The class confirmation dissolved, replaced by a new interface panel materializing before Boran's eyes. A character statistics screen.
[INITIAL STATISTICS]
Six attributes arranged in a neat vertical list, each with a number beside it. His starting values.
Strength: 4
Agility: 1
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 1
Wisdom: 2
Charisma: 2
Constitution and Strength were his highest stats. That made sense for a Tank.
Below the initial statistics, another line appeared:
[Unallocated Stat Points: 15]
Boran focused on the interface, trying to understand how allocation worked. As if responding to his intention, small plus signs materialized next to each stat. A simple system—click the plus, add a point.
But where should he invest?
His first instinct was to dump everything into Constitution. If he was going to take hits, he needed to survive them. More health meant more time alive, which meant more chances to do whatever Tanks did. But that felt wasteful. Lazy. Just doubling down on what the System had already decided for him.
Boran considered his abilities again. Fortify, Taunt, Shield Slam, Defensive Stance. They all centered on defense and threat control. Constitution would help—more health to absorb the damage he'd be deliberately attracting. Strength was interesting. Shield Slam scaled with defense, but Strength would improve his basic attacks. Not that a Tank's basic attacks would be impressive, but every bit of offensive capability mattered. Maybe.
Intelligence affected mana pool and magical power. All his abilities cost mana. If he ran out mid-fight, he'd be useless. Wisdom, though? At two? What would raising it actually do for him? The description said it governed perception and insight. A Tank didn't need enhanced awareness beyond what was necessary for combat. Useful in theory, but it wouldn't keep him alive when something was actively trying to kill him. Agility at one was equally pathetic. But Defensive Stance already reduced his movement speed to zero. Did he really need to invest in mobility when his core strategy involved standing still and taking punishment?
Boran made his decision, clicking the plus signs one by one:
[+7 Constitution]
His primary survival stat. If he was going to be a punching bag, he needed to be a durable one. Seven points brought Constitution to fifteen—solidly above average. More health, more endurance, more ability to withstand the endless barrage of attacks he'd be deliberately attracting.
[+3 Strength]
Three points into Strength, raising it to seven. Better basic attacks. More impact behind Shield Slam. Boran might be stuck as a Tank, but he didn't have to be completely toothless.
[+2 Charisma]
Two points into Charisma, bringing it to four. He wasn't sure why—it didn't seem immediately useful for combat. But something in his gut told him social dynamics might matter later, even if he couldn't articulate how.
[+3 Agility]
Three points into Agility, raising it to four. Just enough to improve his positioning and reaction time. A Tank who couldn't position himself properly was useless, and these points would give him the bare minimum mobility needed to get into position before rooting himself with Defensive Stance.
Boran reviewed his final allocation:
[FINAL STATISTICS]
Strength: 7 (4 + 3)
Agility: 4 (1 + 3)
Constitution: 15 (8 + 7)
Intelligence: 1 (1 + 0)
Wisdom: 2 (2 + 0)
Charisma: 4 (2 + 2)
Constitution highest, as it should be for a Tank. Strength second, giving him at least some offensive presence.
Boran confirmed the allocation.
[Statistics Confirmed]
[Calculating derived attributes...]
New numbers appeared, cascading down the interface:
Health Points: 75 (5 × Constitution)
Mana Points: 10 (10 × Intelligence)
Stamina: 30 (2 × Constitution)
Physical Defense: 0 (Base: 0)
Magical Defense: 0 (Base: 0)
Seventy-five health. It seemed like a lot, but he had no frame of reference. Was that enough to survive a serious hit? Multiple hits? He had no idea.
Ten mana meant he could use Fortify twice with nothing left over, or Taunt twice, or Shield Slam five times. Defensive Stance would drain half a point per second—twenty seconds of maximum protection before running dry. He'd have to manage that resource carefully.
The final confirmation appeared:
[Character Creation Complete]
[Welcome to the System, Boran The Tank]
[May you stand unbroken.]
The interface dissolved, leaving Boran standing in the Hub with his new identity settled into place.
And then he felt it.
A surge of energy moved through his body, starting from his core and spreading outward. His muscles tensed on their own. The Tank class was changing him physically.
