The Weakest Hunter Ascends

The final choice

Creeaakkk…

Creeeeeeaaaaakkkk…

While the three of them had been talking, the closing circle of guardian statues had narrowed the gap to a mere dozen feet.

Left entirely alone on the platform, Arthur dragged himself onto his stomach, taking several deep, ragged breaths to steady his racing heart.

"Haaah... haaah..."

His hand brushed against a cold piece of metal on the stone floor—the shortsword Kim had abandoned when he fled. Arthur reached out, his fingers wrapping firmly around the leather hilt.

If I'm going out, I'm taking at least one of these stone bastards with me.

He managed to tilt his head back, watching through the blood in his eyes as Sterling cleared the threshold with Julie safely perched on his shoulder.

A quiet sense of relief washed over Arthur’s chest.

At least they made it...

There was no grand, noble martyrdom in his mind. In truth, Arthur had run the cold, pragmatic numbers in his head before making his decision.

Even if he somehow survived and dragged his broken body out of this sanctuary today, he would be a permanent cripple. His career as a vanguard Hunter was effectively over. In a hyper-competitive society, a guy with no college degree and no physical mobility had virtually no options to put food on the table.

Mom's medical bills... and my sister's college tuition...

If he died inside an official raid, the Hunter's Association was legally required to pay out a massive death benefit to the surviving family.

Was the casualty payout three hundred grand or four hundred grand for a registered Hunter?

For the worthless life of an E-Rank rookie, that payout was a fortune. It was enough to secure his sister's entire future and keep his mother in a private care facility for years.

Creeaakkk…

Clang.

The first monument reached the perimeter, its stone boots stepping heavy onto the platform. Arthur glared up at the towering figure, raising Kim's shortsword with his remaining strength.

"Come on then, you bastard!"

But the strike didn't come from the front.

SPURT!

A heavy stone spear slammed through Arthur's back, tearing cleanly out through the center of his chest.

"Gah!"

Arthur spat a massive mouthful of blood onto the flagstones. A concussive, unimaginable wave of pain ripped through his nervous system, blinding him.

"If that blade was two inches higher, you'd have a hole in your heart!"

Julie’s exasperated nagging from earlier that morning echoed briefly in his fading consciousness like a distant memory.

"Arghhhhh!!"

The stone statue casually hoisted the spear upward, lifting Arthur’s impaled body high into the air. He struggled weakly for a fraction of a second before the guardian violently slammed the weapon back down against the stone altar.

SLAM!!

The sickening crunch of breaking ribs echoed through his chest. Arthur curled inward, his body trembling violently as the pain completely overwhelmed his senses.

"Gah... hhh... hhh..."

Slowly, the surrounding guardian statues climbed the steps, forming a tight, impenetrable circle around his mangled form. Arthur forced his chin up, glaring at the emotionless stone faces looming over him.

I... I don't want to die like this...

Now that the absolute finality of death was staring him in the face, hot tears mixed with the blood on his cheeks. He saw the faces of his family—his sister smiling, his mother in her hospital bed—and Julie's terrified, tear-streaked face as Sterling carried her away...

I don't want to die...

He was only twenty-four years old. He didn't want his story to end in a dark, forgotten hole under the earth.

Step.

A guardian statue holding a massive stone claymore stepped out from the circle. Without a flicker of emotion, it raised the heavy blade high above Arthur's exposed neck.

Though his entire frame was shaking violently, Arthur refused to close his eyes. He glared directly at the descending steel.

The sword cut through the air.

Swiiiiishhh…

If only... if only I had one more chance!

Arthur's eyes went wide.

In that exact microsecond—

FREEZE.

As if an unseen hand had struck a master pause button, the lethal descent of the stone blade ground to an absolute halt inches from his throat.

No, it hadn't stopped completely; its velocity had been reduced to a microscopic crawl. One millimeter every minute. The blade was still descending, but the world around him had expanded into an impossible, suspended moment.

What... what is happening?!

Arthur stared in utter shock.

Right then, a crisp, articulate female voice—sounding like a flawless digital chime—echoed directly inside his mind.

> [Requirements for the Hidden Quest: 'Courage of the Weak' have been met.]

Hidden quest? Requirements met?

Arthur couldn't process a single word.

Where is that voice coming from?!

Ignoring his confusion, the digital voice continued with clinical precision:

> [You have been granted the qualifications to become a 'Player.' Do you accept?]

A Player? Accept what?

Having grown up in absolute poverty, Arthur had never turned down a hand-out in his life. But that was when he was alive. What good was a reward to a corpse?

When Arthur hesitated, the voice chimed again, an urgent countdown overlaying his thoughts:

> [Insufficient time remaining for decision. Cardiac failure will occur in precisely 0.02 seconds if you decline. Do you accept?]

Hallucination or not, Arthur realized he was a fraction of a second away from absolute erasure. Looking past the suspended claymore, he spotted dozens of other stone spears and axes frozen in the air around his body.

If this was his final moment, he had nothing left to lose.

Fine... if you're offering, then just give it to me!

He didn't need to speak the words aloud. The moment the thought formed in his mind, the chime responded instantly:

> [Congratulations. You have successfully registered as a 'Player.']

FLASH!!

A blinding, celestial light erupted around Arthur's broken body, swallowing the dark cathedral whole—and in that same instant, his consciousness slipped into total darkness

He opened his eyes.

Above him was a clean, sterile white ceiling, and the sharp, distinct odor of industrial disinfectant stung his nostrils. Beneath his back, he felt the firm, familiar support of a standard hospital mattress.

Arthur blinked, instantly recognizing his surroundings.

A hospital room?

Ever since he had started working raids alongside Julie, his hospital stays had dropped slightly, but medical wards were still as familiar to Arthur as a local coffee shop. The rookies at the Association used to joke that he had a private suite permanently reserved under his name.

Arthur slowly pushed his upper torso up, placing a hand flat against his chest. He felt the steady, rhythmic thump of his heart beating firmly beneath his ribs.

I'm... I'm alive?

It wasn't just that he was breathing; his entire body felt impossibly light and clear. Normally, waking up in a trauma unit meant dealing with a groggy, agonizing haze of painkillers and exhaustion.

Right now, he felt as if he had just woken up after ten hours of perfect, uninterrupted sleep in his own bed.

How is this possible...?

He remembered the final moments inside the sanctuary with terrifying clarity—the stone claymore descending toward his neck, the spear through his chest, the blood pooling on the flagstones.

Even if a high-ranking Association squad had magically breached the Cartenon Temple and pulled him out, his body should have been a broken shell.

Was it all just a fever dream?

There was an easy way to check.

Arthur reached down, grabbing the edge of the crisp white blanket covering his lower body. If the nightmare had been real, his right leg would be gone. If it was a dream—

"Oh, good. You're finally awake."