Rama didn’t go ho.
Instead, he stood outside the Jakarta Gate Managent Bureau, staring at the digital board that displayed all active gates across the city. Green markers indicated cleared gates. Yellow showed ongoing raids. Red ant danger—gates that had been flagged as high-risk or under-monitored.
His eyes locked onto one particular red marker.
[GATE #4721 - RANK C - ABANDONED INDUSTRIAL ZONE - STATUS: UNCLEARED - TI UNTIL BREAK: 47 HOURS]
C-Rank. Two full ranks above what an E-Rank should even consider attempting.
Rama pulled out his phone and typed a ssage to Sekar.
"Market’s taking longer than expected. Might grab dinner out. Don’t wait up. Love you."
The response ca within seconds.
"Okay darling! Be safe! ❤️❤️❤️ Don’t talk to strange Hunters! Co ho before 9 or I’ll worry!"
Three heart emojis. An exclamation point. A curfew.
Rama pocketed his phone and headed toward the industrial zone.
The abandoned factories of East Jakarta were a graveyard of the old world. Rusted machinery. Crumbling concrete. Graffiti-covered walls. When the Gates first appeared fifteen years ago, this entire district had been evacuated and never reclaid.
Now it was a hunting ground.
Gate #4721 stood in the center of an old textile factory, the portal shimring with an angry orange glow. C-Rank gates had a distinct color—sowhere between fire and rust.
No guild had claid it yet. The profit margin on C-Rank gates wasn’t worth the resources for most major guilds, and smaller guilds lacked the manpower.
Which ant it sat here. Waiting.
Rama approached the gate slowly, each step deliberate.
His body still ached from the earlier raid. His HP hadn’t fully regenerated. He had three healing potions left, two mana potions, and a cracked backup shield in his inventory.
Every logical part of his brain scread at him to turn around.
But logic had never gotten him anywhere.
He checked his official status one more ti.
[HUNTER STATUS]
Na: Rama Kusuma
Rank: E
HP: 470/940
MP: 150/150
The numbers were pathetic.
An average C-Rank Hunter had HP pools exceeding 3,000. Their damage output could shred through enemies Rama could barely scratch.
He was walking into a suicide mission.
Good, Rama thought bitterly. Maybe that’s what I need.
He stepped through the gate.
The world inverted.
One mont, Rama stood in a ruined factory. The next, he erged into a dense forest under a blood-red sky. Ancient trees twisted upward like grasping fingers. The air reeked of decay and sothing else—sothing primal and hungry.
[YOU HAVE ENTERED: CRIMSON WOOD DUNGEON]
[RANK: C]
[RECOMNDED PARTY SIZE: 5-7 HUNTERS (C-RANK OR ABOVE)]
[WARNING: SOLO ENTRY DETECTED]
The system ssage hung in the air, mocking him.
Rama drew his backup shield and summoned his basic sword—a weapon he barely knew how to use properly. Tanks weren’t ant to deal damage. They were ant to absorb it.
But there was no party to deal damage for him now.
He was alone.
The first monster appeared within minutes.
A Crimson Wolf—fur the color of dried blood, eyes glowing yellow, fangs dripping with venom. C-Rank monster. Level 47.
Rama was level 12.
The wolf lunged.
Rama raised his shield.
The impact drove him backward, boots skidding through dirt. His arm went numb. The wolf’s claws raked across his shield, leaving deep gouges in the tal.
Rama activated [Taunt], forcing the wolf’s attention to lock onto him completely. Then he swung his sword in a clumsy arc.
The blade bounced off the wolf’s hide without leaving a scratch.
His damage was too low. Way too low.
The wolf bit down on his shield, fangs piercing through the tal and scoring his forearm. Rama scread, jerking backward, but the wolf held on, thrashing its head.
[HP: 390/940]
One hit. One single attack had taken 80 HP.
Rama abandoned the shield, letting the wolf tear it away. He rolled sideways as the creature lunged again, jaws snapping where his throat had been.
He ca up swinging, putting everything he had into a downward slash.
The sword bit into the wolf’s flank. Barely. A shallow cut that drew blood but nothing more.
The wolf howled and retaliated, claws raking across Rama’s chest. His leather armor split like paper.
[HP: 270/940]
Rama stumbled backward, coughing blood. His vision blurred. Every instinct scread at him to run, to escape through the gate while he still could.
Instead, he activated [Iron Skin].
His skin hardened, turning gray and tallic. Defense doubled for thirty seconds. It was his only decent skill, and it had a five-minute cooldown.
The wolf lunged again.
This ti, its claws skittered across Rama’s hardened skin, doing minimal damage. Rama drove his sword upward, catching the wolf under its jaw.
The blade sank deep.
The wolf thrashed, nearly tearing the weapon from Rama’s hands, but he held on, twisting the blade with everything he had.
The wolf collapsed, dissolving into particles of light and leaving behind a small mana crystal.
[CRIMSON WOLF DEFEATED]
[EXP GAINED: 340]
Rama collapsed to his knees, gasping. One wolf. One C-Rank monster. And he was already half-dead.
