Ren Kisaragi's hands were steady as he sliced through the hide of a dead orc, prying out the mana crystal embedded in its chest. The dungeon was silent now, the real hunters long gone, leaving only the corpses and scavengers like him to pick through the remains.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. The air stank of blood, burnt flesh, and something sickly sweet—an orc's last breath. His mother and little sister were waiting at home, and they needed food. This crystal would fetch enough to last them a few more days.
Ren exhaled sharply and continued his work. Every part of the monster had value—the bones, the fangs, the hide. He'd learned how to strip a carcass efficiently over the past three years, ever since his father died in a dungeon collapse. That day had shattered everything, including Ren himself.
Everyone in the world awakened their powers at fourteen. Everyone except him. His body had locked itself away, refusing to grant him an ability. The doctors said it was mental—his trauma had suppressed the process. But knowing the reason didn't change the reality: he was powerless in a world where power meant survival.
"Still playing corpse collector, Ren?"
The voice made him tense. He turned to see a group of young hunters standing at the dungeon's entrance, smirking. One of them, Daigo, stepped forward, twirling a short blade between his fingers.
Ren ignored them and kept working. He didn't have time for this.
"What, too good to answer?" Daigo sneered. "Oh wait, you're just scared. No power, no future. Just a little rat, digging through the leftovers."
Ren clenched his jaw but didn't respond. He had nothing to prove to them.
"Leave him alone," a voice cut in. A girl with short black hair stepped into the torchlight—Kaede, one of the few hunters who didn't treat Ren like dirt.
"Tch. Whatever." Daigo scoffed. "Not like he's worth the effort."
The group left, their laughter echoing in the cavern. Kaede lingered for a moment before giving Ren a small nod and following them out.
Ren sighed, standing up and dusting himself off. He slung his bag of scavenged parts over his shoulder and made his way toward the exit.
Someday, he would break this lock. Someday, he would awaken. Until then, he would survive the only way he knew how.