Martin stumbled into his tiny studio, looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He yanked his tie loose, tossed it onto a chair with his briefcase, and face-planted onto the bed.

I need a win. I need a rush. I need someone to look at me like I matter.

Back in school, trouble came easy. Respect did too. Now he just got clients, deadlines, and silence.

Too many clients today… and tomorrow's supposed to be even worse. I'm dead.

Working from early morning to late evening was the price of going independent. Freedom, apparently, meant a one-room studio and no time to live in it.

Martin rolled onto his back and shut his eyes.

A knock hit his door.

"It's Eagle Delivery Services! I'm so sorry for being so late! I'm new at this!" a young voice called.

Prank? Or worse, someone casing the place?

He crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

A delivery guy stood there with a package. No hesitation, no lingering, just the scratch of a pen as he wrote something on the label and left it by the door.

When the kid disappeared down the hall, Martin cracked the door open and picked the package up.

I didn't order anything… Mom?

Sure enough, her name was on it.

He carried it inside and set it on the table.

Homemade food would save me right now.

He paused, then opened social media anyway.

It felt like a slap.

Upperclassmen: married.

Peers: engaged, posting rings and venues.

Some even had two kids.

Meanwhile, Martin was alone. Just… alone.

Back then, a cigarette and cheap booze could make everything feel simpler. Now even that was out of reach.

Now he couldn't even afford a pack of cigarettes.

He exhaled through his nose, set the phone down, and finally tore into the package.

Instead of containers, he found a letter resting on top of a sleek virtual reality headset.

Mom, what are you cooking?

He unfolded the note.

You're still so stubborn about not coming back home! You're working way too much and you don't even have a girlfriend yet! I heard from the neighbors that there's some virtual reality game coming online soon, or maybe already online! Go play it and mingle with healers your age! I heard healers are mostly nice girls!

Martin's lips flattened into a straight line. So did his eyes.

He'd heard about immersive virtual reality plenty of times. A groundbreaking concept: step into another world in your own body and pull off feats impossible in real life, like being reborn into a fantasy realm. The ads were everywhere. You couldn't escape them.

Really, Mom… I mean… I did play a lot of games back then. I can try it for an hour, at least. It shouldn't mess up my sleep schedule.

And I do need something to unwind. Badly.

He fished out his phone and checked the game's website.

Status: ONLINE for 12 hours.

His eyes widened.

Twelve hours meant people were already in. Already leveling. Already mapping the early routes, testing what was broken, grabbing first-day advantages. In a launch window like this, you either rode the wave, or got dragged under it.

Heat flared in Martin's chest. Of course he'd show up late.

Twelve hours? Yeah, no. I'm not starting behind.

His body moved anyway, faster than it had all day.

Damn. Shower, food, then I'm diving in.

With his short hair still damp, Martin heated up his instant meal. While it cooled, he put on a random livestream.

On screen, a beautiful actress beamed at an excited crowd. Clips of her "epic" scenes played beside a flood of fan comments.

The chat flew by. One line kept popping up: "She's playing a villainess with dual swords next!"

"You can be the same! Buy a virtual reality headset today and hop into Monster Hunter Academy Online today!" she said, dazzling and polished.

Martin snorted. "She flashes her smile, says a few words, and earns more than I'll make in my entire life. Life's not fair."

He wasn't big on celebrities.

Petty jealousy, sure, but it still stung.

He finished eating.

All right. One hour.

Yeah, sure.

He put the headset on.

The padding sealed around his face, shutting out the room like a door closing. The straps tightened with a soft pull, and suddenly the air felt warmer, his own breathing louder.

For a second, he just sat there, listening to the quiet. No client calls. No neighbors. No traffic. Just his heartbeat and the faint hum of the device.

Okay. Don't get hyped.

The screen went dark.

Then a thin line of light cut across the black, widening until it filled his vision. The familiar weight of his body faded, like someone had turned down the volume on gravity. The last thing he felt was his fingers flexing on instinct, like he was bracing for a fall.

Come on. Let me log in already.

—

[Welcome to Monster Hunter Academy Online!]

[Please state your age.]

[Choose your nickname and your class.]

[Once you're done, you will be randomly assigned to one of the hunter academies of the vast Mythrunnim World!]

Martin blinked into an old-fashioned wooden room. It was packed with floating screens, dozens of them, hovering at different heights, like a dozen open tabs in the air.

Directly in front of him was a panel with a keyboard for his age and name.

Other screens displayed classes, weapons, and starting skills.

[Guardian (Sword and Shield): frontline defender. Holds the line, absorbs enemy skills, and keeps the team safe.]

[Duelist (Sword or Daggers): melee damage dealer. Outplays with movement, stays alive on the frontline, and pressures targets hard.]

[Ranger (Longbow): long-range threat with high single-target kill potential. Controls distance, keeps danger off fragile teammates, and punishes from afar.]

[Mage (Staff): AoE magic specialist. Clears mobs and makes sure no one gets close.]

[Oracle (Tome): healer and support. Heals and buffs allies to keep the party standing until the fight is over.]

Simple and straightforward, just like the marketing promised.

[Your classes may evolve depending on your acquired skills, weapons, and experience.]

So there was an evolution system, too.

Okay. Required fields first.

[Age: 24]

[Nickname: Emperoar]

Oh. The old one's available. I used that a lot back in the day.

He scanned the class screens again, slower this time.

Guardian meant standing up front and taking hits so everyone else could breathe. Duelist looked like pure aggression. Ranger was distance and patience. Mage was raw power, as long as you didn't let anything touch you.

Then his eyes flicked to Oracle, and he could practically hear his mom's voice again.

Mingle with healers.

Not be a healer. Party with them.

It was ridiculous… but not completely. Support players always had their pick of parties. They stuck with the groups that looked like they could actually win, the ones worth keeping alive.

And a lot of people did pick support. If his mom was right about who those players usually were, then hanging around healers meant hanging around girls his age.

Martin clicked his tongue.

He wasn't going to pick Oracle just because his mom said so. If he was going to win, he needed a class that made parties want him, and one that worked well with healers.

Am I really taking Mom's advice?

Something that stayed close to the fight. Something that set the pace and forced enemies to look his way, the kind of role that always needed support and always got it.

If he played it right, healers would stick around. And if more than one wanted the same party slot, well… that was its own kind of advantage.

His pulse ticked up.

His finger hovered over the options.

Let's go with—

...

[You have selected Guardian as your class.]

[Are you sure?]

Martin's finger hovered over the confirmation.

One choice, right at the start. He could already picture the alternative: picking something popular, then spending the whole night pitching himself to strangers like a job interview.

If I pick wrong, I'll be auditioning for parties. He exhaled slowly. If I pick right, I won't have to audition at all.

He weighed his options and went with the tank role. It matched what his mother expected of him, and it fit the kind of player he wanted to be in this game. As a tank, he could let the role do the talking instead of constantly explaining himself.

He'd played a few MMOs before. DPS outnumbered everyone, which meant tanks, healers, and buffers could afford to be picky. Now he could be picky too.

The evolution system in Monster Hunter Academy Online also gave him hope. With any luck, Guardian would branch into something that could take hits and still dish them out, a classic bruiser.

[Yes.]

[You have received: Wooden Shield (Green), Steel Sword (Green), and three new skills: Taunt (Common), Shield Bash (Common), Fortify (Common).]

[Your status has been updated.]

[You're about to be teleported to the Forest Hidden Monster Hunter Academy.]

[5...]

As the countdown ended, his vision exploded into rainbow particles. He blinked through the glare and found himself staring at the back of someone else's head.

Martin was standing in an orderly line, one of many stretching across a wide clearing. Ahead, on a wooden platform, stood a man in leather armor with a sword at his hip. A thick scar cut across his face and swallowed one eye.

He grinned. "I'm Rangar, a jack of all trades at the Forest Hidden Monster Hunter Academy. I'll be overseeing your first quests here, or as you players call it, the tutorial. You'll learn our world's mechanics, and you'll see for yourself whether the class you chose is a perfect fit.

"Don't fear being noobs! Haha. Surprised? I learned that word from other players!"

A wave of awkward laughter rolled through the rows.

Martin glanced around. Everyone looks about my age. He belatedly remembered character customization. I didn't even bother with my avatar's looks. There were probably options... but it's fine. I'm not here to pretend to be someone else.

A hand shot up.

"I'd like a second sword. I didn't get one in the character creation room," a female player said, clear and steady. "I can trade the dagger I received for it."

Her voice was steady, maybe a little too steady, like she'd rehearsed it once or twice. She stood straight in the middle of the row, shoulders slightly tight, as if she was daring herself not to back down.

Martin's attention went to her.

She didn't stand out to look at, but the request itself drew attention.

A few players murmured under their breath. Heads turned. Not awe. More like mild surprise that someone was already negotiating with the NPC.

Dual-wielding from the start? Martin thought. That's either confidence... or she's trying hard to sound confident.

For a split second, something about her manner tugged at his memory. The careful cadence of her voice. The way she chose her words, like she didn't want to give anyone an opening.