His chest felt heavier. Denser. Not bigger exactly, just tougher. He pressed a hand against his sternum and felt the difference right away. It was solid in a way it had not been before.
His shoulders broadened a little. His arms, legs, and back felt firmer. He flexed his fingers and noticed his grip was stronger too.
The changes were not huge, but they were real. The System had adjusted his body to match the class and stats he had chosen. Or the class it had forced him into, depending on how honest he wanted to be.
Boran took a deep breath. His body felt like armor now.
Around him, other recruits were finishing too. Some tested their speed. Some stared at magic flickering between their fingers.
Mariusz's voice cut through the noise of the Hub. He stood at the center of the plaza with his hands behind his back.
"Now that you've completed character creation," he said, "you have access to your User Interface. Your UI shows your stats, Health, Mana, Stamina, abilities, and inventory."
He gestured in front of himself. "It responds to intention. Think about what you want to see, and it appears. Some people use clear mental commands. Some just focus. Try both."
He paused for a moment.
"Your UI is private. No one else can see it unless you share information yourself. Be careful with that."
Around Boran, recruits began experimenting immediately, their eyes unfocusing slightly as they accessed their newly available interfaces. Some smiled, others frowned in concentration, and a few laughed with delight at whatever they were discovering.
"Take a few minutes to familiarize yourselves with your UI," Mariusz said. "You'll be relying on it heavily in the days to come."
Mariusz raised his hand, drawing attention back to himself once more. "One more thing before you explore further. When you selected your class, the System automatically provided you with starter equipment appropriate to your role. Check your inventories—you'll find basic gear waiting for you there."
He gestured to his own body, indicating the practical combat gear he wore. "These items won't make you invincible, but they're essential tools for your class. You'll need to equip them before your first real challenge. Focus on an item in your inventory and think about equipping it. The System will handle the rest."
Boran's attention shifted immediately to his inventory interface, mentally pulling up the equipment tab. There, displayed in a simple grid, was a single item: a wooden shield.
He examined it through the UI:
[Wooden Shield]
Type: Shield
Quality: Starter
Physical Defense: +2
Durability: 20/20
Description: Better than nothing.
Boran focused on the shield icon and thought about equipping it. The item shimmered in his mind, then weight appeared in his left hand. The wooden shield was suddenly there.
He lifted it a little. Two points of physical defense. Not much, but it was better than nothing. With his Constitution and defensive skills, maybe it would be enough for a first mission.
Around him, other recruits equipped their own starter gear. Swords, daggers, staffs, guns. Boran adjusted the leather straps on his shield and tried not to look annoyed.
"Hey," a voice called out from nearby. "Did you really pick Tank?"
Boran turned to see a young man approaching him, eyes fixed on the wooden shield in his hand. The guy looked genuinely curious, his head tilted slightly as he studied Boran's shield.
A few other recruits nearby overheard the question. Soft laughter rippled through the small group, quiet but unmistakable.
The young man's expression shifted immediately, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He held up both hands defensively. "Wait, no—I'm not making fun of you or anything. I'm serious. I actually want to know."
He gestured at Boran's shield, then at the various weapons and equipment the others were equipping around them. "You're the only one I've seen with just a shield. So yeah, I'm curious. Why Tank?"
Boran met the guy's gaze, seeing genuine interest there rather than mockery.
He looked down at the wooden shield in his hand, feeling its weight, its solidity. Then back up at the young man.
"Someone's gotta do it," Boran said with a shrug.
The young man's expression softened. He held out a hand. "Fair enough. I'm Kerem. Picked rogue." He pointed at the daggers on his belt. "I figured dodging hits sounded better than taking them."
Boran shook his hand. "Boran."
"So you're really going full defense?" Kerem asked.
"The shield is my weapon," Boran said. "So I’m not going all-in on defense—but mostly, yeah."
Kerem nodded. "That's kind of selfless, actually. Most people here are thinking about damage and kills."
"Yeah, well. Kills don't matter much if everyone dies."
A snort of laughter came from a nearby group—three recruits who'd been half-listening to the conversation. One of them, a tall guy with a longsword strapped to his back, spoke up loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Listen to Captain Martyr over here. Someone has to take the hits, so naturally he volunteers. How noble."
