To the left, a wide staircase led to what I assumed was the second floor. To the right, an entire wall was covered in fliers, neatly pinned to wooden boards. They varied in color, size, and detail—some written in fine ink, others scrawled in messy handwriting.
Curious, I took a closer look.
- "Beeflower – Need 5. Reward: 25 Copper."
- "Goblin Ears & Tongues – Reward: 2 Silver."
However, my eyes narrowed as I spotted a restriction at the bottom of the goblin quest:
"Only available for Third-Class Hunters and above."
Huh… so monster-related jobs had some sort of rank requirement.
The place was bustling, with people moving between different areas—some gathered around the quest board, others chatting at tables, and several forming lines in front of a long wooden counter at the center of the hall.
There were five receptionists, each handling their own line, and every one of them was swamped with adventurers.
We made our way toward the front, weaving through the crowd, before stepping into one of the lines.
The goal was simple—figure out what we needed to do to start making money.
As we spoke with the receptionist, she explained the process of taking a quest.
To accept a job, we first had to grab a flier from the quest board and bring it to the counter. Before we could take the job, we had to pay half of the reward upfront as a deposit. If we failed to complete the quest within 24 hours and returned empty-handed, the guild would keep the deposit and repost the quest for others to take. However, we would still have the option to attempt the same quest again—provided we paid the deposit a second time.
For example, if I took the goblin hunting quest, which offered a reward of 2 silver, I would need to pay 1 silver upfront. Upon completing the quest, the guild would return my deposit along with the 2 silver reward, meaning I would receive a total of 3 silver. But if I failed, they would keep my 1 silver, ultimately making a profit while ensuring that only serious applicants took on quests.
This entire system was designed to maximize the guild’s profits while ensuring only serious applicants took on quests.
The receptionist also explained the hunter ranking system to us. Hunters were classified into three main ranks—Third Class, Second Class, and First Class. Third Class was the entry-level rank, while Second Class could only be attained through a recommendation from an existing Second-Class hunter. As for First Class, it was a special designation granted solely by the guild masters, making it an exclusive and prestigious title.
Now, all that was left was for us to do what we needed to become official hunters.
"Five silver to take the test," the receptionist replied bluntly.
Milio froze. His jaw dropped open, and he stared at her like she had just announced the end of the world.
"Can you… repeat that?" he asked, his voice hollow.
"Five silver to take the test," she repeated, unfazed.
Milio blinked rapidly. "Once more, please."
At this point, he sounded like a broken record, completely shaken by the price.
I sighed. Of course, there had to be a catch. The receptionist further explained that if we failed the test, we wouldn’t be allowed to retake it for an entire year—unless we received a recommendation from an existing hunter. That meant we had only one shot at this, and failure would set us back significantly.
When we asked about the test itself, the only response we got was:
"A combat trial. Judges will determine if you're qualified."
That was it. No details.
With that information in mind, we returned to the quest board, now painfully aware of our circumstances.
Milio, still shaken, looked like he had just been slapped across the face by reality.
“We're doomed. We’re never paying that money back—we’re stuck in this debt,” Milio groaned, gripping his hair as he anxiously paced in circles around us, his movements growing more frantic by the second.
“What are we even supposed to do?! Forget about getting permanently branded as criminals—we might not even survive the next month at this rate!” Milio threw his hands up in frustration, his voice rising with panic. “We’re done!”
He gestured toward the quest board, his expression darkening. “Some of these fliers only pay 25 copper for gathering plants! Even if we split those jobs between us, it would take forever just to scrape together 20 silver to pay off our debt.” His shoulders slumped as he let out a defeated sigh. “We’re completely screwed.”
He suddenly paused, his eyes darting toward the ground as if considering something. “Maybe I should swap places with Lucian… there’s still time.”
Milio was spiraling, his panic growing by the second.
I watched him, a bit taken aback.
I had expected him to be more confident, maybe even the type to crack a joke in this situation. But no—he was genuinely freaking out.
Meanwhile, Victor stood still, deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he processed the situation.
Then, after a long pause, he finally spoke.
“I say we take the test,” Victor said, his voice calm and decisive.
“What? You can’t be serious… I don’t know how to fight! I might—no, I will fail!” Milio said, his voice rising as he turned to Victor, his expression filled with panic.
I couldn’t blame him.
Honestly, I felt the same way. Whoever was running this test had to be skilled, and while I had some combat training, I wasn’t confident it would be enough to pass.
Victor, on the other hand, didn’t waver.
“Come on,” he said. “We’re gifted. We have abilities. We’re different from the normal folk.”
“Easy for you to say!” Milio snapped, stepping closer to Victor. “My ability is useless!”