Do I know her?

Rangar's smile widened. "Dual swords are still within the range of your Duelist class. Fair request. I'll gladly give you a second common sword!"

"Thank you," the woman said.

She didn't celebrate. She just nodded and accepted it, like she was relieved the request worked and didn't want to show it.

Martin's eyes widened, just a little. So that's possible too. NPCs really were on another level in this game. It shouldn't surprise me, in a full-dive VR world like this.

More requests followed: weapon swaps, skill adjustments. Some were denied, some approved.

Martin didn't see a reason to change anything. With a swipe through the air, he opened the system menu. A clean interface unfolded: inventory, stats, profile, socials, and the log out button.

He dragged his gear into the appropriate slots.

The wooden shield snapped onto his forearm.

Not just a visual effect. The weight settled into his bones like someone had strapped a plank of damp wood to him. The leather loop cinched tight around his wrist, and when he rotated his arm, the shield resisted, tugging his balance half a step off-center.

The sword appeared at his waist. He felt it too, the subtle pull of the scabbard against his hip, the way it bumped when he breathed.

Martin flexed his fingers around the shield grip. The grain pressed into his palm. He could even feel where the wood was rougher, where it had splintered slightly.

Woah. That was instant. His throat went tight. This is not a controller.

He lifted the shield again, slower this time, watching his own forearm work. The movement felt real because it was real.

I really am in a fantasy world now.

"We will now begin your first quest!" Rangar shouted.

Wooden training dummies rose from the ground around the players, each holding a wooden spear. They had no legs, just thick posts anchored into the earth.

[Tutorial Quest #1: Block ten strikes from the training dummy without your shield being destroyed.]

"Blocking is a core part of being a Guardian," Rangar said. "You'll learn how it feels. When you block, take the enemy's hit on the center of your shield. That spreads the force and reduces the damage. Also, don't hide behind it. If you can't see the weapon, you can't block it."

That sounds fun. Martin flexed his fingers again. This isn't a character on a screen. It's my own hands. My own reaction time.

Rangar continued, "The easiest way to defeat a Guardian is to chip away at their shield's durability. Hit anywhere but the center and you'll wear it down faster, until they lose their main defense. As a Guardian, you must always keep an eye on that! And yes, these dummies will try to trick you. Don't blame me when they do!"

Martin walked to the closest dummy and stared into its carved wooden face.

[Would you like to begin the test?]

[Yes.]

The dummy lunged immediately.

Martin barely had time to set his feet. Instinct made him throw the shield up, but his stance was sloppy, weight too far back, shoulders tensed like he was bracing for a car crash.

The spear hit.

BANG!

The impact wasn't just noise. It jolted his forearm and rattled his teeth, a vibration that traveled up to his elbow. The shield shoved him a fraction of an inch, and for a split second his brain screamed that his wrist should have snapped.

Then the pain didn't come. Only pressure, only shock, like getting punched through a thick winter coat.

[Your Wooden Shield has lost 10 durability.]

[90/100]

[Hit: 1/10]

A warning sound stabbed his ears, sharp and familiar, too close to his morning alarm.

[Shield Block failed.]

Martin flinched. That was a bad block.

He'd raised the shield too high and too close. Worse, it covered his whole view.

The dummy attacked again.

Martin heard the scrape of wood before he saw anything. He tried to adjust mid-guard, but he was reacting blind.

BANG!

[Your Wooden Shield has lost 16 durability.]

[Hit: 2/10]

From the platform, Rangar barked, "Eyes up! Shield forward, not over your face!"

Then the sound hit him, that same ugly alarm tone.

Edge hit. It's eating durability.

Rangar's lecture snapped into focus. Center the impact. Keep sight of the weapon. Don't let the shield become a wall.

Okay. Breathe. Knees bent. Shield forward, not up.

The third strike came.

Martin lowered the shield just enough to watch the spear's line and whispered, "Fortify."

[Your skill Fortify has been activated.]

[Your shield's damage reduction has increased.]

A faint warmth spread through his arm, subtle but real, like the shield had suddenly gained weight and stability.

He stepped to the side, meeting the thrust with the center instead of letting it slide toward the rim.

BANG!

The warning sound was softer.

His shield only lost four durability.

[Hit: 3/10]

Better.

He forced himself to keep his eyes on the dummy's hands and spearhead, not the system messages.

I can't just hold the shield. I have to guide the hit into the middle. Footwork first, angle second.

The fourth strike came fast.

Martin started to move early, ready to catch it clean.

Then the dummy adjusted mid-swing.

The spear twisted, skimming for the shield's side.

What? It changed the angle?

BANG!

[Your Wooden Shield has lost 14 durability.]

[Hit: 4/10]

Martin huffed a laugh through his nose. So it adapts.

The next six attacks were brutal.

The dummy stopped repeating the same timing. It varied the rhythm, quick-quick-slow, then slow-quick. It feinted high and stabbed low. It aimed for the rim whenever Martin got lazy and for the center whenever he overcorrected.

Martin adjusted on the fly.

He widened his stance. He stopped hiding behind the shield. He kept it forward, slightly angled, so he could still see around it. When the dummy thrust, he met the line and guided the impact inward. When it slashed, he rotated his forearm instead of swinging his whole body.

BANG!

[Hit: 5/10]

BANG!

[Hit: 6/10]

BANG!

[Hit: 7/10]

Some hits landed clean with a dull, controlled thud. Some grazed the edge and screamed at him with that alarm-like tone.

Another strike came.

He stepped in too late, caught it off-center, and felt the shield shudder.

BANG!

[Hit: 8/10]

His arm burned. Not pain exactly, but strain, like doing too many push-ups with bad form.

BANG!

[Hit: 9/10]

The last strike came with no warning.

Martin forced his breathing to steady and watched the spearhead all the way in.

He caught it.

BANG!

[Hit: 10/10]

[Wooden Shield (Green): Durability: 5/100]

When the tenth strike ended, Martin stood breathing hard, his shield splintered and barely holding together, but his body untouched.

[You have finished your first tutorial quest.]

[Reward: Shield Mastery Node unlocked: Fortitude Stacks.]

[Perfect blocks (center hits) reduce Fortify cooldown.]

Martin stared at the prompt, breathing hard. His forearm trembled from holding the shield up. Splinters dug into his palm.

I cleared it.

The reward line still hung in the air.

But...

Instead of relief, a familiar irritation crawled up his spine.

In real life, whenever he got tired, he cut corners. He told himself it was fine. He told himself he could make up for it later. That was how he ended up burned out in the first place.

Not here.

If he wanted people to rely on him, he had to be worth relying on.

He looked at the shield's chewed-up rim. Ten strikes. Ten chances to do it right. And I kept letting the edge take the hit.

[Would you like to begin the second quest?]

He drew a breath to answer.

From the platform, Rangar called out, "Good. Pride is useful, until it gets you killed. Don't let it."

"No," someone beside Martin said first.

Martin turned. The dual-swords woman.

She didn't sound smug. Just stubborn, like she'd made the same choice and was daring herself to stick to it.

Martin let out a short laugh and answered too. "No. Not yet. I'm doing it again until I block all ten clean."

The dual-swords player glanced at him, then at her own dummy. "Same. I'm landing ten clean criticals before I move on."

Something sharp woke up in Martin's chest, cutting through the lingering haze.

"I'll be the first to do it," he said.

"In your dreams," she replied. "It'll be me."

...

BANG!

A perfect block.

[Fortify cooldown reduced.]

[Fortify is ready.]

"Fortify," Martin said.

The ninth strike came in fast, and he stepped into the thrust.

Wood met wood at the shield's center. A clean vibration ran up his left arm, and the in-game chime rang out.

Perfect.

That chime wasn't just a sound cue. It meant his angle was dead-on and the timing counted.

If he let even one hit through, the whole "perfect clear" would feel like a fluke.

Fortify erased the hit.

One more. Keep the Fortitude stacks clean.

He adjusted his grip by a finger's width and set his feet again, forcing his shield to stay centered.

No drifting. No flinching. Just the same clean contact, ten times.

He checked the durability.

Nearly intact.

[You have blocked all ten strikes of the wooden training dummy.]

[Secret reward obtained: A Steel Shield (Blue).]

A new item flashed in his inventory. He clicked it.

[A Steel Shield (Blue) (Durability: 120/120) (Lv. Requirement: 1) (+3 DEF) (+20 HP)]

Simple name. Simple design. Simple stats.

His head still throbbed from trying to read every twitch of the dummy's attacks, but he liked it anyway.

Blue beats green. Maybe that's the difference between common and uncommon. Color-coding helps.

He looked to the side and exhaled. "You won."

"Only because of my Flurry skill," she said.

The training grounds had emptied out while they stayed on the same quest for an hour. Everyone else had moved on to fight actual monsters. Only Martin and the twin-sword woman stayed.

"Flurry?"

