Prologue: A Short-Lived Dream

It all started with one unforgettable proposal:

Let’s be treasure hunters.

The story began when I was a child not even ten years of age. The one who’d suggested it was a member of my group of childhood friends.

“Let’s be treasure hunters. We’ll find all the treasure vaults out there and claim the wealth and glory for ourselves.”

Our goal was to be the strongest heroes in the world. If anyone could do it, the six of us could.

The guy who’d brought up the idea was reckless and had more brawn than brains, but he was also full of courage.

First to agree to this baseless yet attractive proposal was our particularly dexterous friend, who was quick in more ways than one.

Our resident bookworm nervously agreed in turn, and our quiet but reliable friend nodded deeply.

My little sister, who always tagged along behind me, glanced my way. Naturally, I agreed to the idea as well.

Treasure hunters, who trekked through ruins all over the world in search of treasure, had been stars all throughout history.

Wealth, fame, power.

There was no faster way to gain access to your heart’s desire and become a hero. Of course, there was also a great deal of risk involved.

We had all heard countless stories of hunters who’d fallen victim to devious traps, terrifying monsters, and ethereal phantoms. Even the hunters’ tales of adventure that had inspired my friend’s proposal were full of such gruesome anecdotes.

But the risks could not hope to extinguish the flames of adventure in our hearts. The very day we embraced that dream, our journey had already begun.

To prepare ourselves for this occupation, we began by identifying and honing our individual strengths. Once we had decided on our roles, we devoted ourselves wholeheartedly to improving on the relevant skills.

The bravest one among us became a peerless Swordsman while our nimble friend became a Thief, one who disarmed traps and led the party through peril. Note that there was no actual stealing involved; people just tended to call them Thieves.

For better or for worse, every other one of my friends had an all-important talent required to become hunters.

Something had already become clear, however, at the point where we were training at our respective roles:

I was the only one who had no talent. The only one who, no matter how hard I tried, couldn’t even be considered average.

Out of the six of us—my four friends, my sister, and myself—I alone was incapable of doing anything useful.

I alone had lost sight of the path to heroism. That was five years ago.

I woke up in the worst of moods.

The sky was filled with thick, black clouds. If you closed your eyes, you would hear only the sound of raindrops smacking against the ground.

A fetid bouquet of mud and water filled the air. After three consecutive days of stormy weather, the ground was complete muck. Although it was noon, the world was dark.

Before a sturdy, stone building stood men and women of all ages. Some stood there with lifeless eyes, while others were screaming in rage. Some weren’t even pureblooded humans, instead displaying physical traits of other species.

Their garb came in all varieties: dirty armor made from some unknown sort of leather, long overcoats that hid their whole bodies, and even full suits of armor like knights would wear. Many of them wielded weapons such as swords and firearms.

The one commonality they shared was that they were imposing.

The street was nearly empty due to the poor weather, but one corner was caught up in unusual enthusiasm. Everyone had gathered there in search of the most meager of chances: the opportunity to display their strength to famous treasure hunters and to be accepted into their parties.

Throughout time, treasure hunters had always had the most coveted of occupations. They traveled across the world in search of ruins—treasure vaults modeled after ancient civilizations—to obtain the riches within.

Despite the major risks, those with talent could have wealth, fame, and power in the palm of their hand. They could also have glory the likes of which famous merchants and even royalty could never hope to attain.

Hunters often formed groups of several people, called parties, to act together. If a newbie could find their way into a party of multiple experienced hunters, the risk was far lower than working alone. On the other hand, established hunters were always looking for skilled allies. The event being held here today was intended for just that.

I assumed not many people would come today due to the rain, but come they did. After letting out a sigh, I stood at the far back of the line. Because of the lack of shelter, every single person in line was soaked.

I flipped the hood of my overcoat up and shrank down, waiting. There was nobody here I knew, and standing in line alone was disheartening to say the least.

“Aaargh! What’s with all the damn people?! You can’t even get inside!” There was an annoyed yell from up ahead, prompting me to shrink down even more.

Not only was the wait long, but it was cold and rainy. It was unfair, yes, and I understood why he would be angry. But everyone else had to deal with it, too. There were many hunters out there who were strong but short-tempered. I really didn’t want to get caught up in any fights.

Among a hunter’s attributes and abilities was something called physique. I had an average physique, but all of the men around me were at least a head taller. These beasts in human clothing had the power and courage to coolly fight monsters whose strength far surpassed those of normal humans.

All I could do was to pray that this would go peacefully. Fortunately, it seemed that one of my prayers had actually worked this time, as there was no further commotion after that.

The line moved forward a little. As I crouched low and did my best to avoid eye contact, the person in front of me abruptly turned around. I saw myself reflected in her beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey there! You looking for a party, too?”

“Oh? Um, yeah.”

Her voice was cheerful, a poor match for the gloomy weather. Ignoring her seemed like trouble, though, so I looked vaguely in her direction.

