Rise from Zero

10

The footsteps of the group echoed with a constant rhythm along the stone cavern corridor, which was growing increasingly narrow. Gatot walked at the very back, maintaining a distance of about three meters from Gery. Along the way, his eyes never stopped monitoring the backs of the five senior hunters ahead of them. There was a nagging doubt that kept turning over in his mind, causing his brow to furrow deeply.

​This group is strange, Gatot thought.

​He recalculate the composition of the party in his head. The large leader at the front was a tanker who relied on heavy armor and a steel shield. The two men beside him carried longswords and dual axes, clearly oriented toward close combat as damage dealers. Meanwhile, the remaining two in the middle position carried a bow and a short magic staff, tasked with providing ranged combat support.

​The five of them were pure combat types, each possessing offensive capabilities. However, not a single one of them carried a priest's staff or a holy symbol. There was no healer in this group.

​Gatot swallowed hard, feeling the anomaly press heavier against his chest. In a gate exploration, the presence of a healer was an unwritten, mandatory law. No matter how powerful a team's offensive line was, even the smallest wound inside a monster's dimension could prove fatal if left without magical treatment. Why were they so reckless as to enter this isolated place without bringing a healer? Were they overly confident, or was there another reason being intentionally concealed?

​Gatot's daydream shattered when the cold air inside the cave suddenly turned heavy. At the end of the dark corridor, pairs of glowing red eyes emerged one by one from behind the darkness.

​Growl.

​A low snarl steeped in hunger vibrated through the cavern air. Three lycan monsters, black-furred wolves standing as high as an adult human's shoulder, stepped forward with fangs dripping acidic saliva. By coincidence, these creatures were the exact same species as the ones Gatot had slaughtered in the dead dimensional rift before he returned to the real world.

​Above two of the hunters floated red markers, while the other three bore blue markers. Then, above the heads of the three lycans, there hung a yellow circular symbol.

​According to Gatot's experience, a red symbol meant the target possessed strength far above his own, a blue symbol meant their strength was equal, while a yellow symbol indicated that the target was at a weaker tier than himself.

​Gatot stared at the three yellow markers above the heads of the lycans. This means, to the current me, these monsters are no longer a major threat, he concluded to himself.

​"There are monsters! Get ready!" Gery shouted, his voice trembling violently. The youth immediately drew his brand-new silver sword, taking a stiff stance beside Gatot.

​Gatot turned his gaze toward Gery. Above the friendly youth's head, a yellow circle also hovered gently, following every movement of his body.

​Gatot froze where he stood. Gery is also marked in yellow?

​A massive question immediately hit Gatot's mind. Gery was an official C-rank hunter who had just passed the association's exam. If the symbol above Gery's head was yellow, did that mean the current Gatot was already far stronger than a C-rank? Or did the yellow marker appear simply because Gery was a novice who had never honed his combat skills in the field? Gatot could not be certain yet, but one thing was clear: his attribute statistics, which sat at ten, now provided him with an entirely new perspective in gauging the strength of others.

​Whoosh! Thrust!

​The battle began without warning. An arrow infused with the wind element shot rapidly from the middle row of the party, piercing precisely between the eyes of the first lycan until the monster collapsed without even a chance to howl.

​"Advance! Finish off the rest!" the group leader bellowed, slamming his shield against the ground.

​The two close-combat fighters at the front rushed forward at high speed. A swing of the dual axes severed the jaw of the second lycan, while the senior's longsword tore open the stomach of the third lycan, causing its black blood to spray across the cavern wall. Within mere seconds, the three monsters that had frightened Gery half to death were reduced to motionless carcasses.

​"Tch, just weak monsters," the axe-wielder muttered, spitting to the side before wiping the blood off his weapon with a ragged cloth.

​"Hahaha! As expected, a low-level gate presents no challenge at all!" the archer chimed in with a boastful laugh.

​Arrogant. That word was the only fitting definition to describe the group right now. They marched forward with chests puffed out, as though the entire contents of this dungeon were nothing more than a trivial playground. Whenever a lycan attempted to ambush them from the crevices of the rocks, these five seniors easily eradicated them without a trace, leaving a trail of slaughter along the path they traversed.

​Gery watched this scene with eyes sparkling in sheer admiration. He nudged Gatot's arm gently, his face appearing incredibly excited.

​"This is great experience, watching expert seniors fight, right, Brother?" Gery said in a hushed tone, his eyes still glued to the gleaming armor of the leader ahead. "They move so fast. It makes me even more certain that I didn't make a mistake choosing this job. Someday, I will definitely be as cool as them!"

​Gatot only stared at Gery with a thin, forced smile. "Yes, they are indeed fast."

​But in his heart, Gatot did not feel the same tranquility as Gery. He still sensed a profound sense of foreboding. His instincts kept whispering that something was wrong with the flow of this exploration. This cave was too linear, the monsters appeared too systematically, and the most suspicious part was how the five hunters ahead of them completely neglected to check the perimeter or set up security traps along the rear path. They simply ran straight forward, as if they were chasing something in a race against time.

​Something is strange... very strange, Gatot thought.

​The group's pace suddenly slowed as the narrow, rocky cavern corridor came to an end, opening into a cavern chamber that was far more vast and tall. The ceiling of the cave in this area was no longer visible, concealed by a heavy darkness.

​As their feet stepped past the boundary of the route, a highly pungent odor instantly assaulted Gatot's sense of smell. The stench of rotting flesh, mixed with the metallic aroma of old blood and a dense concentration of magical energy, wafted strongly from inside the chamber. This odor was far more foul than the scent of the lycan den they had passed earlier.

​The 'Snake Scent' ability inside Gatot's head immediately reacted with extreme intensity, sending danger signals pulsing through his nervous system.

​The group leader halted his footsteps, raising his right hand to signal for everyone to stop moving. He stared toward the center of the cavern chamber, which was filled with mounds of white bones.

​"We have arrived," the leader whispered, his tone suddenly turning grave, devoid of his previous condescension. "This is the gate boss's chamber."

​Gatot sharpened his gaze toward the darkness at the far end of the room, attempting to detect what color symbol would manifest above the head of this place's ruler.