"Three hits in rapid succession on the same target," she said. She flicked her wrist, like she could still feel the timing. "Like there's no pause between stabs, so I can stab again right away. I pushed it and added a fourth with my second blade. So while you had to wait for the dummy to swing, I got four attacks in. All crits, naturally."

Martin couldn't help it. "I used Threat to force them to attack me, but I can't make something hit me four times in a row. Well done."

She blinked. "Eh? Ah… thanks."

"I didn't expect competition on day one, but I needed it." Martin tucked the new shield away. "I'm off. I have to be up early tomorrow."

Rangar threw his head back with a sigh. "Ah, I wanted to see the next quest! But I get it. Your world's responsibilities matter more than ours. Rest well, Emperoar!"

"You too, Rangar. And don't pick up too much of our slang, or the adults won't take you seriously."

"Come on! I haven't learned much, and I definitely don't abuse those words!" Rangar shook his head, smiling anyway.

You do.

She spoke up again. "Don't be late tomorrow," she said. "I don't like winning by default."

"Will you be online at the same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Then we'll keep going. I'm done for today too."

Rangar groaned. "You too, Chaosgraphy? What a bummer!"

"See you," Chaosgraphy said, and logged off.

Her avatar broke into particles and vanished.

Martin nodded once. "See you."

He logged off.

—

The headset unclasped with a soft click.

Martin rolled off his bed and sat on the edge. It was late, and the apartment was quiet.

He still wanted to talk to her.

He called his mother.

She answered immediately.

[Did you get the package? It says it was delivered!]

"Yeah. I got it… and I already played. It's fun." He smiled. "I really needed that. Thanks."

A short silence.

"You can always come home," she said at last. "You don't have to push yourself just to stay independent! And once you find a nice girl, you'll support each other. Tell me. Did you meet any nice girls?"

"I met a stubborn one like me. We competed."

"Ew… two of you? Will I survive?"

"We're set for tomorrow too."

"That's what I wanted to hear! Keep going, son!" Her tone sharpened. "Now. Food and sleep. What did you eat? Did you shower?"

The questions came fast. Martin regretted calling, but he answered, took the scolding, and ended the call with a promise of another package of food.

Free food, at least.

He pulled the blanket up and shut his eyes.

Strangely, he looked forward to tomorrow.

In the game, effort turned into progress.

In real life, effort turned into more work.

Work hit first. Morning clients, a short break, more clients, then the walk home like a beaten dog. A few meetings got canceled, so he made it back at the usual time.

He logged into Monster Hunter Academy Online.

Rangar and Chaosgraphy were already waiting. The training grounds were empty, like everyone else had decided to give them space.

"I've been waiting for you two," Rangar said. "You're like transfer students who need extra attention, so I've been assigned to you."

"Hi, Rangar." Martin nodded, then turned. "Evenin', Chaosgraphy."

"Evening, Emperoar."

Rangar clapped his hands. "Good. You've learned the basics. Most players form parties of five and hunt low-level monsters." He leaned in. "But I have a different path for you two."

Chaosgraphy didn't move. Martin didn't either.

"Dungeons," Rangar said. "Our academy's dungeons. Solo or with others." His grin widened. "But I believe you'll go in alone."

"Yeah," Martin said.

Chaosgraphy nodded.

"Each run is recorded on the academy scoreboard," Rangar continued. "Clear speed. Monsters killed. Damage taken. Everything." He lifted a finger. "Weekly rewards and income for high ranks in each bracket."

Chaosgraphy's voice stayed flat. "There's a catch."

"Of course." Rangar's eyes gleamed. "After the tutorial, most players reach level five. The first bracket is levels five through ten."

He lowered his voice.

"But there's a hidden bracket."

Chaosgraphy didn't blink.

"Level 1."

Rangar held up a finger. "Level one means you go in underleveled on purpose; most players don't have the nerve to handicap themselves."

He kept going, like he was reading a rulebook he enjoyed too much. "Run the dungeon at level one, and your run is recorded separately. Only other level-one runners can see your stats and results."

He smiled like he was offering a dare. "And the rewards are exclusive."

Silence.

Then Rangar leaned in, eyes bright.

"So, are you up for it?"

Level one… on purpose? If I can clear it like that, then the rewards are—

...

"I'm in," Martin said.

Level one meant he couldn't outscale mistakes. Every hit would be earned.

A level-one dungeon run should've felt like punishment: locked stats, locked skills, and no grinding his way out of mistakes.

But the hidden bracket promised higher-grade rewards, the kind that let players pull ahead early. And more than that, it promised something his real life didn't.

A change.

"I'm in too," Chaosgraphy said, like she'd been waiting for him to blink first.

Rangar's grin widened. "Good. Stick close."

He guided them out of the tutorial grounds and deeper into the forest. Minutes later, buildings carved into thick tree trunks came into view, more barracks than cottages, with hunters in worn gear checking newcomers as they filed past.

So the academy's reputation was real.

Martin nodded to anyone who looked his way and got nods back. Nameplates floated above every head.

All NPCs so far.

Farther in, the academy opened up into the familiar spread of an MMORPG starter city: alchemy, a blacksmith, an armory, and other workshops tucked into the trees.

Rangar ignored all of it and headed straight for the tallest trunk in the entire grove.

The Light Tree.

It was so massive it could've held an apartment block inside. At its base, players crowded around scoreboards hanging from branches overhead. Some didn't even look up, probably reading the same boards through their UI.

"You'll get a notification in a second," Rangar said, pride creeping into his voice. "Stay close to the Light Tree."

A pulse of blue light flickered in Martin's vision.

[You have received an invitation to the Level One Forest Dungeon.]

[In the Level One Forest Dungeon, you cannot level up. Your stats are locked at level one, and you cannot upgrade your skills beyond level one. Everything you obtain within the Level One Dungeon is yours.]

Martin accepted without hesitating.

Chaosgraphy accepted a heartbeat after him.

Of course she did.

[Invitation accepted.]

[You are not in a party.]

[Do you want to go solo?]

Martin tapped Yes.

Chaosgraphy did the same.

"Don't back out halfway," she said, eyes fixed forward. "If you're in, be in."

"I wasn't planning to," Martin replied.

That familiar login haze washed over him. His body broke into motes of light, then snapped back together.

He reappeared in an artificial forest that looked like the academy woods, minus the buildings, the towering trees, and the people.

[You are in the Level One Forest Dungeon.]

[Time Limit: 1:00:00.]

Silence settled over the dungeon. There was no wind in the leaves, no birds in the branches, and no distant chatter of other players. Only the faint hum of the system, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Time limit makes sense. Otherwise, people would camp inside a run and abuse rankings.

[Emperoar Lv. 1 HP: 120/120 MP: 100/100]

Damage Taken is one of the scoreboard categories. In this bracket, it's a score, not a mistake.

I'll do a test run first. Learn patterns. Then I go all out when the new week starts.

Shield up, Martin moved forward, careful but not slow.

A strip of bark peeled off a tree ahead.

It hit the ground, twisted, and rose into a wolf made of splintered wood.

It lunged.

Martin braced his shield in front of his chest and caught it head-on.

BANG!

DING!

[Perfect Block!]

He angled the shield instead of holding it flat, letting the impact slide off rather than drive into him.

The wolf bounced off the shield and shook its head.

A number blinked at the edge of his vision.

[Damage Taken: 47]

Martin's HP didn't move.

Perfect blocks negate HP loss, but Damage Taken still counts the impact.

Good. I can score without bleeding for it.

The wolf snapped again, head-first.

Martin planted his feet and met the timing.

DING!

[Perfect Block!]

[Damage Taken: 90]

He stepped into it and slammed forward.

Shield Bash struck the wolf's skull.

The creature froze, stiff as a log.

A perfect block into Shield Bash equals a stun.

Martin lowered his shield to his hip and thrust with his sword. The motion wasn't clean. Not like Chaosgraphy's twin-blade flow.

Still, the tip dug a shallow gouge into the wolf's forehead.

Then the stun wore off.

[Wood Wolf Lv. 1 HP: 61/100 MP: -]

Don't get greedy. Reset.

Its movement was simple, almost scripted. Lunge. Snap. Recover.

Martin repeated the sequence twice more, tighter each time.

Perfect block.

Shield Bash.

A quick stab.

Back to guard.

The wooden wolf finally collapsed into dead bark.

[You have killed Wood Wolf Lv. 1.]

[You have received Five Copper Coins.]

Martin exhaled slowly.

He glanced at his UI.

[Damage Taken: 169]

[Time Left: 57m21s]

He had mixed feelings. A clean kill, no HP lost, no durability chipped.

On paper, it was clean.

But 169 points in over a minute still wasn't much.

This is… not what I want.

Chaosgraphy's Flurry flashed in his mind. Ten critical strikes. Perfect rhythm. Perfect confidence.

He liked that pressure. He liked having someone he actually wanted to beat.

If I want first place, I have to push harder.

I needed more monsters. More hits. All of it controlled.

He stepped over the bark corpse and went deeper.

