UTH CH 18 (Patreon)

Stats points, the lifeline of all hunters. While different hunters might have different stats depending on their classes and so on, so far, there was one common point between all of them.

Rank, tier, realm, and so on. They all represented the same thing.

Every 10 points represented a new rank.

The base stats of F-ranked hunters would be F-30. Currently, outside of the resistance that was at SSS. My highest stats was now H-10.

At I-5, my stats were barely equal to those of a trained human adult. Obviously, normal humans did not have mana. So as I was now, I was still not much different, but at the very least, I could cloak myself in mana, lowering the effectiveness of mundane firearms and other weapons without mana.

Mana was also the reason why the army couldn’t just wipe out monsters. It was a power in a different realm of existence. One that could be overcome, but only with extreme difficulty.

Once my physical stats reached H-10, I would be closer to a perfectly trained super athlete, and at G, I would be effectively at a level no human can hope to reach.

F rank was the starting point to become a superhuman or a superior human if you were in a hunter supremacist sect.

Of course, while stats were important, the true dividers were skills and how to effectively use them. This was why I was able to match F rank hunters despite having far lower stats in the past.

***

With the need to increase my stats gone for now and the immediate situation at hand, I needed to plan now more than ever the events of tomorrow.

The few key points I needed to take into account were.

Firstly, should I ask Iron Fist for permission to enter the cleaning crew once again?

It was impossible for me to just join out of nowhere. They would never trust me. But if I asked Iron Fist to help me, he would most likely join me once again. His presence was necessary. He was the only one close to D rank in the group, even if he was washed out now. But bringing him means most likely seeing him die again, and this time I would be the one to voluntarily bring him to a most likely death.

Did my ability to go back in time give me the right to put him in danger like this? I pushed back the moral dilemma for now.

The second point. What about the seer I meet on the street? Should I try contacting her? She was a mysterious woman, and I could hardly remember everything she told me when we last met. Still, I could distinctly remember one sentence she threw at me.

“Death is only the start of a new journey, huh.”

This sentence was eerily similar to the message I read when I died.

[Death may be the end for some, but for you, it's just a new beginning.]

This was definitely not a coincidence. In fact, from the notifications I received, my power did not activate just because I died. But rather because of how I died. Most likely, had I surrendered to death without fighting back, it would have just been the end.

“The power of Determination.” As long as I kept my determination, I could go back in time. At least that's how I understood it. But it was still vague. How much determination was necessary? How was it even quantified?

Having it as a stat would have been quite useful. But I would have to make do for now.

The third point was essential for my incoming strategy.

Karma Points were the greatest resources at my disposal at the moment but I had a limited way of obtaining them.

In fact, at the moment, I only had one true source. The Gate that would open tomorrow.

Last time, I did not jump into the gate. It would have been crazy and stupid. Though in insight, had I done so and died there in style, I would have most likely awakened sooner.

Either way, I needed to go to that place and make more tests. How many points could I get from killing more goblins this time? What if I jumped into the gate?

Could I infinitely farm in that gate? Even if the reward were minimal, if I could constantly accumulate points after dying and resetting, things would change considerably for me.

Most importantly…This time, I might be able to save far more people than last time.

The only problem was that I did not remember the exact time or place where the incident happened. I remembered it was in District 62-West. But the exact place would be hard to say.

‘Well, I just need to find the bus I climbed into.’

The one guy I remembered clearly was the ex-soldier who tried to help. As long as I climbed into a bus with him in it, then I should be good.

“Hum…” I scribbled on my note. “Perhaps I should first buy a memory-type skill?” The loop was not even 24h long, and I was struggling to remember a few key points. Obviously, I didn’t try remembering all that initially. It wasn’t like I went on my day expecting to enter a time loop.

But, in the future, if I ever went with a longer loop, a way to increase my ability to remember events would be necessary.

The final point was, of course, how to definitely and completely kill the necromancer in the most efficient way possible.

For that, I needed to know how he was able to control his undead so far away from the gate. Then find a way to counter his two monsters and finally find the object that held his soul.

Then, I would kill him.

The pen I was holding snapped in my hand after my anger surged. But a ringtone calmed down.

[Hellen the Gorilla]

Looking at the name of the smartphone, I could feel myself smiling.

