Rise from Zero

"Good morning... good morning," Gatot greeted his teammates. He was friendly, slightly hunched, offering a polite nod to each.

No one replied, not even with a glance. To them, Gatot was not a colleague. He was just a shadow that happened to breathe."Gatot, carry this." A large tactical bag was thrown at his chest. He caught it before it hit the floor.

"Gatot, this too. Take it all."

"Gatot!"

"Gatot!"

One by one, the burdens shifted to his shoulders. Everyone treated him as nothing more than a porter. Ironically, on paper, his status was identical to theirs: a hunter. But the letter "E" on his identification card was a curse. He was the only E-rank hunter left in the country, a embarrassing anomaly in an industry that idolized power.

Because his rank was the lowest, he was only invited to gates as an errand boy. He carried provisions, spare weapons, and changes of clothes for the other hunters. His pay was the smallest, and even then, it was often unilaterally cut under the guise of a "protection f*e." Gatot never fought back. He knew his place. This life-threatening job, no matter how small the wages, was the only thing supporting his family and paying the rent on their cramped apartment.

"Hey, you guys! Carry your own stuff! You have hands and feet, don't you?"

Julaiha walked over with a scowling face. She was the only person in this small firm who always defended Gatot. But Gatot knew that her defense was a double-edged sword. As soon as Julaiha turned her back, their treatment of Gatot would become twice as worse.

That day, their seven-person team was scheduled to enter a low-level gate that had recently opened on the outskirts of the city. It was the very bottom tier of the hunter caste.

*Thump!*

As soon as the last foot crossed the swirl of blue energy, a loud booming sound echoed from behind. The vortex vanished, replaced by a solid, cold stone wall. The gate was sealed shut.

Panic spread like a plague. Rio, usually the loudest, instantly turned pale. Siska trembled. Rian examined the wall in a panic. In the hunter world, a closed gate meant only one thing: trapped. The door would only open again if the gate boss was successfully killed.

"How could it close?! Rian, you said this was only a sub-rank D!" Hasan shouted, grabbing Rian’s collar.

Before Rian could answer, a strange giggle echoed from the darkness of the corridor. It was crisp, yet sickening. Cold and merciless. From behind the shadow of the dead trees, slender figures with pointed ears emerged. Elves. They were the most sadistic, tactical, and clever creatures when it came to trapping prey. Their gaze was entirely dismissive of the group of humans before them.

"Turns out it's just a bunch of weak humans. Their lives aren't even worth my newly sharpened bow," one of the elves said in its own language, accompanied by the laughter of the others.

The hunt began. The situation turned one hundred and eighty degrees. It was not the hunters hunting monsters, but the monsters hunting hunters. The elves deliberately moved slowly, enjoying the fear on their prey's faces. This was a game to them.

*Slash!*

An arrow sped silently, its speed surpassing ordinary human sight. Julaiha died first. As a healer who usually stood in the back, she lacked combat reflexes. The arrow pierced her chest before she could utter a single word or cast a healing spell. Her body collapsed, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling of the gate.

"Julaiha!" Rio screamed.

The death of the healer shattered the remaining morale of the team. Siska screamed hysterically, casting random fire magic that instead burned dry bushes and worsened visibility. Diki rushed forward with a dagger, but his movements were too easy to read.

An elf warrior leaped from a branch, a sword coated with frost raised high.

*Crash!*

Hasan screamed hysterically as his leg was cleanly severed from the knee. Fresh blood instantly froze on the cold ground. The elf's laughter grew wilder, echoing in the sealed stone corridor, enjoying the scream like a symphony.

In the midst of the chaos, the smell of blood, and the screams of his teammates, Gatot still stood frozen in the back. His chest heaved, and his heart beat so hard his ears rang.

*It's always like this. The strong play with the weak, just because of a low number on an ID card. I let myself be treated like garbage because I thought it was the only way to survive for my family.*

*I have never given my full effort in life.*

*Must I now, in this cursed place, in front of creatures that think of me as lower than animals, just give up? To die as Gatot the useless porter?*

An elf with a raised bow walked closer, staring at Gatot as if looking at a piece of meat ready to be slaughtered.

One by one, the others fell. Siska's scream was cut short as an arrow pierced her throat. Rian and Diki did not even have time to fight back, their bodies drenched in blood from gaping wounds. A terrifying silence enveloped the room, leaving only Gatot’s ragged breathing and his wildly racing heart.

Everyone was dead. He was all alone in this cursed place.