His friends laughed, and the swordsman continued, enjoying his audience. "You know what happens to the guy standing at the front? He dies first."
Kerem's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, another voice joined the conversation—a young woman approaching from the side. She had a staff strapped to her back and an expression of mild annoyance on her face.
"You know what happens to the guy who thinks he's invincible because he picked Warrior? He charges in without support, gets surrounded, and dies screaming for a healer who can't reach him."
The swordsman's grin faltered slightly. "And you are?"
She turned to Boran, ignoring the swordsman. "Don’t listen to these idiots. Tanks are essential—without someone managing aggro and positioning, every fight turns into a mess."
Kerem gestured at her. "See? She gets it."
The swordsman rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You guys can stand around theorizing about teamwork. I'll be racking up actual kills."
"With what team?" she shot back. "You're going to solo everything?"
"Don't need a team when I can kill things faster than they can hit me."
"That's not how this works," another voice interjected, this one shorter and stockier, with a gun slung across his shoulders. "Mariusz literally just explained that we'd be working in groups. You think you're special?"
The swordsman turned to face the newcomer. "And you are?"
He ignored the man and nodded at Boran. "He's right—someone does have to tank. Otherwise, everyone with ranged attacks gets swarmed the moment enemies close the distance. Name's Deniz."
The swordsman's friends stopped laughing, sensing the shift in tone. One of them—a lean guy with twin short swords—spoke up. "He’s got a point, though. Tanks are targets. Your whole job is to get hit. And that’s just dumb."
"Yeah, that's kind of the whole deal," Boran said evenly. "I get hit so you don't have to. That's what makes it work."
"Sounds like a terrible job," the twin-sword wielder muttered.
Boran kept his voice calm. "It's only terrible if you're scared. I'm not."
Deniz nodded. "Exactly. It really is a noble and brave choice. You're built for defense. I'm built for range. Kerem is built for speed and burst damage."
Kerem grinned. "I like this guy."
The swordsman shook his head. "You're all overcomplicating this. We're here to fight monsters, gain levels, get stronger. That's it. The System rewards results—kills, victories. Not martyrdom."
"Can't gain levels if you're dead," Sude said.
The swordsman opened his mouth to respond, but Mariusz's voice cut through the debate.
"Finish your conversations," Mariusz called out. "You have five more minutes to familiarize yourselves with your UI and equipment."
Kerem turned back to Boran, his expression apologetic. "Sorry about that. Some people just don't get it."
"It's fine," Boran said with a shrug. "They'll figure it out. Or they won't."
The girl stepped closer, extending her hand. "Sude. Mage. I specialize in AoE and elemental damage."
Boran shook her hand. "Boran. Tank. I specialize in not dying."
She smiled. "Good specialization to have."
Deniz joined them, offering his hand as well. "You already know the name, but it’s Deniz, in case you didn’t hear it clearly. Gunslinger. You know—guns."
Boran shook his hand, then Kerem's again for good measure. "Looks like we might end up working together."
"Probably," Kerem said. "And honestly? I'd rather have you watching my back than that guy." He jerked his thumb toward where the swordsman had gone.
"Agreed," Sude said. "Tank, Rogue, Mage, Gunslinger. That's solid. Frontline, backline, damage, control, mobility. Good enough for a start."
Deniz nodded. "Yeah, we should stick together."
"Works for me," Kerem said.
Boran adjusted the shield on his arm, feeling the weight settle into place.
Mariusz's voice rang out once more. "Time's up. Everyone, gather at the center plaza."
The recruits began to gather, forming a loose semicircle around Mariusz. The instructor waited until everyone had gathered. His expression became a little less stern.
"Before I dismiss you," Mariusz said, "there are a few things you need to know about the Hub. This place is not just where you arrive. It is your home base. Most things you need as adventurers can be found here."
He gestured toward a row of buildings lining the eastern edge of the plaza. "Over there, you'll find the smithies. Blacksmiths who can repair your equipment, upgrade your gear, and craft custom pieces as you grow stronger. They work with materials you'll gather from your missions."