The next wolf peeled free from a trunk ahead. Martin didn't rush it. He backed into a wider lane, turning so the creature stayed in front of his shield while he drew it along.

I remembered this was also a tank's job. Threat. Positioning. Don't let it slip. Keep its attention high enough that even sudden movement doesn't break it loose.

Another strip of bark peeled loose from the side.

A second wolf.

It hit him from his blind spot, right where his shield wasn't.

[-28 HP!]

[Damage Taken: 197]

The shove jolted him forward.

It didn't hurt so much as feel like someone had shoved him with their whole body.

Still, it was annoying.

Worse, it broke his control. The first wolf's head snapped away from him, its attention slipping. It circled, and suddenly both were moving at once, trying to split his guard.

One lunged high.

Martin snapped his shield up and caught it clean.

DING!

[Perfect Block!]

[Damage Taken: 241]

The second wolf crashed in a half step later, off-angle.

Martin tried to turn, but the hit landed on the edge of his guard.

BANG!

[Block!]

[Shield Durability: 114/120]

The rim vibrated, numbing his forearm for a second.

[Damage Taken: 293]

"Fortify!"

A hard, bracing pressure locked through his body.

Fortify was only buying me seconds. I had to fix my positioning.

The next impact still got through.

[-18 HP!]

[Damage Taken: 311]

Martin's eyes narrowed, a sweat bead trickling down his temple.

Fortify was on cooldown now.

This is bad.

If I can't solve multi-target fast, I'll fall behind.

He tightened his grip and backed toward the nearest tree, forcing both wolves into his front arc.

One line. One rhythm. Perfect blocks only.

A soft crackle sounded behind him.

Bark peeled free, right behind his shoulder.

Martin's spine went cold.

Leaves rustled from where the wolves hadn't been.

Another wolf meant another angle I couldn't cover.

If I turned, I'd give them my back. If I didn't, I'd get pincered.

Shit.

...

Shit!

Bark peeled behind him. Another Wood Wolf.

Two were already in front of his shield. The third had spawned behind him.

He was already down forty-six HP. Fortify was still on cooldown, and his shield had already paid for every mistake.

[Shield Durability: 114/120]

[Fortify: Cooldown (0:07)]

[Damage Taken: 311]

He didn't have time to turn. If he tried, he'd give the two in front a clean angle.

So he made the ugly choice.

He squared his shield to the front arc and let the wolf at his back go for his spine.

A strange hunch prickled up his spine. Not fear, just timing.

Wait… Don't turn.

If he turned, he'd lose the front. If he didn't, he could keep his shield where it mattered, and catch the bite on steel.

He snapped his gaze left, then right. One wolf was already centered. The other was drifting, hunting his flank.

Threat latched onto the one hunting his side. The wolf's angle snapped inward like it had been yanked by a leash.

Martin shifted one foot and tilted his shield, lining both front wolves up in the same lane.

He kept the shield forward. Both wolves were in front of it.

The first bite hit.

[Perfect Block!]

A heartbeat later, the second lunged into the same lane.

[Perfect Block!]

Something in him clicked, sharp, like his body recognized the timing before his mind did. The bite was coming from behind, right on the edge of his next block. He didn't look back.

He switched his sword grip and drove the blade back just as jaws closed on steel.

[Your Steel Sword has lost 6 points of durability!]

Martin's lips pulled into a victorious smirk.

I did it. I defended myself fucking perfectly.

He didn't lose any HP in that exchange. The impacts still spiked his Damage Taken, but he stayed standing, and that mattered more than a clean scoreboard right now.

The third wolf had clamped its wooden jaws onto his steel blade and froze, as if its simple little brain didn't understand what to do next.

Good. Stay there.

Martin used the bite like a hook. He yanked hard, dragging the wolf's head and shoulders off-line, then swept the sword forward and slammed the monster into the nearest trunk.

The thick bark thudded.

[-59 HP!]

The moment the wolf at his back was pinned, Martin snapped back to the front. He adjusted his grip, drove his shield into the two wolves, and caught a half-beat of stagger.

He shield-bashed to buy space.

Then he cut, two short slashes, and shifted his feet to reclaim the lane.

It's not just "block." It's positioning. Angles. Rhythm.

And I need the sword for defense too. The shield can't cover everything.

The forest didn't give him walls. It gave him ambush points.

They peel out of trees. So I need a "wall" that isn't a tree. Something that can't spawn behind me.

He moved, not running yet, just drifting through the woods while the wolves prowled after him.

One block came a hair late. The bite still met metal, but it hit closer to the shield's edge and rattled his arm.

[Shield Durability: 110/120]

He kept moving.

Then his boot skidded on slick moss.

For half a breath, his weight shifted wrong. The shield dipped. The lane widened.

A bite flashed for his ribs.

Martin didn't backpedal. He stepped through instead, cutting the angle with his shoulder and slamming the shield forward to reclaim his front.

The impact rang, and his feet found ground again.

Each time they snapped at him, Martin got sharper. Micro-adjustments. Tiny tilts. Half-steps that kept every bite in front of his shield.

Then the three wolves lunged together.

Not perfectly synchronized, staggered, trying to pincer him anyway.

Martin stepped into it. One hard forward step. He rotated his shoulder, angled his shield, and drove it out like he was about to bash straight through them.

BANG!

DING!

[Perfect Block x3]

Three impacts. One clean front arc.

He didn't check the counter on every hit, only when it felt like it mattered.

[Damage Taken: 782]

The forest noise blurred for a heartbeat, just block chimes and wolf cries, almost like music. Then, underneath it all, he caught something else.

Water.

A steady rush, faint but real.

Should I kill them now? Nah.

They're my dogs.

Follow me. I'll take you to your grave.

—

The closer he got, the louder the water became. Behind him, the pack answered with a chorus of growls.

More peeled out of trees behind him, one after another, until the pack at his heels was too large to count.

Ahead, the forest opened.

A small waterfall spilled into a lake that stretched for miles. Open shoreline. No trees. No trees close enough for them to peel out behind him.

But if there's a water monster…

Whatever. That's a risk I can actually plan for.

He checked the system.

[Time: 31:05]

[Damage Taken: 1569]

I don't know what that means compared to other Guardians, but it's time.

My stamina's going. If I don't reset the pace, I'll pay for it.

Players didn't feel pain in the game, but exhaustion still came.

For Martin, it felt like someone had strapped weight onto his back. His left arm was the worst, his shield arm. Forearm heavy. Wrist slow. The kind of slow that broke perfect block rhythm.

When his forearm slowed, his shield angle slipped, and one bad block could chew through durability in seconds.

My body can't keep up with what I'm trying to do. Fine. I'll start with the puppies I know best.

The ones who'd forced him to improve.

The ones who'd chased him the longest.

He targeted the wolf with the lowest HP, slammed his shield into its face, then followed with a quick thrust.

[You have killed the Wood Wolf Lv. 1]

One.

Two, and…

His vision jolted.

Shit! Too much realism!

Martin dropped to one knee and braced himself on his sword, breathing like he'd just run a real mile.

In front of him, the wolves growled low and victorious as they closed in.

He forced air into his lungs and held himself there.

Not yet.

One wolf lunged first.

He met it with his shield, not for a perfect block, just enough to steal its balance, and drove his sword up under its jaw.

[You have killed the Wood Wolf Lv. 1]

The moment the body dissolved, something warm surged through him. His vision snapped sharp. The weight on his shoulders vanished like it had never been there.

[Level Up!]

For a single heartbeat, Martin felt whole.

Then the warmth cut off.

[Level Synchronization Active]

[Level Restored: 1]

His lungs stayed full. The burn in his forearm eased. The surge refilled him.

His level didn't stay, but the breath in his chest did.

Martin stared at the message, and the wolves kept coming.

...

Wait, I was healed? Stamina was back at full?

Martin's mind had stayed sharp through the panic, but now even his body snapped back into peak form, like someone had poured air into his lungs. The reset hit so fast it confused him for half a heartbeat.

Wolves were still closing.

Martin forced his feet to move and backed toward the shoreline, boots grinding over wet stones until cold water brushed his heels. Lake behind him. Forest in front. Only one direction.

A wolf lunged.

He raised his shield on instinct and caught the bite dead center with a heavy clang. The impact jolted his arm, but he held.

Martin answered with Shield Bash, snapping the wolf's head sideways. He threw Threat at another to keep the pack from spreading, then angled his shield to invite the next bite straight into the middle.

[Perfect Block.]

His rhythm returned through muscle memory, even while his thoughts raced.

[Level Synchronization Active]

[Level Restored: 1]

The level-up flash hadn't even finished fading before the bracket snapped him back to Level 1.

Martin's breathing steadied, and his heartbeat thumped with sudden clarity.

I get it. The system restores my level to one, but the level-up still restores my HP and stamina.

It doesn't let me keep progression, but the refill still fires every time. That's the loophole in this Level One Dungeon, something people have probably been exploiting for hours by now.

He had been so careful until now, treating stamina like a precious resource, putting everything into perfect blocks and keeping his HP as intact as possible.

