Chapter 7 : First Penalty

Hunters couldn't be afraid of death. The world relied on strong, capable people risking their safety in exchange for power, fame, and wealth. The thought of heroes selflessly running to danger out of the goodness of their heart was a long dead ideal. Hunters went into dungeons not to save people, but to better the profits of the Guilds. Guilds would then sell the raw materials to companies with the capabilities of using such rare goods. Everything in the modern economy was faintly touched by the Hunter trade. Cellphones had mana crystal batteries, able to hold days if not weeks of charge. Mana crystals took over batteries entirely, from cars to the smallest of devices. Able to be charged off a person's natural mana flow or by the solar energy of UV light.

It was a Hunter's duty now to gather all the resources they could, in exchange for the experience points from hunting monsters and strengthening themselves.

Still, Oz was afraid of dying. If not for her sake, then for the memory of her long suffering Mother. Her mother was once a good woman. She didn't deserve all the horrid things her husband's family did to her. Calling her a gold-digger, a thief, low-class trash all because she happened to catch the eye of the heir to the Winscot fortune. Of all the people for her mother to catch the eye of, it had to be the heir of those people.

Winscot's were leaders of the largest Guild system of the East Coast. Their monopoly over magical cores and hunter based military gear made them more powerful than the political idiots they lobbied. Powerful men and women, yet so few were hunters themselves.

Years of abuse lead up to a mental break, changing her mother completely. From a kind woman, to a cold hearted yet frighteningly loyal Winscot. The ideals of wealth and the easy life corrupted her heart. Her step-father was caught in the generational abuse of his own family. Caught between standing up for his wife, but not rocking the boat with the family that kept his fortune. The resulting siblings of that marriage were all spoiled and born with silver spoons in their mouths. Especially the boys.

Oz had been little more than an afterthought, already ten when her mother remarried into the rich family. She was turned into an unpaid nanny for the terrors of half siblings and cousins, there to pick up the scraps and damaged remains in their destruction.

No one expected her to withdraw from them, she kept her original last name. Refusing to be a Winscot. Only the wrath of her grandfather in his prime kept the snakes from trying to toss her out. Grandfather wanted better, perhaps out of guilt, or he saw her potential. She's the one who awoke as a hunter, not her miserable half brothers. But now he is gone. Her mother was now blinded by the wealth and promise of a comfy life. Oz cared little for the cowardly man, but for her mother's memory she had to live. For the memory of the strong, confident woman her woman had been before those snakes ruined her. For Oz's own sake. She would NEVER turn to those bastards for help.

She was alone but she was a Kasper. She would survive.

[Accept Daily Quest?]

Through her swollen eyelids Oz felt the warmth of the dialog box above her. Though gentle, the light still blinded her.

'Go away,' She mentally whimpered. It hurt to think, it hurt to exist. Beaten raw and at her limit. Everything hurt worse than the day her aunt tripped her down the massive stairs at the family's winter lodge the day after she awoke as a hunter. Twenty steps that lead with her smashing hard on the wooden floor.

A normal human would have snapped their neck and been paralyzed, if not died. But she had recently awoken as a hunter, so it took more than stairs to take her down. Not that it hadn't hurt for weeks, the bruises up and down her body easily hidden with thick hoodies. Or the time her half brothers thought it funny to lock her out on the balcony in a rainstorm, when on a family vacation. Left shivering and trembling in the weight of the monsoon, but somehow...survived.

[Accept Daily Quest or Accept Penalty Event]

Somehow Oz peeled her eye open, the right side of her face was hot and raw. And heavy. With a shaky hand, her fingers brushed her sliced eye. The side of her face covered in bandages?

Was she in a hospital? Was the hellish winterscape a dream? She felt like she got run over, maybe she had been. But how did she get out of the dungeon?

The thick smell of incense hit her nose, she let her eye drift over. Not a hospital with modern medicine and bleached surfaces.

Instead the hunter woke in a primitive hut? A yurt? The walls were all circular, a fire banked in the center. The walls were a blur of blues, creams and reds, tapestries and rugs covered the walls. She was far from the fur lined doorway fluttering in the breeze, each shift let her see the faintest outline of legs outside. Guards? She struggled to sit up, bundled in layer after layer of leather and furs. Heavy enough she wheezed to breathe.

A cold hand brushed against her exposed cheek, enough to make her let out a gasp of shock. She turned to see a stoic faced old woman sitting there. Oz had to blink, she...didn't see that woman a second ago.

The woman stared for a few quiet moments, her mind trying to catch up with the sight before her. Was she concussed or did the old woman have long elf ears and shimmery blue skin?

"Back to sleep." The old woman had a silky voice, gentle and soothing. In such contrast with the steel-like grip she had on Oz's shoulder. She didn't have the strength to fight. Back into the furs the woman went, groaning from the spinning in her head.

"Is the human asleep?" A deep voice caught her attention, through the fog she heard more voices. An odd language soon after, rich and deep. Almost French like but not enough she could follow anything. Another firm hand touched her flushed skin, frigid and large. The scent of winter and mint engulfed her. The burning pain in her face and skin seemed to melt away. It took all her strength to peel back open her good eye, the world blurring as she tried to focus on the tall man before her. The heavy cloak and furs were familiar.

[Accept Daily Quest 3...2...1...0. Failure to Accept Daily Quest. Penalty Event : Raging Fever]

The box flashed again through her eyelids.

[Survive for 6 hours and gain a reward]

The horrid burning returned through her veins. A miserable cry escaped her chapped lips, her throat swollen raw. She barely could get out choked wheezes as she boiled alive in her skin. She flopped and pushed at the furs, wheezing to try and free herself from the pain. Two pairs of hands fought her useless struggles. Bundling her further into the soggy furs. Oz wanted to scream, wanted to cry as she was swollen into silence.

Everything hurt, everything burned, her organs felt like slush, her guts were melting. Her skin felt loose and she was sliding within it, caught in a cocoon of fluid and misery.

How would she ever survive six hours of such hellish fury?