As his breathing steadied, Izuku felt an unfamiliar sensation stir within him—a peculiar satisfaction, sharp and sweet, like biting into a perfectly ripe apple. His lips curved upward, spreading into a genuine smile that lit up his blood-smeared face. A soft chuckle escaped him, hesitant at first, before swelling into full-throated laughter that echoed through the desolate station, ricocheting off concrete walls and dissolving into shadows.
"Even if it's just a little..." he murmured to the empty chamber, his voice carrying a confidence that would have seemed impossible mere days ago. "'The Weakest of Mankind' has grown stronger."
The words hung in the air: both declaration and solemn promise. His fingers traced his fallen foe's cooling scales, exploring each ridge and imperfection with reverence. They felt alien beneath his fingertips—smooth yet ridged, still warm with lingering life. There was respect in the gesture—a silent acknowledgment of a worthy adversary whose defeat marked a turning point in his journey.
[You have leveled up!]
[You have leveled up!]
[You have leveled up!]
The glowing notifications hovered before his eyes, their blue light casting an ethereal glow across his face. They announced three levels gained in a single, hard-fought victory. Yet Izuku knew the real triumph wasn't in the numbers that quantified his progress. It lay in the boundaries he had shattered, the fears he had conquered, and the impossible odds he had defied. He had entered this battle as prey and emerged as a hunter.
[You have defeated The King of the Swamp: Blue Venom-Fanged Kasaka.]
Izuku surveyed the battlefield—scattered rubble, dark pools of blood both his and the creature's, and the remains of what had once been a fearsome predator. He winced as he moved, his muscles protesting with each motion.
"My clothes are ruined... and the sword I just got is destroyed." Izuku held up the broken blade, studying the jagged edge where it had snapped. The metal caught the faint light, reflecting it like a dying star. His muscles screamed in protest, a burning sensation that spoke of pushed limits and torn fibers. "Everything hurts..."He rolled his shoulders, attempting to ease the tension, but only discovered new sources of pain.
"But..." He summoned a dagger with a long, curved blade and a hilt adorned with what appeared to be dragon scales or snake scales. The weapon materialized in his hand, its weight and balance flawless. The scales caught the light, shimmering with an iridescent blue that hinted at their venomous origin. "I got something even better than Mr. Kim's Claymore."
A translucent panel materialized before him:
[Item Name: Kasaka's Venom Fang]
Difficulty Level: C
Description:
A finely crafted dagger forged from Kasaka's fang, still imbued with its lethal venom. The retained poison grants the weapon potent effects, making it a formidable tool in battle. Upon striking an opponent, the venom induces both paralysis and bleeding, inflicting continuous harm and impairing movement. This item can be stored in your inventory for future use or sold at the shop for profit.
Effects:
-Paralyze: Chance to paralyze the target, temporarily immobilizing them.
-Bleed: Target loses 1% of their maximum HP every second for a duration.
Izuku tested the edge with his thumb, careful not to break the skin. The blade was wickedly sharp, seeming to part the very air.
"It's a dagger made from fangs, not bones," he marveled, turning it over. "My attack power has doubled?! And it can paralyze and cause bleeding." He made several experimental slashes, noting how the dagger guided his movements rather than resisting them. "Though compared to a sword, this will be trickier to use. I'll need to get closer to my enemies."
With a thought, he summoned a small brown pouch, its leather surface marked with mysterious symbols that pulsed with their own life. Another panel appeared:
[Item Name: Kasaka's Venom Gland]
Difficulty Level: A
Description:
A rare and dangerous item obtained from the formidable Kasaka. This pouch contains highly refined venom extracted from the creature. While consuming this venom grants extraordinary defensive benefits, it exacts a severe toll on physical strength. The item is highly sought after for its unique properties but requires careful consideration before use.
Effects:
-Kasaka's Ironclad Scales: Reduces incoming physical damage by 20%, making skin tougher and more resistant to physical attacks.
-Side Effect - Muscle Damage: Permanently reduces strength by 35 points due to the venom's toxic properties.
Warning:
Use with extreme caution. The permanent strength reduction may severely impact combat abilities, especially for strength-based builds.
Izuku weighed the pouch in his palm, feeling the deadly liquid shift within. The temptation to use it flickered through his mind—skin-like armor would be invaluable in future battles—but the permanent cost gave him pause. He was already starting from behind; could he afford to sacrifice more strength?
"I'll keep it stored for now," he decided, returning the pouch to his inventory.
[You have defeated the boss. The dungeon will now be restored to its former state.]
Izuku gazed upward at the swirling expanse of the dungeon's dimension, watching its ominous aura dissipate as a gentle blue luminescence enveloped him. The oppressive atmosphere that had weighed upon his senses gradually dissolved, yielding to the familiar ambiance of Hapjeong Station. As the vibrant energy of the mundane world reconstituted itself around him, he whispered, his voice tinged with both relief and disbelief, "Is it over?"
The transition felt almost anticlimactic after the life-or-death struggle he had just endured. One moment fighting for survival against a monstrous serpent, the next standing in an ordinary subway station—the juxtaposition was jarring. He flexed his fingers, still feeling the phantom weight of his weapons, the memory of combat still fresh in his muscles.
Izuku stepped out of the station, his eyes lifting to the moonlit sky where stars punctuated the darkness like distant watchful eyes. The streets stretched before him, bathed in an ethereal glow from the scattered streetlights, yet eerily devoid of the usual pedestrian traffic. Not a single passerby, no late-night workers hurrying home, no revelers stumbling from bars—just silence and emptiness.
"There's nobody around... What time is it?" he murmured to himself, a sense of unease creeping along his spine like tendrils of frost. The silence felt unnatural, particularly in a city that prided itself on its vibrant nightlife. His hand instinctively moved toward his inventory, seeking reassurance in the weapons he had acquired.
"What are you doing?"
