My Alt Account Became the World's No. 1 Hunter
Chapter 26: Eastern District Gate Challenge (7)

Chapter 26: Eastern District Gate Challenge (7)

The Gate let HIM go the same way it always did, with that faint pop of displaced air and a swirl of mist that clung to his shoulders for a few seconds before drifting away.

Theodore stepped out onto the cracked concrete with his blade still resting loose in his hand, shoulders damp with sweat that chilled instantly in the evening breeze.

The noise of the plaza hit him all at once, cheers, a few scattered whoops, the rustle of bodies pressing closer to the barricades just to get a better look at the quiet guy who hadn’t flinched once inside.

Up above, the big scoreboard flickered in blocky neon, his name stamped clean at the top.

[FINAL SCORE: 78 pts — CURRENT TOP SCORE.]

He didn’t look up at it long. The numbers were what they were, enough to keep the next treatment paid for, maybe even enough for another round after that if he stretched it.

He rolled his shoulders once, feeling the tired pull in his arms where the hobgoblin’s axe had grazed him, it wasn’t anything serious.

Though, it would stiffen by morning, but he’d walked away, that was the only line that mattered.

Someone shuffled into his peripheral vision, it was that rookie from before, the one who’d run his mouth earlier.

Up close, the kid looked even younger than he’d sounded, armor half-unstrapped and helmet dented like it had seen more of the ground than any blade.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes darting between Theodore’s boots and the scoreboard.

"Hey, uh... man." He cleared his throat, voice cracking halfway through. "Just wanted to say... you were right. I was being too much. Good luck with... whatever comes next."

Theodore just gave him a small nod, nothing more than the polite dip of his chin. He didn’t have anything to rub in, the scoreboard had done that for him.

The kid ducked away before the words could stick, disappearing into the swell of the crowd.

Somewhere up near the front rail, a shout broke the short hush. Kenji’s voice, loud enough to carry even over the squeal of the PA system.

"Theodore! You’re a monster! Also, you got the sh*t on too, man! Hell yeah!" (W Glaze!)

Beside him, Hiro was leaning so far over the railing he nearly dropped the battered snack bag he’d been clutching since wave two.

He whooped something that was probably meant to be encouraging but came out as a half-choked squeal.

Leo just stood behind them, hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing that faint smirk that always looked like it cost him extra to show.

Theodore almost barked a laugh. Instead, he let the smallest smile slip, it wwasn’t the tight-lipped twitch he gave strangers, but something softer, real, the kind of curve that hadn’t stretched across his face since Lea last talked him into one.

He tugged the slip of paper from his pocket for a second, thumb brushing over the edge before he tucked it back where it belonged.

"This prize will help a ton this month," he murmured under his breath, just loud enough that maybe the Gate behind him would carry it back to the trees.

He could almost hear Lea’s voice now, scolding him for calling it just "the prize," telling him to stop pretending it didn’t matter that he’d come out breathing one more time.

He tilted his head back once, letting the scoreboard glare catch in the corners of his eyes, then rolled his shoulders again, ready for whatever came next.

And unfortunately, what came next is THAT idiot.

Somewhere under the main feed cam, the announcer’s voice wavered, clearly reading straight off a screen. Not that anyone blames him though.

"Uh... folks, looks like we’ve got one last solo contestant for the Eastern District Gate Challenge tonight. Entry name... let’s see here..." A faint shuffle of papers echoed through the mic. "Uh... not filled out? Sir, did you... um...what should we... uh... you know, call you?"

A ripple of confusion rolled through the front row, a hush that felt less like suspense and more like the collective vibe of a crowd about to see someone be the ass of jest.

The big screens flicked over to a new camera angle, feed stuttering once before it focused on the single figure stepping up to the waiting line.

The first thing that hit everyone was the cloak — or what was left of it — torn along the hem so unevenly it looked like it had lost a fight with a wild boar.

The gloves were so threadbare you could see the knuckles pushing white through the seams.

A battered helmet sat crooked on his head, the visor cracked down the middle like someone had tried to fix it with duct tape and just gave up halfway through.

And underneath all that, a cheap black shirt so shredded across the sides it didn’t even pretend to meet the waistband — it just ended abruptly above the waistline, leaving a row of abs fully on display.

