Chapter 11: Monster Hunt Fest
A soft click echoed through the quiet room as a young man entered, dragging his luggage behind him.
Relief and exhaustion were written across his face as he pulled his suitcase and several bags of groceries inside. The bags were awkwardly bulky, making them difficult to carry without crushing or damaging something.
This young man was Raven.
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
10:48 PM.
He had not expected it to be this late by the time he finally settled down.
Raven placed the groceries inside the refrigerator before letting out a long sigh. He rubbed his forehead, then dropped onto the bed.
The hunter registration process had been far more exhausting than he expected.
The magical energy measurement itself had been quick. Raven had initially assumed that, after his rank was determined, the next step would simply involve demonstrating his abilities so they could identify what type of hunter he was.
Instead, once the evaluation was over, he was required to attend a mandatory seminar for newly awakened hunters.
The session covered the rules hunters were expected to follow, dungeon protocols, guild structures, monster classifications, and the laws surrounding awakened individuals. Much of the information could probably be found online, but certain details were restricted from the general public.
The Association used the seminar to prepare new hunters for what awaited them inside a dungeon—and, more importantly, to warn them about the mistakes that could get them killed.
The seminar lasted for more than three hours.
Raven could understand why it was necessary.
For someone like him, who had only recently awakened, the information was useful. He had already encountered real monsters, but that experience did not mean he understood everything about dungeons.
Still, not everyone shared his opinion.
Most of the other newly awakened hunters appeared impatient. Some were clearly bored, while others barely paid attention whenever the discussion turned toward common low-rank monsters such as goblins, kobolds, or insects.
Raven understood why.
Unlike him, most of them had never stood in front of a living monster.
They had never experienced the pressure of watching a creature charge at them with the intention of tearing them apart. They had never felt their body freeze because their instincts were screaming at them to run.
Because of that, many of them were overly confident.
They seemed to believe that if they were classified as E-rank, then they could naturally defeat E-rank monsters.
Raven knew that was not necessarily true.
Hunter rank measured magical energy. It did not determine experience, combat ability, intelligence, or how well someone could perform under pressure.
Even hunters of the same rank could have significant differences in strength.
An E-rank hunter might be capable of defeating several other E-rank hunters. The difference became even more obvious as the ranks increased.
The same applied to monsters.
Two goblins could belong to the same species while possessing completely different levels of strength. One might be slow and weak, while another could be larger, faster, and far more dangerous.
This was reality.
There were no fixed enemy statistics. No guarantee that every monster of the same species would have exactly the same abilities.
Raven suspected that this was one of the reasons low-rank hunters suffered such high casualty rates.
The Association could provide basic information, but it could not compete with the knowledge possessed by major guilds. Nor did it seem interested in teaching newly awakened hunters about monsters they were unlikely to encounter anytime soon.
Those who show exceptional result during their evaluations were often recruited by mid-sized or major guilds. They would receive better training, better equipment, and access to information that ordinary hunters might never see.
Compared to that, today's seminar felt more like a safety measure.
The Association was giving new hunters enough knowledge to reduce the chances of them dying during their first few raids.
Nothing more.
By the time everything was finished, it was already late.
Raven had originally planned to inspect several places before choosing somewhere to stay, but that was no longer possible. In the end, he searched for a hotel, checked the reviews, and made sure there were no suspicious complaints before immediately booking a room.
If he had not done so, he might have been forced to spend another night at his old apartment.
Raven had no intention of taking that risk.
He was almost certain that another weekly quest would arrive by morning.
He did not want a repeat of the previous incident.
So, he chose an extended-stay hotel.
Raven paid for an entire week in advance and bought enough groceries to last him for several days. If he returned from another quest injured, he would not have to leave the room just to buy food or other necessities.
After exchanging the mana crystals he had obtained, Raven had possessed around ninety thousand credits.
Now, only about twelve thousand remained.
A large portion had gone toward the hotel, groceries, clothes, and other supplies.
He had even bought basic kitchen utensils.
After all, eating outside every day would quickly drain what little money he had left.
With everything finally settled, Raven lay on the bed.
Within minutes, exhaustion claimed him.
---
The next morning, Raven woke before dawn.
4:47 AM.
His eyes opened, and for a few seconds, he remained still.
Then he sat up.
He had already grown used to waking up early because of the System's daily tasks. After washing up, he stretched his body and began preparing for the possibility of another trip to the Forest of Death.
He changed into charcoal-gray jogging pants made from quick-drying fabric. They fit comfortably without restricting his movement.
The material was thick enough to provide some protection against thorns and insects while remaining light enough for him to move freely. The elastic cuffs also covered his ankles, reducing the amount of exposed skin.
For his upper body, he wore a long-sleeved athletic shirt beneath a zip-up hooded jacket. The shirt was tightly woven, while the jacket had a high collar and thumbholes that kept the sleeves securely over his wrists.
He was not wearing armor.
But after what he experienced during his first weekly quest, Raven had learned that even a thin layer of protection could make a difference.
Next came a pair of reinforced gardening gloves.
They were not designed for combat, but they offered better protection than his bare hands while still allowing him to maintain a firm grip.
His trail-running shoes had thick soles and reinforced toes, making them suitable for uneven terrain.
Finally, Raven pulled up his hood.
It was far from proper equipment.
Still, it was better than entering that forest completely unprepared.
Once he finished changing, Raven looked toward the kitchen counter.
A knife rested there.
He had carefully selected it the previous day.
Raven picked it up and tested its weight.
Then he swung.
