Episode 1: The Price of a Core

The Hobgoblin didn’t scream. It just gurgled as Arkan twisted the rusted iron spearhead deeper into its throat.

He didn't pull the weapon out immediately. If he did, the toxic blood would spray, ruining the monster's hide. Instead, he pinned the thrashing beast to the damp cavern wall, using his own body weight to hold it steady until the twitching finally stopped.

Three minutes. Arkan exhaled, a cloud of white mist in the freezing dungeon air. He ripped the spear out and quickly crouched beside the carcass. His hands, wrapped in cheap, blood-stained bandages, worked with mechanical precision. A horizontal slice beneath the ribs, a sharp twist of his hunting knife, and a wet shhhk sound echoed in the cave.

He pulled out a marble-sized, murky green stone. A low-grade Mana Core.

"Market value... maybe four hundred credits," Arkan muttered, his voice raspy. He wiped the core on his worn-out cargo pants and tossed it into the canvas bag slung over his shoulder. "Not enough for the good suppressants. I'll have to buy the generic brand for Elara this week."

This was a Dead Zone. An unranked, unstable Gate that the official Guilds deemed 'unprofitable.' It was illegal for an unlicensed scavenger to be here. If the Gate Regulators caught him, he’d be thrown in military prison.

But military prison didn't terrify Arkan. What terrified him was the hospital bill sitting on his kitchen counter back home.

BEEP. BEEP.

The cheap digital watch on his wrist vibrated. He had been inside for exactly forty-five minutes. The Gate’s mana signature was destabilizing. If he didn't leave now, the portal would snap shut, burying him in this subspace forever.

Arkan grabbed his iron spear, ignored the burning ache in his shoulders, and sprinted toward the shimmering blue tear in the air.

He dove through the portal just as the cavern behind him began to collapse.

FWUMP.

Arkan hit the wet asphalt of a dark alleyway in the city. The cold rain of the real world washed over him. The blue Gate behind him shrank into a single point of light and vanished with a quiet pop.

He leaned against a brick wall, gasping for air, sliding down until he hit the ground. He was alive. He had the core.

As he reached into his pocket for his phone to call his buyer, his fingers brushed against thick, high-quality parchment. He pulled it out.

It was an envelope. Pristine, white, and sealed with a glittering gold crest of a sword and shield. It looked completely out of place in his dirty, blood-stained hands.

Arkan stared at it. It was the letter that had arrived this morning.

[Apex Warrior High School]

[Status: ACCEPTED]

His eyes didn't linger on the crest. They drifted down to the bold, red stamp stamped across the bottom of the letter.

[Department Assignment: DUNGEON RAID & LOGISTICS]

Not the Hero Department. Not the golden children who got corporate sponsorships, flashy capes, and cheers from the public.

The Raid Department. The scavengers. The bait. The ones who carried the bags and dug the trenches so the Heroes could shine.

Arkan slowly crushed the empty Hobgoblin core in his left hand, feeling the residual mana burn his skin. A faint, sharp smile crossed his face.

"Raid Department," he whispered to the empty alley. "Perfect. I hate the spotlight anyway."

---

Announcement / Author's Note:

Welcome to Abyssal Raider! If you're a fan of gritty underdog stories, dungeon hunting, and MCs who actually use their brains instead of plot armor, you're in the right place.

This is just the beginning. The real academy survival starts soon. Drop a comment and let me know what you think of Arkan's debut! Don't forget to add this to your library! - itsYurtzy

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