This was insane.
This was suicide.
But he didn’t leave.
He drank a healing potion, watching his HP slowly climb back to 540. Then he stood, retrieved the mana crystal, and pushed deeper into the forest.
The dungeon was a nightmare.
Packs of Crimson Wolves hunted between the trees. Venomous serpents dropped from branches. At one point, Rama stumbled into a clearing where a Crimson Bear—a mini-boss—nearly crushed his skull with a single swipe.
He survived by pure luck and liberal use of his remaining potions.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Ti felt distorted inside the gate.
Rama fought like a cornered animal. His technique was garbage. His damage was pathetic. But his Vitality—his one good stat—kept him alive through sheer stubbornness.
He learned to dodge instead of block. Learned to aim for weak points. Learned that desperation made him faster than any Agility stat.
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
The notifications ca sporadically. Level 13. Level 14. aningless numbers that barely changed his strength.
But they were sothing.
Finally, bloodied and exhausted, Rama reached the boss chamber.
It was a massive clearing dominated by a single ancient tree, its trunk wider than a house. At its base sat the dungeon boss.
[CRIMSON ALPHA - LEVEL 52 - DUNGEON BOSS]
A wolf the size of an elephant. Fur like rubies. Eyes burning with intelligence and hunger.
It looked at Rama and growled, the sound vibrating through his bones.
Rama checked his status.
[HP: 180/940]
[MP: 30/150]
No potions left. No backup shield. His sword was chipped and cracked. His armor hung in tatters.
He was going to die here.
The thought should have terrified him. Instead, Rama felt calm.
"Co on then," he whispered. "Let’s finish this."
The Alpha charged.
Rama didn’t run. He activated [Last Stand]—his final skill. For one minute, he couldn’t die. His HP couldn’t drop below 1.
But after that minute?
He’d collapse, and it would be over.
The Alpha’s jaws closed around Rama’s torso, fangs piercing deep. His HP plumted to 1 and held there, locked by the skill.
Rama scread and drove his sword into the Alpha’s eye.
The beast roared, throwing him aside like a ragdoll. Rama hit the ground hard enough to crack ribs, but his HP stayed at 1.
Forty-five seconds left.
He forced himself up, charging again. The Alpha’s claws tore through his chest. His HP flickered at 1.
Thirty seconds.
Rama climbed onto the Alpha’s back, stabbing again and again, aiming for the spine, the neck, anywhere vital.
Fifteen seconds.
The Alpha bucked, slamming him into the ancient tree. Rama’s vision went white.
Five seconds.
With the last of his strength, Rama drove the broken sword through the base of the Alpha’s skull.
The beast howled.
Then collapsed.
[CRIMSON ALPHA DEFEATED]
[DUNGEON CLEARED]
Rama’s body gave out. He fell backward, blood pooling beneath him, consciousness fading.
His last thought was simple.
At least I tried.
Then sothing impossible happened.
In the darkness behind his closed eyes, text appeared.
Glowing. Blue. Beautiful.
[ANALYZING PLAYER...]
[REQUIRENTS T]
[DESPERATION: CONFIRD]
[SACRIFICE: CONFIRD]
[WILL TO SURVIVE: CONFIRD]
[INITIATING RESURRECTION PROTOCOL...]
[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED AS A PLAYER]
[SSS-CLASS SYSTEM ACTIVATED]
[WELCO, RAMA KUSUMA]
Rama’s eyes snapped open.
Above him, a translucent blue screen floated in the air, words scrolling across it.
His wounds were healing. His HP was regenerating. His body felt... different.
Stronger.
He sat up slowly, staring at the impossible ssage hanging before his eyes.
"What the hell?"
The System responded.
[TUTORIAL QUEST AVAILABLE]
[OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE AND GROW STRONGER]
[REWARD: UNLIMITED POTENTIAL]
[PENALTY FOR FAILURE: PERMANENT DEATH]
[FIRST QUEST: RETURN HO SAFELY]
[TI LIMIT: 2 HOURS]
Rama stared at the words, his mind struggling to process what was happening.
A System. Like in those stories. Those impossible tales of chosen players who could level up infinitely.
He raised his hand, and a new screen appeared.
[PLAYER STATUS]
Na: Rama Kusuma
Level: 15
Title: None
Class: ??? (Pending Selection)
STATS:
Strength: 12 → 25
Agility: 8 → 20
Vitality: 47 → 95
Intelligence: 10 → 22
Mana: 15 → 40
Available Stat Points: 15
Available Skill Points: 3
His stats had doubled. No—more than doubled.
And there were points. Points he could allocate freely.
Rama started laughing.
It hurt his healing ribs, but he couldn’t stop.
He’d co here to die.
Instead, he’d been reborn.
"Okay," he whispered to the System, to himself, to the universe. "Let’s see where this goes."
He allocated his points, chose his first real skill, and stood.
For the first ti in his life, Rama Kusuma felt powerful.
And nobody—especially not his wife—could ever know.
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