*To hell with ranks. To hell with the inferiority that keeps me locked in fear. To hell with that damn letter E. Now is not the time to mourn my fate. Now is the time to survive, or at least die with dignity.*

Gatot jerked his shoulders, throwing away all the bags and supplies weighing down his body. The load fell with a thud, kicking up a thin cloud of dust. He dashed toward Rio’s corpse, pulling it up as an emergency shield just as two arrows flew and embedded themselves into the dead man's back.

Crouching behind his instant shield, Gatot’s hand fumbled along the ground, searching for a discarded weapon. His fingers brushed against the cold iron hilt of Hasan’s sword. He gripped it tightly.

Gatot knew this action was impossible. An E-rank fighting a group of elves with above-average speed and magical abilities was pure suicide. But at least he refused to die quietly. He had to fight. If he was destined to die here, he swore he would take at least one elf's life to hell with him.

With a hoarse shout, Gatot charged out from behind his shield. His movements were stiff, awkward, almost foolish in the eyes of those superior beings. He swung the iron sword at the neck of the nearest elf.

*Clang!*

It was parried easily, with just a small dagger. The elf did not shift a single centimeter, wearing a mocking smile. To the creature, Gatot’s attack was nothing more than the thrashing of a helpless infant.

The elves did not kill him right away. They wanted to have fun with this last human. Slowly, one after another, weapon blades sliced Gatot’s skin. Slashes landed on his arms, chest, and shoulders. They intentionally aimed for non-fatal areas so he would stay alive and keep screaming until they were satisfied.

But they misjudged their prey this time.

Gatot did not scream as they expected. The spreading pain instead ignited something long buried deep inside him. Anger. A massive rage against fate, against the world, against the profound weariness of being looked down upon by the strong.

They began to slice Gatot's body piece by piece with precise cuts. Fresh blood flowed heavily, soaking his clothes and the stone floor. But Gatot never cried out the plea for death that the elves so desperately wanted for their satisfaction. Instead, his gaze grew sharper, locking his eyes onto the enemy in front of him.

When his right wrist was slashed and his sword was dislodged, Gatot did not stop. With his remaining torn consciousness, he scooped up Diki’s dagger with his left hand, swinging blindly. When his left arm was also targeted and slashed until it could not move, he used his legs to kick, trying to bring down the opponent with whatever energy remained.

He looked truly foolish yet terrifying. His face was drenched in sweat and blood, radiating a dense, suffocating anger.

*Slash!*

A longsword swung horizontally, cutting the tendons and bone of his right leg. Gatot lost his balance and collapsed. But as if defying the laws of nature, he rose again, balancing on his left leg, standing with his one remaining leg, the tip of the dagger held firmly in his teeth.

Seeing this, the elves' laughter slowly faded, turning into an annoyed irritation. They did not like the fact that this weak human refused to submit and beg for mercy at the brink of death.

"A disgusting, stubborn creature," hissed the elf who appeared to be the leader of the group.

With movements that were no longer playful, the leader stepped forward. His longsword gleamed coldly, raised high, and then plunged downward with full force.

*Thrust!*

The tip of the sword pierced right through the middle of Gatot’s chest, puncturing his heart until the blade emerged from his back.

Gatot choked, coughing up thick blood from his mouth. The elf pulled the sword out harshly. The jerk caused blood to spray violently into the air, some of it staining the elf's beautiful face. The leader wiped his face in annoyance, while his companions giggled again at the sight of human blood dirtying their leader's clean skin.

Gatot’s body swayed, falling flat on his back upon the cold ground. His vision blurred. The dark ceiling of the gate slowly seemed to recede. His breathing was heavy, each breath like inhaling shards of glass.

*Is this my end?* Gatot thought amidst his fading consciousness. *I have had absolutely nothing to call my own throughout my entire life, except for this resolve.*

He could feel the warmth of his body evaporating quickly. His heartbeat weakened, preparing to stop forever.

Yet, right at the moment his final breath was about to escape, a sudden flash of golden light appeared before his failing eyes. A semi-transparent holographic screen floated in the air, glowing brightly in the middle of the dark gate.

**[You have met the hidden condition: 'An Unyielding Resolve'.]**

**[The System offers you a unique qualification.]**

**[Are you willing to become a Player?]**

**[Yes / No]**

**[Warning: Your heart will stop beating within 5 seconds if you choose 'No' or fail to provide an answer.]**

**[Are you willing to become a Player?]**

**[Yes / No]**