PROLOGUE
[Daily Quest is now available]
The monotone voice echoed in his head.
Timothy Walters sighed as the glowing system screen appeared before him, floating mid-air.
He had treated it like a game at first, but it was quickly turning into a nightmare.
Still, he had no choice, debts didn't pay themselves.
With a reluctant breath, he opened his eyes to face the familiar list:
[Daily Quest: A Strong Body]
Push-ups: 100 – Incomplete (0/100)
Sit-ups: 100 – Incomplete (0/100)
Squats: 100 – Incomplete (0/100)
Running: 10 km – Incomplete (0/10)
Warning: Failure to complete daily quests will result in penalties.
The same tasks, day after day.
No matter how much he tried to get used to them, the frustration never faded.
---
E-Rank Hunter: Timothy Walters.
The name alone was enough to make people lower their voices in his presence, not out of respect, but pity.
He was infamous, not for his strength, but for his failure to advance.
In the world of hunters, E-rank meant being barely above an ordinary human.
With enough effort, most hunters could eventually climb the ranks from E to A.
But Timothy? He'd been stuck at E since he started at eighteen.
Two years had passed, yet every re-evaluation brought the same crushing result: E-rank.
At first, they called him a late bloomer.
Now, they called him a failure.
Recently, Timothy had begun slacking off during dungeon raids, further fueling the rumors.
Many urged him to quit, but where else could he go? In Nigeria, finding a decent-paying job without skills or education was nearly impossible.
Even after taxes and medical expenses, being a hunter paid better than most options.
With the minimum wage barely covering basic needs, this job despite its risks was his best shot.
And so, no matter how much he dreaded it, Timothy always showed up when summoned.
---
Most of his former peers had climbed the ranks, yet they still occasionally returned to raid E-rank dungeons like the one today.
Timothy suspected it was due to the fierce competition at higher levels, but he never asked.
Standing outside the dungeon gate, he arrived last, as usual.
The other hunters stared at him, some with irritation, others with thinly veiled hostility.
He wasn't afraid of them.
He was afraid of getting kicked out.
Mister Cyril George, the supervisor, barely acknowledged him.
"Family issues?" Cyril asked, not bothering to hide his disapproval.
"You're growing up, kid. You need to be prepared. A minute later, and you'd be off the list."
Timothy nodded silently.
Despite Cyril's stern words, he was one of the few who didn't openly wish for Timothy's failure.
Before the raid began, Cyril addressed the group.
"Together we stand, divided we fall. Respect each other's circumstances, but remember, priorities matter. The guild and association are getting restless. Awakening rates are rising again..."
Cyril scanned the crowd, letting the weight of his words settle.
Everyone knew what it meant.
The stronger the threats, the weaker humanity felt in comparison.
Rumors or not, trouble was coming.
"...Work hard today, and we might get through this without interference."
The hunters responded with nods and murmurs of agreement.
No one wanted to deal with the Hunter Association's scrutiny, but everyone dreamed of catching the guild's attention, where the real money was.
Timothy stood quietly, watching them all.
He knew the drill.
Just another day.
Another raid.
Another chance to survive.
And perhaps, another step toward proving himself.
...
Timothy understood Mr. Cyril's words all too well, they were a reminder to keep his issues in check and not burden others.
He sighed, appreciating the subtle support, then glanced around for the warm-up beverage usually served before raids.
Empty cups.
He was too late, again.
The cold wind brushed past his face, and he sighed.
'Great, no breakfast either.'
Resigned, he squatted under a nearby tree, his eyes fixed on the looming dungeon gate.
Behind it lay another hunt, another struggle.
This one was ranked D, far beyond his capabilities.
Most of the monsters had already been dealt with by stronger hunters, something he could only dream of doing himself.
Looking around, he noticed something unsettling, no healers in sight.
Cutting costs again?
He reached into his worn-out bag and pulled out his only weapon, a dull kitchen knife, safely tucked into a crude paper sheath.
Slipping it back, he slung his bag onto a low-hanging branch. Nothing valuable in it anyway, except his phone.
No need for fancy gear, he reminded himself.