The one who had accosted me was a female hunter who looked to be in her mid-twenties. Well-kempt brown hair and big, blue eyes. Long coat, big pouch attached to her stout belt. Her outfit was standard hunter fare, but her pristine hair and affable features didn’t seem like they belonged to someone who trawled dangerous treasure vaults. Heck, her gear was hardly even soiled.

In the era where treasure hunters were celebrated, female hunters weren’t especially rare. But in my experience, hunters like her could be divided into one of two groups. The first group included people who were just about to become or had just become hunters, their hearts still filled with hope.

The other group consisted of those who had experienced countless adventures but never lost that sparkle in their eye. These hunters had such outstanding talent that they could be heroes—true beasts, like my friends from so long ago.

Nine times out of ten, they were the former, but you could never be too careful. In this field, there really were plenty of beasts disguised as humans.

As I eyed her dubiously, the hunter smiled wryly for just an instant before returning to her cheerful expression and offering me her hand. At the very least, she didn’t seem like she’d just hit me out of nowhere.

In the depths of my mind, I set this hunter to a danger level of E, a level I conferred to hunters who, at least on the surface, seemed mentally stable enough.

“The name’s Rhuda Runebeck. I’m a level three hunter, though I only just ranked up a few days back.”

Level 3? So she’s around middle-class. Much better than her appearance would suggest. Wordlessly, I adjusted her danger level to D. At the very least, she wasn’t a newbie.

Treasure hunters were given levels by the Explorers’ Association (the Association, for short) based on their exploits. These levels were known by the general public as indicators of hunters’ abilities. Groups of hunters typically introduced themselves along with their job and level.

There were up to ten levels in existence, but level 3 was considered average in terms of strength and exploits. Statistically, 70% of all hunters stopped at level 3. Seeing as Rhuda had gotten there so young, one could say that she was hopeful for greater things. I had nothing to lose from being wary of her; middle-class hunters were still beasts compared to common folk.

My lips parted to speak. Probably because I had run here without drinking anything this morning, the voice that came from my mouth was painfully hoarse.

“I’m... Krai Andrey. Nice to meet you, Rhuda.”

I did not grasp her hand, which was outstretched as a mark of goodwill. In my five years as a hunter in the imperial capital, the most important thing I had acquired was a sense of danger.

She could toss me the moment I took her hand. Or she might crush mine. Heck, it was likely enough that the moment I offered my own hand, she would say, “Don’t underestimate me, you little shit!” and kill me where I stood. Of course, it was also possible that she would see me as an enemy because I refused a handshake.

Rhuda’s brow furrowed for a moment before she went cheery again. “You solo, too? Everyone here is so on edge, y’know? I hate it.”

I didn’t reply.

“I’ve been a solo hunter all this time, but lately, I’m kinda hitting a wall. Then I happened to hear that they were just about to hold this big hunter-recruiting event. So here I am now.” She patted the dagger stored within its sheath on her belt.

In treasure vaults, there were various gimmicks like traps and hidden corridors. The fact that she was carrying a weapon with such low killing power meant that Rhuda was specialized more in dealing with these gimmicks than fighting monsters.

And she’s going solo? This girl’s something else. I quietly raised her danger level up to C.

Myriad abilities were necessary in raids on treasure vaults, and it was nigh impossible to cover all of those by yourself, so the Association recommended forming parties. Sure, going solo came with its own merits, but risking one’s life to go to a vault alone was just crazy in my opinion. There were plenty of lunatic hunters out there, and in my experience, the solo ones were almost all of that variety.

She might have looked calm and sweet, but either she had such a poor personality that nobody would be in a party with her, or she had some other really annoying circumstances. Either way, I’d rather she left me alone.

Not knowing what to say, I forced a smile. Another one of the many things I’d learned in my years here was that smiling could get you through most difficult situations.

“Your whole career? That’s pretty rough.”

“Yeah, for real! I tried going to the White Wolf’s Den, and it was just too much for me.” There was a glint in Rhuda’s eyes, like she was dying to talk to anyone. “So I came here looking for a party, right? I figure five or so level three hunters could get through it together.”

“Pssh, the White Wolf’s Den? Kid, do you even know where we are?”

The derisive tone of this sudden interruption caused Rhuda’s expression to harden. It had come from a mountain of man ahead of us.

He wore leather armor with metal accents and a bloodstained overcoat. If Rhuda was a sparkly-eyed freshman, this guy was an experienced alumnus who’d long since graduated. The sheath hanging from his belt was soiled from use.

I grimaced. The majority of hunters were hot-blooded and typically grew much more so in proportion to their skill level. Even the Association often said that hot-bloodedness was part of the hunter’s basic skillset.

Unsurprisingly, despite the fact that this man was two heads bigger than her, Rhuda fearlessly yelled, “What’s your deal? Got a problem with me, bub?!”

“Level three? The White Wolf’s Den? This ain’t no place for amateurs who just became hunters yesterday!”

The goliath pulled his lips into a sneer. Other people in line turned to watch the two, some out of irritation and some out of excitement for a fight, and yet they showed no signs of stopping.