Skill Hunter -Kill Monsters, Acquire Skills, Ascend to the Highest Rank!

CLANG! CLANG!

A bell rang, startling Ike out of his work. He jerked away from the hide, taking the razor with him so the blade wouldn't nick the skin.

A familiar call echoed from the center of the monster processing plant's courtyard. "Come and get paid! Day's over, I'm not stickin' around! Come get paid!"

The other workers headed to the courtyard. Hunkered in a corner of the hide shack, Ike pressed on, scraping his razor down the last few strokes. The last of the hair fell away, and he stood at last. A slow, satisfied breath fluttered the cloth he wore around his nose and mouth. Fifteen scraped hides marched away, filling the small hut. Finally, I'll have enough coin. Finally!

Dusting himself off, he headed to the courtyard. A long queue snaked through the cobbled yard. All the workers, from muscular bonesplitters to weather-worn skinners lined up. The buildings of the monster plant loomed over them. To his right, the skinned bodies hooked up in a warehouse, ready to become meat. To his left, a pile of bones from some enormous beast, destined for the upper city. The stench of the tannery wafted over the courtyard. High above, the glittering overcity cast a shadow over the plant as the sun began to set, casting the whole courtyard in shadow.

Ike bounced with anticipation, perched on the balls of his feet, leaning forward. As soon as he got through this line, he could put this godsforsaken plant behind him, forever. Head out. Work as a hunter. Finally make enough coin to start paying back his debt, instead of merely staving off interest.

Thump.

Ike staggered, grabbing his shoulder, and barely caught himself before he fell. He looked up.

A muscular man looked down at him. He towered over Ike, both taller and broader. His whole body exuded power. "Sorry. Didn't see you there."

"Sean, you—" Ike cut off his comeback. It didn't matter. Nothing here mattered, except the coin he earned.

"What're you waiting for? Get in line." Sean hooked his head toward the back of the courtyard.

Ike turned. The line snaked on, vanishing back toward the blood-draining pits. His expression turned sour. "I was in line already."

"Huh, that's weird. I didn't see you," Sean said, rubbing his chin.

Ike scowled. He glared at Sean one last time, then stomped off toward the back of the plant. He'd never make the market on time from the back of the line. It would be closed before he got paid.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath through the cloth. You've waited this long. There's always tomorrow.

Five more coins. One day's pay, and then he could afford a skill orb. He could only afford the cheapest skill, but it didn't matter. Any skill meant access to the System. And access to the System meant he could escape this place. Escape his shitty job, his shitty uncle, and these shitty slums, and finally become something more. Something bigger than Ike, slumrat.

The line shortened as the sun dipped toward the horizon. At last, Ike reached the short wooden table where Liz stood, counting out coppers to the workers. She shot him a smile, her red hair gleaming in the low light. "Ike! Glad to see you. I thought I'd have to go flush you out of the hut again."

"No, no." Ike scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. He tugged the cloth down to his chest and gave her an awkward smile.

She nodded. "So, how many today?"

"Fifteen hides."

"Fifteen?" Liz whistled. "Phew. Every day, you get a little bit faster, huh?"

"You can go count them if you want," Ike invited her, gesturing toward the hut.

"No, no. I believe you. Just…damn." Liz reached into the chest and counted out coppers. She held out fifteen coppers.

"Wait. Remember? My debt. Hold back ten coppers," Ike reminded her.

"I forgot." She winked.

Ike half-smiled, half grimaced. "My uncle owns the plant. He'll know."

"Right. I can't imagine being indebted to your employer. Must be awful."

"It's…" Ike's platitudes dropped off his tongue. He shrugged, eyes on the ground.

"Here you go, then. Five coppers." Liz held out her hand, and Ike reached to accept the coins.

A rose petal floated down and landed on the back of Liz's hand.

"Huh?" Liz and Ike both looked up.

Floating on the air just outside the overcity, a troupe of dancers in pink costumes danced under a rain of rose petals. They flipped and swirled in concert like a flock of starlings. An ornate golden throne faced the dancers, and a girl about Ike's age perched atop it. She wore a pale pink dress, its skirt layered like a rose's petals. Strawberry blonde hair fell in waves around her face. Her skin was as creamy smooth as milk, her eyes like green gems. She clapped, bouncing to the beat of music too distant for Ike to hear, her face lit up in delight.