The rules were simple: bring what you can and don't die.
Unfortunately, good equipment cost money, and dying? That was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Despite his unimpressive physique, Timothy had learned to survive.
Two years of raids had taught him well, even if he was stuck at E-rank.
He knew his place, the weakest team always entered last, and he was no exception.
---
The raid ended quicker than expected.
Timothy couldn't stop grinning, even though he barely contributed.
The others were too strong, leaving him to scavenge leftovers.
Still, he had managed to take down an E-rank monster and scored a mana crystal worth eighty thousand naira.
A small victory.
His wounds were minor, just a few scratches.
Nothing his meager medical budget couldn't handle.
But something felt off.
The dungeon seemed... emptier than usual, as if the earlier teams had cleared more than necessary.
Less monsters than usual? That's strange.
Timothy didn't have time to dwell on it.
"Hey, what the hell!" someone yelled, snapping everyone to attention.
A fellow hunter had fallen, half-buried under a sudden pile of dirt.
Several hunters rushed to pull him out.
Once free, all eyes locked onto the ground where he fell.
A hidden passage.
The tunnel was roughly five meters in diameter, dark and ominous.
It wasn't supposed to be there, no boss had been encountered yet.
Whispers spread through the group.
"A dual dungeon?" Mr. Cyril muttered, frowning.
"But we didn't see a boss yesterday," Dede pointed out.
"We're about to find out." One of the hunters, a familiar face to Timothy, stepped forward, eager to explore.
Cyril's sharp voice cut through the excitement.
"Take one more step, and this will be your last raid."
Everyone froze.
No one dared to defy Cyril, despite his unassuming looks, he was a hair away from C-rank, and the rumors said he was even stronger.
The reckless hunter retreated, and Cyril's experienced gaze swept the group.
He saw it, the greed in their eyes.
It was stronger than he had ever seen before.
Some were itching to go in, others hesitant, but Timothy was simply... curious.
What's inside?
Cyril sighed and called for a meeting.
The group fell into formation a few meters from the passage, waiting.
He was relieved they were still willing to listen, though he could feel their anticipation.
Clearing his throat, he began.
"As you all know, a gate won't close until all bosses inside are defeated. The fact that this dungeon is still open means there's unfinished business." He paused, his gaze steady.
"The boss might be beyond that passage. Or it might not. Either way, we must tread carefully."
His words were meant to persuade, to steer them toward caution.
But as Timothy watched the growing hunger in their eyes, he realized...
Greed had already taken hold.
...
"We're supposed to report discoveries like this to the association," Mr. Cyril said, his voice steady but thoughtful.
"But if there's something valuable down that passage, we'd be handing over our gains for nothing. On the other hand, if it's empty, we're wasting our time."
The hunters exchanged glances, wondering where this speech was going.
Cyril, as experienced as he was, seemed to be stalling.
"I'll be honest," he continued.
"As the eldest and highest-ranking here, we have no obligation to proceed. But I know not everyone sees it that way. So, let's settle this with a vote." He pointed toward the ominous tunnel.
"Those in favor of moving forward?"
Before he could finish, hands shot up, fifteen in total, mostly men.
Timothy, to his own surprise, was among them.
"And those who want to do the right thing?" Cyril asked with a smirk, his words carefully chosen.
Nine hands went up, mostly women.
The result was clear, but Cyril hesitated, turning to Dede, his assistant.
"Don't forget where we are," Dede whispered.
Cyril sighed. "That bad, huh?"
Just then, a towering figure approached Timothy.
The man was nearly seven feet tall, his presence intimidating yet strangely friendly.
"What's good, Tim?" he said casually.
Timothy blinked. "Uh... I'm okay?" He didn't recognize the guy.
"Uche, but they call me 'Mag', short for magnificent," the man grinned, and several others chuckled, clearly familiar with him.
"Didn't expect you to vote for it, but hey, you motivated me. So, thanks."
Timothy gave a hesitant nod.
Truth be told, he had second thoughts, but seeing others step forward, especially someone like Mag had fueled his own courage.
Soon after, a burst of fire shot into the tunnel, illuminating the darkness before fizzling out.