But first—equipment.
Michael headed for the Dharma Bazaar. If he was going to hunt Copper Horn Boars, he needed weapons forged for one purpose—survival. After gearing up, he made his way toward their habitat.
The territory of E-rank interstellar beasts.
People always assumed these creatures came only when meteors fell.
They were right.
But once a meteor hit, the nightmare didn't end. It had to be hunted down, burned out, erased before it twisted the land.
If they failed…
Or worse, if they simply chose to ignore it…
The infection settled, grew, and transformed into a habitat.
Why?
Because sometimes the world wanted it that way.
If it was an Outcast Slum—somewhere they'd already thrown away—then they'd let it rot. They'd watch from afar while people inside bled, screamed, and died inch by inch.
Michael knew this intimately—because he was from one of those slums.
Only difference?
His slum wasn't abandoned.
It was watched.
Observed.
Bodies counted while the world did nothing.
Now that same area had been "repurposed"—turned into a training ground for C.O.S.M.O.S. recruits.
And now? It was closed off.
Michael slipped past the guards with silent confidence.
Inside, the ground was littered with skeletons and skulls—Outcasts.
He didn't feel sympathy.
That was the natural order of this ruined world.
Further in, the air shifted.
Shadows slid across the ground.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Michael stopped.
One by one, Copper Horn Boars emerged from the mist—their eyes locked onto him, their breath steaming white in the cold.
A small, crooked smile tugged at his mouth as he tightened his grip on his weapon.
"Let's fucking dance, ugly," he muttered.
He was armed with only two short swords.
Broad at the base, mid-length, edges sharpened to carve bone yet sturdy enough to take punishment. Jet boots strapped firm. Armor locked tight—heavy iron plates weighing him down but giving him something resembling a chance.
Not that he earned any of it honestly.
No—he stole them straight from Victor's shop. If Victor ever found out Michael was using his gear to invade C.O.S.M.O.S. hunting grounds? He'd gut the boy himself.
And honestly? Michael wouldn't blame him.
Who in their right mind arms a lunatic willing to pick a fight with the world's biggest military organization—the same organization capable of trading blows with the Hammer Saints?
Speaking of which…
Michael hadn't even explained the Hammer Saints yet.
Well—he'd save that story for later.
Right now, all anyone needed to know was simple:
He was outnumbered.
Everyone thought he was a fool.
And yes—he was a fool.
Because who else charges into C.O.S.M.O.S. head-on, dies, and then comes back with a cursed anomaly called the Black Lotus pulsing inside him?
So now it was time to see what that cursed flower could do.
Ten Copperhorns.
Ten interstellar beasts.
That was the herd Michael walked into.
Did he know their hunting patterns?
No. Just scraps of rumor.
Was he prepared for the worst?
Not even close.
Because if he let the "worst" crawl into his thoughts, it would devour him before the first horn even hit.
The first boar charged.
Michael aimed for its eye—perfect kill shot.
But the beast swerved, far quicker than its weight suggested.
The second slammed into him from behind.
Air blasted out of his lungs.
His chest burned.
Before he could breathe, a third boar rammed him. Then a fourth. Then a fifth.
He was tossed across the dirt like a toy at a drunken festival. Horns clanged off his armor until he finally skidded to a stop—armor cracked, chest screaming.
He glanced down.
The plates were split.
One more direct hit and he'd be a smear on the ground.
The herd pawed the earth, hungry for the next round.
Then—his opening.
Their rhythm faltered. Their unity broke just for a second.
Enough.
And that's when Michael realized something.
He'd underestimated them.
They weren't brainless.
They weren't stupid.
They adapted.
The first boar came again—same trajectory, same fury.
But this time Michael ignited his jet boots, heat exploding beneath him, launching him upward.
Steel punched through the boar's eye.
The beast shrieked, thrashing in agony.
Another charged. He slid aside, sparks spitting from his boots, vaulted over its skull, and stabbed downward—both eyes gone.
It screamed, blinded, swinging wildly. A blind beast was still dangerous—but predictable.
So he repeated it.
Again.
And again.
Every charging boar—he blinded.
Every set of eyes—he carved out.
Their tortured cries tore through the air until ten Copperhorns lay dead, twitching, scattered across the battlefield.
And with each kill—
[ SYSTEM: Defeated "Copperhorn Boar." Reward: +100 Black Essence Units ]
[ SYSTEM: Defeated "Copperhorn Boar." Reward: +100 Black Essence Units ]
The notifications stacked endlessly.
Ten kills.
One thousand Black Essence Units.
Silence settled.
Blood pooled.
Steam rose from corpses.
Shattered tusks glinted under the dim sky.
Then—
[Mission Completed]
Unlock 1st Petal of Black Lotus? – Yes/No
Michael clicked Yes without hesitation.
Another prompt appeared:
[All Black Essence Units will be consumed. Confirm? Yes/No]
He clicked again, irritated.
"Why ask twice? What's the point?" he muttered.
Immediately, the corpses exhaled.
Ten streams of black fumes snaked upward, twisting like serpents before plunging into his body.
Heat exploded in his chest.
His skin crawled.
His veins burned like molten wire.
And then—
Darkness.
[SYSTEM: 1st Petal of Black Lotus Unlocked]
Activate? – Yes/No
Michael grinned, annoyed yet eager.
"That's why I fought. That's why I bled. Yes."
The world shattered.
Colors drained away.
The sky, the earth, the corpses—even his own hands—bled into black, white, and grey.
His fingers looked hollow.
Not human.
Like shadows pretending to be flesh.
"What the fuck…" he whispered.
He forced out the command:
"Status. Open."
A window appeared—bright in a world of monochrome.
[ Combat Stat ]
[ Offensive Power ]
[ Defensive Power ]
[ Essence & Ability Growth ]
He opened Essence.
There it was:
[SYSTEM: Essence Absorption rate: 0.02 BEU/s]
[SYSTEM: Lotus Synchronisation: 4.16%]
[SYSTEM: Ability Unlocked — Void Eyes]
He tapped the ability.
[Void Eyes: The ability to perceive the flow of Black Essence in all living and non-living things. Reveals vital points and structural weaknesses.]
Michael whistled quietly.
"That's not an ability… that's cheating."
But before he could admire it, the ground trembled.
Twigs snapped.
Leaves rustled.
Low, guttural squeals echoed through the mist.
Thirty Copperhorns stepped out—bodies rendered in dull grey through his Void Eyes. Muscles bunched. Hooves shook the dirt. Steam poured from their mouths.
Then it came.
The giant.
Ironhide Copperhorn Boar—its hide layered in stone-like plates, horns massive, breath boiling hot.
A deeper grey aura pulsed from it.
[ SYSTEM ]
Defeat D-rank Interstellar Beast – Ironhide Copper Horn Boar
Rewards:
+400 Black Essence Units
Ironhide Second-Grade Copper Horn ×10
Ironhide Copper Horn Boar Meat
Michael's pulse hammered.
His Void Eyes flared.
Every beast—normal or Ironhide—glowed with faint marks.
Vital points.
The gap between their neck and front leg.
Michael grinned—feral, hungry.
Then another window popped up:
[SYSTEM: Bonus: Copperhorn Boar Meat ×10]
[SYSTEM: Surprise Bonus — +10 points in all Combat Stats for unlocking 1st Petal of Black Lotus]
Michael clenched his fists, veins singing with power.
"So this is it… the real hunt begins now."
He cracked his neck, stepped forward, and smiled like a bastard.
"Next up? Harvest time."