The room was dim, sunlight seeping gently through the thin curtains. A soft breeze wafted through the open window, fluttering the edge of an old calendar hanging by the door.
Allen stirred, eyes cracking open slowly. His body ached, but it was the familiar kind—the kind that came after surviving something impossible. He stretched slightly, wincing at the sting of bandaged wounds.
His hand reached for the phone lying facedown on the table beside the couch. The screen flickered to life as he tapped it.
5 new messages.
He swiped through the notifications lazily until one caught his eye.
[Guild Alert] – VOLUNTEER NEEDED: C-CLASS PORTAL RAID
Allen's gaze sharpened. He sat up, fully awake now. Tapping on the message, he opened it:
TO: All Available Slayers (Rank D and above)
A C-class portal has appeared in Sector 9-A, near the abandoned logistics center. Due to recent strain on raid personnel, voluntary assistance is requested. This mission is classified as High-Risk for slayers below C-rank.
Confirmed presence of coordinated beast activity inside.
Volunteers are to report to the Guild Outpost by 3 PM today. All participants will receive appropriate compensation and potential rank evaluation upon completion.
— Guild Dispatch HQ
Allen's fingers tightened around the phone.
C-class…
He was just an E-Class, with barely a few days of real experience under his belt. But after last night, after what he'd faced and survived alone, he couldn't help but wonder if this was his next step.
A quiet opportunity. One step closer to becoming stronger, a step away from being ignored by everyone. His reflection stared back at him from the dark screen—worn, bruised, determined.
He stood and moved toward the bathroom. "I can't wait forever for them to see me," he muttered, stripping off his shirt and turning the tap. "I'll show them."
The cold water hit his skin like needles at first, washing away the blood, the sweat, the fatigue that still clung to him.
He emerged minutes later, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. He quickly dressed—simple black pants, a long-sleeved shirt to hide the fading bruises, and his old boots. The cloak of the hollow hung silently on the rack, almost like it was watching him.
He picked it up and threw it over his shoulders.
Then he reached under the bed and retrieved the Shadow Fang dagger, tucking it inside his belt.
One last glance around the apartment.
Mia hadn't returned yet. A half-eaten snack lay on the table, likely her doing. A small sticky note had been left behind:
"I'll be back before dinner. Don't forget to eat something!" – Mia
Allen smiled faintly, then turned and walked out the door, locking it behind him.
Outside, the city buzzed with its usual chaos. Cars moved along cracked roads, vendors shouted, children laughed in alleyways.
But beneath it all, Allen could feel it — A shift.
He pulled his hood over his head and disappeared into the crowd, heading straight for the Guild Outpost.
---
The Guild Outpost loomed ahead, a towering gray building surrounded by reinforced walls and patrolling guards. Allen approached the registration gate, heart pounding in his chest.
A line had already formed and he joined it quietly, keeping his head low.
Slayers of various ranks stood nearby, laughing, checking their gear, some boasting about previous raids. Their armor gleamed, their weapons looked forged with intent—deadly, sharp, clean. Allen's clothes looked plain beside theirs. His boots were worn.
"Next!" the clerk barked.
Allen stepped forward and handed over his ID.
The clerk glanced at the card, then at Allen. A flicker of surprise crossed the man's face before he muttered, "Still an E-class? You're brave to show up here."
"I volunteered," Allen replied calmly.
The man didn't respond. Just stamped his card and motioned him forward.
Allen walked through the hall and into the briefing room where others had already gathered. The atmosphere was tense. Maps were pinned to the wall. Tactical formations were drawn in chalk.
At the center of the room stood the raid captain—broad-shouldered, black armored, with piercing brown eyes and a scar running down the left side of his jaw.
Captain Darius.
Allen stopped mid-step when their eyes met.
Darius's expression soured instantly.
"You."
Allen blinked. "Captain—"
"What the hell is an E-class like you doing here?" Darius snapped. His voice silenced the room.
All heads turned toward Allen.
"I volunteered," Allen repeated.
Darius sneered. "You want to die that badly?"