The sudden voice sliced through the silence, causing Izuku to pivot sharply. It emanated from the shadows of an alleyway to his left—a space between buildings that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it. Izuku turned his head and spotted a figure emerging from the darkness—a Korean soldier, his uniform crisp and authoritative, the insignia on his shoulder catching the moonlight as he stepped forward. His posture was alert, his movements measured with the precise cadence of someone trained for vigilance.
"A soldier?" Izuku thought, his heart accelerating its rhythm against his ribcage. The military presence suggested something far more serious than a simple curfew or security precaution.
The soldier narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Izuku with a gaze that seemed to catalog every detail of his appearance—the tattered clothing, the residual blood spatter, the alertness in his stance that hadn't been there days ago. When he spoke, his tone carried the sharp edge of authority tinged with suspicion. "Why did you step out of there? Didn't you hear the announcement about the lockdown?" Each word was pronounced with deliberate clarity, as though speaking to someone who might not comprehend the gravity of the situation.
"Lockdown?" Izuku echoed, confusion evident in both his voice and expression. His mind raced through possibilities—a terrorist threat, a natural disaster warning, or perhaps something related to the dungeons that had begun appearing. "What are you talking about?"
The soldier's eyebrows ascended in apparent surprise, his expression transforming from irritation to a dawning realization that bordered on disbelief. The change was subtle but unmistakable—a softening around the eyes, a slight parting of lips, a momentary hesitation before he spoke again.
"Wait—you're serious right now?" The incredulity in his voice was palpable, as though Izuku had asked why the sky was blue or why the water was wet. His gaze methodically swept over Izuku's appearance once more, lingering on the tears in his clothing, the dried blood, and the subtle but undeniable aura of someone who had confronted danger and emerged victorious. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to a more cautious, almost reverent tone, "Are you... a hunter?"
"Yes, I am but..." Izuku replied hesitantly, the words trailing off as he assessed this unexpected turn of events. The soldier's demeanor transformed instantly. He straightened his posture and offered a crisp salute, the formality of the gesture striking in the desolate streetscape. "Ah, I apologize for my presumption, Hunter. Let me escort you to safety. Right this way."
They proceeded down the empty boulevard, their footsteps echoing in the unnatural silence. The devastation revealed itself gradually—vehicles crushed like discarded toys, storefronts shattered, lampposts bent at impossible angles. More disturbing were the occasional dark stains on the pavement that Izuku recognized all too well as blood.
The physical evidence of violence was punctuated by an eerie absence—no sirens, no distant voices, no signs of evacuation or emergency response. Most jarring were the carcasses of beasts strewn across their path—creatures of impossible anatomy and evolutionary divergence, their forms defying rational biology. Some resembled oversized insects with carapaces of metallic luster; others had the appearance of reptilian predators but with anatomical features that belonged in no earthly taxonomy.
"Looks like a gate opened up nearby," Izuku concluded silently, his analytical mind piecing together the scenario. "Most likely a Dungeon break."
The soldier, noticing Izuku's observant gaze, offered additional context. "The creatures in this district have been largely neutralized," he explained, his tone professional yet tinged with residual adrenaline. "The Hunter Association deployed three teams to contain the situation. There's just one more significant entity remaining—a particularly large specimen that retreated toward the commercial sector." Izuku nodded, but his attention had already shifted inward.
Something was resonating within him—a subtle vibration at the edge of his perception, like a tuning fork attuned to a specific frequency of danger. "Maybe it's because of my enhanced sensory stats," he contemplated as an unfamiliar sensation spread through his ocular nerves. His irises shifted hue, illuminating with a luminescent blue that reflected his awakening abilities. "But I can feel it." The sensation intensified, prickling across his skin with electrical precision.
Then he saw it—a column of azure energy erupting skyward several blocks ahead, pulsing with rhythmic intensity. The visual manifestation confirmed what his instincts had already determined. "
It's a boss," Izuku realized, the term inadequate for the magnitude of the threat it represented. Not merely a larger specimen or a more aggressive variant—but a creature of hierarchical significance, an entity that commanded respect even among the monsters of its kind. A nexus of power within the invasion.
A low, bone-shaking rumble cut through the night, rolling in like a freight train from the direction of the massive creature in the distance. Felt more than heard, the sound hit Izuku square in the chest, rattling the few remaining shards of glass in the windows around him.
"Healers support, now! Tanks hold the line! We're losing ground!"
The voice barked out sharp and urgent, slicing through the chaos like a whip. A hunter, worn thin by the relentless grind of battle, shouting orders to a team locked in combat several blocks ahead.
The Hunters were pushing themselves to their limits, their bodies glistening with sweat and trembling with exhaustion. The massive stone Golem towered over them, seemingly impervious to their relentless attacks.
"We're giving it everything we've got!" one shouted in frustration, his voice cracking as he swung his blade against the creature's rocky exterior, only to see it bounce off with a metallic clang.
"Why isn't this thing going down already?!" Another Hunter slumped against a boulder, breathing heavily as she readied her bow for another futile attack.
A muscular man with a deep gash across his shoulder yelled, "What are the damage dealers even doing? It doesn't look like we're anywhere close to taking it down!" His eyes darted accusingly toward the ranged attackers positioned behind the frontline fighters.
"The monster's defenses are impenetrable! And we don't have enough magic-type Hunters to break through!" A thin, bespectacled woman lamented as she frantically flipped through a spell book, searching for anything that might turn the tide of battle.
The group had been hastily summoned, a ragtag team of available Hunters rather than an optimized assault unit. None of them possessed the high rank necessary for a monster of this caliber. Their attacks barely scratched the Golem's stone surface, while their shields and barriers were cracking under its devastating counterattacks. What should have been a swift, coordinated takedown had devolved into a desperate struggle for survival.
BOOM!
The ground shook violently as the Golem slammed its enormous stone fist into the earth. Dust and debris scattered in all directions, forcing several Hunters to shield their eyes. The impact created a small crater, and the shockwave sent two Hunters flying backward.
The Tanker—a broad-shouldered man with a tower shield almost as tall as himself—staggered under the impact. His specialized armor, designed to absorb massive damage, was cracked and dented. His legs buckled, and he dropped to one knee, his shield's edge digging into the soft earth.