But his earlier approach had a flaw.

A perfect block was ideal, yes, but forcing blocks when the angle was bad still punished him. A sloppy catch still spiked Damage Taken, and it also chewed durability. Sometimes a small bite on HP was cheaper than sacrificing his shield on a bad rim catch.

Duelists and probably every other class must've figured this out way earlier. That's fine. The first run is never supposed to be perfect.

Now that I understand how this dungeon actually works, I can leverage it properly and push for the highest rank in the Damage Taken category.

This bracket rewards what a Guardian does best: taking hits on purpose without breaking. Let's put it into practice.

He set his stance again, feeling the spray slick on the stones.

[Steel Shield (Blue) — Durability: 110/120]

[Fortify Cooldown: 0:07]

[Time: 31:05]

[Damage Taken: 1569]

Wolves kept coming, but the wall was real now. No trees behind him. No space for them to peel out and appear at his back. If they wanted him, they had to come through his front.

Martin didn't rush to kill. He kept multiple wolves low, watching their HP bars like he was juggling knives, waiting until his breathing started to lag. He made sure none of them ran off, and he controlled spacing with small steps, tiny shield adjustments, and disciplined angles.

His stamina dipped into the red. Martin didn't panic. He chose the nearest wounded wolf and finished it cleanly.

[You have killed the Wood Wolf Lv. 1]

A rush flooded his chest as his HP and stamina refilled. Breathing came easy again.

When his stamina was high, he simply held the line.

He allowed a few shallow bites when a block would have been ugly. Not because he wanted to be hit, but because he refused to pay durability for a bad catch.

This is the one thing leveling up can't reset, durability. Once my shield is gone, I'm gone. And honestly, this is fucking fun.

His heart pumped with excitement as more ideas came to him. For once, it felt like he was thinking freely, not performing for a build guide or a rulebook. Just learning in real time.

Let's make an opening this time. Threat is the clean way to force them into the center of my shield, but I can get the same result by showing them a gap on purpose, letting them commit, and then snapping my shield up into their muzzle the moment they lunge.

He shifted his body and exposed his side just enough to look like a mistake.

A wolf growled and prowled, cautious. It didn't lunge right away.

Martin waited, counting. One second. Two. Too long.

While that wolf hesitated, the others closed distance. Martin had tunneled on the bait, and his shield arc drifted too wide. He changed the angle too much, and his rhythm broke.

A bite clipped the rim and slipped through, hot pain flashing along his side.

[Steel Shield (Blue) — Durability: 109/120]

[Damage Taken: 1748]

Shit happens. It's not like I'm some immovable object.

Fortify came off cooldown. Martin triggered it. A dull weight settled into his limbs, like temporary armor, and a hard tension wrapped his shoulders, bracing his stance and dulling the next impact.

[Fortify.]

He chose the correction that mattered most.

Martin stepped forward hard and rushed the wolf he had been setting up. Two other wolves, already mid-leap, overshot into the shallow water behind him, splashing as the ground dropped away.

Water exploded.

The water didn't just splash. It churned, like something underneath had noticed.

That churn wasn't normal splashback.

They scrambled, and for a moment they weren't in his lane anymore.

Martin didn't look. He couldn't afford it.

He unloaded on his chosen target.

[Perfect Block.]

[Shield Bash.]

Sword thrust.

He switched his grip and brought the blade down, then reset and cut again before it could recover.

[You have killed the Wood Wolf Lv. 1]

[You have leveled up.]

[Level Synchronization Active]

[Level Restored: 1]

His HP and stamina refilled again. Breathing came easy again.

Martin's jaw tightened with satisfaction, and he immediately forced his focus outward.

Good. I need to keep my eyes on all of them, not tunnel on the one I'm trying to lure. The second I get greedy, the rest close the distance and I pay for it. Still, what about the ones that lunged into the lake?

He risked a glance over his shoulder.

Nothing. Not even a shadow under the surface.

His brows drew together.

There was no time to dig into it.

Wolves kept coming, and Martin dove back into the fight, turning the shoreline into a funnel. When a block would have been ugly, he paid with a small bite instead. When a bite would have been heavy, he repositioned by half a step and forced a clean center hit.

When the pack tried to spread, he used Threat as a stabilizer, not a crutch.

It was hard. It was exhausting. The plan demanded constant awareness, constant micro-corrections, and constant discipline.

The timer kept sliding down in the corner of his vision, bleeding away between resets, blocks, and footwork. But it finally felt like he wasn't just surviving.

He was running the dungeon like a tank.

Then the lake stirred.

Martin didn't have time to turn. All he heard were repeated, violent splashes, like something huge was tearing through the shallows. A cold presence slid into the fight.

Shadows stretched across the waterline, thin tendrils whipping through the space between him and the wolves.

The entire combat halted, like the dungeon itself had inhaled.

Martin started to turn anyway.

His vision locked.

[Time: 00:00]

[Highest contribution: Damage Taken.]

[Damage Taken: 3023]

[You're now leaving the dungeon.]

Fuck. I ran out of time.

The shoreline vanished in a white flash.

Martin blinked and stumbled forward, boots scraping hard stone. Warm, dry air hit his face. The hub's noise crashed into him, voices and footsteps and distant shouting.

He was at the Light Tree's feet.

For a second, his body still felt the wet rocks under him. He could still hear the lake, those violent splashes, and the way the water had sounded like something huge was pushing up from below.

His pulse spiked again, not from fear, but from pure, electric excitement.

That was not just another wolf. That was something else. Something heavier. Something that actually hits back. If that thing lives in the lake, then the shoreline isn't a safe wall anymore. It's a battlefield, and a battlefield is exactly what I need.

He swallowed, then looked up.

A crowd was gathered around the scoreboard. Not because they could watch anyone's run, but because this was where every ego in the academy eventually drifted. People compared names. Compared categories. Pretended they were not nervous.

Martin's eyes swept the front line out of habit.

He found them immediately.

Chaosgraphy had a way of standing that made space around him without him asking for it. Rangar was right there too, solid and still, like he belonged in the same spot no matter how loud the hub got.

Martin's stomach gave a small twist, then settled. He didn't know them well, but he knew them enough to recognize the shape of their attention.

Both of them were reading the board.

The screen flickered.

[Leaderboard Update]

[Level One Leaderboard Updated]

[Category: Damage Taken]

Names scrolled.

Numbers shifted.

Martin leaned in without thinking, the earlier lake splashes still echoing in his ears, the thrill still hot in his chest.

Where am I?

...

[Leaderboard Update: 98%... 99%... 100%]

[Level One Leaderboard Updated]

[Category: Damage Taken]

Various nicknames flashed on the leaderboard window of the Level One Dungeon.

Martin stood near Chaosgraphy and Rangar, but his eyes were glued to the window.

He searched fast and found it.

[#27 Emperoar - Damage Taken (Solo Run): 3023]

I was on the second page... on my first run. It was good.

I could feel those mechanics. I enjoyed the shielding and counterattacks, and I loved how much control I had with such limited options.

This was a good first attempt.

He pulled up the top of the category, then the slice around his own rank.

[1. Thorn'Shield - 15017]

[2. HollowGate - 13240]

[3. IronMoss - 11892]

[4. GladeWall - 10411]

[5. AtlasBark - 9830]

...

[Page: 2]

[25. FrostKite - 3466]

[26. StoneWarden - 3310]

[27. Emperoar - 3023]

[28. BarkSentinel - 2979]

[29. SunRoot - 2814]

Runs were private. Rankings were public.

His gaze jumped back to the top spot.

[#1 Thorn'Shield - Damage Taken (Solo Run): 15017]

They did five times better than me. This is exactly a tank people want to entrust their defenses to.

And now, you're my target, Thorn'Shield. I'll defeat you.

Martin clenched his hands and pulled a wide smirk, his excitement rising even more. A new rival, someone he had absolutely no clue about, was more than welcome in his life.

I'd smoke 'em.

Next run, I'd go for the lake boss at the start and see it for myself.

This week, I'd focus on learning even more about the dungeon.

What about Chaosgraphy?

[Category: Damage Dealt]

[1. Auburn Slash - 28911]

...

[#24 Chaosgraphy - Damage Dealt (Solo Run): 5871]

It stung that her placement was better than his, even if it was a different category. With her Duelist class, she was surely quicker to realize the dungeon's loophole. Still, it rubbed Martin the wrong way.

Bruh. What were those guys doing in solo runs? Letting the lake boss regenerate, focusing on the wolves, then going back to the boss? Sounds plausible.

He chuckled and looked toward Chaosgraphy.

Chaosgraphy's eyes flicked to him once, like she'd already seen his placement.

"Our first runs are similar, but you hold the crown for now," Martin said. "I'll reach the top spot in Damage Taken first, though."

Chaosgraphy turned to him and gave him a genuine, sharp smile. "I will keep the crown on my head. But good work. Looks like we're fit for our classes."

Something about the crown metaphor struck Martin. He could see Chaosgraphy in the crown and wanted to snatch that for himself.

