“Wasteland Hunter?”
The young female attendant’s eyes went wide, surprise and delight lighting up her face instantly.
Sure, Wasteland Hunter was only an E-rank profession, but it was a whole world better than being a lowly Scavenger.
Plus, Wasteland Hunters spent most of their time out in the brutal wilderness, which meant they needed a constant, steady supply of gear and provisions. They were exactly the kind of repeat customer every shop prayed for.
The second the other attendants in the store caught the words, regret washed over every single one of their faces. They were clearly kicking themselves for letting a client like Jack slip right through their fingers.
Who would’ve guessed that this grime-covered guy hauling a scuffed sheepskin satchel was actually a Wasteland Hunter?
One of the female attendants stepped forward without a shred of shame, flashing Jack a sweet, overly eager smile.
“Sir, she’s only a trainee. Let me walk you through our merchandise instead— I know our inventory far better.”
Jack glanced at her, his tone flat and unyielding:
“She’s the only one I need.”
The young attendant shot him a look of pure, unfiltered gratitude at that. She leaned in close, her voice a quiet whisper by his ear:
“Thank you. My name’s Ruth.”
Jack gave a small nod and a faint smile in return.
“Show me what you’ve got.”
Ruth nodded immediately, leading him through the store’s aisles.
The place was packed with a dizzying array of goods, but most of it was useless for Jack’s needs. Even the few items that did catch his eye were way out of his budget.
In the end, he picked out a handful of wound-healing salve vials and a simple, well-worn soft leather vest.
And how was he paying? With the salvage auto parts stuffed in his sheepskin satchel, obviously.
As Ruth tallied up the value of the scrap parts in his bag, her mind couldn’t help but spiral with wild guesses. Why would a Wasteland Hunter be toting a sheepskin satchel—the dead giveaway mark of a Scavenger?
A chilling thought popped into her head unbidden: a pitch-black back alley late at night, Jack creeping up silently behind an unsuspecting Scavenger. One clean swing of a blade…
A shiver ran down Ruth’s spine. The way she looked at Jack now held a faint, unnameable edge of wariness.
But Jack was too preoccupied to notice any of it. His entire focus was fixed on mapping out every detail of his upcoming Wasteland expedition tomorrow.
---
The next morning, Jack woke up deliberately early, slipping out of the house before his parents even left for their shifts.
He wandered through the quiet pre-dawn streets, nothing but the faint crunch of gravel under his boots breaking the silence, until he neared the city gate. That was where the noise picked up.
Frostveil City’s gates hadn’t opened yet, but a crowd of young people had already gathered around the entrance, scattered in loose clusters, swapping lazy banter and last-minute tips for the trip.
That was when Jack realized it wasn’t just his class heading into the Wasteland. There were dozens of others from different classes, different schools, all gearing up to venture out into the wilds today.
But unlike back in the old days, when Jack would walk into a room and draw every eye in the place, today the reception was ice cold. Most people didn’t even spare him a second glance. The few who did only looked at him with open mockery and sneering amusement.
Jack didn’t give a damn about any of it. He’d long since learned to take life’s brutal ups and downs with steady, unshakable calm.
Besides, he had the Evolution Column—his own personal golden ticket. He had zero reason to waste energy on these losers.
He found a quiet, out-of-the-way corner, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest.
It wasn’t long before a small group came stomping over, boots thudding loud against the stone.
The guy leading them was a heavyset, burly brute, hefting a pair of iron hammers over his shoulders. He sauntered right up to Jack, a cocky, self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face.
“Well look who it is, everyone! If it isn’t our former golden boy genius, Jack!”
The brute laughed loudly, sweeping his gaze around at the gathering onlookers, his tone dripping with unmasked contempt.
Jack’s brow furrowed slightly. He opened his eyes, sizing the man up in one quick glance.
This was Viktor. Back in school, he’d been a perpetual bottom-of-the-barrel loser, failing every single subject and getting kicked out of class on the regular. But during the Awakening Ceremony, he’d lucked into a D-rank profession: Berserker.
