Eastern District Gate Challenge (5)

Kenji elbowed Hiro in the ribs as they pushed back through the knot of people crowding the snack stands.

Every other step, Hiro nearly lost his balance because he wouldn't stop gnawing on his half-eaten fish ball like it was the last piece of food on earth.

"Quit trying to walk and chew at the same time, man," Kenji muttered, half amused, half exasperated. He scanned the plaza for a clear view of the big screens overhead. "Come on, hurry up, they're about to start the next batch."

Hiro finally tore the fish ball free with his teeth and waved the stick at the scoreboard feed flickering above them.

A dozen boxes were up, some showed empty forests, some showed the real-time feeds of rookies pacing around the starting zones inside the Gate. A bright "EASTERN DISTRICT GATE CHALLENGE — SOLO RUNS" banner scrolled across the top.

Hiro squinted. "So… what do they even do in there? I thought hunters did, like, big team raids and dramatic boss fights. This looks like solo parkour with monsters."

Kenji looked ready to argue but Leo beat him to it, barely lifting his eyes from the cheap drink pouch he was sucking dry through a battered plastic straw. "Bro. It's the Eastern District Gate Challenge," Leo said, tone so flat you'd think he was explaining how to tie your shoes to a toddler. "One Gate, but each run's solo. You go in alone, run a wave pattern, score points, get clowned if you mess up. Any questions, dearie?"

Hiro stared at him blankly. "Wave pattern?"

Kenji leaned in with his own half-baked commentary. "Basically, think survival mode. You get monsters in waves, it starts easy, then ramps up. It's like a tower defense, except you are the tower. Or the defense, or maybe both."

Leo kept going, flicking his straw at Hiro's forehead for emphasis. "Gate stays stable all weekend and the Hunter Association turns it into an exhibition for rookies who wanna flex. Each run's ten, twenty minutes max. Monsters are all tier one or two, just enough to break your nose if you get sloppy."

Kenji grinned, hooking his thumbs into his pockets like he'd helped organize the damn thing. "Points for how many you kill, plus if you survive the whole run. Oh, and if you do it with style, they give you extra. That's for the big screens and the sponsors, obviously."

Hiro made a face like he'd just swallowed a bug. "Style? So if you do a backflip while stabbing a goblin, you get more points?"

Leo snorted. "Yeah. Bunch of idiots think they're anime protagonists until they slip a disc trying to do twirls for the crowd. You wipe out, the Gate boots you, and of course, no second chances."

Kenji jabbed a finger up at the scoreboard. "They haul you out in front of everyone too, it's good for the highlight reels. Just yesterday I saw some guy being completely covered in slime."

Hiro barked a laugh. "So you can't fight each other inside?"

Leo shook his head. "Nah. Each hunter gets their own 'instance,' same map and waves, but they're not standing next to each other swinging swords like an arena match. It's not that dumb. Leaderboard's where the flex happens, it updates in real time. So if you talk big, everyone can see exactly how fast you get smacked down."

Kenji leaned closer, dropping his voice dramatically. "Winner's whoever holds top score when the Gate closes."

Hiro tilted his head at the screens again. One feed showed Theodore's name hovering in blocky white text.

He was standing dead still in a clearing, blade held loose, like he hadn't even noticed the camera drones buzzing around him. Definitely aura farming. (I'm so sorry)

Hiro poked Kenji's side. "So why's Theodore so calm? He should be bouncing around hyping himself up or something. Look at those other guys, they're jumping in place like they're at a concert."

Leo made a low noise in his throat, the corner of his mouth curling up around his straw. "That's the guy you watch out for. Doesn't need style points. He just needs the payout. Personally, I think that's aura." (Again, 2025💔 btw)

Kenji let out a short laugh. "You know ball. If you see someone that chill before a solo run, you just pray you're not the one they pass on the board."

They all went quiet for a second as the big screen shifted to a side-by-side split. On one half, Theodore Prune's cam feed lingered on his steady form in the forest arena, the faint shimmer of the first wave flickering in the trees ahead of him.

On the other half, that same rookie from earlier — the one who'd been bragging about taking Theodore out first wave — was pacing around like he owned the place, spinning his blade for the camera drones.

Hiro leaned forward, chewing on the empty stick. "Broooooooo. Please tell me they're gonna run at the same time."

Kenji popped the last bite of fried dough into his mouth, grin splitting ear to ear. "Oh, they're running at the same time."

Leo just sipped the dregs of his drink. "Better pray the rookie gets an easy wave spawn."

Hiro: "Why?"

Leo flicked the empty pouch into the trash can without missing a beat. "Because otherwise the scoreboard's about to embarrass his entire bloodline."