"Keo-heok!" The Tanker coughed up blood, crimson droplets spattering across his dented chest plate. His body trembled uncontrollably, years of training and experience no match for the raw power of the stone behemoth.
"N-no! The Tanker is going to die at this rate!" A young female Hunter cried out in panic, her healing magic flickering weakly between her fingertips as she attempted to channel what little energy she had left.
"What can I do? My magic energy is completely drained!" Another Hunter shouted in desperation, tossing aside his empty magic crystal and drawing a short sword—a pitiful last resort against such a formidable foe.
The Golem raised its massive arm again, preparing for another devastating blow. The shadows cast by its movement darkened the battlefield, a grim harbinger of the pain to come.
"Where are the reinforcements? Haven't the high-ranked Hunters arrived yet?!" A veteran Hunter with a scarred face shouted, his voice tinged with both anger and fear as he desperately tried to pull his injured comrade away from the Golem's path.
The Hunters exchanged glances of shared desperation. Their formation was falling apart, their energy reserves depleted, and their most resilient defender was on the verge of collapse. The stone monster showed no signs of weakening, its relentless attacks continuing with the same devastating force as when the battle began.
Time was running out, and hope was fading fast as the shadow of the Golem's raised fist grew larger on the ground beneath them.
The creature they faced dominated the commercial district, an absolute monster built like a fortress. Stone plates shifted across its body with eerie fluidity, glowing blue veins snaking between them like rivers of power. The thing moved slowly but hit hard, every strike sending shockwaves through the streets.
The hunters kept their formation tight, and methodical, but the beast wasn't giving them much to work with. Meanwhile, three soldiers held a perimeter around a cluster of civilians caught in the lockdown. Izuku stood among them, close to the soldier who'd brought him to the fight. The air was thick with dust, sharp with the tang of blood. Breathing it felt like swallowing gravel.
Izuku scanned the battlefield, eyes narrowing as they landed on a figure at the edge of the fray.
Joohee. She was down on one knee, magic pooling around her in a flickering circle of blue light. It wasn't working. The energy sputtered and faded before it could reach anyone. Her face was frozen, wide-eyed, and haunted like she wasn't even seeing the battle anymore. She was still stuck in that temple, reliving whatever hell had happened there.
Izuku backed away from the civilians, muttering under his breath. "She's still trapped in it. What happened back there? I get it. I know exactly what that's like..." His voice broke off as he raised his left arm. The broken claymore in his grip felt heavier than it should like it carried more than just steel. He brought it up to his face, hiding half of it behind the blade. His right hand tugged his sleeve down, exposing the glow of his right eye—a sharp, unnatural blue that matched the creature's veins. The light threw shadows across his face, carving his expression into something hard, and determined.
"No," he said, the word steady now like he'd found his footing. "I can't let it hold me down. I have to push through."
He shifted his focus to the creature, breaking it down in his head. The hunters were struggling to make a dent. Their weapons glanced off its armor, sparks flying but no damage done.
"D-Rank," he thought, analyzing the beast like it was a puzzle. "Not as bad as the serpent in the dungeon. If I can crack its defenses, I've got a shot." His grip tightened on the claymore. It wasn't much, but it was enough if he used it right. "One solid hit. That's all I need."
Decision made, he dropped into position. Right leg back, solid foundation. His stance was precise, and deliberate, like a javelin thrower lining up for a gold-medal toss. The Claymore wasn't pretty—broken and worn—but it was heavy, sharp, and lethal in the right hands.
He drew his arm back, muscles coiling tight, veins standing out under his skin. Everything he had went into the throw. Time slowed, the chaos around him fading into a blur. His focus locked on the target: a gap in the stone plates, dead center on the creature's head.
"Go!"
The word shot out like a command, and the claymore followed. It tore through the air, whistling like a missile, slamming into the weak point with devastating precision.
Lee Hahn-Soo's vision dimmed at the edges, narrowing like a tunnel. Not good. He knew it. His shield, the one that had saved his skin seventeen times before, was cracking. Hairline fractures spidered across the surface like veins on old marble. Worse, the healing magic hitting him had dwindled to a trickle. The healers were spent. Exhausted.
It was basic math—death was inevitable for all of them.
Combat decisions weren't complicated. They were binary. Fight or run. Live or die. Hahn-Soo had one move left. One play. Buy time. Let the others escape. He hoped the higher-ranked Hunters would finish what they couldn't.
Sweat slicked his forehead, cold and sharp. Not fear. Certainty. He tightened his grip on the shield, feeling its weight pull at his aching muscles. His knuckles whitened as he raised his voice, rough and commanding. "Leave this to me! You all gotta—"
Then something cut through the air. A blur. Dark against the night. Too fast for human eyes. Hahn-Soo didn't see it. He felt it. Instinct, honed from years of hunting, screamed at him. The air itself seemed to part, carrying with it a sense of purpose that made the hairs on his neck stand on end.
KWAHANG!
The javelin hit like a bolt of lightning. Dead center. The sound cracked the night wide open, reverberating through the battlefield like thunder in a valley. The boss—a hulking stone golem—shuddered under the impact. Fractures spread outward from the strike point, thin lines splitting its rocky surface like a shattered windshield. Blue energy seeped from the wounds, glowing faintly as it dissipated into the air like steam from dry ice. The creature staggered, stunned, its massive frame swaying like a tree in a storm.
"What the hell?" Hahn-Soo's voice was low, more a growl than a shout. His eyes tracked the scene, his mind racing to process it. The other hunters didn't notice, their focus narrowed to survival. They were too busy hammering away, weapons finding purchase in the cracks that hadn't existed moments before. The golem's defenses crumbled like old plaster under their combined assault, chunks of stone falling away to reveal pulsing blue energy beneath.
"It's working! Our attacks are working!" someone shouted, voice cracking with desperate hope.
