The Hunter Monarch

The bench Su Wan led them to was tucked away in a small, elevated alcove that overlooked one of the city's massive transport arteries. Below, streams of silent, glowing vehicles flowed like a river of light, their passage a stark contrast to the noisy, chaotic energy of the Hunter districts behind them. The constant hum of the city was a backdrop to their quiet moment, a reminder of the world they were temporarily ignoring.

They sat side-by-side, the warmth from the noodle bowls seeping into their laps. For a few minutes, they ate in a comfortable silence, the only sounds the soft click of chopsticks against ceramic and the appreciative slurping of noodles. Lin Yu ate with a focused intensity, savoring every bite. The rich broth was a balm to his weary soul, the tender meat a luxury that sent waves of satisfaction through him. It wasn't just food; it was fuel, it was comfort, it was a moment of peace he hadn't realized how desperately he needed.

Su Wan ate more slowly, her gaze drifting between her bowl and the sprawling neon cityscape. She seemed to be mulling something over. Finally, after draining the last of her broth, she set her empty bowl down with a soft click.

"You know," she began, her voice thoughtful, "I wasn't always a Warrior."

Lin Yu looked up, surprised. He had only ever known her as Su Wan the Warrior, a skilled and respected Hunter whose blade was as sharp as her instincts. Her leather armor was worn in all the right places, a testament to countless battles. The idea of her being anything else was hard to imagine.

"When I first registered with the System," she continued, her eyes distant, lost in a memory, "I didn't choose a combat role. I chose 'Crafter.' A Metalsmith, specifically. I thought it was safer. I thought I could contribute by making things, not by fighting monsters."

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "I was terrible at it. My hands were clumsy. My transmutations were impure. The best I ever managed to create was a slightly lopsided iron ingot. The Guilds wouldn't take me, and independent masters wouldn't waste their time on an apprentice with no talent. I was a failure."

Lin Yu listened intently, chopsticks paused midway to his mouth. He had never heard her speak of her past like this.

"I was broke," she went on, her voice turning grim. "I couldn't afford crafting materials, couldn't afford rent. I was just like you, Lin Yu. I was taking the worst jobs for the worst pay, just to eat. I was a 'Zero' in my own way—a Crafter who couldn't craft. People looked at me with the same pity and contempt you see every day. They called me 'Butterfingers Sū,' whispered that I was useless."

A flicker of a painful memory crossed her face, and Lin Yu felt a pang of empathy so sharp it surprised him. He could picture it perfectly: a younger Su Wan, filled with a different kind of hope, being ground down by the same indifferent, unforgiving world that was trying to grind him down now.

"So what changed?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Desperation," she said simply. "There was a reset amnesty for first-year Hunters who hadn't advanced. A one-time chance to wipe your slate clean and choose a new role. It was meant for people who made a catastrophic mistake. Everyone told me not to do it, that I'd be throwing away a year of my life. But I had nothing left to lose."

She looked down at her own hands, turning them over. Unlike his, they were calloused and scarred, the hands of a fighter.

"I chose Warrior. I had no natural talent for it, either. I was clumsy with a sword. I was scared. The first time I went into a Door, a Low-F Rank slime pit, I almost died. But I didn't. I survived. And I found something that day I never had in a forge: determination. I learned that I could trade pain and fear and sweat for strength. It was a currency I had in abundance."

She finally turned to look at him, her gaze clear and direct. "I'm not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me. I'm telling you this so you understand. I know what it feels like to be at the bottom, to have everyone write you off. I know what it's like to be hungry and desperate and to feel like the whole world is designed to keep you down."

Her words landed on him like a physical weight, but a comforting one. It wasn't pity. It was something far more profound. It was solidarity. She wasn't a goddess of the battlefield descending from on high to help a poor mortal. She was a fellow survivor who had clawed her way out of the same pit he was currently trapped in. Their bond, which he had always seen as a one-sided act of charity on her part, was suddenly reframed. It was built on a foundation of shared experience, of a mutual understanding of what it meant to be powerless.

"You have more grit than anyone I know, Lin Yu," she said, her voice softening. "You endure more in a single day than most of those preening 'elite' Hunters have in their entire lives. That's a kind of strength, too. Don't ever forget that."

A warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the noodles. It was hope. A fragile, flickering thing he rarely allowed himself to feel.

He finished his meal in a newfound silence, the conversation settling around them. He felt seen, truly seen, for the first time since he had woken up in this strange, cold world.

"I have a spot in my party's run tomorrow," Su Wan said as they stood up to leave, stacking their empty bowls. "It's a D-Rank Door. The pay is fair, and the team is solid. It's yours, if you want it."

It wasn't a handout. It was an offer from a comrade.

"I want it," Lin Yu said, his voice firm, without a hint of the hesitation she might have expected. "Thank you, Su Wan."

"Good," she replied, a genuine smile finally gracing her lips. It transformed her face, chasing away the weariness and revealing the fierce, unyielding woman beneath. "Meet us at the east gate at dawn. And try to get a good night's sleep. The corrupted librarians have a nasty habit of shrieking."

She led the way from the bench, their empty bowls stacked, and they began walking back toward the brighter, more crowded main streets. Lin Yu followed with a lighter step. The coins in his pocket hadn't changed in value, but the weight of his existence felt different. He was still a Zero, still a Pack Mule. But for the first time, he felt like he wasn't entirely alone in his struggle. And that, he realized, was a treasure more valuable than any A-grade drop.