Ike lifted his filthy hands. His thin arms and tattered clothes. His oily hair, falling in his face. They were the same age, and yet, the two of them couldn't be more different.

"Must be nice." Liz sighed wistfully, shaking her head.

Ike nodded. He pointed up at the sky. "I'll be up there, one day. One of those immortals, living in the overcity. You can bet on it."

Liz laughed. "No way."

"I will."

"Okay, okay. Then, will you take me with you?" Liz asked, grinning at him.

"I'll get strong enough that I can lift the whole slums up to the overcity," Ike promised.

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"It's a promise." Liz locked up the chest and hefted it, carrying it off toward the office. "But for now, get out! I've got to lock the place up."

With a nod, Ike set off at a jog. Through the gate, past the tall wooden fence, and along the hill into the slums proper. Ramshackle huts leaned and tilted to either side of him, everything from mud cabins to canvas tents all jumbled together. All the buildings huddled together on the side of the hill, as if leaning close would save them from the mudslides that tore the hill apart on a regular basis. He headed toward the largest building in the slums: his uncle's villa.

The massive building wandered down the side of the hill, easily covering four floors' worth of height. No particular plan had gone into the building. As a result, a mess of architecture lurked on the hillside, almost toadlike.

He sprinted into one of the many courtyards and got to work. The sun vanished over the edge of the earth as Ike did situps, pullups, pushups, every exercise he knew. It wasn't much. Compared to the power the System would grant him, it was nothing. And still, he pressed on. Anything to get an edge. Anything to find one more ounce of strength.

Under the cover of darkness, he finally stood. By now, his uncle would be passed out drunk. It was time to collect his stash. First thing tomorrow morning, he'd go buy his skill orb.

Grabbing the edge of a windowsill, Ike vaulted into one of the many paneless windows that clad the exterior of his uncle's villa. The interior was no better than the exterior. Liquor bottles and other trash piled up on the floor. Cockroaches scuttled underfoot. Ike held his breath, nose wrinkling in disgust.

He squeezed sideways through a narrow hallway and into the forgotten part of the villa, the cleanest part of the sprawling structure. Dust clad every abandoned chair and lost table. His footsteps marked the only path on the floor.

He followed that path halfway through the house, then leaped off it onto a chair. The path through the dust turned away, leading a searcher in the wrong direction. Ike bounced from chair to rug to countertop to shattered remnant of a table. From an ottoman, he leaped and hooked his hands on a doorway's trim and swung into a small room twisted away in the heart of the villa. There, at last, he landed, hurrying into a corner of the room. He knelt and pried up a floorboard.

Empty. Completely empty.

Ike stared. His brows furrowed. He reached into the space, running his hand around the muddy hollow, disbelieving even as his heart sunk into his stomach, even as his fingertips found nothing but cold, wet clay. No. No. No. Not again. Please. Not again. Anything but—

A hand gripped the back of his head and drove it into the ground. A deep voice, slurred from alcohol, growled, "Hiding money from me, boy?"

He gritted his teeth. Saying anything now would only egg his uncle on. Silence was his only defense.

"Heh. Afraid to answer, huh?" His uncle pulled his head away from the floorboards and looked him in the eye. They shared the same crystal blue eyes as Ike's mother, though they shared no other family resemblance. Sagging eyebags and bloodshot eyes, thick, hateful lips, cauliflowered ears from a prideful history long since abandoned, a jowly chin that jiggled when he spoke. Ike hated every inch of that face, every feature of it. If he could erase his eyes, he would, if only to share nothing with the man before him.

Seeing Ike's lack of response, his uncle's upper lip curled. He slammed Ike's face into the floor, over and over. Ike didn't fight, already knowing it was pointless. His uncle had been a Rank 2 adventurer, back in the day. An unawakened person like him stood no chance.

Ike braced himself against each blow, absorbing as much of the force with his arms and body as he could. "Stupid. Fucking. Filth. Trash. Stealing. My. Money!"

At last, he released Ike. Standing, he dusted his hands off and spat. A gooey blob struck the ground by Ike's head. "You know how much you owe me, boy?"

Silence. Blood dripped down Ike's face, the cut on his forehead reopened. The world fuzzed a little at the edges, wobbly and unclear. Every part of his face burned, hot, already starting to swell.

