Hunger.

  A terrible, gnawing hunger. The kind that made me feel like I could bite into my own flesh.

  “Ahhh—!” I groaned as a brutal headache finally caught up with me.

  Wait.

  Hunger?

  Headache?

  …Am I alive?

  How?

  The answer crashed into my mind as I struggled to sit up.

  The sacrifice.

  My sacrifice had been accepted.

  That meant I had passed the First Trial and become a Cultist.

  Which, under normal circumstances, should have resulted in a very tragic and very final death.

  Yet here I was.

  Alive.

  Apparently the value of sacrificing my own life had matched me with a rather powerful Hidden God—one with a sense of humor sharp enough to border on cruelty.

  They had granted me my first skill.

  Regeneration.

  Technically, I had already died.

  Fortunately for me, the skill activated before my corpse had the chance to complain about it.

  So yes, I had gambled everything on that last desperate move.

  And somehow…

  It paid off.

  I looked around.

  Dawn was creeping over the rooftops, pale gray light spilling into the alley. The shadows were retreating slowly, revealing the mess I had made.

  The pool of blood had mostly dried, turning the dirt into a dark, sticky crust.

  The circle I had drawn around myself stood out clearly.

  Crude.

  Uneven.

  But unmistakable.

  I lifted my torn tunic and inspected my stomach.

  Faint marks remained on my skin—too shallow to be proper scars, but too real to be imagination.

  A chill ran down my spine when I counted them.

  Four.

  I had been stabbed four times.

  Hatred flared briefly when I thought about that damned gambler.

  Unfortunately, the culprit had long since disappeared.

  Which meant the only person left to blame…

  …was me.

  No more unnecessary theatrics, William.

  I studied my body again.

  My stomach.

  My arms.

  My ribs.

  There was only one word to described it.

  Emaciated.

  Growing up poor meant I had never exactly been well-fed, but this…

  My ribs were practically greeting the morning air.

  My arms looked like sticks.

  It didn’t take a genius to understand what had happened.

  Regeneration had to draw energy from somewhere.

  Apparently, it had taken that energy from me.

  Which explained the overwhelming hunger clawing at my insides.

  My body had burned through everything it had.

  I was starving.

  Unfortunately, food did not materialize simply because one wished for it.

  A while later—and after several deeply embarrassing incidents—I was dragging myself toward home.

  Before leaving the alley, I had cleaned the worst of the mess.

  Well… cleaned might be the wrong word.

  More accurately, I had rubbed dirt and mud over everything until the blood blended into the ground.

  Fortunately, the streets in this part of town weren’t paved.

  Mud covered many sins.

  The early morning had already begun to stir.

  Workers were leaving their homes, carrying tools and baskets as they prepared for another day of labor.

  Life didn’t wait for sunrise in this part of town.

  Unfortunately, I realized a bit too late that my appearance might not be entirely… respectable.

  A woman carrying a basket took one look at me and froze.

  Her expression shifted instantly from confusion to horror.

  I almost tripped.

  Startled, I glanced around.

  Thankfully, no one else seemed to have noticed.

  I let out a quiet breath of relief.

  Careless. Very careless.

  To fix the situation, I removed my cloak, folded it, and pressed it against my stomach to hide the torn tunic and bloodstains.

  The result looked… acceptable.

  Mostly.

  Unfortunately, the cold morning dew immediately began soaking through my thin clothes.

  Small price to pay for not attracting attention.

  Eventually, I reached home.

  The wooden door creaked slightly as I pushed it open and slipped inside, trying to be as quiet as possible.

  If everything went well, I could simply pretend I had returned late.

  “William?”

  The soft, sleepy voice made my heart skip a beat.

  My cloak slipped from my hands in surprise.

  For a moment, my mind stopped working entirely.

  “William! Where were you all night?!”

  The sleepiness vanished from Mother’s voice, replaced by sharp, authoritarian anger.

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  Ah.

  There it was.

  The question snapped me back to reality.

  Fear—deep and instinctive—rose immediately from somewhere deep in my soul.

  Years of maternal discipline would do that to a person.

  But mixed with that fear was something else.

  Relief.

  She hadn’t seen the blood.

  My back was still turned to her while I closed the door.

  Quickly, I picked up the cloak and pressed it against my stomach again.

  Alright, William. Play it right.

  “Mom… sorry.” I forced sincerity into my voice, careful not to sound pitiful. Mother had little patience for that. “I was… celebrating. Had a little too much to drink.”

  I lowered my head obediently and waited.

  Right on cue—

  THWACK.

  A sharp smack landed on the back of my head.

  I would never understand how Mother’s strikes could hurt more than punches from grown men.

  Still, that was probably the end of it.

  She must have caught my implication.

  “Ahn? Celebrating?” she asked suspiciously. “Celebrating what?”

  A small smile crept into my eyes.

  Just like that, Mom.

  “The Path scroll,” she suddenly said. “Did you use it? What Path did you get?”

  I didn’t need to answer immediately.