“Calm down,” Victor said, unfazed. “I’m certain being gifted doesn’t just mean having abilities—it must have made us physically superior too. We aren’t normal anymore. They won’t stand a chance.”
Something about his certainty made me pause. Maybe he was right. Maybe we weren’t just regular people with gifts—we were something more.
“I say we do it,” I said quickly, surprising even myself.
Why was I so confident? For some reason, even knowing I might fail, I wanted to try.
Milio glanced between us, his expression shifting between disbelief and frustration. He groaned, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.
“You guys can’t be serious…” He let out a long, defeated sigh before muttering under his breath, “Fine… there goes five silver down the drain.”
As we approached the receptionist, we requested to take the hunter exam.
Each of us handed over our five silver, though Milio was visibly hesitant, gripping his coins so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Milio,” I muttered, nudging him.
But he didn’t budge.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The receptionist, clearly impatient, let out a sigh before snatching the silver from his hand, prying his fingers open.
Milio, looking like he had just been robbed, deflated.
After the payment was settled, we were escorted to a back room.
Stepping inside, I was met with an open training area, the floor covered in fine sand, likely to soften falls. In the center of the room stood a raised podium, accessible by a short flight of stairs.
On the platform stood a man with short black hair, gripping a wooden sword. His stance was sharp, disciplined. A third-class hunter badge gleamed on his chest—a clear sign that he was skilled.
Off to the side, another man dressed in a formal suit stood with a clipboard in hand, carefully observing the matches and jotting down notes.
In front of the podium, a line of applicants had already formed—a mix of burly men, hardened warriors, and a few who looked fresh and uncertain.
I could already tell.
This was not going to be easy.
As the first applicant stepped forward, I felt my stomach tighten.
The man was massive—towering over everyone in the room with bulging muscles and thick arms that looked like they could snap a person in half with ease. His mere presence was intimidating, radiating raw brute strength.
At the base of the stairs leading up to the podium, a collection of wooden weapons was neatly arranged—swords, axes, spears, and more. It seemed like they were provided to give participants a fighting chance.
The muscular man, however, didn’t spare them a single glance. Instead, he strode straight up the steps with complete confidence, his heavy footsteps echoing as he reached the center of the podium. Rolling his shoulders, he cracked his knuckles with a grin, exuding the kind of certainty that made it clear—he fully expected to win.
The examiner in the suit gave a nod and spoke calmly.
"Begin the test."
I leaned forward slightly, anticipation creeping in.
Come on, the guy is huge. He has to win, right?
I wanted to believe it. I needed to. If this man got demolished, what hope did I have?
But the fight was over in seconds.
The hulking man charged forward, aiming to grab his opponent.
The swordsman, unfazed, simply angled his wooden blade forward, twisting his body in a fluid motion. A single precise strike—first to the leg, then the head.
The giant collapsed.
Unconscious before he even hit the sand.
I felt my heart drop.
Yeah. I’m done for.
Beside me, Milio was shaking, his breaths uneven, his face pale.
"You can do it… You can do it… You can do it…" He was muttering the words under his breath like a desperate prayer.
Damn. He was more screwed than I was.
Meanwhile, Victor stood completely composed, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was like the brutal display we had just witnessed hadn’t even fazed him.
I swallowed and clapped Milio on the back, forcing a grin.
"Don’t worry. We’ll win."
Did I believe it? Not at all.
But I couldn’t let him spiral. If he panicked, then I panicked.
Milio took a deep breath, nodding stiffly. Then, after a pause, he muttered:
"Welp… I’m screwed." He let out a humorless laugh. "When you two become hunters, just leave me behind. I’ll accept my fate as a beggar."
This guy was done
As I observed more matches, a pattern began to emerge. Some applicants were granted third-class status simply for enduring a significant number of hits, showcasing their resilience. Others only needed to land a single clean strike before the judge halted the fight and declared them worthy of becoming a hunter.
Could I do that?
I doubted I had the endurance to withstand multiple hits, nor was I quick enough to land a hit.
I had already started accepting my fate—failure seemed inevitable. I told myself I didn’t really care if I failed, that I was just here for the experience, trying to keep my expectations low.
And then it was Victor’s turn.
He stepped up confidently, choosing a wooden sword, just like the examiner. Even now, he was completely calm—unimpressed by everything he had seen so far.
He climbed onto the podium, gripping the wooden blade with both hands.
The way he held it… It looked natural.
Like he had done this before.
"Begin."
The examiner rushed forward, unleashing a barrage of rapid strikes.
Victor didn’t flinch.
With precise movements, he parried each blow effortlessly, his posture never breaking. It was almost casual—like he wasn’t even taking it seriously.