He pointed toward another section. "The alchemists' quarter. Potions, elixirs, poisons, antidotes. If it can be brewed, someone there probably sells it or teaches it."
Mariusz paused, letting the information settle, then pointed toward a larger building that stood out from the rest—a warm, inviting structure with light spilling from its massive entrance. The door was enormous, built to accommodate hundreds of people flowing in and out simultaneously, and the sound of conversation and laughter poured through the opening.
"That's the Endless Tavern," he said, and several recruits perked up at the mention. "It's exactly what it sounds like. A place to rest, eat, drink, and recover between missions. The rooms upstairs are available to all registered Awakened—you'll never be turned away. The food is good, the beds are comfortable, and the atmosphere is... well, you'll see for yourselves."
A few recruits exchanged glances, relief visible on their faces. The promise of a safe place to rest, to eat a proper meal, to sleep without worry—it was more reassuring than any weapon or piece of armor.
Mariusz's expression softened further, and when he spoke again, his tone carried a weight of finality mixed with encouragement. "From this moment forward, you're on your own. You're no longer trainees waiting for instruction. You're free adventurers—Awakened individuals with the System at your disposal and the world ahead of you."
He let that sink in, his gaze moving across the assembled recruits. "You can explore this Hub however you like. Visit the smithies, talk to the alchemists, grab a meal at the Tavern. Get to know this place. Get to know each other."
A brief pause, then he continued. "I strongly recommend forming teams. Solo adventurers rarely last long. Find people whose skills complement yours. Build trust. Learn to work together before you're thrown into a situation where your life depends on it."
Boran felt the weight of those words. Around him, recruits were already glancing at each other, sizing each other up, considering potential partnerships.
Mariusz straightened, his instructor's bearing returning for one final moment. "The mission assignments will be posted at the Mission Board in the Tavern in two hours. I recommend you choose missions appropriate for your level."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving the recruits standing in the plaza—no longer trainees, but adventurers facing their first moments of true freedom and responsibility.
The silence lasted only a moment before the plaza erupted into motion. Recruits scattered in different directions—some heading toward the smithies, others making a beeline for the Endless Tavern, still others remaining in the plaza to form impromptu groups and discuss strategies.
Kerem turned to Boran, Sude, and Deniz. "So... Tavern first? Get some food, figure out our plan?"
Sude nodded. "Sounds good. I want to see what kind of resources they have here—maybe they sell spell components or skill books."
Deniz shifted the gun on his shoulder. "But first, I could use a drink. This whole 'welcome to your new life' thing is a lot to take in."
Boran looked at his three new companions, then toward the warm lights of the Endless Tavern. "Let's go, then. We've got two hours. Might as well make them count."
Together, the four of them set off across the plaza, joining the flow of recruits heading toward the Tavern.
The entrance of the Endless Tavern was massive. People moved in and out constantly, and warm light spilled from inside.
Boran stepped through first, shield at his back, and stopped.
The inside was much larger than it looked from outside. The ceiling stretched high above them. Thick wooden beams held it up. Warm lights hung from above, though Boran could not tell what powered them.
Hundreds of tables filled the main floor. Some were small. Some were long benches where whole groups sat together. Every table had people at it. New Awakened with fresh gear. Veterans with old scars and damaged armor.
The noise hit him first. Talking, laughing, plates, cups, boots on wood. It was a lot, but not in a bad way. The place felt alive.
Kerem whistled low. "This is... not what I expected."
"It's huge," Sude murmured, her eyes scanning the room with the analytical focus of someone cataloging details.
Deniz adjusted his gun, his gaze drawn to a group of higher-level adventurers near one of the far walls. Their equipment gleamed with enchantments, and their relaxed postures spoke of confidence earned through experience. "Those guys look like they've been doing this for a while."
Boran's attention moved past the tables to the far end of the hall, where several reception desks stood in a neat row. Behind each desk sat a staff member efficiently handling the steady line of adventurers requesting rooms, information, or services.
The Mission Board took up most of the eastern wall.
It was huge, covered in glowing text. Missions appeared in neat rows, updating as adventurers accepted or completed them.
Kerem nodded toward it. "That's the Mission Board."
