In this world, a select few awakened innate skills as compensation for the existence of monster gates. There were various ways to trigger this awakening: through extreme training, intense stress, hitting a specific age if you were talented, or—for a lucky few—by killing a monster.
My alternate self had spent his entire life savings to kill a captured goblin just to check if he was one of those lucky few. He wasn’t. But I was. It felt like the world itself was admitting that even though we were technically the same person, we were entirely different.
From the name of the innate skill I had just awakened, I knew it wasn’t a combat type, or even a support type, but an irregular type. There was no time to test it, though. Right now, I needed to prioritize one single goal: getting into the archive.
Gripping my dagger, I cautiously hurried toward my destination, keeping as quiet as possible. I hadn’t gone far when a dire wolf’s bloodcurdling howl echoed through the floor, from right behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of a kobold rider’s shadow stretching across the polished floor from the far end of the lobby, where the blood from the kobold I killed was pooling.
With a kobold rider on my trail, stealth was pointless so I broke into a flat sprint. The dire wolf would sniff me out. My only choice was to outrun it.
Sprinting for my life, I found myself grateful for the one thing I’d always mocked my alternate self for: his obsessive subscriptions to local news and monster survival documentaries.
As I veered left, cut right, and bolted into the deep recesses of the lobby, I could hear the kobold rider behind me. It was purposefully hanging back, calmly tracing my steps. Treating it like a hunt.
Crossing the final corridor, I felt an intense gaze boring into my back. There was no room to go faster — I ran in a zigzag, making myself as unpredictable a target as possible. An arrow whooshed past and buried itself into the plaster opposite just as I took a sharp left and jammed my ID against the reader beside the glass door.
It was the first line of security for the archive. The moment I heard the security beep, I threw the door open and slipped through as it automatically locked behind me. The kobold rider tore down the corridor, arriving a second too late. The dire wolf’s massive head slammed violently into the reinforced glass.
It pressed its snout against the pane, its huge, dark eye staring directly at me. It opened its jaws wide, letting out a muffled growl as foamy saliva smeared down the glass wall onto the floor. The kobold rider pulled back his bowstring and let fly an arrow, but the projectile just bounced harmlessly away. The door was made of the best bulletproof glass in the industry, its heavy steel frame anchored deep into the sandstone walls.
For the first time since my rebirth, I was viewing a monster up close. It was terrifying, but a primal surge of adrenaline suddenly overcame me. Staring right back into the kobold rider’s cold eyes, I let out a loud, defiant war cry. I only snapped out of it when the dire wolf began aggressively bashing its head against the glass.
I hurriedly turned around to complete the final two security protocols required to step into the safety of the archive: the palm print and the iris scan.
"Unrecognized!"
The synthesized voice echoed in the tight space, fueling my panic. My palm was too sweaty from the adrenaline rush, causing the biometric sensor to fail. I quickly wiped my palm down the side of my pants and pressed it firmly against the glass scanner once more. This time, a reassuring green light flashed.
I immediately aligned my right eye with the camera lens positioned just above the console. While the scanner’s laser began to track my pupil, a heavy, splintering crack echoed from the glass door behind me.
I forced myself not to look away from the lens until I heard the mechanical chime.
"Associate Archivist Dr. Crispin Chase, recognized!"
A heavy click echoed as the thick reinforced steel alloy door finally loosened. I quickly slipped inside. Closing the door behind me, I caught a terrifying glimpse through the narrowing crack. The dire wolf was now using its massive fangs and claws to tear the cracked glass door apart, desperate to widen the breach enough to force its head through and bite me. But it was too late. The heavy vault door slammed shut with a definite thud, sealing out the snarling beast and leaving me in the dead silence of the secure archive.
I leaned heavily against the vault door, sighing in absolute relief. My knees finally gave out. My back slid slowly down the smooth metal until I was slumped on the floor. I hugged my knees tight and buried my face in them, trembling. I wasn’t going to lie to myself. As a kid, I used to wish, desperately pray, that I would be reborn in the Pokémon world. But facing actual monsters? Now, I just wanted to go back to my peaceful old life. President Trump, I miss you.
Thud!
The sudden impact reverberated through the metal and right up my spine. The kobold rider had broken through the bulletproof glass and was now hammering against the reinforced steel alloy door. I scrambled to my feet and turned around — my heart dropped. There was a visible dent bulging inward.
I stared at the warping metal in sheer disbelief, wondering what on earth they were feeding that dire wolf. First, it shattered the bulletproof glass, and now it was compromising a reinforced steel alloy door. Or had the department chief skimmed the budget and bought cheap materials? I tried to think of my next move, but panic was paralyzing me. I had unwittingly cornered myself in the ultimate dead end. Looking at the flexing metal, I estimated the door would hold for another five to ten minutes at best.
Just as I was about to resign myself to a grim fate, I recalled the innate skill I had awakened earlier. Even if it was an irregular, non-combat type, it was my absolute last hope.
[ — Hunter Stats —
Skill: Novel Raider
Type: Innate
Rank: Unique
Effect: — ]