Somewhere under that mess, Lanz couldn’t help himself because of course he couldn’t. Inside his head, the thought hit clear as day, ’Luckily, I f*cking got abs.’

The first bark of laughter came from near the fried squid stand.

Then a cluster of students up on the railing pointed and howled.

The whole front section broke open like a popped soda, half the crowd booing and half laughing too hard to pick a side.

"No shot that guy is here wearing that!"

"The f*ck is that supposed to be, a bargain-bin ninja cosplay?"

"Bro, did he lose a bet?"

Kenji leaned forward so far over the rail he nearly knocked Hiro’s elbow into the next section.

"Bro, are you seeing this? Is he... is he actually wearing a crop top right now?" Kenji sputtered.

Hiro’s eyes were squinted so tight you’d think he was trying to see into the man’s soul. "No way, man, no way. That’s not a real outfit. His helmet looks like it’s held together with, what, tape, paper clips, prayers? Maybe the latter."

Kenji half-snorted, half-wheezed. "Duct tape, bro. That’s premium armor tech. Maybe if he spins around fast enough, the visor’ll stay on."

"I hope he survives long enough to find the rest of his shirt," Leo deadpanned, voice so dry it made ash seem wet.

Kenji elbowed him. "No drip! No b*tches! What’s next, no life insurance?"

Hiro barked a laugh so loud a couple people down the rail turned and shushed them.

Not like they cared, they were too busy watching the so-called final contestant stand there under the lights like he’d just crawled out of a second-hand prop box.

"Diabolical, bro," Kenji muttered, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye. "Bet he’s gonna last two waves, max."

Leo just shrugged, never looking away from the feed. "Bet he doesn’t even last one."

Lanz just stood there under the plaza lights, the cracked helmet catching the neon glare like it wanted to give him an ounce of dignity and then immediately decided against it.

The PA mic crackled again, the announcer’s voice a mix of strained politeness and the kind of secondhand embarrassment you could hear even through cheap speakers.

He shuffled his cue cards like they might magically give him a clue.

"Uh... sir? Do you... have a name you’d like us to announce?"

Lanz — if you could even call the half-shredded, half-armored figure standing there a sir — leaned forward so close to the mic that the feedback squealed for a second.

He tilted his head just enough that the cracked helmet visor caught the glare of the plaza lights.

When he spoke, his voice dropped into that low, overdone dramatic calm that only made the crowd snicker louder.

"Just call me Zero."

A beat of silence.

Then someone up near the snack stand lost it.

"BOOOOO!"

"Zero? You might’ve missed the ’b*tches’ part!"

Another voice chimed in from the cheap seats, way too loud to be polite. "Zero drip! Get a real cloak!"

The PA guy cleared his throat, trying to keep it together. "R-right. Uh. Okay, Mr. Zero. You may... proceed."

The Gate’s swirl pulsed and rippled just a few feet ahead, the faint shimmer casting weird shadows over the cracked concrete under Zero’s boots. Zero flexed his "gloved hands" once.

He could still hear the chants, "Zero drip! Zero chance!", bouncing around in his head like cheap party confetti, and for a second he almost cracked up right there at the edge.

’Fools. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA— oh, this is gonna be so easy.’ He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep it down. Nobody could see him grinning like a psycho under the battered helmet anyway.

He flipped his inventory open with a flick of thought, system window blinking into his vision.

His eyes locked on the Aged Blade Fragment — the gorgeous piece of steel that’s practically humming like it wanted to remind him it was still leagues above any rookie’s grocery-store short sword.

"If this is THE moment to shine," Lanz muttered under his breath, sliding the fragment across his belt hook, "I gotta whip out the shiny thing. Even if I can’t use its special yet, whatever, it still looks cool as hell."

He tapped the side of his helmet, the cracked visor shifting slightly with a sad little creak. "Zero drip my ass," he growled, half-laughing. "If only they know I’m stunting on their asses."

One deep breath, one last glance at the swirl as the wave pattern inside flickered to life like the world’s cheapest light show. He rocked back on his heels, weight balanced, grin hidden under cheap metal.

"Okay," he said, voice low and so gleeful he could barely hold it back. "Let’s farm some clips."

End of Chapter 26.

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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)