***

The Gate swallowed HIM whole in an instant.

One moment he was stepping off concrete, the next he was ankle-deep in damp moss, the air around him hushed and cool.

A faint mist drifted between the heavy trunks of the forest arena, carrying the distant hush of hidden streams and a scatter of soft animal calls.

If you didn't know better, you might've thought it peaceful.

Theodore rolled his shoulders once, feeling the slight pinch of the strap across his back.

He dropped the duffel at the base of an old stump — he wouldn't need it until the run ended — then took two careful steps forward, boots sinking just a little in the spongy ground.

He let his eyes adjust to the low light, the deep green shadows flickering with the faint shimmer that marked the spawn points for the first wave.

Goblins! Easy enough if you didn't get sloppy.

He exhaled through his nose, sliding the blade from its sheath with a quiet hiss. The steel looked almost dull in the soft forest light, but he knew the edge would hold, it always did when he did his part.

His gaze swept the terrain. There, a slight ridge, more like a shallow bank of packed earth, rising and dipping behind a scatter of rocks and roots.

Good enough to funnel them. If they were dumb, they'd charge head-on. If they were clever, well, it is wave one, so they won't be.

The shimmer snapped, peeling open like thin ice cracking on a pond. Four goblins stumbled through, their hunched frames barely making a sound over the moss.

They sniffed the air in unison, eyes catching the faint glint of the scoreboard projection above him that only he could see.

Didn't matter, they didn't understand what it meant. They only knew meat... actually, maybe not, that one hobgoblin... wait. Yeah no, they probably do only know meat

Theodore shifted his grip, right foot back, left heel dug in at an angle that would let him pivot if they split.

He tested his balance, rock steady. A breath in, held just behind his teeth.

The first goblin broke from the pack with a ragged bark, rusty hatchet swinging so wide it nearly clipped its own shoulder.

Theodore let it come. He tilted, parried low, feeling the jolt of metal skimming wood. He stepped in, blade catching the goblin's collarbone, dragging down clean. It went slack before it hit the moss.

He didn't bother glancing at the scoreboard overhead. He could feel the points ticking up anyway. He slipped to the side as the second goblin came at him with a half-rotten spear, its snarl rattling through broken teeth.

He caught the spear haft with his free hand, twisted, kicked the thing's knee sideways with the inside of his boot. When it folded, he brought the blade across the back of its neck.

Third and fourth tried to circle. He moved to meet them instead, pressing into the angle of the ridge so they couldn't flank.

The first lunged, but it was sloppy. He blocked, hooked his arm under its elbow, and buried the point under its chin.

The last made a sound like it was thinking twice, but by then he'd already closed the distance, boots sinking in just enough to keep his stance low and steady as he drove the hilt into its chest.

A quick, practical jab to the throat finished it.

Theodore let the blade hang at his side for a second, listening. Nothing but the hiss of the Gate's ambient wind.

Ding!

"Wave 1 Complete. Theodore Prune — 12 pts."

No cheers in here, only outside, where the PA would call it out, where the three weird idiots he'd just met were probably going crazy with whatever's happening.

He dragged the bodies to the side in one quick loop, boots crunching over old leaves.

He'd learned that one through a meme on MemeNet, step on a dead arm mid-fight and you're the next highlight clip for the wrong reasons. So those clips did have use!

He checked his blade, wiped the flat side on a clean patch of moss, then turned back to the spawn ridge. A faint flicker in the trees told him the next wave wouldn't wait long.

'Good.'

End of Chapter 24.

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ALT SYSTEM — USER PROFILE: ZERO

Level: 10

EXP: 2 / 100

Next Unlock: Skill — Crimson Slash

Global System Tracking: DISABLED

World Rank Association: UNLINKED

Stats:

STR: 8 | AGI: 8 (Affinity) | VIT: 3 | DEX: 1 | INT: 7 | WIS: 0

[Available Stat Points: 0]

[Derived Stat — MANA: 35 / 35]

Skills:

[Phantom Stride Lv.1] (Active Skill)

[Blade Control Lv.1]

[Parry Timing Lv.1]

[Reflex Sync Lv.1] (Passive Skill)

[Combat Awareness Lv.2] (Passive Skill)

[Skill Fusion Menu: Active]

[Dev Tree: Tier 0 Access Granted]

[Developer Node – Fusion Core Anchor: Active]

[Skill Slot Available — Unassigned]

Equipment:

Aged Blade Fragment (??? Rarity) (Bound)

Goblin Dagger

Spiked Boar Tusk Shard

Lightweight Chest Padding

Boots of Basic Mobility

Fingerless Gloves (Basic)

Starter Cloak: Faded Black

Training Ring (+1 VIT)