Hahn-Soo didn't answer. He knew better. Their attacks weren't working. Not really. Something else had done the damage. Something they hadn't seen. Something powerful enough to crack what their enchanted weapons couldn't scratch.
The golem roared a guttural sound that vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, rattling teeth and bones. Then it toppled forward, crashing down like a collapsing building. THUD. Dust exploded outward in a choking cloud, filling the air with particles that caught in throats and stung eyes. The hunters cheered, voices rising in triumph, weary but alive.
"We did it!"
"We killed it!"
Hahn-Soo's jaw tightened, muscles bunching beneath stubbled skin. He scanned the battlefield, ignoring the celebrations. His instincts—the same ones that had kept him alive when others died—screamed at him. Find the weapon. Find the source. Identify the ally. Or the threat.
He moved through the settling dust, methodical and deliberate, like a predator-tracking prey. His boots crunched on shattered stone as he navigated the debris field left in the wake of the golem's fall. His eyes caught a glint of metal among the rubble, reflecting the emergency lights that bathed the area in harsh, uneven illumination. A broken sword fragment. He crouched, picked it up, and turned it over in his calloused hands. Standard-issue steel. Nothing special. A faint trace of magic, but nothing that should matter against a D-rank boss. The blade was warm to the touch as if it retained some energy from its flight.
"Someone threw this? And it destroyed a golem that shrugged off ten hunters?" The thought stuck in his mind, like a stone wedged in a gear. Impossible, yet the evidence lay in his palm. He looked from the sword to the dead golem and back again. The blade was ordinary—worn leather grip, standard guard, and a broken edge that suggested it had seen better days. Yet it had pierced stone that their enchanted weapons couldn't scratch. He straightened and ran, moving toward the trajectory's origin point, driven by a curiosity that bordered on obsession.
A soldier stood alone near the evacuation perimeter, dazed and confused, staring at a space beside him. Hahn-Soo closed the distance, fast and direct. Six-foot-four, built like a tank, his presence hit like a freight train. Blood and dust caked his armor, giving him the appearance of a war god who stepped straight from a battlefield. The soldier tensed as Hahn-Soo approached, eyes widening at the Hunter's imposing figure.
"Excuse me!" Hahn-Soo barked, his voice cutting through the aftermath noise like a blade through silk.
The soldier flinched, startled. "Uh, pardon? You talking to me?" His eyes darted to the sides as if looking for someone else who might be the target of the hunter's attention.
"That's right." Hahn-Soo held up the broken blade, his voice flat and clipped. The sword fragment caught the light from nearby emergency lamps, casting strange shadows across his weathered face, highlighting scars earned from years of survival. "Did you throw this?"
The soldier blinked, then turned to look behind himself. His face twisted in surprise as he found only space. "What? No, I didn't. But a Hunter was standing right behind me..." He gestured to the vacant air with confusion etched into every line of his face.
The soldier's head swiveled, scanning the area, confusion growing with each passing second. "He was just here—black-haired man, kinda skinny but had this intensity about him. Eyes that..." He paused, frowning. "Something strange about his eyes."
Hahn-Soo turned the blade in his hand, feeling its weight. Ordinary steel. Except for what it had done. He scratched the back of his neck, a habit from childhood that surfaced whenever the world tilted on its axis. It meant the world had stopped making sense. Green hair. Skinny frame. Intense presence. Nothing in that description matched any hunter he knew.
"That power... Could it have been a high-rank Hunter?" He exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the night air. Twenty years of hunting had taught him one thing: impossible things happened every day. But this—this was something else entirely. Someone who could destroy a D-rank monster with a single throw of a broken blade, then vanish without seeking recognition or reward. No Hunter he knew operated that way.
In all his years hunting, he'd never seen anything quite like it. And that, more than anything else, worried him.
Around the same time, Izuku slipped through an alleyway, his footsteps nearly silent against the damp pavement. The distant echoes of chaos were already fading behind him. He cast a final glance over his shoulder, watching as the massive stone golem wavered unsteadily on its legs.
"Didn't think a single blow would take it down," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Maybe the others wore it out more than I realized."
He flexed his throwing arm, feeling the lingering strain in his muscles. The broken claymore had flown truer than he'd anticipated. As he turned to continue his retreat, the ground rumbled beneath his feet. Even from this distance, he felt the tremor as the golem collapsed.
A fleeting smile touched his lips, only to be replaced by a faint frown. "Too bad I couldn't loot it."
The disappointment was real—every item, every resource was crucial to his journey. In the games he'd played, defeating a boss always meant rewards: experience points, rare drops, treasures. But this wasn't a game. Here, he couldn't simply walk up and claim his prize, not with professional Hunters swarming the area.
The alley stretched ahead, a dark corridor leading him away from the aftermath of the battle. Puddles mirrored the distant glow of emergency lights, forming islands of illumination in the darkness. Izuku moved through them like a specter, present one moment, gone the next. His right eye still glimmered faintly, casting an eerie blue hue onto the brick walls as he passed.
Meanwhile, back at the scene of the battle, Joohee stood apart from the celebrating Hunters, her eyes fixed on the spot where she'd last glimpsed that familiar silhouette. Around her, civilians huddled together, their faces etched with equal parts relief and lingering fear. Medical staff wove among them, tending to minor injuries and shock.
None of them had seen what she had seen. None of them understood.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand trembling slightly. The memory of that throw—perfect, powerful, impossible—played over and over in her mind. The trajectory, the force, the precision. It wasn't luck. It wasn't a chance.
Her gaze shifted to where the shattered sword had pierced the golem's defenses, striking directly at its core. One precise hit where it mattered most. Just like he always did—finding weaknesses others couldn't see.
"Izuku," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the commotion. The name felt heavy on her tongue, laden with memories and unanswered questions.
She wrapped her arms around herself, a sudden chill creeping in despite the warm night air. He hadn't stayed to be acknowledged, to be thanked. He had simply appeared, changed everything, and vanished—leaving behind only destruction and mystery in his wake.