The blade cut through the air.
A faint white streak followed the motion.
He swung again.
The result was the same.
To an ordinary person, the sight might have looked impressive.
Raven, however, knew the truth.
The effect had little to do with skill.
It was simply the result of his increased strength.
An ordinary swing had become considerably more dangerous in his hands.
Yet instead of feeling reassured, Raven frowned as he stared at the knife.
Can this thing even survive fighting a monster?
He remembered the goblins.
Their bodies were made of flesh, but they were far more durable than ordinary animals. Their skin and muscles possessed a toughness that made them difficult to injure with conventional weapons.
A firearm might be capable of injuring a low-rank monster.
But killing one was another matter entirely.
That was one of the reasons hunters had become such an important part of a country's fighting force.
If modern weapons already struggled against weaker magical creatures, then what about stronger monsters?
Humanity could not simply solve every dungeon outbreak by dropping increasingly powerful bombs on the affected area.
If nations truly began relying on weapons of mass destruction whenever a powerful dungeon appeared, humanity would eventually destroy itself long before the monsters managed to do so.
Raven looked down at the kitchen knife again.
Using it against a monster felt almost ridiculous.
Still, it was better than entering the forest unarmed.
He placed the knife aside.
Time passed.
Then, a familiar notification appeared before him.
---
Quest Notification
[ Ding! ]
[ Weekly Quest: Monster Hunt Fest! ]
Goal: Hunt 500 Monsters
Time Limit: 24 Hours
Location: Forest of Death
Mission Starts In: 59 minutes, 52 seconds
Failure Condition: Unable to kill 500 monsters within the time limit.
Penalty: System Quest will be suspended for one week.
Rewards:
· +5 Attribute Points
· Mana Crystal [E] ×1
· Random Loot Bag
---
Raven stared at the notification.
The interface was the same.
The goal was not.
Unlike his first weekly quest, this one was not centered on survival.
This time, the System wanted him to hunt.
And more importantly, failure would not result in death.
At least, not directly.
"Is it because the first quest was meant to test whether I could survive?" Raven muttered.
If that was the reason, then failing the first quest had probably meant death because the System considered survival the minimum requirement.
This quest was different.
He only needed to kill five hundred monsters.
The penalty for failure was the suspension of System quests for one week.
That should have been reassuring.
Instead, Raven felt uneasy.
He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
"No matter what happens, I still have to complete it."
Before his first weekly quest, Raven might not have cared as much.
But the Forest of Death had changed his perspective.
It had forced him to understand something he had previously ignored.
He was weak.
Not slightly weak.
Weak enough that most hunters he had encountered could probably defeat him without much difficulty.
Even some of the people around his level were dangerous enough to become a problem.
There would be no convenient period where he could slowly grow stronger while everyone else remained conveniently weaker than him.
This was not some story where a weak protagonist could provoke stronger people without consequences and expect someone else to rescue him at the last moment.
If Raven acted recklessly, he would simply get beaten.
Or worse.
Right now, even an ordinary person could potentially cause him problems.
Not because Raven lacked the strength to fight, but because he was still bound by the laws of society.
His position was insignificant.
His opinions carried little weight.
And if someone stronger or more influential decided to make his life difficult, he did not yet possess the power or connections necessary to deal with it.
More than sixty percent of the hunters he had encountered were probably capable of beating him badly in a direct confrontation.
If he wanted to retaliate against anyone, he would have to think carefully.
One mistake could easily place him in an even worse situation.
Then there were the monsters.
Creatures that did not care about laws, status, or consequences.
Creatures that existed to kill.
No one could guarantee that Raven would never encounter another dungeon outbreak.
Even powerful countries could not claim complete safety.
The Philippines certainly could not.
Dungeon breaks did not occur based solely on the rank of a dungeon. Timing and location also mattered. Some outbreaks happened because a dungeon was discovered too late, while others occurred because the hunters responsible for clearing it failed.
There were too many variables.
Raven could not afford to assume that he would always be safe.
So he had to become stronger.
As strong as possible.
As quickly as possible.
He sat down on the sofa and waited.
The countdown continued.
Raven spent the remaining time preparing himself mentally, thinking through every strategy he might need once he returned to the Forest of Death.
Yet the closer the timer came to zero, the heavier the feeling in his chest became.
This was not his first time entering that forest.
But that did not mean he felt safe.
There was no guarantee that things would happen the same way.
When Raven thought about his previous quest, most of what he remembered was desperation.
He had fought because he had no other choice.
He had run when running was the only way to stay alive.
He had survived through instinct, luck, and sheer stubbornness.
His current strength was far greater than it had been during that first quest.
But strength did not eliminate uncertainty.
There was no guarantee that he would encounter only goblins this time.
And even if goblins were once again the primary enemy, there was another problem.
Time.
Five hundred monsters.
Twenty-four hours.
Raven believed he could kill five hundred goblins.
Maybe.
But could he find five hundred goblins within the time limit?
What if there were not enough?
What if stronger monsters appeared instead?
If that happened, he would have to adapt.
Study them.
Find their weaknesses.
Develop a strategy.
All while the timer continued counting down.
Raven leaned back against the sofa.
"Am I going to have to fight recklessly again?"
He sighed.
Again.
At this point, he had already lost count of how many times he had sighed out of helplessness since arriving in this world.
The countdown continued.
Raven stared silently at the notification floating before him.
Then his expression gradually hardened.
Whatever waited for him inside the Forest of Death, he would face it.
He had no intention of remaining weak forever.