to a faint overlay. But it was there, always there, waiting for me to focus.
Seo-yoon was watching me. "What did you choose?"
"Anatomist."
Her eyebrows rose. "That's… unusual."
"I don't need more strength." I looked at my hands. "I need to know where to cut."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she smiled—a real smile this time, not the dangerous one from before.
"You really are different, aren't you?"
I didn't answer. I was looking at the crystal again, at the messages scrolling along its surface.
\[System Hub Status: Contested\]
\[Nearby Threats Detected: Iron Fist Guild (Hostile Intent)\]
Hostile intent. That much I already knew.
But another line caught my eye, and it made the hairs on my neck stand up:
\[Larger Threats Detected: Unknown\]
Unknown.
---
From a window ledge outside, the pigeon watched the boy stare at the crystal. Its head tilted, and for a moment its eyes glowed with a faint, otherworldly light.
"Anatomist," it murmured. "Interesting."
It spread its wings and flew toward the tower rising in the distance. Behind it, a System message flickered into existence on the Hub crystal—one that only the Administrators would see.
*\[ANOMALY CONFIRMED: BUTCHER CLASS – ANATOMIST PATH. ADMINISTRATORS NOTIFIED.\] *
The message vanished before any human eye could read it.
---
I stepped out of the auditorium and into the dying light of the first day of the apocalypse.
The sky was a bruised purple, streaked with red. In the distance, a tower rose from the heart of the city—the first dungeon, already spilling monsters into the streets.
I had sixteen people to protect. A hostile guild to manage. And something out there—something the System itself labeled as an unknown threat—waiting in the shadows.
But for now, I had a new class, a new faction, and a purpose.
I wasn't a nobody anymore.
I was a butcher. An anatomist. The leader of the Butcher's Block.
And this world was going to learn what happens when the weakest class decides to carve its own path.
I tightened my grip on the hobgoblin club and walked toward the tower.
It was time to get to work.
---
End of Chapter 3