[Player status]
Name: Izuku Midoriya
Level: 18
Class: None
Title: Wolf Assassin
Fatigue: 72
HP: 2220
MP: 350
Strength: 48
Agility: 27
Sense: 27
Health: 27
Intelligence: 43
•Timeskip the next day. Hospital.
Gossip among the nurses spread like wildfire throughout the hospital corridors, their hushed voices and meaningful glances creating an almost tangible undercurrent of excitement at the nurses' station.
"Did you guys see that hottie in Room 312?" whispered Mina, leaning over the counter, her dark hair falling forward as she conspiratorially lowered her voice.
"Yeah, you mean the E-Rank Hunter? Sure did," replied Yuna, organizing patient charts with practiced efficiency while trying to maintain her professional demeanor despite the telltale blush creeping up her neck.
"His body is unbelievable," added another nurse named Mai, fanning herself dramatically with a clipboard, her eyes wide with remembered appreciation. "Like, seriously unbelievable. The kind you only see in fitness magazines."
"His face is average, I guess, but he leans toward cute," Mina continued thoughtfully, tapping her pen against her lips, leaving small ink marks she'd later discover with embarrassment. "It's those blue eyes—they're intense, almost unnaturally bright. Sometimes they seem to glow."
"I mean, the guy looks completely ordinary until he takes his shirt off," Yuna said with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And then you're like, damn! Where did that come from? It's like he's hiding a completely different person under those plain hospital clothes."
"When did we even admit a patient who was this ripped?" asked Dr. Tanaka, a young resident passing by with a stack of charts, unable to resist joining the conversation that had captivated half the floor staff.
"He didn't stand out much at first glance," Mina explained, straightening up as the supervisor walked past. "But apparently, he started exercising the moment he woke up here, and it really paid off. Non-stop, too. The night shift says he barely sleeps."
"There's no way someone could gain that much muscle mass in just three days," Dr. Tanaka said skeptically, her medical training prompting her analytical mind to reject such a possibility. "That's physiologically impossible. Even with the best steroids and genetics."
"Well, he's a Hunter," Yuna pointed out with a shrug. "Maybe their bodies work differently? I've heard the high ranks can do things that defy medical science entirely."
Meanwhile, inside his hospital room, the man of the hour was oblivious to being the subject of staff fascination. Izuku was shirtless, tackling his daily workout routine with the intense focus that had become his trademark since awakening in this world. His body glistened with sweat as he completed his fourth set of one-armed push-ups, every muscle defined under the harsh fluorescent lighting that did nothing to diminish the impression he made. The System might have enhanced his physique, but his dedication to training kept it honed to perfection, each movement precise and controlled.
A gentle knock on the door went unnoticed as he switched to core exercises, counting under his breath, "Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty." His breathing remained steady, barely elevated despite the exertion. Nurse Aki, with her short cropped black hair and striking blue eyes that contrasted sharply with her pale complexion, stepped inside and hesitantly called out, "Excuse me... Sir? I need to check your—"
She froze mid-sentence, her face flushing a deep shade of red at the sight before her. Izuku was balanced in a perfect plank position, sweat dripping from his brow as muscles rippled with each controlled movement. Unlike the bulky builds of bodybuilders, his was the lean strength of a predator—functional, efficient, and dangerous.
"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of surprise and unmistakable appreciation as she quickly retreated to the doorway, half-hidden behind it like a startled deer. She peeked back into the room, almost as if to confirm she wasn't imagining things, her clipboard pressed against her chest like a shield.
"I'm sorry," Izuku said, finally noticing her presence. He dropped from his position in one fluid motion and grabbed a towel from the nightstand, wiping the sweat from his face and torso with efficient movements. He seemed genuinely unaware of the effect his appearance had on the nurse, his expression neutral and focused.
"No, I'm the one who should apologize," she replied quickly, her voice slightly higher-pitched than normal and tinged with embarrassment as she avoided meeting his gaze directly. "I should have waited for a response before entering. Hospital protocol and all that."
Her eyes couldn't help darting to his frame—lean but powerful, with a definition that spoke of functionality rather than vanity. A thin scar ran across his right shoulder, still pink and new-looking. "Whoa... The rumors weren't lying," she thought to herself, swallowing hard. 'How is it possible to look this good in just three days? It's like his body completely transformed from the scrawny patient they brought in.'
"Do you need something?" Izuku asked the flustered nurse while casually pulling on his shirt, his movements economical and precise, nothing wasted. The plain white hospital-issued t-shirt clung slightly to his still-damp skin.
Nurse Aki composed herself with visible effort, clutching her clipboard tighter than necessary, her knuckles whitening slightly. "No, I came to tell you that you're being discharged today. The doctor signed off on your paperwork this morning. You've made a... remarkable recovery." She glanced at his medical chart as if it might explain the impossible transformation she'd witnessed.
"Okay," Izuku said simply, gathering the few possessions he had from the small bedside table—a worn wallet, his old clothes now cleaned, and a small notebook filled with what looked like training regimens and lists. His mind was already calculating his next moves—where to go, how to level up faster, and what resources he needed to acquire. The hospital had served its purpose; it was time to move on.
As he was about to leave through the doorway, he heard a voice behind him. "Wait!" He turned around and looked at the nurse again, surprised to find her holding out her phone, a newer model with a cracked screen protector that caught the light.
"Do you think I can get your number?" she asked a hopeful smile on her face despite the blush coloring her cheeks to her ears.
"My number?" he asked, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Izuku remained completely aloof to the double meaning, his mind running in an entirely different direction. 'Is she going to send me my exam results later?'
"Yes, if you were okay with it," the nurse said, her blush deepening as she held his gaze for a moment before looking away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand. "Just... professional reasons, of course."
"Sure. Hold on a sec." Izuku pulled out his phone—an older model with a scratched case—completely missing the subtle signs of her interest as his thoughts remained focused on his quest ahead. The screen illuminated his face with a soft blue glow, highlighting the determined set of his jaw as he prepared to reenter a world of monsters and danger.
Timeskip another day later.
