Without hesitation, Christopher answered with what he decided would be the best response to such a prick in this situation.
"Fuck you."
He flashed the widest grin he could manage, every word laced with venom and satisfaction.
Michael took the insult in stride, as if expecting it. He didn't say another word. No smug retort, no parting shot. He simply turned around and walked out of the room without ceremony, letting the door creak shut behind him.
Silence returned. Just Christopher — and his rage.
He sighed loudly, then collapsed onto his bed face-first, the worn sheets rough against his skin. He clutched them tightly, teeth grinding in frustration.
"The hell am I supposed to do now!?" he screamed into the mattress, his voice muffled by the fabric but still full of sheer hatred and despair.
But after a long pause, he rolled onto his back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
He had one last choice left.
And it was all or nothing.
Go beast hunting.
"I'm gonna die horribly, aren't I?" he muttered with a dry, broken chuckle.
…
Christopher didn't waste any more time. He couldn't afford to. His allowance was running dry — a slow, humiliating death by poverty and irrelevance.
It was either rot in this room and fade into nothing…
Or go out there and fight for scraps — sell what he could kill and hope to survive long enough to do it again the next day.
Either way, he was gambling with his life. But if he was going to die, at least he'd die on his own terms.
With the last of his savings, he bought a simple steel dagger.
It wasn't enchanted, wasn't special.
Just sharp enough to cut and deadly enough to kill — if he landed the strike first.
Without waiting, he set off toward Arcanum's designated danger zone: the Ashen Forest.
Once the heart of civilization, now the center of corruption.
It was the epicenter of the first recorded monster outbreak in Arcanum's history — an incident that wiped out entire districts and twisted the land into an unrecognizable, mana-scarred mess.
The Ashen Forest was only recommended for Rank B mages. Veterans. Combat-hardened.
Christopher? He was barely considered an F Rank, if that.
"I'm gonna regret this…" he muttered, standing just before the treeline, where the paved roads ended and wild, dark woods began. He let out a shaky laugh and adjusted the strap on his pack.
He took one of the side paths — the areas not guarded or monitored by the Mages Guild. Monster sightings were significantly lower there.
And more importantly, no one would stop him from entering.
He wasn't even technically allowed to be here.
But rules didn't matter anymore.
He steeled his nerves and crossed the threshold.
The world outside was graded by a simple letter-based system — F to SSS, each rank signifying the threat level and power of magical beings.
Self-explanatory. But also brutal in its honesty.
"It'd be great if I only ran into rat bunnies today," he whispered to himself. "At least I can take one of those down without dying."
Rat bunnies were bottom-tier beasts. The absolute lowest — ranked F, and sometimes not even that.
But even one was worth enough to fetch a small meal.
Then—
RUSTLE.
Just a few feet ahead, his instincts flared.
There it was.
A rat bunny.
His eyes lit up, practically sparkling.
A glimmer of hope in the middle of this suicidal trip.
It didn't matter that it looked vaguely cute. Having the head of a mouse and the plump body of a rabbit made it popular as a pet in certain Arcanum districts.
But Christopher didn't care. He wasn't here to admire it. He was here to survive.
The hide of a beast, even a low-tier one, was still far better than what you'd get from normal, farm-raised animals. It had value. Trade. Utility.
"Come to papa…" he whispered with a grin, unsheathing his dagger.
FWOOSH.
He lunged without hesitation.
The rat bunny barely had time to turn before the blade met flesh.
SLASH.
It fell instantly, twitching only once before going still.
"That… was easy…" he muttered, surprised at the lack of resistance.
The body lay on the grassy floor, but instead of blood… it leaked glowing, silvery threads — raw mana.
That was the difference.
Beasts didn't bleed like animals. They bled magic.
For most awakened mages, absorbing beast mana was part of the hunt.
But for Christopher… it was useless.
He had no mana circuits to absorb it with.
Still, the reason he managed a clean kill wasn't luck.
Unlike regular animals, who used natural senses to detect threats, beasts operated on mana detection. They scanned the world by sensing magical presence.
Christopher had none.
To them, he was a blind spot. A ghost.
And for once, being mana-less gave him the edge.
A pathetic, tiny edge — but an edge nonetheless.
Being the apex predator of an already pathetically weak beast.
He wouldn't complain.
He slipped the rat bunny into a burlap sack he brought and hoisted it over his back.
His goal for today? Ten rat bunnies.
Just ten. Enough for food and maybe a few coins.
And if he could get through that without dying, it would be a miracle.
RUSTLE.
RUSTLE.
More movement, just a few paces ahead.
He immediately gripped his dagger and dropped into a low stance. The adrenaline was already flowing.
Another rat bunny? Perfect.
He leapt forward without hesitation, blade ready to strike.
But what greeted him wasn't small.
Or cute.
Or anything close to manageable.
What met his eyes was a wall of muscle, teeth, and gleaming claws.
A Razor Wolf.
A full-blown C Rank threat.
Twice his size. Ten times his speed. And infinitely more dangerous.
"Shit!"