Zack stared at the rain-streaked window of his office. The year was 2025. It had been just over a year since the "Awakening," when the world changed forever. Dungeons—tears in reality—had appeared everywhere. With them came monsters, magic, and a new breed of human: the Awakened.
These 'Hunters' gained Classes and skills, like in a video game. They were humanity's new shield. And its new nobility.
Zack, at nineteen, was also one of the Awakened. On paper, at least.
His Hunter Watch, a sleek black band on his wrist, showed his status in stark, simple text:
[Zackary Cole]Rank: F (Beginner)Class: HealerStats:
Strength: 5
Agility: 5
Stamina: 5
Spirit: 5
Defense: 5
F-Rank. The bottom of the barrel. His stats were the minimum human baseline. And 'Healer' was a generous term. His only skill, [Minor Soothe], was a faint, pale green light that could barely ease a headache. It was useless in a real fight, as its power was tied to his rock-bottom 5-point Spirit stat.
The Hunter Ranks were a steep climb, each requiring a massive jump in power. The standard requirements to rank up were:
F -> E: 20 points in 3 main attributes.
E -> D: 40 points in 3 main attributes.
D -> C: 80 points in 3 main attributes.
C -> B: 160 points in 3 main attributes.
B -> A: 320 points in 3 main attributes.
A -> S: 640 points in 3 main attributes.
S -> S+: 1,280 points in 3 main attributes.
S+ -> SS: 2,560 points in 3 main attributes.
SS -> SSS: 5,120 points in 3 main attributes.
Zack, with his 5 points in every stat, wasn't even close to the first step.
He was also alone. His parents had died six months ago. His father, a decent D-Rank Warrior, had been his hero. The official report said they were killed in a "dungeon-related accident" during a routine clear. Zack knew better. He suspected sabotage.
Since their deaths, his life had been a slow-motion collapse. He was quiet, kind, and non-confrontational. In this new world, those were weaknesses. And the sharks smelled blood.
His family's business, "Vanguard Industries," a successful logistics company, was being torn apart. His father's former partners and rivals saw an F-Rank Healer kid in charge and circled. They exploited his kind nature, calling meetings he didn't understand and pushing contracts he didn't know how to read. They were stealing his inheritance right in front of him.
A buzz from his phone pulled him from his thoughts. It was a text from a board member, Mr. Barros.
"Zack, kid. We're holding a vote on selling the 4th street warehouse. Just a formality. Don't worry about coming in. We'll handle it. -TB"
Zack's hand tightened on the phone. "Just a formality." That's what they'd said when they sold the company's best transport fleet for half its value. He felt the familiar, useless burn of anger, but it fizzled out, as always, into tired resignation.
A sharp knock on his office door made him jump. It swung open, and a young woman with a high ponytail and a sword strapped to her back strode in.
"Emily," Zack said, a small, genuine smile touching his lips.
"Don't 'Emily' me," she said, though her voice was warm. Emily Han, a D-Rank Warrior and his oldest friend. She was everything he wasn't—strong, confident, and fiery. She jabbed a thumb back at his office door. "Your secretary is a nervous wreck. And you look like a kicked puppy. Who was it this time? Barros?"
Zack just sighed, and that was answer enough.
"That pig," Emily muttered. She plopped down in the chair opposite him. "Look, Zack, my father wanted me to remind you again. If you just say the word, he'll step in. He owes your dad. He'd love an excuse to 'negotiate' with Barros."
Mr. Han, her father, was a powerful man who'd built his own business from nothing, all thanks to a loan from Zack's father years ago. He was the only reason Vanguard Industries hadn't been completely eaten yet.
"I can't, Em. It's... it's mine to handle," Zack said, though he knew how weak it sounded.
Emily studied him, her gaze softening. "I know you're trying, Zack. But you're a Healer. And a kind person. This world... it's not new anymore." She stood up. "Come on. Let's spar. You need to hit something."
The company's private training room was small. Emily tossed him a wooden practice sword. "Ready?" she asked.
He nodded. The moment the spar began, the difference was clear. Emily, as a D-Rank (Beginner), had her main stats (Strength, Agility) around 40 points. Zack's were all 5. She moved like a blur, her sword a precise, controlled weapon. He was clumsy, slow, and weak.
Clack! She tapped his ribs. Clack! His shoulder. Clack! His wrist, making him drop the sword.
"You're hesitating," she said, picking it up for him. "You're afraid to get hit. And you're afraid to hit."
"Sorry," he mumbled, taking the sword.
"Don't be sorry. Be better." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Zack, I'm worried. What are you going to do?"
"I'll... figure it out," he said.
Emily left soon after, and Zack was left alone, the sting of his uselessness sharper than ever. He wasn't strong enough to fight, and he wasn't smart enough to win.
He left the office and wandered to the one place he felt a connection to his past: his family's old collection room. It was filled with art, old books, and artifacts his father had gathered. It was also dusty and filled with boxes, as he was supposed to be clearing it out.