Stepping outside at dawn required a special kind of stealth. The soft golden light began to spill over the horizon, bathing the quiet neighborhood in warm amber tones and stretching long shadows across the pavement. A single bird chirped in the distance, its song piercing the stillness of the morning.
Izumi eased the front door shut behind her, wincing at the faint creak of the hinges. She froze, holding her breath, ears straining for any sound of movement from inside. Silence. She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing. The last thing she wanted was to wake her brother—Izuku needed every bit of rest these days.
"Hey, Izumi. Heading to school already?"
The voice startled her. She spun around, nearly stumbling off the doorstep. There he was—Izuku—approaching her with slow, deliberate steps. His white shirt clung tightly to his chest, the fabric stretched just enough to hint at the muscle beneath. Gray sweatpants hung loosely from his hips, and his disheveled black curls stuck out at odd angles, as though he'd been running his hands through them all night. He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand while absently tugging at his shirt collar with the other. The movement revealed a fleeting glimpse of his stomach—toned, defined, a stark contrast to the softness she remembered. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, lending him a haunted, sleepless look.
Izumi blinked, her mind catching up with the unexpected sight. "What the—? You're up already?" She glanced at her watch, tapping her cheek to make sure she wasn't dreaming. The hands pointed clearly to 6:15 AM.
"Yeah, been up for a while." Izuku ruffled his hair again, his fingers threading through the curls as he spoke. "Have a good day at school, okay? Be careful on the way." His tone carried a weight she wasn't used to—a quiet, protective edge, as though he knew something she didn't.
"Uh... Sure." She stood frozen on the doorstep, watching him walk past her toward the kitchen. The sunlight caught his silhouette, highlighting subtle changes in his posture—straighter, more composed, as though he carried himself differently now. More grounded. More present.
"That's weird. Izuku woke up before me..." she murmured to herself. Izuku had never been lazy, but she had always been the early riser of the family. Her diligence had earned her the unofficial title of timekeeper, ensuring the household ran smoothly before anyone else stirred. But now? This was new.
Her gaze lingered on him as he disappeared into the house. Something about him felt... off. Or maybe it wasn't off—maybe it was different. His shoulders seemed broader, his shirt snug in places it hadn't been before. His arms held a definition she didn't recall, and even the way he moved had changed. There was a quiet strength in him, a confidence that seemed to radiate from within.
Izumi narrowed her eyes, tilting her head as she tried to piece it together. "Izuku, have you been working out lately?" she called after him, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.
He paused mid-step, his entire body tensing slightly before he turned to face her. A flicker of something—concern? wariness?—crossed his features before disappearing behind a neutral expression.
"Um... A little," he responded, the hesitation in his voice betraying more than his words. His eyes darted away briefly, focusing on a point over her shoulder rather than meeting her gaze directly.
Izumi stepped closer, narrowing the gap between them. She held her hand out flat, measuring from the top of her head to where it hit on his body. The difference seemed to have shrunk noticeably from what she remembered.
"You look more buff, but does exercise make you taller too? Do guys grow taller even after turning 20?" Her eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion, her head tilting as she continued her inspection. Something about her brother had fundamentally changed, and she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
Izuku shifted his weight from one foot to the other, discomfort evident in every line of his body. The scrutiny made him uneasy.
"Okay, can you stop asking me weird questions and just take the umbrella?" he said with a hint of irritation, pulling a small folding umbrella from behind his back where he must have been holding it all along. His patience seemed to be wearing thin, the topic clearly one he wanted to avoid.
"I don't think it's going to rain, and besides, my bag's already heavy," Izumi protested, casting a pointed glance at the pristine morning sky. Not a single cloud dared to intrude on the endless stretch of blue above. Izuku, however, met her words with a firm stare, one that uncannily mirrored their mother's unyielding expression when she was determined to win an argument. Without saying a word, he motioned for Izumi to turn around—a gesture that carried an unexpected authority for someone usually so agreeable.
"Ugh, fine..." she huffed, her dramatic pout making her displeasure abundantly clear. With exaggerated reluctance, she shrugged her backpack off her shoulders, the straps slipping away as if weighed down by her indignation.
"Stop whining. It's just a light folding umbrella," Izuku teased, though his tone softened, betraying a hint of affection beneath the mock annoyance. With deliberate care, he unzipped her bag, his fingers moving with precision as he nestled the umbrella inside. He adjusted it gently, ensuring her school supplies remained undisturbed. "The forecast mentioned possible showers this afternoon," he added, glancing at her with a small, knowing smile. "Better to be prepared, don't you think?" His fingers hovered over the zipper, pausing just a heartbeat too long, as though wrestling with unspoken words.
In that fleeting moment, Izumi noticed a faint blue light flicker in his right eye—an ethereal flash that vanished the instant he blinked. "What was that just now?" Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle nudge at the door. "Come on, you don't want to be late," Izuku urged with a soft smile. "Alright, alright, I'm going, Mr. Pushy," Izumi teased, stepping out the door. She glanced back to see her brother waving cheerfully at her. Izumishook her head again and hurriedly walked towards her school.
Izuku turned the lock with a satisfying click and shifted his gaze to the glowing daily quest panel hovering before him.
[ Push-ups: 100/100 - Completed]
[ Sit-ups: 100/100 - Completed]
[ Squats: 100/100 - Completed]
[ Run: 0/10km - Incomplete]
"I think I'll go for a run later," Izuku remarked, flexing his right arm and watching the muscles ripple beneath his skin. A grin tugged at his lips as he marveled at the transformation. "There's no way my body changed this much from just a few days of working out. It has to be the stat points. My strength stat keeps climbing, and I think my body's adapting to hit peak efficiency." He tugged up his shirt, revealing defined abs that were steadily sculpting into a six-pack.
