revenge of the weakest hunter

Chapter 1 : the dawn of hunters

Part 0: Prologue

In the barren and desolate expanse of the Sahara Desert, a deafening silence blanketed the dunes. Only the relentless howling of winds and swirling sand broke through the stillness. Suddenly, a violent earthquake shook the ground, and a blinding tear tore open in the sky. A brilliant light burst forth, illuminating the stark landscape before quickly disappearing, leaving behind a massive gate.

From within this gate emerged a figure, weathered by time and hardship. His tattered clothes clung to his lean and muscular frame. His matted hair and beard flowed wildly like a tangled halo, each strand bleached white by the harsh sun. A cruel smile etched his face, revealing teeth sharpened by years of desperate gnawing. With a hoarse voice that cracked like a whip, he spoke: "Finally." The word echoed through the vast emptiness as he emerged from the dungeon's blinding light. "Out of that accursed hell; now it's time for payback."

Part 1: The dawn of Hunters

Fifty-five years ago, a brilliant, strange light appeared in the sky, surrounding the Earth with a glowing, colorful mist that filled many with awe and dread. Almost instantly, a loud voice echoed around the world, instilling fear in everyone who listened. "Congratulations," it said with a sense of twisted joy, "you have been chosen to be hunters."

Stunned and disbelieving, humanity struggled to comprehend the enormity of what was happening. But before they could fully process the surreal situation, the voice delivered a chilling ultimatum: monsters were gathering at the gates of their world, ready to invade and destroy everything in their path. And only the chosen few had the power to stop them.

As panic swept through every corner of the globe, some clung to desperate hope that this was all some elaborate prank or nightmare. Others demanded answers - what gates? What monsters? Is any of this real?

But there was no time for answers or doubts. Without hesitation, the enigmatic voice continued its ominous proclamation, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. With each monster defeated, the hunters' strength would grow - their stats increasing and reflecting their triumphs and failures alike. And in these dangerous times, their stats would be more than just numbers - they would be a matter of survival.

And so, with grim determination burning in their hearts and minds, humanity braced itself for the perilous journey ahead. For with the appearance of those mysterious portals - gateways to unknown realms filled with untold dangers - a new age had begun: the age of hunters.

50 years later, a battle raged inside the dungeon of the Great Sahara Desert. The Hunters wore a mix of armor and wielded an assortment of weapons as they clashed fiercely with monsters pouring out of the shimmering portal. Harith, a lean and weathered young man, found himself facing insurmountable odds. His worn, cracked leather armor creaked and groaned under the assault of razor-sharp claws, barely holding its own against the attack.

His opponent, a scrawny goblin - the weakest of the monstrous horde - lunged at him with ferocity. Harith parried the attack swiftly, but the impact sent a searing jolt of pain up his arm, blurring his vision. Despite three years of nonstop training, drilling, and sparring, Harith felt an overwhelming desperation wash over him as he struggled to take down even the most basic of monsters.

Amidst the chaos, their leader Pierce stood tall, his determined face set beneath a thick, battle-worn beard. With one mighty swing of his warhammer, he cleaved a colossal gargoyle in two, its stone wings shattering on the sun-baked desert sand. Nearby, a lithe young woman danced through a pack of goblins, her daggers flashing with deadly precision as she struck and parried with grace.

Frustration gnawed at Harith as he watched his comrades make quick work of their foes, their levels rising with each kill, their skills sharpening, and their bodies growing stronger. Yet, he remained static, forever trapped at Level 1—the mark of the weakest Hunter. The scorching desert heat seemed to mock his efforts as sweat stung his eyes and sand grated in his armor. He anxiously checked his status window, hoping against hope for any sign of improvement:

[Name: Harith]

[Level: 1]

[Title: None. Please work harder.]

[Age: 25]

[Job: Unemployed]

[Stats]

[Strength: 10]

[Agility: 11]

[Stamina: 11]

[Intelligence: 19]

[Endurance: 12]

[Luck: 5]

[Magic: 00]

The unchanged numbers only deepened his sense of inadequacy. As the battle raged on, Harith gritted his teeth, determined to prove - to himself and others - that he wasn't a complete failure.

"I only killed a single monster today," Harith muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the sounds of combat.

A rank E creature, no less. He began fidgeting with the rank E magic crystal in his hand, its dull gleam a stark reminder of his mediocre performance. The lowest-grade magic crystal from a rank E monster fetched less than a hundred dollars in the markets. For something he had bet his life to earn, it was a pathetically small amount.

'A magic crystal from a rank C monster can sell for over 10 thousand dollars, though....' The thought flashed through his mind, a tantalizing glimpse of what successful Hunters could achieve.

As the last of the goblins fell, Harith stood apart from his teammates, acutely aware of the gap between their abilities and his own. He watched as they efficiently collected their spoils, their movements betraying years of experience he could only dream of.

"Good work, everyone," Pierce called out, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls. "Now, let's find that boss room. We need to conquer this dungeon."

Harith blinked in surprise. 'Everyone?' He glanced around, half-expecting to see another novice Hunter he'd overlooked. But no, Pierce's gaze included him in that sweep of approval. A wave of confusion washed over Harith. Why had this elite team accepted him? He'd contributed next to nothing in the fight, yet here he was, included in their mission to take down a dungeon boss.

As they navigated deeper into the dungeon, Harith's mind raced. Was this some kind of charity? A pity inclusion? Or perhaps a cruel joke? He couldn't fathom why seasoned Hunters would risk their lives by bringing along someone as weak as him.

When their scout announced the discovery of the boss room, Harith's confusion only deepened. Surely now they'd tell him to stay behind, to wait somewhere safe while the real Hunters took on the challenge.

But Pierce's words shocked him once again. "Harith," the captain said, turning to face him directly, "stay alert and do your best. We'll need everyone for this fight."

Harith nodded automatically, his mind reeling. 'Need everyone? Need... me?' It didn't make sense. He was a liability, not an asset. Yet here he was, about to face a dungeon boss with a team that, for some inexplicable reason, seemed to accept his presence.

As Pierce reached out to push open the massive door, Harith gripped his weapon tightly. His emotions were a turbulent mix of fear, anticipation, and utter bewilderment at his inclusion in this crucial moment. Silently, he prayed that whatever reason they had for accepting him, he wouldn't let them down.

The door creaked open, revealing the lair of the dungeon's boss. Despite his confusion, Harith steeled himself. Accepted or not, understood or not, he was here now. And he was determined to prove - to himself, to his team, to the world - that he deserved to be.

The team stepped into the cavernous room, weapons at the ready. As the last of them crossed the threshold, the massive door slammed shut behind them with a resounding boom. In the dim light, Harith could make out a colossal shape stirring in the shadows at the far end of the chamber. The air grew thick with tension as the dungeon boss slowly rose to its full, terrifying height.

A whisper ran through the team, a name spoken in hushed, fearful tones: "The Nameless Desert Guardian."

In that moment, staring at the monstrous entity before them, Harith realized that everything - his training, his struggles, his doubts - had led to this. Whatever the outcome, his life would never be the same after this battle.

The Nameless Desert Guardian let out an ear-splitting roar, shaking the very foundations of the dungeon, and the final battle began.