He ran a hand along an old suit of armor, then stopped. In the corner, covered in a drop cloth, was a statue. It was about three feet tall, made of a dark, oily-looking stone he didn't recognize. It was a humanoid figure, cloaked and hooded, its face hidden in shadows. His father had loved it.
"Ugly thing, isn't it?" his father had once said, laughing. "But it feels... powerful."
Zack pulled the dusty cloth off. A cloud of dust made him cough. He tried to wipe the grime from the statue's hooded head. His hand slipped, and a sharp, unseen edge on the statue's cowl sliced his palm open.
"Ow!" He hissed, pulling his hand back. Blood welled up, dripping onto the statue's stone head.
The moment the blood touched the stone, it sizzled. The blood didn't just drip on it; it was absorbed by it. An icy-cold feeling shot up Zack's arm, and a mechanical voice echoed, not in the room, but inside his head.
[Host Bloodline Confirmed. Awakening Hidden Class: Mythical: God-Eater (Dark Element).]
Zack froze. "What?"
[New Skill Unlocked: God-Eater's Fury (Passive/Active)]: The rage of a starved god. Can be triggered by extreme emotional distress. (Warning: Active use will consume permanent stats for a temporary 10x multiplier, resulting in loss of rationality. Lost stats must be re-acquired.)
[System Integration Complete. Stat-Based Progression Initiated.][Host Progression System Activated. Requirements set higher than Standard.]
F -> E: Standard 20 (in 3) | Host 30 (in ALL 5)
E -> D: Standard 40 (in 3) | Host 50 (in ALL 5)
D -> C: Standard 80 (in 3) | Host 90 (in ALL 5)
C -> B: Standard 160 (in 3) | Host 170 (in ALL 5)
B -> A: Standard 320 (in 3) | Host 330 (in ALL 5)
A -> S: Standard 640 (in 3) | Host 650 (in ALL 5)
S -> S+: Standard 1,280 (in 3) | Host 1,290 (in ALL 5)
S+ -> SS: Standard 2,560 (in 3) | Host 2,570 (in ALL 5)
SS -> SSS: Standard 5,120 (in 3) | Host 5,130 (in ALL 5)
[Current Stats: 5 in all. Host E-Rank Requirement: 30 points in ALL attributes (Strength, Agility, Stamina, Spirit, Defense).]
Before he could even process the words "God-Eater," his vision dissolved. He wasn't in the collection room anymore. He was in a vast, gray, empty space.
"Hello?" he called out. His voice didn't echo.
[Welcome, Host, to the Parallel Dimension. This is your private training ground.][Calibrating... Host Public Rank: F (Healer). Spawning E-Rank Opponent: 'Lesser Goblin Warrior'.]
A green, scabby creature with a rusty knife and cruel, yellow eyes appeared ten feet in front of him. It was a Goblin—a monster from the E-Rank dungeons. Zack had only ever seen pictures. It snarled, its stats (all 20+) dwarfing his own.
It lunged.
Zack, terrified, tried to run. He was too slow. The knife plunged into his chest. The pain was blinding, absolute. He screamed.
And then he was back in the collection room, gasping on the floor, his heart hammering. He was completely unharmed. His hand, however, was still bleeding.
"It... it was real," he panted. He looked at his watch. No time had passed.
He touched the statue again. The menu appeared in his mind. He saw the first option: [E-Rank Challenge: 'Lesser Goblin Warrior']. He shivered. But then he saw another.
[F-Rank Challenge: Wave Mode]
He hesitated. F-Rank. That was his level. He could do that. He had to. He activated it.
The world dissolved. He was back in the gray space. [Spawning F-Rank Wave 1: Kobold x 3]
Three small, dog-faced creatures with clubs appeared. Their stats were low, like his. 5, maybe 10 points. They yipped and charged.
Zack's kindness vanished. The memory of the goblin's knife, the thought of Barros's sneer, and the pain of his own weakness merged into a single, cold point of rage. His God-Eater instinct, starved and new, surfaced.
He grabbed the nearest Kobold, ignoring its club, and brutally slammed his fist into its face. He was weak, but so was it. It was an ugly, desperate brawl. He took a club to the shoulder, the pain sharp, but he roared and smashed the creature's head against the gray floor.
One down. The other two were on him. He fought with a ruthlessness that would have terrified Emily. He used his nails, his teeth, anything. When the second one fell, the third tried to run. Zack tackled it and ended it quickly.
He stood panting, covered in monster blood, his knuckles raw. And then they dissolved. Where the first Kobold had died, a small, glowing red cube hovered.
[Small Red Cube (Strength +0.1)]
He touched it. The cube shattered into light and flowed into him. He felt... a tiny bit stronger. A warmth spread in his muscles.
Zack looked at his hands, then at the empty gray space. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. It wasn't a kind smile.
"Again," he whispered.
[Spawning F-Rank Wave 2: Kobold x 5]
He was no longer Zack the Healer. He was Zack the God-Eater. And he was hungry.