"Heavy is the crown. Let's put real weight behind that," he said.

For a second, her smile sharpened like a blade. Her eyes lit up.

"Solo runs have advantages," Martin continued. "But party runs mean more chances to score in other categories and more rewards. If I hit rank one in Damage Taken before you, you will join my party for party runs." He laid down a real challenge. "You can ask me for anything you want as well."

"Just making a party doesn't put any real weight. A party of us two... and for the next ten party runs, all rewards go to the winner," Chaosgraphy said, her sneer widening.

Martin's grin widened too. He could already see how lucrative it was.

"Sure," he replied.

"Ten runs," Martin repeated, like he was locking it into memory. "No excuses."

They shook hands, and their rivalry sharpened.

On the side, Rangar stood there all smiles. He saw huge potential in these two and was eager to learn more about their first dungeon runs.

"I've seen people stare at that board for hours," Rangar said, amused. "Most of them never learn anything from it."

He nodded at both of them. "You've done great on your first runs. What lessons did you two take from them?"

Chaosgraphy replied first. "I can't strike carelessly, or I'll run out of weapons before I notice."

Martin's gaze dropped to her hips for a second, catching how thick her thighs were. Strangely, his mother's words about nice women flashed in his head, and he deadpanned.

He lifted his eyes. "Where are your swords?"

"They broke," she replied with a straight face.

Martin and Rangar chuckled.

Chaosgraphy clicked her tongue and looked away as the two men laughed.

"You've earned enough to buy better swords," Rangar said, calming her down. "Just wait for the payout."

He turned to Martin.

Martin nodded. "I played it too safe at the start and learned about the level-up loophole late into the run. I even went so far as to use my sword just to protect my HP. It was cool, but that's not how this run should be played."

He exhaled, excitement still buzzing in his chest.

"Micro-adjustments. Positioning. Using the environment. Controlling monster angles. Luring them through fake gaps, or forcing them into the center of my shield. I feel like I learned way too much in this hour."

He smiled, eyes bright. "And I want to start the run again now."

Martin's words impressed Rangar and Chaosgraphy.

He really had taken a lot from that one run.

Even though Chaosgraphy had scored higher, it still felt like she was the one falling behind. It was late, but she decided to go for yet another run.

Martin hollered. "Without swords?"

Chaosgraphy tsked. "Of course not..."

"I have work tomorrow, so I can't go in even if I wanted," Martin said, sweeping his hand through the air to open his game system and log out. "Good night to both of you."

Chaosgraphy looked at him. "Good night."

She sounded friendlier... or was it my imagination?

"Night, Emperoar!" Rangar tapped Martin's shoulder, smirking at him.

In this way, his second day in Monster Hunter Academy Online ended.

—

Martin came back from work looking like a prime example for parents to show their kids what they should never become. Fortunately, no one pointed fingers at him. It was too dark anyway.

He stopped by a street stall and ordered hot cocoa and a warm bun.

I'd treat myself better today... fuck it. I'd log in immediately and lure that lake monster out.

As he waited for his food, Martin looked at the TV perched on the wall. Another advertisement for Monster Hunter Academy Online played, now starring a famous singer.

"Dive in, grow stronger at the academy, be the hero who brings the monster invasion to its crescendo! Who knows, maybe you'll meet me in there too?" she said, winking to the camera, stealing millions of hearts.

Even the shop owner stood still, staring at her like she was a diva.

Martin watched the screen a second longer.

Even celebrities were selling the dream now. Of course they were. The board made sure everyone chased something.

Martin harrumphed. "But can she perfect block?"

He munched on the warm bun.

Probably not with tits this huge.

Chuckling, he finished his food and headed home.

It was time for another run.

This time, he wouldn't waste the opening minutes. He'd go straight for the lake boss and force the fight to happen early.

...

[Welcome to the Monster Hunter Academy Online!]

[You have logged in as Emperoar Lv. 1]

Rainbow light parted like a curtain, revealing the Light Tree Hub. Players were already teamed up, moments away from entering one of the academy's dungeons. Others spilled back out, either frustrated or thrilled.

Martin had no interest in any of it. He swiped through the air, opened the System, and activated his special privilege to enter the Level One Dungeon.

He vanished from the Hub like everyone else, but only a handful of players knew he had gone straight to the exclusive dungeon.

[You have entered Level One Dungeon.]

[Time: 59:58]

Let's stack a lot more Damage Taken points this run.

Without hesitation, Martin pulled his shield and sword from his Equipment Slots and moved them into his inventory. The items broke into particles, just like players did, except the particles streamed into him.

A huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

Equipment weight slowed me down.

I only needed it at the shoreline.

He wore nothing but the simple linen clothes every beginner received after character creation. No armor. No safety net.

Unarmored, he took off at a run.

Wood Wolves peeled out of the trees, forming mid-stride. Before they could even react, Martin was already past them, unhurt. They spawned behind him, unable to catch him immediately.

That said, four legs closed distance fast.

Martin had been ready for that. The moment he heard paws gaining on him, he cut hard to the side and changed direction.

He angled toward a patch of exposed roots and broken stone near the shoreline. The wolves had speed, but they did not have footwork. He made them follow a line.

The wolves were too simple. None of them turned as sharply as he did. One even pounced where he had been, missing by a wide margin. More wolves peeled from the trees and joined the chase.

He did not let the pack grow too big. He shaved it down with turns, keeping only what he needed.

Martin kept his ears sharp, tracking not just the wolves, but the lake too. Water slapping water. A wrong rhythm.

Here we go. Time to wake the boss.

Last time, he had used the lake as a safe wall behind him. It turned out the lake was home to something stronger. Still, it had not surfaced right away.

Why?

There had to be a trigger. Wolves drowning in the lake had to be it.

Martin stopped hard and skidded across the soil. He flicked open the System and equipped his shield and sword.

Armed, he raised his guard and waited.

The wolves pounced.

Before their muzzles could reach him, he stepped aside and let three of them plunge into the water.

His smirk widened.

"Threat."

The nearest wolf snapped toward him, caught by the taunt. Martin yanked it off balance and threw it into the lake as well. Then he fed the rest a Shield Bash into a Sword Thrust, shaving their HP down to around 25%.

Good. Low enough to finish fast if I need my stamina and HP refilled.

He checked the clock.

[Time: 54:49]

Great time. Now come out.

As if on cue, the lake's surface churned. Water trembled like something massive had shifted beneath it. Then the lake erupted in multiple blasts. Thick tentacles speared up, towering over the clearing. They twisted and snapped toward Martin.

He raised his shield and braced.

BANG!

DING!

[Perfect Block!]

[-100 HP has been blocked]

His stamina dipped hard. The shield rang, and his forearm went numb from the shock.

The impact nearly threw Martin backward. His smirk vanished. He bit down hard and tightened his grip until his knuckles went white. The number in the notification made his eyes narrow.

One fucking hundred. I barely have any room for error.

That number carved a chunk out of his HP bar.

Other tentacles slammed down around him, crushing the wolves he had deliberately left alive. Each strike kicked up a heavy cloud of dust, swallowing the shoreline and burying Martin in it.

Fuck. It erased the monsters I'd prepared for a HP and stamina refill.

Can I last without refills, or do I need a new way to recover?

...

Before the dust even settled, Martin heard water splashing nearby.

Back at it again.

A shadow swelled above him. Tentacles hovered in the haze, tightening like spears held at the ready.

Then the forest behind him erupted. Steps. Claws. Growls. A whole wave of them, slamming closer like a stampede.

Martin didn't turn. He didn't need to. The boss's slams had shaken the woods, and the wolves were flooding the treeline again.

At least fifteen wolves poured out of the trees behind him, then fanned out to his left and right.

He raised his shield and locked his stance, fingers crushing the handle.

Simple. Perfect Block one.

The tentacles hung in an orderly row through the dust, perfectly still, waiting.

The wolves hit first.

Teeth bit into his calves. Bodies slammed into his sides and back. The pain barely registered. The weight did. It nudged him out of position, stole his timing, tried to knock his shield line off-center.

Martin planted harder. Not for long.

He dragged his balance back under him and tracked the tentacle directly ahead, ignoring everything else. The shadow dipped. The air pressure changed.

Now.

He snapped his shield up.

The tentacle crashed down, and Martin met it head-on.

The impact drove his boots through the soil, shoving him back, but his guard didn't break.

Two more shadows dropped on his left and right.

Tentacles slammed down beside him.

Dust billowed up again.

When it thinned, it revealed battered wolves barely clinging to a sliver of HP.

Every hit I take has to be chosen.

The tentacles didn't strike at random. Even through the haze, Martin caught the rhythm in their shadows. A pause. A dip. The real drop.

He only raised his shield for the right hits. The ones aimed at his centerline.

The rest he let crash into the earth beside him.

So the lake boss can't wipe the wooden wolves with one slam. Good. I don't need to fight them. I just have to finish them off.

Martin kept his shield forward and edged toward the shoreline until damp sand pressed under his heel.

