Chapter 1 – The Hunter Who Couldn't Kill a Chicken
Williams Michael was famous in the Hunter Guild.
Not for strength.
Not for talent.
Not even for courage.
He was famous because he was useless.
"Hey, Max! Don't forget the herbs this time!"
"Careful, Max! The plants might fight back!"
Laughter followed him everywhere he went.
They called him Max—a cruel joke for a man who couldn't even kill a chicken on his own.
Max stood in the guild courtyard, hands covered in dirt, a basket of medicinal plants at his feet. This was his life. Picking herbs. Escorting merchants. Running messages. Cleaning blood off armor he never wore in battle.
He was a hunter… only in name.
And yet, he never complained.
Because every copper coin he earned went to one place—his mother's medicine.
Today, her coughing had been worse.
Max clenched his fists.
I need more money.
That thought alone gave him courage he never had before.
The Saint in the Church
As the sun set, Max paused and looked toward the white spires of the Holy Church.
Victoria lived there now.
His childhood friend.
The girl who once ran barefoot beside him in the fields.
The girl who promised she'd always stay with him.
She was now Saint Victoria—pure, untouchable, devoted to the church.
Max smiled bitterly.
"She probably doesn't even remember me anymore…"
A powerless hunter like him had no place beside a holy saint.
Still, she was the reason he kept moving forward.
The Request
That night, Max stood before the Hunter Guild desk, heart pounding.
"I… I want a better-paying job," he said quietly.
The guild officers looked at him. Then at each other.
And then—
They smiled.
Not kind smiles.
Amused ones.
"You're in luck, Max," the guide said. "We have a safe and easy mission for you."
Max's eyes lit up.
"A Manastone Harvester."
His task was simple—or so they said.
Follow elite hunters.
Wait until magical beasts were killed.
Extract the mana stones from their corpses.
No fighting.
No danger.
High pay.
Max nearly cried with relief.
"Thank you! I'll do my best!"
Behind him, laughter echoed softly.
Max laughed with them—
not knowing why they were laughing.
The Hunting Party
Ten hunters were assigned to the mission.
They were elites.
Amelia, a mage, calm and terrifying—her spells could destroy monsters or strengthen allies in an instant.
Elijah, a priest, always praying—his healing kept hunters alive.
Robert, James, and Mia, ruthless swordsmen, blades stained with countless kills.
Evelyn, Harper, Davis, silent night hunters who moved like shadows.
Rodriguez and Martinez, defenders—their sole duty was to protect the mage and priest.
And then there was Max.
The manastone harvester.
The weakest one there.
Rodriguez glanced at him and smirked.
"Aren't you scared, kid?"
Max scratched his head. "Why would I be? I don't have to fight."
More laughter.
Only Amelia looked at him strangely—her eyes lingering for a second too long.
The Lie
The mission wasn't safe.
The job wasn't real.
There were no magical beasts planned for Max to harvest.
He was bait.
A living trap meant to lure a vampire out of hiding.
And Max—laughing, hopeful, thinking about his mother's medicine and Victoria's smile—walked straight into it.
Unaware.
Unprepared.
Unchosen.
Or so they believed.