[Player status]
Name: Izuku Midoriya
Level: 18
Class: None
Title: Wolf Assassin
Fatigue: 72
HP: 2220
MP: 350
Strength: 48
Agility: 27
Sense: 27
Health: 27
Intelligence: 43
Available Ability Points: 12
"Am I overdoing it with my strength stats? My intelligence was already high when I got the system," Izuku muttered, a worried expression crossing his face. Suddenly, a thought bubble appeared above him, displaying an exaggerated version of himself as a hulking bodybuilder. "Check out these guns!" the imagined Izuku boomed, striking over-the-top poses and flexing absurdly large muscles. The real Izuku cringed, a sheepish flush creeping onto his cheeks. "Is that what I'm going to look like? Oh, please, no!"
"Even if I have the power to inflict damage, it's meaningless if I can't land a hit. And the reverse is just as true. Strength and agility complement each other perfectly, so I'll focus on agility for now. Strength is important—the higher, the better—but my sense stats turned out to be far more valuable than I ever expected. As for Intelligence? Not worth investing in just yet, high that is." Izuku mused to himself.
New Stats
Strength: 50
Agility: 35
Sense: 29
Health: 27
Intelligence: 43
Available Ability Points: 0
"This should be enough, right?" Izuku muttered to himself, his gaze lingering on his status screen. He tapped his finger against his chin, second-guessing the distribution of his points. No matter who you were—gamer or hunter—it was difficult to feel completely satisfied with every decision. Still, after spending so much time weighing his options, calculating potential outcomes, and considering future challenges, he felt reasonably content with how things had turned out.
He flexed his hand, feeling the new strength flowing through his muscles. The sensation was intoxicating—raw power contained just beneath his skin, ready to be unleashed. Unlike the fragile boy he'd been mere days ago, he now possessed the means to protect others, to make a difference.
Just as he was about to close the status window, the familiar sound of his phone ringing echoed from the living room.
Riiing, riiiing...
Izuku's heart skipped a beat. "Could it be the Association?" he wondered aloud, his pulse quickening. He hadn't received a raid notification in days, and the anticipation had been building within him like a coiled spring.
In the past, he had dreaded these calls, reluctant to join the raids and preferring to delay until the last possible moment. His stomach would knot with anxiety, his palms would sweat, and he'd count the seconds until he could return home safely. But now, everything had changed. He was eager—no, restless—to test his enhanced abilities against the monsters that awaited him.
Without hesitation, Izuku dashed across the room, nearly knocking over a chair in his haste. He snatched the phone from its cradle on the third ring.
"This is Hunter Izuku Midoriya speaking," he answered, his voice firm and confident—a stark contrast to his previously timid tone when addressing official matters.
"Finally! Took you long enough to answer." The voice on the other end was familiar, but decidedly not the professional tone of an Association representative.
Izuku's excitement faltered as he frowned. His free hand, which had been clenched in anticipation, gradually relaxed. It wasn't the Association. Not a raid notification. Not his chance to venture out and test his newfound power.
A disappointed sigh escaped his lips, his anticipation deflating like a punctured balloon. He slumped against the wall, running a hand through his messy black hair.
"Why is it so hard to get in touch with you these days?" The voice continued, oblivious to Izuku's disappointment.
"I'm really sorry about that. I was admitted to the hospital after an incident a few days ago." Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, the memory of his brief but harrowing stay after the gate incident flashing through his mind. It felt oddly distant now, as though it had happened to someone else entirely.
"So that's what happened," the landlord responded, his tone softening with genuine concern. "I had a feeling something was wrong when you didn't call back. You've always been punctual with payments. Well, setting that aside..." The sound of papers shuffling came through the receiver. "Midoriya, about this month's rent—it hasn't come in yet. What's the plan? If you're in a tight spot, I can push it back a month or two."
Izuku blinked at his phone, momentarily stunned. Rent? With everything that had happened—the system, the monsters, the surge of new abilities—mundane matters like paying rent had completely slipped his mind. He quickly recalibrated, his brain scrambling to address the concern.
"Oh, no, it's fine," he replied, straightening up. "I'll send the money later today. The Hunter Association compensated me for the incident, so we're covered."
His gaze flicked to his wallet on the kitchen counter, where the unexpected bonus payment lay tucked away. The Association's generosity had surprised him; they'd labeled the funds as "psychological trauma compensation," likely to avoid complaints or bad publicity.
"Are you sure?" The landlord's voice carried a note of fatherly concern that always made Izuku feel a pang of guilt. "If you need to use that money for medical bills, I don't mind waiting."
"I'm positive," Izuku reassured him. "The Association took care of those expenses too."
"Alright, but don't overdo it, okay?" The landlord sighed, his voice heavy with the wisdom of someone who had seen too many young people burn themselves out. "You're already juggling so much—taking care of your mom and your younger sister. I know money's important, but your health matters too. Don't forget to take care of yourself."
The heartfelt sentiment struck Izuku deeper than he expected. For years, he'd been running himself ragged, trying to support his family while battling his inadequacies as a hunter. Now that he had power, he found himself chasing more—more strength, more raids, more progress. Yet this reminder felt timely: some things hadn't changed.
"Thank you," he said softly, genuinely touched by the concern. "I'll keep that in mind. And I promise the rent will be in your account before the end of the day."
"Good lad. Take care now."
With that, the call ended. Izuku placed the phone down and exhaled deeply, only then realizing how tightly he'd been holding his breath. The grounding weight of bills and responsibilities felt oddly stabilizing after days consumed by thoughts of power and monsters.
"I guess some things never change," he murmured, walking over to retrieve his wallet. "System or no system, the rent still needs to be paid."
Izuku retrieved the bank balance book from a drawer, his fingers brushing over the frayed edges of the worn ledger. The account held a meager 800,000—just over $700.
"Fuu..."
A heavy sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders sagged under the weight of his financial reality. Once he paid the 500,000 rent, he'd be left with a mere 300,000 to cover the month's living expenses—food, utilities, transportation, and the inevitable unexpected costs.
His gaze drifted around the cramped apartment. The low rent was only possible because the building was tucked away in the far-flung outskirts of the city, miles from convenience stores and public transportation. The structure itself was a patchwork of decay, with water stains marring the ceiling and cracks spidering across the walls. The landlord, a kind-hearted elderly man who sympathized with Izuku's struggles, had refrained from raising the rent for years.