Then, he took a step to the side, smoothly repositioning himself.
And that’s when I saw it.
His stance shifted—his weight balanced, grip tightened, blade angled forward.
He was ready to strike.
But before he could even move—
"Stop. You pass."
The judge interrupted the fight, making his decision instantly.
Wow.
No wonder Victor had been so confident.
I stared in disbelief. Where the hell did he learn all that?
Milio, standing beside me, turned with wide, panicked eyes and grabbed my hand tightly.
"Hey, man… you wouldn't leave me behind, right? If we fail, we fail together?"
I swallowed.
"Uhh... sure."
Milio stepped forward, hesitating slightly before picking up a wooden axe in his right hand and a sword in his left.
It was almost as if he believed, "The more weapons I have, the better my chances."
He moved toward the podium much slower than the others before him. As he climbed up, I noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his hands trembling slightly.
As he stepped onto the podium, he raised the axe awkwardly above his head while keeping the sword pointed downward. His stance looked unbalanced, unnatural. A part of me hoped—just maybe—he could pull this off, but the odds didn’t seem in his favor. His hands were visibly shaking, betraying his nerves. I glanced at his opponent and caught the subtle shake of his head, as if he had already decided the outcome.
"Begin!"
The examiner lunged forward, aiming a swift downward strike at Millio’s head.
For a split second, I thought it was over.
Then—
Milio reacted.
Fast.
With perfect timing, he raised his axe and hooked the examiner’s sword, pulling it downward while simultaneously using his foot to pin the blade to the ground.
In the same motion, he swung his own wooden sword forward, landing a clean strike to the examiner’s head.
The man collapsed instantly.
Unconscious.
I froze.
My brain struggled to process what just happened.
What… the hell?!
My eyes snapped to Milio, who stood frozen, staring at his own hands as if they belonged to someone else.
Then, as if reality had just caught up with him, he jumped up and shouted, "I WON!"
The judge barely reacted before nodding. "You pass."
As the examiner lay unconscious on the ground, the judge turned toward one of the guild staff. "Bring in Viole."
A replacement?
My stomach twisted.
A moment later, a tall, older man with long hair stepped forward. His presence alone felt different—more refined, more dangerous.
Etched on his chest, clear as day, was the Roman numeral II.
A second-class hunter.
I swallowed hard. Oh, great.
I wasn’t even sure I could beat the third-class guy. Now they were throwing me in against someone even stronger?
I stepped toward the weapon rack, my mind racing.
I needed a plan. I was screwed, wasn’t I? There was nothing that could get me out of this situation. My mind raced, searching for a way out, but every possibility felt like a dead end.
I could hear my own heartbeat—loud, pounding, relentless. Was it just me, or could everyone else hear it too?
After watching Millio pull off an unexpected win, the last thing I wanted was to be the only one who failed.
As my thoughts swirled, an idea clicked.
I bent down, grabbing a wooden sword in my left hand. But in my right?
Taking a steadying breath, I walked toward the podium with as much confidence as I could fake.
Viole sized me up, his gaze flickering with amusement before he scoffed. "A kid? Seriously?"
I smirked, raising my sword. "You better be careful. This kid’s about to beat you."
His grin widened, a sharp, almost predatory edge to it. "Ohh? Well then…" He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Guess I’ll have to go all out. Don’t start crying when it’s over."
The judge raised a hand. "Begin!"
Viole rushed forward—and he was fast. Much faster than the previous examiner.
Too fast.
But I was ready.
At the last second, just as he lunged, I flung a handful of sand straight into his face—the same sand I had discreetly grabbed when I picked up my sword.
"Argh—!"
Caught completely off guard, Viole staggered back, rubbing furiously at his eyes.
I didn’t waste a second.
Swinging my sword in a downward motion, I struck him before he had the chance to recover.
He staggered back, hands flying to his face. "Ahh, my eyes! I can't see!" he shouted, his voice laced with frustration and pain. He collapsed onto the floor, disoriented—not just from the blows I landed, but from the sand that now burned in his eyes.
"STOP!"
The judge’s voice rang out. "You pass."
…Wait.
What?
I blinked, glancing down at Viole before shifting my gaze to Victor and Millio—both of whom were staring at me in stunned silence. The judge, meanwhile, had his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he was trying to suppress laughter.
Millio had his head tilted down, his shoulders trembling before he finally burst into laughter, gripping Victor’s shoulder for support as he struggled to contain himself.
Victor, on the other hand, had his face buried in his palm.
I stood there in stunned silence for a moment before throwing my arms up in triumph. "I WON!"
Then, glancing down at the man still writhing on the ground, I smirked. "Suck on that."