“Hi.”

{Huh? You actually answered fast. I thought you would try to ignore me.}

Gotta say, she really knew me well.

“I would never. So, what did I do to deserve a call from the princess herself?”

{Don’t give me that crap about a princess. Only Susan calls me that.}

“Well. The Guild is the Queen's Army. You are the daughter of the queen, sooo…”

{...}

“Hellen?”

{Say, did something happen?}

“Huh?”

{It has been years since you actually teased me like this. Your voice feels lighter, happier…} She paused then, in a hushed voice asked, {Did you find a way about your stats? Or did your hidden class finally awaken?}

My eyes twitched. I unconsciously looked around. How in the hell? Did she have some kind of camera in my house, or something? How could she guess something like that with just a few words?

{Or what? Did you get a new girlfriend or something?}

“I…” I paused. A part of me still felt hesitant. Reasons and feelings clashed against each other. But, if there was one person I could believe in this world, “I cannot explain things through the phone, but I got very good news.”

It was undoubtedly Hellen.

“I…” I hesitated. Part of me wanted to stay quiet. Old instincts clashed with the truth I wanted to share. But if there was one person I could trust in this world...

“I can’t explain over the phone, but—yeah. I have some really good news.”

There was a pause.

{Holy...} she exhaled. {That’s freaking amazing.}

“Language.”

{Oh shut up! Damn, I need a drink right now! This is huge! I need to tell Susan and Jason. Mom’s going to flip when she gets back!}

She was practically gushing. In fact, she sounded more excited than I felt.

{Wait a minute—if it’s really what I think it is, why the hell did you leave the Guild? You know Susan would’ve reinstated you in a heartbeat, right?}

“Well... let’s just say there’s something I need to do first.”

{Cain... what kind of mess have you thrown yourself into this time?}

“Okay, for real. Did you put a hidden camera in my house?”

{I mean, yeah? Though don’t worry, Susan took out all the ones I put inside. Only a few ones remaining outside.}

“....You joking, right?”

{Pfft! Of course, I am. Why would I bother doing something like that? Now, answer my question.}

I chuckled, realizing that I fell for a pretty obvious joke.

“I will inform the manager later. The day after tomorrow. So please, wait for now.”

She paused a little, but eventually I could feel her nod through the phone.

{Very well. I will respect your choice for now. But know that, if I don’t hear about you coming back to the guild in two days, I'll come for you.}

I laughed once again. It felt good. Genuinely laughing that is. I realized that Hellen was right. I didn’t really have any reason to laugh or have fun during the last few years.

{I am going to leave now, the instructor is glaring a hole in my back.}

“Hellen,”

{What?}

“Thank you for always being there for me.”

{Dumbass. Don’t start going all mushy on me, later.}

She immediately hung up.

“Never thought I would make her that embarrassed.”

In moments like this, I was reminded once again that, while my life was filled with many shitty and despairing events, I was also graced with precious people who loved and cared for me.

And now, I had the power to give back everything they did for me.

I put down my phone and stood up. The smile slowly left my face. The talk with Hellen helped me calm down and relax a lot.

But a certain level of tension was still necessary because of what I was about to do.

Visiting the Black Market.

***

The night in Abyss City was as beautiful as it was dangerous. Smoke curled from alley vents, thick with the stench of synth-spice, oil, and desperation. Every corner buzzed with cheap electropop leaking from flickering signs or busted kiosks advertising miracles that didn’t exist.

People shuffled through the streets like ghosts in techwear, their faces lit by the cold glow of augmented visors and cracked phone screens. Some looked normal. Most didn’t. Half-skin, half-metal. Eyes replaced by lenses, arms by tech. Debt slaves, washed-up mercs trying to drown regret in neon-lit brothels or dopamine dens.

Holograms danced over broken pavement, half-transparent figures offering discounts on gene mods and cyber escorts. Most of them were out of sync—lips moving a second too late, eyes glitching into static. Nobody cared.

A city full of decadence. A city that never slept.

This was my city. Some called it hell on earth. But to those people, I could only say that they did not know what true hell looked like.

This time, I did not put on my uniform. Doing so would be asking to be jumped on by a group of masked people. I had some undershirt made in a special fiber for protection, and above it a simple black cloak. It looked a little embarrassing, but nothing particularly weird here.