Someone at the back chuckled.
Another scoffed, "He probably thinks this is a beginner's field trip."
"Maybe he just came to carry our bags."
Allen's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Darius stepped forward, towering over him.
"You're not a slayer," the captain said coldly. "You're a burden to us. If it were up to me, I'd have kicked you out the moment I saw your name on the list."
Allen didn't flinch. "I'm not here to slow anyone down. Just let me fight."
Darius's stare grew sharper, but after a long pause, he turned away.
"Fine. You'll be assigned to Rear Group 3. Don't get in the way. If you trip and die, I won't waste time dragging your body out."
The group broke into quiet laughter again, but Allen stood his ground.
You'll see.
After everything, they arrived at the portal site two hours later.
The rift hovered above the abandoned logistics center like a wound in the sky—glowing blue with streaks of purple lightning. Armed vehicles formed a perimeter. A medical tent had been set up nearby, but its occupants looked nervous.
Darius gave the final order, and the slayers moved.
Allen followed his assigned squad into the portal.
Inside the dungeon, dark cliffs stretched endlessly around them. Sharp rock formations jutted from the earth like monstrous teeth. A thick fog rolled along the ground, obscuring visibility.
"Stay alert!" Darius barked from the front.
The group advanced slowly, weapons drawn.
A few weak creatures—a pack of Goblin Serpents—charged at them early on. The higher-ranked slayers took care of them easily. Allen stayed back, as ordered, watching and learning their formations.
But soon, the fog thickened.
Something moved ahead, causing the ground to shake.
Then—
A roar split the air, shaking the very stone beneath their feet.
Out of the mist, it came.
A C-Class Titan Boar.
It stood over three meters tall, its body plated with jagged bone-like armor, red eyes glowing with rage. Two massive tusks curved upward, stained with dried blood. Its presence silenced everyone.
While Allen was staring at the creature from the back, he received a message from his system.
Ding!
[Defeat the C-class Titan Boar]
[Reward: 50 points]
----
Seeing the notify, Allen smirked. It seems as though the system knew what he was thinking.
Darius's face turned grim. "We kill it fast. Spread out—don't let it charge through us!"
The frontline engaged instantly, spells flaring and swords slashing.
The Titan Boar moved like a tank, shrugging off most attacks. It swung its head violently, sending two slayers flying with one charge.
Allen gritted his teeth. "Damn it…"
From the backline, he watched the others struggle. Their attacks barely made a dent in its armored hide. One man screamed as the boar trampled him underfoot.
"Rear Group, hold position!" a squad leader ordered, but Allen stepped forward.
"We need to target the underbelly!" he shouted.
"No one asked for your opinion, rookie!"
But the boar raised its head, preparing for another charge. Allen moved.
He sprinted across the rocks, drawing its attention.
The Titan Boar snorted and lunged toward him.
Allen ducked under its tusk, rolled, and slashed upward with his cracked dagger. The blade struck flesh under the beast's shoulder—sparks flew, and dark blood sprayed.
It roared in pain.
Darius noticed. "Everyone, hit the gap under its chest! Now!"
The slayers shifted tactics.
The boar thrashed violently, trying to shake them off, but Allen's distraction had opened the path.
Lightning bolts rained down. Fire engulfed its side. A spear of ice pierced its eye. In one final coordinated strike, a heavy sword cleaved down its exposed neck.
The beast let out a deafening shriek— Then collapsed with a crash that echoed through the dungeon.
Silence.
Everyone stood still, breathing hard, watching the creature's body vanish into a flicker of blue light.
Allen stood over the spot where it had fallen, panting, blood dripping from his brow.
Darius approached.
Their eyes met again.
"You disobeyed orders," the captain said.
Allen said nothing.
"You acted without permission."
Still no response.
Darius's voice dropped, rough and quiet.
"But you also saved the team."
He turned around. "Move out. We're clearing the rest before this portal collapses."
No applause. No praise but no insults either.
As the others moved on, Allen let out a slow breath, gripping his dagger tightly.
'I'm not weak anymore.' He smirked.