9 hours later I arrived in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. It was currently almost nightfall by the time I arrived in town. Once I got in, I asked around trying to find where Bobby Singer lives. And everyone told me the location of his house and they recommended that I don't go looking for him since he's the town's drunkard and crazy man. They told me his house was 30 minutes outta town north and it was connected to an auto salvage yard, I couldn't miss it.

But before I got there I wanted to check my status and skills before I got there.

(*A/N I had to redo his Status because I needed to recalculate it.)

Name: Damien Knight

Race: Human

Title: The Gamer

Level: 13 EXP: 1700 / 2600

HP: 690/690 (Recovers 6.9 HP per minute)

MP: 920/920 (Recovers 9.2 MP per minute)

STR: 46

VIT: 46

DEX: 46

INT: 46

WIS: 46

LUCK: 46

Stat Points: 60

Gold Coins: 135

Skill List

Gamer's Mind:

Type: Passive

Level: 100/100 (Max)

Description: "Gamer's Mind" allows the user to maintain a calm, logical, and unflinching mindset in any situation. No matter the external pressures or emotional distress, the user remains perfectly composed and able to think clearly and rationally even in the most chaotic circumstances.

Effects:

The user experiences a constant state of inner peace, unaffected by external stressors or emotional turmoil.

Grants immunity to all psychological status effects, such as fear, confusion, charm, or insanity. The user's mind cannot be influenced by mental attacks or manipulations.

Mind-Reading Immunity: The user is completely immune to telepathic intrusions, preventing others (humans, aliens, telepaths) from reading their minds, and memories, or influencing their thoughts.

Gamer's Body:

Type: Passive

Level: 100/100 (Max)

Description: "Gamer's Body" transforms the user's physical form into one that functions like a character in a video game. Physical injuries and harm are translated into HP (Health Points) loss rather than permanent damage. Pain is brief and temporary, allowing the user to continue despite taking damage.

Effects:

Physical Damage Translates to HP Loss: The user does not suffer lasting physical harm from attacks. Instead, all injuries are reflected as HP reduction, with pain only lasting a few seconds.

Full Recovery through Sleep: When the user sleeps in a bed, their HP and MP are fully restored, and all status effects (such as poison, paralysis, or curses) are cured.

No Lasting Damage: As long as HP is managed, the user can recover fully from injuries without suffering permanent physical damage.

Observe (Active) - Level 15 EXP: 25.58%

Allows the user to gather detailed information about people, creatures, and objects. At higher levels, it reveals hidden details like weaknesses, stats, abilities, attributes, emotions, and more intricate background information.

Effect:

Lv 1: Reveals the target's max HP, max MP, and basic information.

Lv 2: Shows the target's remaining HP and weaknesses.

Lv 9: Displays additional details like attributes, status effects, background, and emotions.

Lv 15: Provides a comprehensive analysis of the target's combat abilities, magical potential, detailed backstory and intentions. At this level, the skill can also reveal hidden skills, curses, and active enchantments on the target.

Create Instant Dungeon (Active) - Level 10 EXP: 92.0%

A skill to create a separate, isolated space where you can fight enemies or complete quests without interference. As the skill levels up, stronger and more complex dungeons can be created with greater rewards.

Currently Available ID List:

1. Empty ID- monsters: none

2. Zombie ID - monsters: zombies

3. Ghost ID - monsters: ghosts

4. Combined ID - monsters: zombies, ghost

Escape from Instant Dungeon (Active) - Level 10 EXP: 92.0%

A skill that allows you to exit an Instant Dungeon at any time.

Once I got to the auto salvage yard I pulled into his driveway and I parked my car next to his truck. I then stepped out of my car and I walked up to Bobby's door and I knocked on the door.

Knock!* *Knock!*

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" I heard a voice.

Then the door opened, and I saw him. Standing there was a man who looked like he'd just rolled out of bed after a long night with a bottle of whiskey. His brown hair, streaked with gray, was short but messy, tucked under a faded blue cap that had clearly seen better days. His beard was scruffy, matching the hair—more of an afterthought than anything intentional.

He wasn't small either. At around 6'0", Bobby had a build that wasn't quite muscular, but still solid. His body had the look of someone who had spent more time sitting behind a desk, poring over books with a drink in hand, but there was no mistaking the strength in his broad shoulders and thick arms. A bit round in the middle, sure, but it didn't make him look weak—if anything, it made him seem more real. The kind of guy who could punch a demon in the face and still have time to fix his car afterward.

It was Bobby Singer, one of the best hunters out there.

"Hi, my name is Damien Knight. And I'm here to ask you if you would train me. I've been told you are an extremely competent hunter yourself, and I'm hoping you can make me an amazing hunter," I said.

Bobby squinted at me, his eyes narrowing like I was a stray dog that had wandered onto his property. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, and gave me a once-over like he was tryin' to decide whether I was worth his time—or if I was somethin' worse.

"You wanna be a hunter, huh?" His voice was thick with his usual rough, southern drawl, like he'd already had his fill of bullshit for the day. "And who in the hell told you I'd be the one to train you?"

His gaze shifted to the Humvee parked beside his truck. I could see the suspicion in his eyes, lingerin' a bit longer than usual on the heavy-duty modifications and wards on the vehicle. He wasn't buyin' my story just yet, that much was clear.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, pushing off the doorframe. "You show up on my porch like you're here to sell cookies, askin' for trainin' like this is some kinda school. You realize this ain't a damn joke, right? Huntin' ain't a hobby."