Lake in front of him. Trees at his back.

Less room for them to circle.

He shifted one step more, forcing the pack to bunch up instead of spreading out.

A wolf lunged at his hamstring.

He stomped his heel back, caught it on the shield edge, and drove the shield into its skull.

Shield Bash.

The wolf's body snapped back.

Martin's sword flashed once.

Sword Thrust.

It collapsed.

He didn't chase. He didn't swing wide. He only took the kills the boss had already softened.

Another wolf rushed his right side. Martin angled his shield, let it crash into the face, then shoved it off-line with a short twist.

Shield Bash.

Sword Thrust.

Down.

A third and fourth piled in, trying to drag him out of position. Martin took two quick steps to keep them stacked in front of him instead of on his flank.

One thrust. Another.

Then a fifth, already wobbling from the last slam.

Martin punctured its chest and ripped the blade free.

Five wolves dropped in a row.

[Level Synchronization Active]

[Level Restored: 1]

[Time: 49:15]

[Damage Taken: 496]

Those numbers pleased Martin. At this rate, he could farm Damage Taken far faster than on his first run.

Each slam called more wooden wolves, and the boss either finished them or left them staggering

For a moment, the top spot in the Damage Taken category felt inevitable.

Minutes later, reality hit.

The boss learned too.

As another cloud of dust settled, Martin realized he'd fallen prey to his own satisfaction and the lake boss's scheme.

Across from him, half of its tentacles had stopped slamming.

That side went quiet.

No fresh craters. No new dust.

The air cleared first, and an army of wolves waited there, perfectly still.

It wants me to move into the clear.

Then shadows swept over him. Martin looked up.

Two shadows overlapped.

Two tentacles lowered toward him.

What? But…

They slammed down.

Martin reacted instantly. "FORTIFY!" he shouted, raising his shield.

BANG!

DING!

Perfect execution. Perfect Block.

[You have perfectly blocked 200 damage.]

The wolves rushed in.

Martin turned his shield toward them, took a few steps forward, and tightened his grip on his sword.

I see it now. It outplayed me.

It's limited too, just like I am in this dungeon. Tentacles, raw force, and it can bring wooden wolves… but it has angles.

It can only double-drop when I'm standing in the clear lane.

So it stops slamming on that side, lets the dust clear, holds wolves there, and waits.

The moment I'm forced to step into it, two tentacles come down.

"Crafty bastard. You got me this time. Fuck." Martin shouted as he shoved forward, chaining Shield Bash and Sword Thrust.

Beside him, the lake bubbled, almost like the boss was laughing.

Martin wasn't. His stamina kept bleeding away in tiny cuts. Every shove, every recovery step, every block that wasn't perfect.

He couldn't stand still in a safe angle under this pressure. He was using every card he had to lose as little HP and stamina as possible, but sooner or later he had to move.

The moment he did, the shadows slid over him again.

Not one.

Two.

Then a tentacle avalanche descended.

Fast. No… it's not.

The speed's the same. It just knew I was about to step into its angle and fired early.

It's thinking ahead of me… and my head already hurts from keeping up with all this.

Fuck… can I actually… do it?

As he hesitated, the lake monster slammed down on the wolves he'd left wounded for his HP and stamina refill, wiping out the only easy kills he'd been saving for refills.

Martin clenched his teeth. His shield arm burned, and his grip threatened to slip.

This is fucking impossible with so few skills.

For a heartbeat, his office flashed. The same routine. The same tired faces. The same route home.

Yeah, that was the office loser talking.

Martin sneered and shifted his feet, shield angled toward the overlapping shadows.

Two at once. Fine.

The air pressure dipped.

He didn't flinch.

Now.

Martin snapped his shield up and caught the first tentacle dead-center.

BANG!

The second followed a heartbeat later.

He rolled the impact through his shoulder and met it on the same line.

DING!

Perfect execution. Perfect Block.

Before the tentacles could recoil, Martin stepped in and drove his shield forward.

Shield Bash.

The strike landed where both impacts had stacked, right at the bend The flesh shuddered. The motion stuttered.

For a split second, both tentacles went rigid, stunned and stiff like cords pulled too tight.

Martin's mouth curled.

One of my delinquent friends had an octopus as a pet. He swore each tentacle had its own brain. Guess he wasn't lying.

The stunned tentacles twitched.

Then the growling behind Martin… stopped.

He felt it more than heard it, the pack's attention snapping away from him.

A wet tearing sound cut through the dust.

The tentacle jerked, and blood sprayed across the ground.

Martin's eyes narrowed.

What did that?

...

Martin didn't doubt his eyes or ears.

Blood sprayed in front of him, and it wasn't because of him. Not this time. The wet munching of something sharp tearing through slick flesh made it clear the pack of Wooden Wolves had switched targets to the boss.

The lake boss hadn't "spared" them. It was using them. The moment the tentacle split and bled, the wolves piled on it like they'd been waiting for their chance to feed.

That tentacle isn't moving. Did it really just die?

If one of those tentacles had already died, there was a chance to take down more the same way. Perfect Block and Shield Bash were already ingrained in him. He could do it again.

Martin edged to the side, careful not to step into the boss's clear lane.

And there it was. The Wooden Wolves were devouring the boss. They were clustered around the bleeding tentacle, jaws grinding as they tore at slick flesh. Their wooden bodies had taken on a light crimson hue, blood streaking down their frames.

They weren't even looking at Martin.

So that's the rule. Bleeding flesh pulls them off me.

Martin tested it. He took one slow step closer.

None of the wolves moved. They stayed buried in the bleeding tentacle, jaws grinding like they were starving.

Okay. They're locked in.

That buys me a few seconds to breathe and recover stamina, but I don't know how fast they'll finish that tentacle.

Then one wolf lifted its head and locked onto Martin.

It howled.

Every red eye swung toward him. The pack tore away from the bleeding tentacle and fixed on him. It was terrifying, and it threw him off.

The wolves he'd been preying on, using for refills, suddenly looked more menacing and tenacious than ever.

They fed. That's why they're stronger now.

Martin didn't have time to finish the thought.

The wolves charged.

He took a step back on instinct and raised his shield.

The first impact slammed into his guard and shoved him back again. A second hit followed. Then a third. His shield arm throbbed, the strap biting into his forearm as the weight kept stacking.

Standing still and blocking was impossible. They were too fast, too strong, and too many. Once again, the wolves reminded him who the real threat was.

Bleed pulls them off me, but once they turn, I'm the target.

The pack drove him backward, bodies colliding into him from different angles. He tried to angle away, but they kept forcing him sideways and stealing his footing.

Am I already in the lake boss's lane? Fuck, I don't know.

A shadow fell over him.

Fuck!

Martin tried to turn, but a wolf crashed into his shield and pinned his stance for a split second. His torso couldn't rotate. His shield couldn't swing around.

The Double Tentacle Smash came down.

BANG!

Martin's vision went black.

[You have died.]

His body was reduced to pulp.

—

Death didn't feel like pain. It felt like being yanked out of the world.

Martin's consciousness snapped into a room like the character creation space. A wooden cabin. An open door. Beyond it, an endless ocean and a clean horizon. Wind drifted in, carrying a calm, steady hush.

Most players would've relaxed in a place like that.

Martin didn't.

"For fuck's sake!" he shouted, slamming his fist into the wall. "The lake boss is crafty, and the wolves get upgraded the moment I outplay it. It's not going to be easy to defeat this bastard and score as much Damage Taken as possible with only one hour per day. I need to go all out on the weekend."

He licked his lips and swiped his hand, opening his system.

[You have died.]

[Your Steel Shield has been destroyed.]

[Your Steel Sword has lost 72 Durability.]

[You haven't lost any EXP.]

It all added up. The frenzied wolves had chewed through his shield's durability, and the lake boss finished the job. It had served him well.

His Steel Sword had been sheathed at his hip, so it didn't suffer as much… but it was still on the brink of destruction.

He didn't lose any experience points because he was level one.

He had none to begin with.

Martin cracked his knuckles, dismissed the notifications, and exited the death lobby.

He reappeared at the Light Tree's feet inside Monster Hunter Academy Online. This time, he was just another frustrated player whose dungeon run had failed. Like the rest, he drifted away from the Light Tree's Hub.

Something tapped his arm.

Martin turned and saw the tip of a wooden staff tap his arm.

He followed the shaft up to a female player in ragged robes. She hugged the staff close, and the motion shoved her breasts up and forward. The thin cloth stretched tight over their weight, the neckline gaping into a deep, shameless valley of cleavage.

Fuck. That's… a lot.

Her face was plain, like Chaosgraphy's. In this game, body settings were locked. You could only change things like your face and hair, like putting on makeup.

"…"

The female player whispered something.

She spoke so quietly Martin couldn't hear her. After a moment, he caught it.

"…want to practice blocking with me?" she asked.

Martin didn't even know how she knew about his class.

"How do you know about my class?" he asked.

"…you have a shield strap on your arm," she replied, her eyes dropping to his forearm.