"In today's market, finding anything for 500,000 is practically a miracle," Izuku muttered, closing the balance book with a dull thud. Even this modest amount pushed his budget to the brink, and surviving on 300,000 for the month felt like an impossible challenge in the face of rising costs.
"I need to make money—fast," he resolved, his voice gaining a determined edge. Urgent matters demanded action. His eyes caught his reflection in the window: a young man with steely determination, no longer the trembling novice who once quaked before an E-ranked monster.
Izuku's thoughts churned as he considered the financial ecosystem of Hunters. How did they earn their keep? The answer was both simple and daunting: by slaying monsters.
Elite Hunters—those ranked S or A—lived lavish lives. They enjoyed lucrative sponsorships from major corporations, starred in glossy commercials, and made guest appearances on popular shows. Their earnings rivaled or even surpassed, those of chaebols—the ultra-wealthy owners of Korea's massive conglomerates. Yet these Hunters were the exception, not the rule.
For the majority of Hunters, the reality was far less glamorous. They had to brave dungeons regularly just to make ends meet. The equation was straightforward: higher ranks granted access to more dangerous dungeons, which offered better rewards. A Hunter's income was directly tied to their skill and courage.
But for Izuku, stuck in the E-rank category, the path forward was fraught with obstacles. His stats had improved dramatically, yet his official rank remained unchanged—a glaring limitation in the eyes of potential employers.
Scrolling through job postings on his phone, Izuku's expression darkened with frustration. "If I could just join an assault team, even temporarily..." he murmured, his thumb hovering over promising listings.
One by one, he dialed the numbers. Each conversation ended the same way:
"E-rank? Sorry, we're looking for more experienced Hunters."
"An E-rank for a B-gate? That's a liability, not an asset."
"Call back when you've upgraded your rank, kid."
Freelance Hunters, who posted these openings, operated without the safety nets of major guilds. Their survival hinged on the competence of their teammates, making an E-rank Hunter an unacceptable risk.
These freelancers occupied a precarious middle ground—too skilled for Association work but not exceptional enough to join established guilds. They assembled their teams, shouldering all the risks and responsibilities. Even so, they earned upwards of 10,000,000 monthly—around $8,830—a stark contrast to Izuku's dire financial situation.
It was the quintessential "High Risk, High Reward" scenario. They risked their lives daily, facing creatures capable of tearing them apart in seconds, but the rewards justified the peril. Ordinary citizens envied and mythologized Hunters, dazzled by the glamorous facade of the profession.
Izuku, however, couldn't afford to indulge in envy. His abilities had grown exponentially, yet his rank kept him shackled to poverty.
'Should I just take the rank reassignment test and upgrade?' The thought emerged naturally, but he dismissed it with a decisive shake of his head.
A sudden leap in rank would attract unwanted attention. Whether classified as A, B, or even C, the phenomenon of Re-Awakening would spark intense scrutiny. Hunters thrived on gossip, and a sudden rank increase would place him in the spotlight—a dangerous position for someone with his unique abilities.
His power to continuously strengthen himself would eventually be discovered, triggering a cascade of questions:
"A Hunter who can grow stronger over time?"
"How does he do it?"
"Who is he?"
"What can we learn from him?"
Interest would be inevitable—he represented something unprecedented in the Hunter world. But not all interests would be benign. Among those curious about his abilities would lurk individuals with darker motives—those who might want to exploit him, study him, or eliminate him as a potential threat.
"If just one of those hostile parties possesses significant power..." Izuku shuddered at the thought, a cold weight settling in his stomach. Despite his recent improvements, he remained vulnerable. Until he developed enough strength to defend himself against any potential threat, remaining unnoticed seemed the wiser course.
'But I still need to make money,' he reminded himself, returning to his immediate problem.
A regular part-time job wasn't viable either. The Association could call at any moment for a raid, and he couldn't risk missing those opportunities. Each dungeon raid provided both financial compensation and valuable experience—essential resources for his growth. Sacrificing those chances for minimum-wage work at a convenience store or cafe made little sense.
While deliberating his limited options, a new posting on the bulletin board caught his attention, the notification pinging on his phone:
- Emergency! Searching for a single Hunter, regardless of the rank! Needs to come right away!
Izuku's eyes widened as he noted the timestamp—the posting had appeared mere seconds ago. When he examined the details, he was pleased to discover the location wasn't far from his apartment—perhaps fifteen minutes by foot if he hurried.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone and dialed the contact number. The other party must have been anxiously awaiting responses because they answered immediately before the first ring had even been completed.
"Hello?" The voice sounded slightly breathless, tension evident in their tone.
Izuku introduced himself, stating his rank upfront to avoid wasting anyone's time, then waited for the inevitable rejection that had become so familiar.
"Oh, you're an E-rank?" The response carried surprise but, unexpectedly, not dismissal.
"It's fine," the voice continued, to Izuku's astonishment. "We just need someone to show up and fill the headcount, that's all. However, it's a C-rank Gate, so it would be difficult for you to hunt there effectively." There was a brief pause. "We'll split the actual profits among ourselves and give you 2,000,000 in cash. How about it? Can you come right away?"
Izuku's heartbeat quickened. 2,000,000 for a day's work! (Around $1765)
It was a substantial amount simply for being present to complete the required number of Hunters. The offer was tempting—more than tempting, it was a lifeline. While it was disappointing that he wouldn't share in the dungeon's actual loot, quibbling over terms might cost him this opportunity altogether.
"Address the immediate crisis first," he reminded himself, thinking practically. Such opportunities were rare for E-ranked Hunters, especially ones with his reputation for weakness and timidity. The amount offered would cover his and his sister's living expenses for the month, alleviating his most pressing concern.
With newfound confidence in his voice, Izuku accepted the offer. "I'll be there in less than 15 minutes," he promised, already reaching for his hunting gear.
To be continued...