They were all already staring at it.
They moved closer, passing between tables and groups of adventurers. The board was divided by rank. Low ranks near the bottom, higher ranks above.
But what caught Boran's attention immediately was the message displayed at the very top of the board, overlaying everything else in bright, System-blue text:
[NEW MISSION POSTINGS IN: 1:56:47]
The numbers ticked down slowly—1:56:46, 1:56:45—counting down the time until fresh assignments would be available.
"Almost two hours," Sude said, crossing her arms. "That gives us time."
"Time for what?" Deniz asked.
"Food," Kerem said immediately. "I haven't eaten since... actually, I don't remember the last time I ate. This whole Awakening thing is messing with my sense of time."
Boran realized he felt the same. Hunger wasn't overwhelming, but it was there—a reminder that despite the System, despite the stats and abilities, they were still human.
"Reception's over there," Boran said, nodding toward the desks. "Let's check it out."
They made their way across the hall, joining the line at one of the desks. The receptionist was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and an efficient demeanor, processing requests with practiced speed. When it was their turn, she looked up at them with a polite smile.
"Welcome to the Endless Tavern. How can I assist you?"
"We'd like to order food," Kerem said. "What's available?"
The woman gestured to a menu board mounted on the wall beside her desk. It was extensive—listing everything from simple bread and stew to elaborate multi-course meals, each item accompanied by a price.
Boran's eyes scanned the list, and his stomach sank.
Every price was listed in gold.
Roasted chicken and vegetables: 5 gold.
Beef stew with bread: 3 gold.
Simple meal (bread, cheese, ale): 1 gold.
Even the cheapest option cost a gold piece.
The receptionist nodded patiently. "Yes, gold is the standard currency within the Hubs. You'll earn it through completed missions, monster kills, and dungeon clears. Most services here—food, lodging upgrades, repairs, purchases—require gold."
"Lodging upgrades?" Sude asked.
"Basic lodging is free for all registered Awakened," the woman explained. "But private rooms, extended stays, and premium accommodations cost gold."
Boran felt a sinking sensation as he opened his inventory screen with a thought, the translucent interface materializing in his vision.
He scanned the list.
Starting Rations x3 (Bread, Water)
And at the bottom, under the currency section:
Gold: 0
Zero.
He looked back at the menu board. Beyond the basic meals, there were more exotic offerings listed further down.
Wyvern Wing Skewers with Ember Glaze: 25 gold.
Kraken Tentacle Soup in Black Pearl Broth: 50 gold.
The descriptions sounded amazing. The prices made him want to close the menu.
Kerem cursed under his breath, staring at his own inventory. "I've got nothing. Not a single coin."
Sude shook her head, her expression frustrated. "Same here. They gave us equipment, but no money."
Deniz sighed. "I've got some starting rations in my inventory, but that's it. No gold."
Boran looked back at the receptionist. "We don't have any gold yet. Is there... another option?"
The woman's expression didn't change, though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "You can use your starting rations—most new recruits have a few in their inventory. Otherwise, you'll need to complete a mission to earn gold. The first few missions for Rank FF adventurers usually pay between 5 and 15 gold, depending on difficulty."
Kerem looked at the others. "So we eat our rations now and save our first earnings for real food?"
"Or we wait until after our first mission and eat properly then," Sude suggested.
Boran considered. The rations would keep them going, but they weren't satisfying. And the idea of sitting down to a real meal after completing their first mission—earning it, in a sense—had a certain appeal.
"Let's wait," Boran said. "We'll eat the rations if we get too hungry, but I'd rather save our first gold for something decent."
Deniz nodded. "Agreed. I'd rather earn my first meal here than scrape by on field rations."
Kerem grinned. "Fair enough. Besides, we've got time to kill. Let's explore a bit—see what else this place has to offer."
Sude stepped back from the desk, her gaze already moving toward other sections of the Tavern. "I want to see if they have a library or a resource center. If we're going to survive our first mission, information is just as important as equipment."
"Good idea," Boran said.
They turned away from the reception desk, the countdown timer on the Mission Board still visible in the distance—1:53:12—marking the time until their new lives truly began.
