Prologue
[Daily Quest is now available.]
The monotonic voice of a female rang out in his ears.
He subconsciously kept treating this as a game, but it was morphing into a nightmare.
Either way, he could not ignore the system screen floating mid-air before him or the voice in his head.
He reluctantly sighed.
Anytime he remembered his reason for doing this, he just had to, because that was how debts worked.
As soon as he opened his eyes, the system screen displayed its information.
[Daily Quest: A Strong Body...]
Push-ups, 100 times: Incomplete (0/100)
Sit-ups, 100 times: Incomplete (0/100)
Squats, 100 times: Incomplete (0/100)
Running, 10 km: Incomplete (0/10)
Warning: A penalty will be awarded for failure to complete daily quests.
I confirmed the information on the system.
As always, it was the same daily quests.
At this point, I thought I'd be numb to it, but alas, it was futile.
---
E-rank Hunter: Timothy Walters
At the mention of Timothy Walters' name, no one dared to breathe loudly.
Simply because he was infamous in the area.
His notoriety came from his behavior, but ultimately, he couldn't be blamed.
Timothy was nothing special, only as strong as a 20-year-old youth and more optimistic than anyone else, literally.
All E-rank hunters were essentially human-level strong, with only a minority being slightly stronger than a seasoned bodybuilder.
But Timothy was unique in one regard: he had never left the position of E-rank, not by choice, though.
Being a hunter was synonymous with being a gambler, though with slightly higher odds of hitting it big.
All humans who became hunters eventually got ranked, mostly from E to A.
And for those ranked E, there was always hope.
The more dungeon raids you participated in, the more experience you gained, and eventually, you'd climb the ranks.
Timothy had been in the hunting job since the legal age of 18.
Considering the time and devotion he had put in, he should have at least ranked up once.
Alas, each time he went for re-evaluation, the result was the same: E-rank.
Initially, people called him a late bloomer, as his devotion should have been proportional to his talent.
But after two years, he was widely regarded as a failure.
Recently, he had grown more and more lax with dungeon raids, making the rumors about him even more believable.
He had been asked several times to quit and turn in his hunting license, but in Nigeria, where would one find a low-ranking job that paid this decently?
This was after all taxes and necessary expenses, like medical bills, had been deducted from his earnings.
Fortunately or unfortunately, this was still the best job he could take.
One had to understand that the minimum wage for a citizen had only recently been increased to seventy thousand Naira (roughly $45) monthly.
For an uneducated youth with no tangible skills, avoiding complaints at home meant he had to do something.
And this was the best option available to him.
That's why he had to show up every time he got a raid notification from the association.
Most of Timothy's acquaintances had already climbed the ranks.
Despite their newfound power, they occasionally returned to raid E-rank dungeons.
Timothy had no concrete idea why, but he assumed it was because dungeon competition became fiercer at higher levels.
This time, the Hunter Association had summoned all eligible hunters in the area for a dungeon raid.
That was why Timothy showed up.
When he arrived, it was clear he was the last to do so.
Every pair of eyes turned to him, their expressions calm but unmistakably critical.
He could sense the hostility and thinly veiled anger in their gazes.
Timothy felt a pang of fear, not of these venomous stares, but of the possibility that the supervisor might send him away.
If that happened, his reputation would completely collapse.
He had a reason for his lateness, but would anyone care to listen?
His eyes landed on the man in charge: Mister Cyril George.
Cyril didn't seem concerned about Timothy's late arrival.
Instead, he simply greeted him with a measured statement.
"Family issues? You're growing up, kid. You've got a lot on your plate, but you need to stay prepared. Another minute late, and I'd have taken you off the register."
It was obvious Cyril wasn't exactly on Timothy's side, but he wasn't against him either.
His words carried a subtle reprimand, yet his calm demeanor suggested he wasn't swayed by the general disdain toward Timothy.
Cyril was experienced enough to see through biases, even if others weren't.