On my back was a golf bag filled with money. My funds to buy whatever I needed.

Walking toward the Black Market was not complicated. I did not know how many such markets existed in Abyss City, but the one I was going to was actually pretty close to my zone.

But,

“You took longer than I thought.”

“Iron Fist?”

He was once again there, wearing a trench coat.

“Come on. We're going. If you start talking about dangerous stuff there you're going to get yourself killed.”

I smiled. It seemed like asking about the explosive really traumatized him.

“Thanks, man.”

We fist-bumped. He used his metal hand, maybe with a bit too much force—probably just my imagination.

Still hurt like hell, though.

***

Following Iron Fist, we reached our destination fast.

It was a deserted warehouse at the outermost part of the distribution center, with its roof torn off.

"This is...?" This was a different entrance from the one I knew.

“This is the entrance to a black market. And just a warning—don’t ever think about coming here alone. You might leave without your head.”

Iron Fist didn’t wait for a reply. He stepped into the warehouse like he owned the place.

The inside looked just as abandoned as the exterior—walls choked with ivy, cracked beams swallowed by creeping weeds. Iron Fist didn’t so much as flinch, boots crunching over the overgrowth as he made his way to the far wall.

“It should be around here somewhere... Ah. Got it.”

He pressed his palm against a spot near the center of the wall. A low groan followed, and then part of the wall slid open, revealing a narrow stairwell leading underground. Rusted rails. Uneven steps.

“It’s worse than last time,” he muttered. “Careful. It might collapse under your weight.”

Without waiting, he descended.

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and followed.

Creak. Creak.

Every step groaned like the stairs resented our presence. Flakes of rust rained down, catching in my hair and stinging my eyes.

We went down. And kept going. A hundred steps, maybe more. By the time we reached the bottom, we’d descended the equivalent of a three-story drop.

What greeted us wasn't some high-tech vault or criminal den.

It was a warehouse.

Just… a warehouse. Piles of crates stacked haphazardly. Boxes of snacks I remembered seeing on store shelves mixed in with military-grade gun crates stamped in faded U.S. insignia.

I glanced around, confused, but Iron Fist didn’t explain. He just started rummaging through a stack in the back like he knew exactly what he was looking for.

A minute later, he came back holding a box full of masks.

“Pick one and put it on.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is this some kind of market rule?”

“Not official. More of a tradition,” he said, already donning a sleek snake-shaped mask. “Down here, you don’t show your face. No one wants to be remembered .” The masks has some low-level runes inscribed.

Made sense.

I sifted through the box until my fingers brushed against something. When I pulled it free, a bone-white mask stared back at me.

The surface was smooth but marked with jagged crimson streaks that slashed across one side like war paint. Its eye sockets were elongated, predatory, tapering into sharp angles that gave it a feral look.

Along the edges, faint runes glimmered, low-grade enchantments humming just enough to warp recognition. A half-grin carved into the jawline gave it a mocking, skeletal sneer.

It wasn’t subtle, it looked like the kind of mask you’d wear if you wanted to enter an anime cosplay contest. “Edgy,” I muttered, though I couldn’t deny, it had a presence.

“You made an interesting choice.” Iron Fist teased.

“Don’t judge me.” I said while adjusting the mask to fit my face. It felt cool. My vision was completely unimpaired.

“The masks are fitted with mini cameras. Very useful during auctions since they can also share necessary information like a system.”

I whistled and used my analysis skill on it. This kind of stuff seemed very useful. Later on, I could try tweaking the runes.

“Are there any other ‘rules’ I should know about?”

Iron Fist shrugged. “No killing. No stealing. But let’s be real—most people here don’t give a damn about rules. Just be careful.”

“Sounds like a mess.”

“That’s because it is.”

Once I strapped on the mask, Iron Fist pushed open the gate at the far end of the warehouse.

Creak.

Iron scraped against metal. A wave of salty air swept in, mixed with something mechanical and bitter. For a second, I thought we were near the sea.

Then—

Clang.

We didn’t even have time to take a step.

Three gun barrels were already aimed at our chests.

“Who are you?” one of the guards barked. “Who the hell let you in through the back door?”

What a beautiful welcome.