They spent the next hour exploring the Endless Tavern's sprawling interior.
The library occupied a separate building nearby—rows of shelves filled with journals, guides, and monster compendiums. Sude spent fifteen minutes skimming through a bestiary while the others browsed combat manuals and mission reports left by previous adventurers.
Next, they visited a blacksmith's workshop, where a gruff craftsman hammered away at glowing metal. Racks of weapons lined the walls—swords, axes, spears—all priced well beyond their empty pockets. Kerem eyed a gilded sword longingly before moving on.
The alchemist's shop was smaller, cluttered with vials and bubbling liquids. The proprietor, a thin person with stained fingers, barely glanced at them as they examined potions they couldn't afford. Healing potions, stamina elixirs, antidotes—all carefully labeled, all expensive.
"We'll be back," Deniz muttered as they left.
Kerem spotted the arena.
"Hey, what's that?"
They followed his gesture toward a side corridor, wider than most, where a steady stream of adventurers was heading. The sound of cheering grew louder as they approached.
The arena opened before them. It was a circular combat pit, maybe thirty meters across, with seats rising around it. The floor was packed dirt, dark in places. A shimmering barrier separated the fighters from the audience.
About a hundred people filled the seats, their attention fixed on two figures circling each other at the center.
Boran found a spot near the front, squeezing in beside a group of mid-level adventurers. The others followed, their eyes drawn immediately to the fighters.
Both combatants were clearly experienced. Above each fighter's head, translucent blue text displayed their information:
[Marcus Vale - Level 50 - Blademaster]
[Yara Shen - Level 50 - Spellblade]
Marcus moved first. His sword blurred—three strikes in rapid succession, each precise and calculated. Yara deflected the first two with her own blade, steel ringing against steel across the arena, then sidestepped the third with fluid grace.
She countered immediately, her sword igniting with pale blue flame as she slashed upward. Fire trailed behind the blade, casting flickering light across her face, but Marcus was already moving—rolling to the side, coming up in a defensive stance.
"Did you see that?" Kerem said, leaning forward. "Her sword just caught fire."
"That's her class ability," an adventurer beside them said without looking away. "Spellblades can infuse their weapons with magic."
Boran watched closely. Marcus's movements were economical, precise—every step purposeful, every swing calculated. No wasted energy. Yara was more aggressive, pressing the attack with a combination of swordplay and brief flares of elemental power.
Marcus parried another strike, then activated his own ability. His entire body seemed to accelerate—a sudden burst of speed that carried him inside Yara's guard. His shoulder slammed into her chest, throwing her backward, and he followed with a sweeping slash that would have ended the fight if she hadn't twisted away at the last second.
The crowd roared.
Yara recovered quickly, her blade igniting again—this time with crackling electricity instead of flame. She drove forward, forcing Marcus onto the defensive, her strikes faster now, more desperate. Sparks flew where their weapons met, illuminating their faces in staccato flashes.
Then Marcus feinted left and struck right, his blade catching Yara's sword hand. She hissed in pain, her grip faltering, and Marcus pressed the advantage—a swift kick to her knee, a pommel strike to her shoulder, and finally a blade at her throat.
The barrier around the arena flared briefly, signaling the match's end.
[MATCH COMPLETE - VICTOR: MARCUS VALE]
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Marcus stepped back, lowering his sword, and offered Yara a hand. She took it, grimacing but smiling, and they clasped forearms in mutual respect before exiting the arena together.
Boran exhaled slowly. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
"That was incredible," Deniz said.
"They were level fifty," Kerem said again, as if they still couldn't believe it. "And they were just sparring. I thought they were going to kill each other. I would’ve felt terrible if I’d seen someone die right in front of me."
Sude's expression was thoughtful. "They weren't using spells. Just skills. That Spellblade ability—the elemental infusion—that's not the same as casting a spell, right?"
The adventurer who'd spoken earlier glanced at her. "Right. Skills are tied to your class. Spells are separate—you'd need to learn those through grimoires or skill books." He gestured at the arena. "Also, you can't use combat abilities outside designated zones like this. The System won't let you."
"What do you mean?" Kerem frowned.