"Ah, that makes sense. Well, I just lost the shield."

She gave a small nod. "Yeah. So you need more practice too."

Martin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I guess. So why are you forcing yourself to whisper?"

"Mmm… it's a secret," she replied.

"That's pretty annoying if you ask me. Still, I can practice with you if you give me a good reason. I don't see why I should spend time on you instead of a practice dummy," Martin said.

She hugged her staff closer and gave a tiny nod. "I'm a mage, so I can cast magic projectiles. No dummy can do that. You'll learn how to handle magic, and that will give you an advantage later on."

"Fair. What about you? I'm curious. I'm sure there are guardian dummies," Martin asked, this time more curious than anything.

She nodded once. "I need a tank to use a threat on me… dummies don't do that."

Martin squinted.

What?

If his expression wasn't enough, he said it out loud. "That's hella weird, but I'm in. I just need to get a shield and then we'll practice. I have around thirty minutes left before I have to sleep."

"Yep, that's fine for me!" the woman replied with a beaming smile, her voice raised. She caught herself, pressed her lips together, and looked down.

Martin didn't dwell on that.

He needed a shield…

…but he didn't have money.

Level One Dungeon payouts were weekly, and his first run hadn't paid yet.

Fine. First objective: a shield. Any shield.

...

Shield… I don't have any income or levels because of the Level One Dungeon Challenge. I should check the category rewards at higher levels and decide how long I want to keep this up. And then there's my challenge with Chaosgraphy. Still, I need a shield right now.

Martin pulled up the academy shop listings anyway.

The cheapest shield still cost more than he had.

[Balance: 0.]

[Weekly payout: Pending.]

"What's your nickname? You're hiding it," the whispering player asked.

"Hmm? Ah, right. It's Emperoar," Martin replied.

[You have received a friend request from NukEncore Lv. 1]

"Oh, you're also level one… but… didn't you come out from the academy's dungeons?" NukEncore asked in a low whisper as she stared at Martin's profile.

Martin accepted the request, and he could now see she was a level-one player too.

"Yeah, I did," he replied. "Have you also been to the Level One Dungeon?"

NukEncore shook her head. "No. But this must be one of those secret dungeons people gossip about online. Some even reroll just to get invited. You must be pretty good, then… maybe I shouldn't take much of your time?"

When she asked that, she shot him a sideways look and blinked sweetly.

It wasn't calculated. It was natural, effortless, the kind of pick-me vibe that made you want to reassure her and prove you weren't the guy who'd brush her off.

For half a second, her posture straightened into something flawless, like she'd stepped onto an invisible mark. Then she shrank back into her whisper again, eyes lowered.

Martin swallowed. Saying no suddenly felt harder than it should've.

"Nah. I want to see how it feels to tank magic skills. What about you, though? Shouldn't you be level five by now?" Martin asked, trying not to let himself get leashed.

"I should be, but… my first quest went so poorly that the NPC told me to think again if I want to be a mage. Um, I couldn't really aim well with my magic skills… but I don't care. I want to be a mage. Annoying as he was, the NPC gave me good advice," NukEncore explained.

Martin squinted. "Did he tell you to find a Guardian player who would use Threat on you, so each attack would land perfectly? That would give you a better sense of staff placement and muscle memory."

"Wow! You're so spot-on!" NukEncore beamed. "M'kay! I'll help you get a new shield. I wandered around the academy and saw a few weapon stores."

Just then, Martin noticed Rangar walking side by side with a new player. His eyes lit up. Rangar would have the best answer to his shield problem.

After all, it was him who invited Martin to the Level One Dungeon Challenge.

"Rangar!" Martin shouted.

"Oh, Emperoar." Rangar smiled, but his eyes sharpened. "You're out of the dungeon. What happened?"

Martin didn't hide his loss. "I died. My shield broke, so I need a new one."

"Haha! Right! You two have an ongoing wager. You went overboard, didn't you?" Rangar chuckled. "It's fine. I'm your caretaker until you hit level twenty. I can only issue four replacement pieces of gear per week. Break them all, and you'll be waiting for the reset. Open your system."

[Caretaker Issue: Steel Shield (Blue) x1, Steel Sword (Blue) x1]

[Weekly caretaker issues remaining: 3/4]

[Would you like to accept the issue?]

[Yes.]

As soon as Martin accepted, two familiar icons appeared in his inventory. He had his equipment back, plus a brand-new sword with intact durability.

Four a week. If I break this shield again, I'm done until the reset.

"Thanks, Rangar. I'll pay you back in the future," Martin said.

"Become the best tank our academy can be proud of for years to come, and that will be more than enough for me! Haha! I still can't believe you guys call Guardians tanks. It sounds off to me!" Rangar burst out laughing, once again captivated by the new words he kept learning from players.

Martin returned the smile and bid him farewell. He couldn't keep Rangar all to himself, especially when Rangar was on his way to introduce the Level One Dungeon to yet another player.

When Martin turned around, NukEncore was staring at him with a pout. "I don't like this guy. It was him who told me that I should reconsider being a mage."

"He's a good guy. He must've said it because… you did terribly at the tutorial."

NukEncore crossed her arms. A dangerous move, given her chest size. "Is that so? I just need more practice, and I'll build it to forte. I want to draw every eye in the room."

The word came out too smooth, like it belonged in her mouth. She seemed to catch herself a beat later and lowered her voice again.

"At least you didn't whisper that time," Martin sneered.

NukEncore worried her lower lip for a second, then let it go.

Martin set her strange antics aside and put on his new shield. Feeling its weight, he rolled his left shoulder and shifted his arm a few times, enjoying it for a moment before he checked the time.

"Let's practice, then," Martin said.

NukEncore nodded and followed him to the training grounds, an open space packed with animated wooden dummies and sparring rings.

Martin and NukEncore found a spot and faced each other.

"I'll do it now," Martin said.

NukEncore hugged her staff close and nodded.

"Just do a normal attack," Martin said.

She raised the staff, and mana frayed into messy, uneven threads before snapping into four spinning strands.

They came in at a crooked angle.

Martin lifted his shield anyway, but the volley veered wide, hissing past his shoulder.

He frowned. "Yeah. Your aim's all over the place."

NukEncore pressed her lips into a small pout. "I told you."

"Yeah" Martin said. "That's why I'm using Threat now."

As soon as Martin used Threat on her, NukEncore fired again. The strands still formed irregularly and spun as they flew, but this time they didn't drift.

They pulled straight onto him and slammed into the center of his shield.

[You have blocked 31 Damage.]

Good. Without Threat, her shots are chaos, exactly the kind that trains my eyes to catch movement from the edge. With Threat, the impact becomes consistent, and that consistency lets me drill timing instead of guessing. If I want to survive the lake, I need both: eyes that don't miss side pressure, and timing that doesn't panic.

One cast of Threat drew three normal attacks from NukEncore. The first two hit clean. On the third, something strange happened. The four strands wove together mid-flight into a single ball and slammed into Martin with far more force than before.

Wait. What is this?

BANG!

DING!

The ring came with the impact.

He took a single step back.

[Your Steel Shield has lost 3 durability.]

Three durability from one hit. Even a newbie can chew through my shield if I let her. I need to practice harder, or I'll burn it down before the lake.

Across from him, NukEncore's eyes widened. A bright smile flashed across her face, then she caught herself and went still again.

"That was a critical strike! Oh wow! It felt so great! What was that ding sound? It's so addictive! I want to hear it once more! Please, Threaten me again, Emperoar!" she shouted.

As she did, her voice leaked out in its raw form, turning NPC and player heads alike.

NukEncore stiffened and looked down.

Her fingers tightened around her staff. "Sorry," she whispered, barely audible.

I don't like how she shut down so fast. Must be because of the others. Yeah, she got loud, but still…

Martin cracked his knuckles. "Could you all focus on yourselves? My friend got too loud, but that doesn't mean you can leer at her like perverts. Are you perverts?"

No one liked being called a pervert, let alone caught acting like one.

They all looked away.

NukEncore slowly raised her eyes. There was something different in her expression now. "Thanks."

He nodded like it was nothing. "Least I could do. Let's practice more. I want to learn more about magic."

"See? Every girl's born with magic. The fun part is learning how to make it listen." NukEncore flashed a smile, like she was proving Rangar wrong, and eagerly asked for more Threat. Martin obliged.

—

At the end of the day, Martin logged off a little later than usual. NukEncore's pick-me-girl routine kept him there longer than he planned, until he finally told her no.

She pouted and logged out too.

She didn't even say thanks, but she had a bit of a princess attitude. Maybe it was her huge chest.

Martin yawned. There was something he wanted to do tomorrow during his break at work.

But as he closed his eyes, that something nagged at him.

In the end, he grabbed his phone and squinted at the sudden flashbang.

She said people already talk about the Level One Dungeon. Maybe that Thorn'Shield dude posted about his run? Worth checking.

In a strange twist of fate, Martin, who usually hated checking social media, opened the app.

The feed loaded.

Martin's face turned bitter.