Berserker was technically only D-rank, but in practical field use, it was actually more valuable than a lot of the weaker, support-focused C-rank professions. Overnight, Viktor’s status had skyrocketed. He’d gone from a street rat everyone looked down on to a leader other new adventurers flocked to.
“Viktor. If you’re still craving a rematch of the time I pounded your ass into the dirt, keep running your mouth. We can make that happen.”
Jack’s voice was even, but there was cold, sharp steel just under the surface.
Back in school, Viktor had let his jealousy over Jack’s top-of-the-class grades get the better of him, and tried to jump him after class to “teach him a lesson.” He’d ended up getting the absolute hell beaten out of him instead.
“You little shit—you’re begging for it!”
The second his old public humiliation was dragged out into the open, Viktor’s temper detonated. He hefted his iron hammers and swung them down hard, aiming straight for Jack’s skull.
Mid-swing, the hammers in his grip suddenly went weightless, flimsy as party balloons. Viktor, thrown completely off balance, crashed face-first into the stone ground with a sickening thud.
“Viktor. Jack’s under my protection.”
X had appeared out of nowhere, Nix, Vera and the rest of his crew standing right behind him.
The skill he’d just activated was one he’d unlocked after awakening as a Conjurer—Object Transposition. He’d swapped Viktor’s solid iron hammers for a pair of rubber balloons mid-swing.
Viktor stared at the deflated balloons now tied to his wrists, then at the iron hammers lying discarded on the ground a few feet away. Realization hit him like a truck.
He hauled himself to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes, and roared at X:
“X, you really think you can take me?”
“Whether I can or not barely matters. I’m not letting you touch him.” X clapped his hands together, then turned to Jack with a easy smile. “Jack, get behind me.”
The crowd around them started murmuring at the scene. Everyone agreed X was a genuinely good guy. Jack had been his direct academic rival for years, and now that Jack had fallen from golden boy to useless dead weight, X still held no grudge—he was even taking him under his wing like a lost stray.
Viktor could feel the crowd’s mood shifting against him, and knew he was losing the moral high ground fast. Even if he did pick a fight with X, there was no guarantee he’d win. Sure, Conjurer and Berserker were both D-rank professions, but X’s theoretical mastery of his skills was leagues above his, which meant he could pull off far more precise, deadly tricks with his abilities.
“Just you wait, you piece of trash.” Viktor didn
’
t dare spit threats at X, so he turned all his rage on Jack instead. He’d already made up his mind: once they were out in the Wasteland where no one was watching, he’d find his chance. He’d bash Jack’s skull in until it was a bloody pulp.
“Jack, let’s go.” X smiled at him, already turning toward the now-opening gates.
Vera, standing at X’s side with her hand wrapped around his arm, sneered at Jack like he was something she’d stepped in:
“Fine, you’re basically a Scavenger, but since X agreed to let you tag along, none of us are gonna complain. When we’re out there, if we’ve got any junk or scrap we don’t want, you can trail behind us and pick up the scraps. Might even let you keep the good stuff.”
Her words were clearly meant to humiliate, and the crowd burst into roaring laughter, all of them eager to see Jack’s face burn with shame.
But Jack just stood up, completely unfazed, and started walking slowly toward the city gate without a word.
“Wait, what are you doing?” X frowned, then noticed the city guards posting a new notice on the bulletin board by the gate. He strode over to read it, the rest of the crowd following close behind.
Written in bold, sweeping script across the top was City Lord’s Decree. Below it, the message read:
> To all young adventurers heading out into the Wasteland:
> Word of your expedition has reached my ears, and it fills my heart with immense pride. You are the future of
Frostveil City, and I am its present steward.
> To honor your courage in undertaking this dangerous journey, I shall grant a reward. Whoever returns from this expedition with the most impressive, valuable haul shall receive a cherished heirloom from my personal collection.
> So go forth, young ones. Explore. Fight. Conquer.
> Written by my own hand, Lord Lawrence
As the crowd finished reading the decree, a surge of hot, eager excitement ran through the group. Deep down, though, everyone knew the truth: the race for first place was always going to come down to X and Viktor. No one else stood a chance.
Jack just stood quietly in the corner, his eyes fixed on the posted decree, lost in thoughts no one around him could guess at.