"It's one of the rules," the man explained. "Inside the Hubs, you can't activate combat skills, cast spells, or use weapons aggressively. The System enforces it. Try to swing a sword at someone, and your arm won't move. Try to cast a spell, and nothing happens. The arenas are the only exception—designated combat zones where abilities are allowed."
Boran felt a chill. "So if someone wanted to attack you in the Tavern..."
"They couldn't," the adventurer said simply. "Not with abilities, not with weapons. The Hubs are safe zones. That's why people can relax here, train here, do business here. Outside the Hubs it's a different story. But here? You're protected."
Deniz nodded slowly. "That's... actually reassuring."
"It also means the arenas are the only place to test yourself against other Awakened without risking your life," the man continued. "People come here to practice, to learn, to see how they measure up. Some even make bets."
Deniz grinned. "Betting on fights. Now that sounds like something I could get into."
Sude shot him a look. "We don't even have gold yet."
"Yet," Deniz emphasized.
Boran glanced at the arena, where two new fighters were entering—both lower level, around 20, their movements less polished but no less determined. The crowd settled in to watch, energy buzzing with anticipation.
Then a notification appeared in his vision, overlaying the scene:
[NEW MISSION POSTINGS IN: 0:02:14]
Two minutes.
"Alright, time's up," Boran said, straightening. "Let's head to the Mission Board."
The others saw the notification too. Sude stood first, followed by Kerem and Deniz. They made their way out of the arena seating, joining the steady flow of adventurers heading back toward the main hall.
By the time they reached the Mission Board, a crowd had already gathered. Hundreds of Awakened stood before it, their eyes fixed on the glowing surface as the countdown ticked down its final seconds.
[NEW MISSION POSTINGS IN: 0:00:03]
[NEW MISSION POSTINGS IN: 0:00:02]
[NEW MISSION POSTINGS IN: 0:00:01]
The board flashed, and light washed over the crowd. Mission listings appeared across its surface in glowing blue rows. There were too many to read at once.
Then Boran noticed the problem.
Most of them were locked.
Gray text. Dimmed icons. Restrictions displayed in small print beneath each title.
[MISSION LOCKED - MINIMUM LEVEL: 10]
[MISSION LOCKED - REQUIRES CLASS ADVANCEMENT]
[MISSION LOCKED - PARTY SIZE: 6+]
Row after row of inaccessible missions, each one tantalizingly out of reach. Boran felt frustration tighten in his chest as he scrolled through them—dungeon raids, Tower expeditions, escort contracts, monster extermination orders. All designed for adventurers far beyond their current capabilities.
"There's got to be something we can actually do," Deniz muttered beside him, his interface flickering as he navigated the overwhelming list.
Kerem tapped the air, and a new interface panel appeared—a filter menu. "Look, there are sorting options. We can filter by rank, level requirement, reward type..."
Sude leaned in. "Try filtering by rank. Show us the lowest tier."
Kerem adjusted the settings, his fingers moving through the translucent interface with growing confidence. The mission list flickered, reshuffled, and collapsed into a much smaller selection.
[DISPLAYING: RANK FF MISSIONS]
The board showed perhaps two dozen missions now—all glowing in the same muted blue, all accessible. Relief washed over Boran. These were their options.
Each mission included basic information: location, estimated difficulty, party size recommendation, and rewards. Boran scanned through them quickly.
[FF-RANK MISSION: Goblin Nest Clearance - Portal 7-B - 3-5 Adventurers Recommended - Reward: 15 Gold, 80 XP]
[FF-RANK MISSION: Slime Extermination - Portal 3-A - 2-4 Adventurers Recommended - Reward: 10 Gold, 60 XP]
[FF-RANK MISSION: Resource Gathering - Portal 12-C - 1-3 Adventurers Recommended - Reward: 12 Gold, 50 XP]
The list went on. Each mission represented a different challenge, a different location, a different portal. Some were combat-focused, others more practical—gathering herbs, retrieving lost items, surveying dangerous terrain.
"They're all pretty low-paying," Kerem observed, scrolling through the options. "Ten to twenty gold per mission, split between the party."
"We're Level 1," Sude reminded him. "What did you expect? Dragon slaying?"
