The wind slashed through the skies of Valebris that morning, cold and damp like a blade of fog. Clouds hung heavy over the city's rooftops, threatening to flatten the streets beneath their weight. Fleck walked in silence between grumbling vendors and swearing porters dragging carts through streets soaked in dark, oily mud.
The metal bracelet on his wrist—the Agency's insignia—still felt foreign against his skin. It marked him as an Iron-Rank adventurer. In theory, that gave him certain rights. In practice, it drew no more than glances of indifference. No one here cared about theory.
Two days had passed since the cellar fight. The creature—the shadowgnaw—had marked him deeper than any wound. He remembered its movements, the scraping of its claws, the moment it lunged from darkness. He relived it every time he blinked. Not from fear. From analysis. From intent. That was how he'd learn.
He stopped in front of the Agency's mission board. Faded parchments pinned by crooked nails fluttered under the breeze.
"Escort caravan to Olven."
"Crystal-tainted boar extermination."
"Wanted: runaway thief – double reward."
He read each one.
Then turned his back.
He wouldn't accept any official mission—not yet. The system required more than strength. It demanded compliance, demanded a place in the order. But he had no clan. No noble name. No protection.
And no one in this city gave second chances to people who failed their first job.
He needed to train.
He needed to make mistakes—alone.
At the eastern gate, three city guards leaned on their spears, chatting lazily. When they noticed Fleck approaching, one stepped forward.
"Reason for departure?"
Fleck lifted his arm, showing the bracelet.
"Field training. Unregistered hunt."
The guard glanced at the metal plate. Grunted.
"If you die out there, may the gutters carry your corpse back."
Fleck crossed the threshold.
Behind him, the city faded beneath the haze. Ahead, the dirt road curved gently into the hills. A few kilometers out lay the Andhar Grove, a dense forest crawling with minor beasts—dangerous enough to scar, but not to kill. A perfect in-between.
Exactly what he needed.
The first few hours were quiet. The crunch of leaves beneath his boots. The rustle of birds with crystal-tipped wings. A stream trickled between moss-covered rocks. Fleck moved carefully, scanning the ground and the treetops.
He was hunting.
The first threat appeared in a clearing—
a crystalline boar, reddish fur and a blue shard erupting from its spine. It snorted among the roots, unaware.
Fleck circled behind a fallen trunk, studied its gait, its blind spots.
Then charged.
He slashed for the neck.
Too slow.
The beast turned and rammed into his shoulder, tossing him into the mud. He rolled, dodging the tusks, ribs screaming from the hit. The boar scraped its hooves against the ground and rushed again.
This time, Fleck didn't retreat.
He let the tree behind him absorb his momentum, spun left at the last second, and stabbed hard into the boar's side as it passed.
A shriek.
A shudder.
Then silence.
The creature collapsed.
Fleck dropped to his knees, panting. His short blade—still chipped—dripped with black blood. He forced himself up and pried the mana core from the carcass.
+58 XP
Crystalline Boar Core (Common) obtained
XP: 130 / 100
You've reached Level 2!
+3 attribute points earned
He felt it immediately—his body adjusting, as if something internal had realigned. Muscles tightened. Breath steadied.
He invested the points:
+2 Endurance
+1 Dexterity
He needed to endure longer, move better.
At sunset, he built a lean shelter beneath a tilted tree. Used thick leaves for bedding. Roasted beast meat on a spit. Slept with his blade across his chest.
The next days were brutal.
He fought smoke-lizards, clawed crows, serpents with shining scales. He avoided any place where footprints got too deep or where the silence grew too dense. That meant bigger monsters—ones he couldn't afford to fight yet.
Each battle was measured.
Each breath, calculated.
He timed his steps. Tested strikes. Studied how weight shifted with each turn. No one had taught him. No scroll or instructor. Just failure. And pain.
And it worked.
On the fifth morning, two mana-wolves flanked him on a rocky slope. One lunged for his throat, the other circled to block escape. He jumped to higher ground, dodged with a pivot, then struck fast—blade to jaw.
The second beast went for his legs. He leapt sideways, landed wrong, slid on gravel, and barely managed to cut the thing's leg before it pounced again.
They bled.
He bled more.
But he won.
+68 XP
Mana-Wolf Core x2 (Common) obtained
XP: 198 / 200
Later that afternoon, he spotted a blue-scaled salamander climbing between rocks. Its breath steamed with mana. Fleck waited until it turned—then lunged.
It tried to leap away, but he anticipated it. Slid under its arc and slashed across its underbelly.
The cut wasn't deep.
But it was fast.
+64 XP
XP: 262 / 200
You've reached Level 3!
+3 attribute points earned
New Skill Unlocked: Sliding Cut (Lv. 1)
When the blade struck, it shimmered faintly with blue. A trace of energy hung in the air like vapor for half a second.
He hadn't meant to trigger it.
But he felt the difference.
The skill activated when movement and strike aligned perfectly.
He tested it twice more on a wounded beast carcass. The cut was smoother, faster. The recovery time shorter. His style was becoming real.
He invested the points:
+1 Dexterity
+1 Endurance
+1 Perception
He was getting quicker. Tougher. Sharper.
When he returned to Valebris on the sixth day, the city wasn't the same.
Or maybe he wasn't.
His pack was heavy with cores, skins, and glowing shards. Passersby glanced at him, more curious than dismissive. He didn't walk like an Iron-Rank anymore.
He didn't stop at the Agency.
Went straight to the gray market.
There, unofficial buyers and sellers bartered freely, away from guild regulation. A dwarf in thick leather armor examined his materials. Weighed the cores. Offered three choices: coin, barter, or an invitation to something "unofficial."
Fleck took the coin.
"You don't look like Iron Rank," the dwarf muttered.
"I still am."
"Still, huh?" He chuckled. "Then listen close when the right invitation finds you."
Fleck didn't reply.
That night, he bought a hot meal. Paid for a private room above the same tavern from his first job. The innkeeper blinked when he saw him again.
"You're alive?"
Fleck placed a silver coin on the counter.
"Food. Room. A bath, if you've got one."
The man whistled.
"Now you sound like someone dangerous."
Before sleeping, Fleck summoned his status window:
S T A T U S S C R E E N
Name: Fleck
Level: 3
Class: Undefined
XP: 262 / 300
Attributes:
• Strength: 6
• Dexterity: 10
• Endurance: 10
• Intellect: 5
• Perception: 10
• Mana: 4
Active Skill:
• Sliding Cut (Lv. 1)
Hidden Skill: [???]
Only two more levels.
Two steps until the system would allow a class evaluation.
But deep down, he already knew.
His class wouldn't be ordinary.
It would be his alone.