  Her mind was already racing ahead.

  Of course, I couldn’t tell the truth.

  But pretending to remain Pathless was impossible now.

  Even if I claimed to have lost the scroll, someone would eventually force me to use another one.

  So why not take advantage of the moment?

  It would cover last night’s events and establish the lie I would probably need to maintain for the rest of my life.

  “Mm.” I nodded slowly, letting the tension build. “A Perception Path.”

  While she processed the news, I walked to the table.

  A hard loaf of bread sat there.

  I grabbed it and shoved half of it into my mouth.

  It refused to cooperate.

  So I grabbed a mug of weak ale and used it to force the bread down.

  Mother hadn’t said anything yet.

  Encouraged, I grabbed a second loaf and devoured that one too.

  “Mom,” I muttered between bites, already walking away, “I’m dead. I need sleep.”

  I started dragging myself toward the small room I shared with my siblings.

  Behind me, I heard her distracted reply.

  “Mm.”

  Then she added quietly,

  “Good job, son. Now I don’t have to worry about your future.”

  Her words warmed my chest.

  And immediately buried it under guilt.

  There was no Perception Path.

  I was lying.

  And by lying, I was risking everything.

  If the truth ever came out…

  My entire family might be executed just to eliminate the possibility of heresy.

  I mumbled something that vaguely resembled a response and continued toward the room.

  I was too tired to wrestle with my conscience.

  Inside, I carefully stepped around the two small lumps beneath blankets.

  My siblings were still asleep.

  I collapsed onto my bed.

  Voices drifted in from outside the house as the street grew louder.

  But I didn’t care.

  Sleep claimed me almost instantly.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t last long enough.

  “Bwotheeer! Bwotheeer!”

  A tiny voice stabbed into my skull like a needle.

  “Wake up! Mom said you got a Paf now! You gotta wook outside!”

  I groaned.

  “Bwotheeer! Can you take me ouside too?”

  Each word felt like a pinprick in my already abused head.

  Little Achi stood beside my bed, bouncing with excitement.

  The boy was five and still struggled with certain sounds, turning simple words into strange new inventions.

  It was still acceptable at his age.

  But if he didn’t improve by next year, the neighborhood children would start mocking him.

  I actually liked the little brat.

  Just… preferably when he was quiet.

  Malachi looked like a smaller version of me—same hair, same eyes—but with softer cheeks and strangely curly hair.

  To this day, I had no idea where those curls came from.

  “Achi, let Will sleep,” another voice said gently. “Let’s go play outside.”

  That was Marianne.

  I forced my eyes open and glanced toward her.

  The traces of childhood were slowly disappearing from my sister.

  In a year or two, she would officially be considered a woman.

  Sixteen.

  She resembled Mother in many ways, though her hair was darker and she was already a few fingers taller.

  Despite our poverty, Marianne would easily be considered beautiful.

  Straight nose.

  Delicate features.

  Clear skin.

  Which raised an uncomfortable question.

  Was that a blessing?

  Or a curse?

  Beauty attracted attention.

  And for poor families like ours…

  Attention was rarely a good thing.

  I watched as she gently pulled Achi away.

  It surprised me how reasonable she was being.

  Then again, Marianne had always been clever.

  Probably the cleverest person in the house.

  When we were younger, she relied on me a lot.

  Until I became… less useful.

  After that, she developed a rather indifferent attitude toward me.

  Now, however, things had changed.

  I had a Path.

  Which meant I was useful again.

  It wouldn’t surprise me if Marianne suddenly became much friendlier in the coming days.

  After all, I was the only one in the family who had received a chance at a higher Path.

  That opportunity had already been used.

  Which meant Marianne and Achi would likely end up with ordinary worker Paths.

  Unless… I helped them.

  I did have some brotherly love for my siblings. After all, I had watched them grow.

  But if I was being honest, it wasn’t very strong.

  Marianne and I had once been close, but she had slowly distanced herself from me, building a wall that neither of us bothered to climb over. And Achi was… well, Achi. Far too young to form any real bond with the teenager—and later young adult—I had become.

  If I could help them without paying a too big of a price myself, I would.

  Normally, people built small circles of support: family, friends, neighbors. They traded favors, watched each other’s backs, and somehow survived together.

  That had been my plan too.

  But now?

  Now it felt unnecessary. Worse—it might even be dangerous.

  I had already drifted away from my childhood friends when they started walking their Paths. Some of them were already on their second step. I had hoped to rekindle those relationships once I finally gained a Path myself.

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  Getting up from bed, I still felt weak. And hungry.

  The cold season was creeping in, so I reheated the soup Mom had prepared in the morning. It was just as bland as always—thin broth with floating vegetables pretending to be food.

  Somehow, it tasted wonderful.

  Hunger truly was the best seasoning.

  After eating, I examined my body again. My complexion looked slightly better than before, but only barely. My ribs were still too visible, my arms too thin.

  Bread and watery soup wouldn't fix this.