"Fair point."
Boran continued reading, his eyes moving methodically through each listing. Most were straightforward—too straightforward, perhaps. Goblin nests, slime infestations, minor resource runs. Missions that required little more than basic competence and a willingness to face danger.
Then one mission caught his attention.
[FF-RANK MISSION: WOLF PACK ELIMINATION]
Location: Ashwood Thicket - Portal 9-D
Party Size: 3-5 Adventurers Recommended
Objective: A pack of corrupted wolves has been sighted near the outer regions of Ashwood Thicket, threatening nearby resource nodes. Eliminate at least 8 wolves to thin the pack and restore safety to the area.
Estimated Duration: 2-4 hours
Difficulty: Moderate for FF-Rank
Rewards: 20 Gold, 100 XP (Split Among Party Members)
Additional Notes: Wolves operate in coordinated packs. Ambush tactics and high mobility expected. Recommend at least one defensive-class adventurer. Corruption may enhance wolf aggression and resilience.
Boran gestured for the others to look.
"What about this one?" he said.
Sude leaned in, scanning the details. "Wolf Pack Elimination. Ashwood Thicket." She paused at the difficulty rating. "Moderate for FF-Rank. That's higher than most of these."
"Which means it's actually worth doing," Kerem said, reading over her shoulder. "Twenty gold and a hundred XP. Better than the slime quests or gathering runs."
"It also means it's more dangerous," Deniz pointed out. He crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful. "They're warning us these things are smarter than your average monster."
"We've got four people," Boran said. "Recommendation says three to five. We're good."
Sude tapped the mission description, expanding it. "It says they recommend at least one defensive-class adventurer. That's you, Boran."
"I'll flank them and take them down one by one while Boran holds their attention." Kerem added.
"I can deal area elemental damage," Sude said. "My spells aren't strong yet, but I can hit multiple targets if we group them."
Deniz nodded slowly, a confident grin forming. "And I've got range covered. If they try to scatter or rush past Boran, I'll drop them before they reach Sude or Kerem."
Boran looked at each of them in turn. They were nervous—he could see it in their expressions, in the way they shifted their weight, in the tension in their voices. But they were also determined. They knew this was the right choice.
"Alright. We're doing this," Boran said.
Kerem grinned. "Hell yeah we are."
Sude exhaled slowly, her expression hardening with resolve. "Let's accept it then."
Boran reached out and tapped the mission listing. The interface responded immediately, expanding the details and presenting a confirmation prompt.
[ACCEPT MISSION: WOLF PACK ELIMINATION?]
[WARNING: Once accepted, this mission cannot be abandoned without penalty. Failure to complete the mission within 48 hours will result in a penalty to reputation and future mission availability.]
[CONFIRM PARTY MEMBERS:]
Boran Apaydın (Level 1 - Tank)
Kerem Arslan (Level 1 - Rogue)
Sude Demir (Level 1 - Mage)
Deniz Yılmaz (Level 1 - Gunslinger)
[ACCEPT?] [YES] [NO]
Boran didn't hesitate. He selected YES.
The interface flashed, and the mission listing locked into place, now marked with a glowing green indicator beside their names. A new notification appeared in his vision.
[MISSION ACCEPTED: WOLF PACK ELIMINATION]
[PORTAL ASSIGNMENT: PORTAL 9-D - ASHWOOD THICKET]
[MISSION TIMER: 48:00:00]
[REPORT TO PORTAL 9-D TO BEGIN MISSION]
The words stayed for a moment, then faded. Only a small mission marker remained in the corner of Boran's vision.
Kerem let out a low whistle. "Alright. No turning back now."
"Portal 9-D," Sude said, already turning toward the corridor that led to the portal chamber. "Let's go."
Deniz cracked his knuckles, a nervous grin spreading across his face. "Time to see if all this System nonsense is real."
Boran took a breath, steadying himself. His heart pounded—not from fear, but from anticipation. This was it. Their first mission.
He glanced at his friends—his party—and saw the same determination reflected in their eyes.
"Come on," Boran said. "Let's go hunt some wolves."
And together, they headed toward Portal 9-D.