To clear the tension in the group, Cyril quickly gathered everyone's attention and began speaking.
"Before we start, I want to remind you all that together we stand, and divided we fall. Everyone has their circumstances, and we should respect them. But at the same time, we all have priorities. Respecting each other helps us work better as a team. The association and guild are on edge right now. Honestly, I think it's because the awakening rates have gone up again..."
He paused, scanning the group as his words sank in.
Everyone understood what he meant.
The stronger the threat, the more unbalanced humanity's standing became.
"...So, work hard," Cyril continued.
"If we stay focused, we'll get through this without drawing unnecessary attention from the association."
His announcement concluded, and the hunters responded with a collective grunt of acknowledgment.
They all understood Cyril's message.
No one wanted trouble with the association, but being recruited by the guild was another matter entirely.
The promise of nearly double the profits with the right contract made every hunter hungry to prove themselves.
Timothy, however, focused on a different part of Cyril's speech.
He understood it as a reminder to stay in line, keep his issues to himself, and avoid making others uncomfortable.
He sighed, grateful for the help Mr. Cyril had offered him, even if it wasn't much.
Timothy glanced around, hoping to find the warm-up beverages usually served before raids.
Instead, he saw only discarded plastic cups scattered across the ground.
He sighed again, late as always.
By the time he arrived, everything had already been emptied.
A cold wind brushed against his face, causing him to shiver slightly.
'What a bad way to start the day,' he thought, his stomach growling.
He hadn't even had breakfast yet.
Reluctantly, he walked over to a tree and squatted beneath it, letting the shadows offer him some respite.
His gaze drifted to the gate in front of him.
He wondered what lay behind it this time.
Normally, a gate led to a dungeon, and this particular one was classified as a D-rank.
It was a level of danger he could only dream of clearing himself.
A dozen-plus hunters had already gone ahead and dealt with the bulk of the monsters inside.
Clearing something like this on his own? For an E-rank like him, it was nothing more than wishful thinking.
Timothy scanned the crowd of hunters gathered for the raid.
'Are they cutting costs?' he wondered, his brows furrowing.
The absence of an experienced hunter apart from the regulars like Mr Cyril was unusual and made him uneasy.
Still, he had to be prepared, no matter how late they were already.
Timothy opened his bag, pulling out his only weapon: a second-hand knife, no different from a regular kitchen knife.
Its blade rested in a makeshift sheath of paper.
He slung his bag over a low-hanging branch.
There wasn't anything valuable in it, just his phone.
One didn't have to look like a game character to enter a dungeon.
The rules were simple: bring your equipment and don't die.
Timothy smirked bitterly at the thought.
Money was tight, and he couldn't afford proper gear.
Death, on the other hand, was a luxury only the poor could afford.
He'd been through plenty of raids by now, enough to make him excellent at what he did.
Still, his appearance reflected none of that.
He wasn't particularly strong or intimidating, just average in size and build.
The faces around the gate were a mix of familiar and unfamiliar, but Timothy hardly paid them any mind.
This was the last team to enter the dungeon, as always.
That couldn't be blamed on him.
The weakest group always went in last, it was a rule designed for safety.
---
Soon enough, they had cleared out the final remnants of the dungeon.
Timothy couldn't stop smiling.
He hadn't managed to kill much, most of the other hunters were far more powerful than him, but he had taken down one E-rank monster.
The reward? A mana crystal.
These crystals could sell for as much as eighty thousand Naira.
To Timothy, it was a small fortune.
Making a month's worth in a day.
Better yet, he hadn't sustained any major injuries.
A few scratches here and there, but nothing serious.
His medical bills wouldn't eat into his profits much this time.
He was already thinking about the inevitable miscellaneous expenses he'd need to cover.
But something about the raid didn't sit right with him.
'The monsters here seem way too few,' he thought, his smile fading slightly.
It was as if the earlier teams had gone overboard, clearing more than they needed to.
Still, for Timothy, it had been a good day.