As soon as I opened my mouth to respond, Bobby reached to the table beside the door and grabbed a handful of salt. Before I could blink, he tossed it straight at me. Instinctively, I didn't flinch, even though I felt the grains scatter against my jacket.

Bobby just grunted and nodded, but he wasn't done.

He walked over to a small shelf, grabbed a bottle, and handed it to me. "Take a sip," he said, his voice still rough but now with a hint of challenge in it. I looked at the label. Holy water. He was testin' me, and I knew it.

I took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and drank. The cool water slid down my throat, and I handed it back to him without so much as a twitch. Bobby's eyes stayed on me for a second longer, his frown deepening, but he still didn't look convinced.

"Well, you ain't a demon, but I ain't done yet," Bobby said, pullin' a silver knife from his belt, almost too casually. "You know what to do," he muttered, handing me the blade. Without hesitation, I dragged the blade across my forearm, slicing the skin open. Bobby's eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, watching for any sign of trouble.

There was no reaction to the silver—no burning, no bubbling skin. But before Bobby could say anything, the wound began to heal almost immediately, sealing itself up within seconds, leaving nothing but a faint trace of the cut behind. The Gamer's Body at work, making sure my HP didn't stay down for long.

Bobby's brow furrowed. He leaned in, clearly surprised but not willing to let it show too much. "Well, that's a new one," he muttered, his voice now dripping with suspicion. "You ain't a shapeshifter, but somethin' about you ain't normal."

He crossed his arms, staring at me harder now. "Alright, kid, you ain't burned by silver, and you passed the salt and holy water tests. But before we go any further—what the hell are you?" He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "People don't just heal like that, so you better start explainin'. Human, or somethin' else?"

I kept my gaze steady, knowing I had to convince him now. "I'm human, Bobby. I swear. This... ability I have, it's just that—an ability. It helps me survive. But I'm not a monster."

Bobby didn't respond immediately. His eyes were narrowed, and I could see him running the possibilities through his mind. He was trying to decide whether I was lying or if he could trust me.

I added, "It doesn't make me dangerous to you or anyone else. It just keeps me alive. I'm not here to hurt anyone."

Bobby stood there for a long moment, just staring at me. Finally, he let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Alright, I'll give ya the benefit of the doubt—for now. But if I see anything off, you're outta here."

He leaned back against the table, arms crossed again. "Now, you better tell me why the hell you wanna be a hunter. And don't feed me any of that 'you're the best' crap. I've heard enough flattery to last three lifetimes. You think this is some kinda game? Start provin' you're serious, or I'll toss you out quicker than you can say 'idjit.'"

I took a deep breath, keeping my tone steady, knowing Bobby wasn't someone who'd buy into any kind of flattery or hero-worship. "I know this isn't a game. I know what it costs," I said, meeting his eyes, showing him I wasn't bluffing. "People like me, we don't come looking for this life unless we've already lost too much to turn back."

Bobby's brow furrowed, but he didn't say anything, letting me continue.

"I've seen things. Not just the stuff that most people whisper about, but the real monsters. I didn't come here to get a taste of the action or prove anything to anyone. I'm here because I want to do something that matters," I said, the words coming out more resolute than I expected. "You know as well as I do, there aren't many hunters left who know how to deal with what's out there. And the ones who do? They don't last long if they don't have someone watchin' their back."

Bobby grunted, still skeptical, but he didn't interrupt.

"I'm not asking for a handout, and I'm not asking to be babysat. I came to you because you're one of the few left who knows how to survive in this world," I continued. "And I need to learn that. Not just to stay alive, but because I know this world doesn't stop for anybody. Not for me, not for you."

There was a pause. Bobby's eyes narrowed, like he was weighing every word, seeing if I was full of it or not.

I went for the final push. "You're not training some kid who's lookin' to get himself killed for glory. I know what I'm stepping into. I know it's ugly, and I know people like us don't walk away from it without scars. But if you train me, I'll be more than ready. And you know as well as I do, there aren't enough good hunters left to afford turning down someone willing to learn."

Bobby's face softened just a fraction, the hard skepticism fading as he considered what I was saying. He let out a long breath, then shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Well, hell."

He scratched at the back of his neck, clearly still mulling it over. "You sure as hell don't sound like no greenhorn off the street, I'll give ya that."

He wandered back to the table, sitting heavily in his chair, crossing his arms as he leaned back, eyes still fixed on me. "You got guts, kid. I'll give ya that, too." His voice was gruff, but there was less bite to it now, more of that rough honesty that I'd heard about. "And you ain't wrong—there ain't enough of us left to be picky 'bout who we train. But I ain't gonna lie to ya—this ain't about just learnin' lore or swingin' a blade. You're talkin' 'bout survivin' in a world that'll chew ya up and spit ya out faster than you can blink."

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze locking on mine, the weight of his words hangin' heavy in the air. "I'll give ya a shot. But let me be clear—if you get sloppy, if you think this is some kinda game, I'll kick your ass outta here faster than you can say 'idjit.' Are we clear?"

I nodded, trying to keep my relief from showing too much, knowing this was just the beginning.

He grunted and stood up, moving toward the door with that heavy, deliberate gait. "Alright then, come on in," he said, waving me into the cluttered house. "Let's see if you're worth my time."