  If I wanted to stop looking like a walking corpse, I would need real food.

  Preferably meat.

  Unfortunately, meat wasn’t exactly common in the diet of workers’ children. Unless it was some festival or special occasion, we didn’t even get to smell it.

  Workers sometimes tasted it, depending on their job and Path. At best, they received broth or scraps—just enough to keep them strong enough to work.

  Nothing more.

  The system was efficient like that.

  Then a thought occurred to me.

  What about my potential?

  Aside from guiding someone into an occupation and granting skills, Paths also increased a person’s innate potential.

  As far as I knew, every person possessed four attributes:

  Body, Senses, Mind, and Soul.

  At birth, each attribute had a cap of 1.

  That didn’t mean everyone started equally capable. Some people were stronger or sharper than others. It only meant that their limits were the same.

  Potential was just that—potential.

  To reach those limits, one still had to train.

  When someone awakened a Path, those limits increased.

  Every Path granted +1 potential to all attributes, plus additional potential in each step for attributes related to that Path.

  Worker Paths usually granted an extra point in Body, and sometimes another in Senses or Mind.

  Again, that didn’t make them instantly stronger or smarter. It only raised their ceiling.

  Before, I had lied to Mom and said I had awakened a Perception Path.

  There were several reasons for choosing that particular lie.

  For one, people rarely shared their exact Path—even with family. Some Paths were strongly discouraged to reveal.

  Still, if I really had awakened a Perception Path, I would likely gain extra potential in Senses and Mind.

  Seeking the Great Guide—the knowledge that always resided within the soul—I checked my potentials.

  Body — 2

  Senses — 3

  Mind — 3

  Soul — 4

  I checked again.

  And again.

  Then once more, just to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating from starvation.

  The numbers didn’t change.

  I had only taken my first step, so gaining one extra point in each attribute was expected. Normally, a Path would then grant one or two additional points in its main attribute.

  Instead, I had gained four extra potential points.

  That was…

  Unbelievable.

  Only Royal Paths granted that much.

  Even elite combat Paths usually gave three.

  Was the Cultist Path really that high?

  Excitement surged through me.

  I had truly hit the jackpot.

  But the feeling quickly cooled.

  The higher the Path, the harder it was to advance.

  Potential also hinted at what was required to walk the Path further.

  Seeing three extra points in Soul suggested that I would eventually need to train that attribute to a high level in order to pass the second trial.

  The same likely applied to Mind and Senses.

  Curiosity pushed me to recall what I knew about higher Paths.

  Priests, for example, supposedly received two extra points in Soul, but nothing in the other attributes.

  If I remembered correctly, Soul governed the amount of available aether, the magical energy used for spells and blessings. Since priests served a god, they mainly needed power to fuel divine blessings.

  Mages were different.

  They needed mental capacity to cast spells properly, so their Paths granted one extra point in Mind and one in Soul.

  Martial Paths usually focused on Body, granting one or two extra points there, sometimes with an additional point in Senses.

  My fake Path—Perception—had originally been chosen for entirely different reasons.

  Still, it was convenient that my real potentials included bonuses in Mind and Senses. It made the lie more believable.

  At least for the early steps where skills weren't crucial.

  My little crime—the extra loaf of bread this morning—would probably go unpunished. I had saved food from last night’s supper.

  But I couldn’t rely on that forever.

  Sooner or later, my parents would notice if I kept eating like a starving wolf.

  And the truth was simple:

  I needed more food.

  Not only to recover from the current damage, but also to prepare for future situations where Regeneration might activate again.

  Fortunately, I was supposed to find a Path-related job anyway.

  Which brought me back to the main reason I had chosen a Perception Path as my cover.

  First, combat Paths attracted far too much attention.

  Second, any Path that required work inside the town would quickly expose my incompetence. Paths granted skills, after all—and I didn’t have any of the ones I should.

  Finally, my real Path could not be walked in the open.

  Whether it required sacrifices, rituals, or something worse, it would have to be done in secret—and preferably far away from temples.

  Perception Paths, however, had several advantages.

  They were mostly ignored in the early steps but became valuable later.

  Meaning no one would care about me now, yet I would still gain some respect.

  The real advantage, however, was the perfect excuse to work outside the town walls.

  Perception Paths often focused on foraging, scouting, and tracking targets.

  Except for Appraisers—which were extremely rare—most Perception Paths were trained in the wild.

  To be honest, the wild terrified me.

  The monsters outside the walls were no joke. Every day, someone new died out there.

  No one ever complained about the privileges hunters received.

  They earned every single one of them.

  Still…

  Some part of the boy who once played hunters with his friends was still alive inside me.

  And that boy wanted to see the world beyond the walls.

  Who was I kidding?

  I wanted to become a hunter too.

  So after eating and washing myself—and carefully cleaning the blood from my clothes—the first place I headed to was the Hunter’s Association.

  There, I would register my fake Path and obtain a hunter’s badge.

  Tomorrow…

  Tomorrow I would step outside the town walls for the first time.