Jack stuffed the few copper coins the Ironhide Boar had dropped into his pocket. That Elite mob hadn't just dropped decent loot—his Infinite Plunder talent had slapped a flat 10-point boost straight onto his physical attack stat.
For the next few hours, Jack crisscrossed the Level 2 zone, casually picking off dozens of regular Level 2 Long-Haired Boars.
With every smooth draw and release of his bowstring, the physical attack value on his stat screen ticked steadily upward. It had already blown past the 50-point mark, a number so absurd he could barely wrap his head around it. Your average rookie professional wouldn't hit 50 base attack until they were at least level 15, and even then only with a full set of fine green-quality gear.
Against Level 2 mobs now, Jack's damage was straight-up overkill. Any random arrow he loosed dealt way more than the monsters' max HP.
The Level 2 zone's rewards were starting to feel pretty underwhelming. Jack paused mid-step, his gaze drifting toward the rolling hills further out. That was the hunting ground for Level 3 creatures.
Back in prep academy theory classes, the instructors had drilled into their heads a hundred times over how stupidly dangerous it was to fight above your weight class. In this data-driven world, the system enforced a brutally strict level suppression mechanic. When a monster outranked you, your hit rate took a massive penalty.
Fight a mob one level higher—like Jack had just done, taking on Level 2 creatures while still Level 1—and the system's hit rate calculation stayed locked at 97%, barely a penalty at all. But go for something two levels above? That number plummeted to 83%. Push it to three levels over, and your hit rate cratered to 72%.
On top of that infuriating accuracy penalty, higher-level mobs had armor and magic resist that scaled like crazy with their level. If your attacks couldn't pierce their defenses, you ended up like that three-man party earlier, tickling them for pathetic minimum chip damage. That was exactly why almost no newbies ever dared to punch above their level. The cost of messing up was usually a full health bar wipe, and a one-way ticket back to the respawn point.
Of course, risk and reward always went hand in hand. As brutal and dangerous as hunting higher-level mobs was, the system's experience bonuses were absurdly generous. Kill a mob one level above you, get a 15% XP boost. Kill something two levels over? That modifier shot straight up to 40%.
Jack ran the numbers in his head. His attack was already over 50 points, and Level 3 mobs generally had HP hovering right around 50. As long as his arrows connected, the damage would be enough to one-shot any of them instantly. His cracked attack stat completely negated whatever armor bonus the mobs got from their level.
As for that 83% hit rate? It wasn't exactly a death sentence. Archers had a 40-meter attack range and could fire on the move. That kiting playstyle gave Jack a massive buffer for mistakes. Even if his first arrow rolled a system Miss, he had plenty of time to loose a second and third before the mob could ever close the gap. And if his luck truly bottomed out? He could just book it.
Mind made up, Jack left the plains behind and headed straight for the Level 3 mob territory.
The terrain here got way rougher, the underbrush thicker and more tangled. Far more aggressive ambush predators lurked in the scrub: Gray Wolves.
A small group of Level 3 professionals resting and regrouping nearby quickly spotted Jack, a lone Level 1 newbie, wandering through. When they caught sight of the faint Level 1 marker floating above his head, one of them frowned and started walking over to warn the rookie off. In their books, a solo Level 1 Archer waltzing into a Level 3 zone was practically signing his own death warrant.
But before that guy could even open his mouth, Jack had already locked onto a Level 3 Gray Wolf about 30 meters ahead.
With practiced ease, Jack pulled an arrow from his hip quiver and drew his beat-up wooden shortbow. The wooden limbs creaked faintly in protest, then the arrow tore free of the string.
The rough wooden shaft cut a gray streak through the air.
The Level 3 Gray Wolf didn't even have time to snarl before the arrow punched clean through its flank.
-54!
A giant red damage number popped above the wolf's head. The vicious beast's 50 HP bar got wiped out in a single frame. Its body crumpled sideways under the force of the impact, dissolving into scattering motes of light.
The guy who'd been about to warn Jack froze mid-step, eyes bulging so wide they looked ready to pop out of his skull. One-shotting a Level 3 mob? That shattered every single thing he thought he knew about Level 1 professionals.
The rest of his party nearby were equally dumbfounded. The guy reacted fast—he immediately lifted his wrist comm terminal and started filming Jack taking down a second Gray Wolf. To avoid stirring up unnecessary trouble, he deliberately framed the shot to cut out Jack's face, only capturing his back as he drew and loosed, plus the jaw-dropping sight of a Level 3 monster getting obliterated seconds later in the distance.
He uploaded the clip straight to the Prospect City Newbie Zone section of the Professional's Guild forum, slapping on an aggressively clickbait title: "Prospect City Outskirts Newbie Zone—Level 1 God One-Shots Level 3 Mobs in Level 3 Area!"
Jack didn't notice any of the commotion behind him. His full attention was glued to the system notification that had just popped up in front of his eyes.
[Gray Wolf (Level 3) slain.] [Base experience gained. Two-level challenge bonus triggered. 40% bonus experience awarded. Total experience gained: 35 points.]
Thirty-five XP! That was exponentially faster than grinding Level 1 mobs out on the plains. With that massive 40% bonus, his XP bar was creeping forward fast enough to see with the naked eye.
Just as Jack was gearing up to hunt his next Gray Wolf, the virtual panel in the corner of his vision flickered softly.
It was a notification from his class group chat. In this world overwritten by gamified system rules, everyone activated their own virtual interface when they awakened—stats, inventory, and communication channels all built right in.
Jack split a sliver of attention to open the chat. The group was blowing up, messages scrolling past so fast he could barely read them.
"Oh my god, Pedro, you're already level 5?!"
"That's insane! How'd you pull that off?"
"No surprise, that's our class genius for you. Dude, when the Novice Dungeon opens next week, you gotta carry the rest of us, yeah?"
Basking in all the praise, Pedro replied to the group with deliberate casualness: "Nothing to make a big deal out of. I just used some Experience Scrolls. Twenty of them, that's all."
That line sent the chat into even bigger hysterics.
Experience Scrolls were a special consumable, forged by high-level alchemists, that injected pure experience points straight into the user. The Basic Experience Scrolls Pedro had used worked even for fresh Level 1 newbies. The XP they gave wasn't anything crazy, but their price tag was astronomical—one gold coin per scroll.
In this world, 1 gold = 100 silver = 10,000 copper. For kids from regular families who scrimped and saved just to afford a single white-tier weapon, dropping that kind of cash on Experience Scrolls was completely unthinkable.
Professionals' early leveling speed wasn't even that slow to begin with. Only rich kids desperate to build an unbeatable lead right out of the gate would burn through this kind of luxury item so early on.
Under normal circumstances, a newbie only needed a little over 10 Basic Experience Scrolls to go from Level 1 to 5. But in the professional world, there was a tiny subset of people with such overwhelmingly powerful awakened talents, or some rare hidden trait, that the system slapped certain restrictions on them. The most common downside was that the XP required to level up was way higher than the standard rate.
The reason Pedro had gone out of his way to mention he'd used 20 scrolls was twofold. First, to flex his family's stupid wealth—casually dropping 20 gold like it was pocket change. Second, he was subtly hinting to everyone that his awakened talent was insanely powerful, which was why he needed to burn way more XP to level up.
Most of the classmates in the group got the subtext perfectly. But everyone played along. No one was gonna call out his obvious humblebrag and ruin the vibe.
Jack closed the chat. He tightened his grip on his wooden bow and strode straight toward the next Gray Wolf.