His uncle kicked him in the gut, lifting him off the ground. He hit the ground and rolled, adjusting his angle toward the center of the room so he wouldn't strike the wall next kick. The uncle loomed over him, casting him in shadow. "Answer!"

Ike swallowed back a mouthful of blood. He cast his eyes downward, hating the word even as he said it. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"I know how much I owe," Ike muttered.

"You're family, so I'm letting you get away with paying interest. If you have extra money, it goes straight to principal, you know? Principal!" The uncle shook his head, glaring down at Ike.

Ike resisted the urge to glare back. Principal. Right. Any extra money he gave went to his uncle's alcohol, and never to his debt.

It was a losing game. No way out. He could only suffer, and lose, and remain in his uncle's debt his entire life, as long as he let his uncle stay in control.

The skill orb was meant to be his salvation. And now…

From the floor, he eyed the man, body prickling with disgust from proximity alone. Fat covered what had once been impressive muscles, and he stumbled slightly where he stood, but the man's power hadn't left. The pain of the kick still ached in his gut, and his face ached fiercely, nose throbbing. He wanted to touch it, to find out if it was broken, but remained still, afraid to show his uncle weakness.

Strong. Powerful. And yet, so, so horribly pathetic. The watery, alcoholic eyes. The swollen red nose. That wobble. Pathetic.

And who's under that pathetic man's thumb?

His uncle went to leave, then stopped. He turned back. His eyes narrowed. "Your eyes. Those fucking eyes."

Ike lowered his lashes, but didn't look away, on the watch for more attacks.

A boot flew his way. Mustering all his strength, he threw himself with the kick, rolling dramatically across the floor for his uncle's satisfaction. A pained expression on his face, he panted, half-closing his eyes. Is that what you want? Leave me alone.

His uncle harrumphed. He pointed over his shoulder, at the wall and the world beyond. "Just like your useless mother. She thought she could leave this city. She thought she could survive out there. And what happened? Came limping to me one day, almost dead, a toddler leading her by the arm. Bullshit. What bullshit."

He stomped off, muttering under his breath as he did. "Cost a fuckin' fortune to fix her up, and what'd she do? Die on me anyways. Fuckin' hell. You better pay back her debt before you die."

Ike laid there, waiting. The footsteps faded. He counted to ten, then twenty, then finally pushed himself upright. Dusting himself off, he peered around the doorframe to make sure his uncle had really left, then patted his belt. A small, fat pouch of coins bulged just under his belt.

His lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Fuck you, old man."

But it was bitter. Oh, so bitter. He felt the coins he had, all five of them. Enough for a meal and a night at an inn. Enough for a new shirt. Nothing. He had nothing.

It wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough. His jaw trembled, whole body tensing. Years. It had taken years to gather those coins. Frustrated, he punched the wall. "Fuck!"

Years. Years under his uncle's thumb. Years pinching and saving, eating half as much as he needed, hiding and scrimping, and his uncle—

A shallow breath. Ike closed his eyes. I still have some coins. Focus on the positive. Focus on what I can do.

He bit his lip, forcing himself to focus. A knife, maybe. If he was quick enough… but no. Not against a Rank 2. Even if he attacked his uncle while he slept, without a System, he'd never be able to move fast enough to finish the job before his uncle woke up and ended him.

What next? Years of saving, again? Rage rushed to his head the second the words came to mind, jaw instantly grinding. His nose flared, breath short. Something. There had to be something. Another option. Another way to—

KA-BLAM!

Startled, Ike looked up, searching for a window. Light blared from the next room over. He sprinted to its window and pushed the waxed paper covering out of the way.

Far overhead, figures fought back and forth, warring in the skies. Momentarily, one broke away and threw. A metallic orb arced from their hand across the sky, trailing fire.

Ike watched it, his heart fluttering with desire.

Real magic. The kind of magic ordinary people would kill for. Whoever it lands near is going to be a lucky man.

It flew on, down from the overcity, over the undercity, down and down, screeching along. Ike's eyes widened.

It's going to land in the slums.

Holy shit, it's going to land in the slums!

Throwing himself through the window frame, Ike sprinted toward the fireball, his heart in his throat, fire in his eyes.

Whoever it lands near…? Whoever it lands near?! Bullshit! This is my chance. I'm not going to let anyone else take it. I'm getting out of these slums. And no one's going to stop me!