chapter 1

Chapter 1

Part 0: prologue

Within the expansive and desolate Sahara Desert, not a single sound whispered through the

dunes except for the haunting symphony of howling winds and swirling sand. Suddenly, a

violent tremor shook the earth. A jagged tear tore open the sky. It let out a blinding light that

lit the barren landscape. The light vanished quickly. It left behind a huge gate. The gate

pulsed with a scary purple glow.

From the vortex of swirling dust at the base of the gate emerged a weathered figure. His

tattered clothes clung to a frame sculpted by endurance. His matted hair and beard flowed

wildly like a tangled halo. Each strand was the color of sun-bleached bone. A cruel smile

etched across his face. It showed teeth sharpened by years of desperate gnawing. His

hoarse voice cracked the silence like a whip. He rasped, "Finally." The word echoed through

the vast emptiness. "Out of that accursed hell; now it's time for payback."

With a gnarled hand, he traced the carvings on the gate, his eyes gleaming with madness. A

bone-chilling, joyless laugh echoed through the dunes as he reveled in his rebirth and the

pursuit of vengeance. The gate closed behind him. The world outside was about to see the

start of something grimly unforgettable.

Part1: the era of hunters

In 2050, a dazzling, iridescent light covered the planet. It left billions bewildered. The

sudden, unexplained event was followed by a booming, clear voice. It resonated across the

globe and delivered a chilling message: "Congratulations, you've been chosen to be

hunters." Monsters are preparing to invade your world. Your mission is to conquer the gates,

stop the invasion, and save your world."

Panic and disbelief gripped the population as people struggled to wrap their minds around

the surreal situation. "This must be some kind of elaborate prank," some whispered, clinging

to the hope that it's all a joke. Others questioned, "What gates are they talking about? Are

they some kind of literal doors to another dimension?"

Just when the confusion seemed unbearable, the enigmatic voice offered a glimmer of hope,

painting a vivid picture of the road ahead. "As you vanquish these Monsters, your level will

rise along with your stats," it proclaimed, sparking a sense of determination in the hearts of

many. "To view your stats, simply say 'status window'. This window is an indicator that

displays your condition, reflecting your efforts and progress. Your stats will either soar or plummet, depending on your successes and failures." The voice concluded, "May God bless

you on your perilous journey to save the world."

The world held its collective breath in anxious anticipation as the fate of humanity hung

precariously in the balance. Then, without warning, inexplicable gates materialized in every

corner of the globe, defying all logic and reason. These shimmering portals, reminiscent of

ancient mythological gateways, marked the dawn of a new era: the age of hunters. With the

appearance of these mysterious gateways, the world was thrust into a time of uncertainty

and wonder, as humanity grappled with the implications of this extraordinary event,

reminiscent of the ancient tales of heroes and monsters.

The battle raged inside the gate of the Great Sahara desert. It was a year after the

mysterious gate's sudden appearance. The Hunters wore a mix of armor and wielded an

assortment of weapons. They clashed fiercely with the monsters pouring out of the

shimmering portal. Harith, a lean and weathered young man, found himself facing

insurmountable odds. His worn, cracked leather armor creaked and groaned. It was under

the assault of razor-sharp claws. It barely held its own against the attack.

His opponent, a scrawny goblin, the weakest of the monstrous horde, lunged at him with

ferocity. Harith parried the attack swiftly and efficiently. But, the impact sent a searing jolt of

pain up his arm, blurring his vision. Despite a year of nonstop training, drilling, and sparring

since the gate's appearance, Harith felt an overwhelming desperation wash over him. He

struggled to take down even the most basic of monsters. The feeling of inadequacy gnawed

at him like a festering wound.

Amidst the chaos, their leader Pierce stood tall, his determined face set beneath a thick,

battle-worn beard. With one mighty swing of his Warhammer, he cleaved a colossal

Gargoyle in two, its stone wings shattering on the desert sand. Nearby, a lithe young woman

danced through a pack of snarling jackals, her daggers flashing with deadly precision as she

struck and parried with grace.

Shame burned within Harith as he watched his comrades make quick work of their foes, their

levels rising with each kill, their skills sharpening, and their bodies growing stronger. Yet, he

remained static, forever trapped at Level 1—the mark of the weakest Hunter. He anxiously

checked his status window, yearning for a glimmer of hope, a spark of improvement,

anything to prove to himself that he wasn't a complete failure.

[Name - Harith]

[level-1]

[Title - None. Please work harder.]

[Age - 25]

[Job - Unemployed]

[Stats]

[Strength - 10]

[Agility - 11]

[Stamina - 11]

[Intelligence - 19]

[Endurance - 12]

[Luck - 5]

[Magic - 00]

"I only killed a single monster today."

A rank E creature, no less. Harith began fidgeting with the rank E magic crystal in his hand.

The lowest-grade magic crystal from a rank E monster fetched less than a hundred dollar

. For something he bet his life to earn, it was a pathetically small amount.

'A magic crystal from a rank C monster can sell for over 10 thousand dollars, though....'

Suddenly, a deep voice boomed over the clash of steel and monster shrieks. "Harith! Hold

your ground!" Harith glanced over his shoulder to see Pierce, the leader of their party,

striding towards him. Pierce, a man hardened by years of combat, his face weathered like

desert leather, bore a surprisingly gentle expression. "Don't be discouraged, lad," Pierce

said, his voice gruff but kind. "We all started somewhere. Level 1 doesn't mean weak, it just

means you haven't found your rhythm yet. Keep training, observe the others, and most

importantly, stay alive. There's plenty of time to make progress."

"Thank you, Pierce," Harith rasped, his voice hoarse from the exertion of battle. "I won't let

you down."

Just then, a triumphant yell pierced the desert air. "Boss room found!" bellowed a burly

hunter, his voice echoing across the battlefield. Pierce surveyed the scene with a keen eye.

He clapped a hand on Harith's shoulder, his calloused grip surprisingly gentle. "Good work,

lad. Stay sharp, the real fight starts now."

As Pierce strode towards his second-in-command, a woman named Zara with eyes as sharp

as her daggers, their voices dropped to a hushed murmur. Zara leaned in, her brow

furrowed. "Are you sure about this, Pierce? A Mythical-rank item in this backwater gate?"

Pierce met her gaze, a flicker of doubt momentarily clouding his weathered face. "Even a

slim chance of a Mythical is worth the risk. Remember the plan."