Prospect City Preparatory Academy.
Awakening Square hummed with restless, crackling energy—over a thousand seventeen-year-old seniors packed into snaking queues, every last one of them waiting for the moment that would carve the rest of their lives into stone.
At the square’s core, the towering Awakening Pillar suddenly flared to life, spewing a burst of blinding golden light so bright it made the whole crowd flinch.
“S-rank! Georgina pulled an S-rank talent!”
A deafening roar of gasps and cheers ripped through the crowd. S-rank talent? An entire graduating cohort of thousands could go three, four years without spitting out a single one. Georgina’s future was locked in—paved solid with resources, status, and all the glory a professional could dream of.
“Next. Jack.”
The proctor’s flat, bored voice sliced straight through the chaos.
Jack sucked in a slow, steady breath, stepped up onto the awakening platform, and pressed his palm flat against the pillar’s cold, rough stone surface.
One second. Two seconds.
A low, grinding hum rumbled up from deep inside the pillar. Then a murky, sluggish black light oozed upward from its base, thick and slow like sludge working its way through a clogged pipe.
The crowd below went dead silent, every single student staring up at Jack with their jaws hanging open in pure confusion.
A cold, mechanical announcement blared over the square’s speakers: “Class Awakened: Archer. Talent Rating: F-rank.”
The silence hung heavy for three whole beats—then hysterical laughter exploded across the crowd.
F-rank talent was unheard of. It meant trash-tier energy affinity, growth potential so close to zero it was practically non-existent. The absolute bottom of the barrel.
The group of bullies who’d made a hobby of picking on weaker kids all through high school started whistling and hooting so loud it made the nearby light posts rattle.
“Hell yeah, Jack! That talent of yours is just as rare as Georgina’s S-rank, huh?” The ringleader, a bulky bruiser built like a brick wall, jeered so loud half the square could hear him. “Take a tip from me, pal. Most losers like you end up working some dead-end normal job after graduation. Do yourself a favor—just head straight home and take over your aunt’s old factory gig. That’s exactly where you belong.”
Jack’s face didn’t twitch an inch. He pulled his hand off the pillar like he hadn’t heard a word.
As he walked down the platform steps, he gave a quick nod to the few guys he usually hung out with. Their eyes darted away so fast it looked like they’d been burned, suddenly completely fascinated by a loose cobblestone at their feet, treating him like a random stranger who’d wandered into the wrong school. In a world this cutthroat, nobody wanted to tie themselves to an F-rank dead weight.
Jack didn’t care. He walked straight out of the academy gates without glancing back once.
As he cut through the busy, crowded streets of Prospect City, he focused his mind and pulled up the status screen only he could see.
This was a level-driven, stat-based world. Out on the streets or in the middle of a fight, any certified professional could see HP and MP bars floating over everyone’s heads.
Jack’s eyes flicked straight to his talent panel.
There wasn’t an F-rank mark anywhere on it. Not a single one. That stupid black light the pillar had spit out? Its clunky, outdated scanning module wasn’t even capable of picking up Jack’s real talent.
It was a rating so rare it only existed in legends, one that shattered every conventional limit the system had ever set—Triple S-rank.
【Talent Name: Infinite Plunder】
【Talent Grade: SSS-rank】
【Talent Effect: Every time you slay a monster matching your current level, permanently gain 1 point of Attack Power. This passive effect has no upper limit.】
Staring at that simple, no-nonsense description, Jack could feel his heart hammering so hard it was practically punching through his ribs.
Attack Power was the core of every physical damage dealer’s kit. This talent meant as long as he kept grinding kills on level-appropriate monsters, he could get stronger forever—no ceiling, no cap, no limits. If he farmed enough, even a beat-up wooden bow firing the cheapest bulk arrows would eventually hit harder than the forbidden-grade spells a top-tier archmage spent years mastering.
Of course, there was one small catch.
He had to kill monsters that matched his current level. If the level gap was too wide—whether he wandered into a high-level zone by mistake or went back to gank low-level starter mobs—the Attack Power boost wouldn’t trigger.
Beneath the main description, there was an extra line of fine print.
【Bonus Effect: Slaying one Elite monster counts as slaying 10 standard mobs. Slaying one Boss counts as slaying 50 standard mobs.】
Jack’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that broken multiplier. He had to take three deep, slow breaths just to yank his pulse back down from the stratosphere.
No matter how OP his talent was, right now he was just a scrawny Level 1 nobody with zero gear, zero coins, and zero connections.
His most urgent first step was to clear the Novice Dungeon alive. Only after beating it would he get the official Professional’s Guild certified badge. That little piece of metal wasn’t just a status symbol—it was a universal passport in this world. He’d need it to access guild facilities, check in and out of restricted hunting zones, pick up bounty quests, and buy all kinds of strategic-grade supplies that were locked off to normies.
And to run a dungeon? His top priority right now was scraping together enough cash to buy even the most basic novice gear.
His awakened class was Archer. At the very minimum, he needed a bow and a quiver of arrows.
Jack had picked up odd jobs after school every week to cover his own living costs, but Prospect City’s cost of living was brutal. He had to pinch every copper just to keep food on the table, so savings were basically a joke.
If he wanted a starter weapon, his only shot was to head home and beg his cousin Joanna to lend him something—anything he could use.
Right now, Jack crashed in a small rental apartment he shared with Joanna.
The place technically had two bedrooms, but Jack didn’t get one. He slept in the cramped, dim, coffin-sized nook under the staircase, because Joanna had insisted on turning the second, bigger room into her personal home gym.
After cutting through a few side blocks, Jack climbed the stairs to their floor.
The front door was propped wide open. Joanna was standing in the doorway, all bright smiles and flushed cheeks, waving goodbye to a sharp-dressed young man. She fluttered her fingers at him, her face glowing with that smug, satisfied look she got when things went exactly her way.
The guy disappeared down the stairwell, and Joanna turned around.
Her gaze landed right on Jack as he was coming up the last few steps. The smile plastered on her face dropped like a rock off a cliff.