The Porter is Secretly an SS-Level Hunter - Chapter 1: I'm Bored

Twelve years ago, in the World of Aglil, a phenomenon changed everything.

Dungeons appeared out of nowhere, destroying buildings and streets while killing people in the process. The number of deaths from dungeons did not compare to the monsters that emerged from them. People were dying left and right as the police, even the military, tried to bring a stop to it.

But, they quickly learned that their ‘human’ weapons were useless when it came to the monsters.

For ten days and ten nights, the world only saw destruction and bloodshed until one day, humans started to wake up with abilities that were supernatural and beyond the spectrum of what a human can do.

It was not long when the ones with abilities discovered that they could damage the monsters, even kill them. And once the creatures were dead, they learned that the things could drop loot: ameis (the government named them a year after the phenomenon), weapons, armor, potions, and many other things.

After this, the government quickly jumped onto the case, using the people with abilities to explore the dungeons while giving them information; they wanted to learn everything. And from then on, the government started to make new laws for them, making the people their top priority.

Hunters were born.

But like society, the hunters had their hierarchy in the sense of levels:

SS-levels

S-levels

A-levels

M-levels

D-levels

F-levels

When the people awoke with abilities, the ones that are A-levels, S-levels, and SS-levels received mysterious messages that told them to choose a class:

Warrior

Mage

Supporter

Summoner

Shadow Walker

No Class

Once the hunter made their choice, the message would disappear, never to be seen again. That was only for the A-levels and above, who automatically received a name while knowing where they stood.

The ones lower than an A-level did not receive a message nor knew where they stood until the government made the Orb of Yon three years after the dungeons came.

Before the Orb of Yon, the government measured their level by how long they lasted in a dungeon. If the person quickly died, the government identified them as an F-level. If an hour had passed, and the hunter was still alive, they were a D-level, and if they survived over or about three hours, the hunter was an M-level.

But, the practice was frowned upon by society because of the high death rates of hunters. The people needed the hunters, and the government getting them killed will not keep them safe. For those three years, citizens caused an uproar until the government made the Orb of Yon, banning their old ways.

It is still unknown how the government made the orb that gave an accurate read, but the government is known for secrecy.

When hunters were becoming big while laws were getting made for them, companies were born. Wonderstones Company was the first to be created as they catered to A-levels (certain ones), S-levels, and SS-levels. They’ve become the top company in the country, even the world, as they only dealt with high-level people.

Then came the PetalGreen Company, which catered to A-levels and M-levels. They were second in the country because they only worked with the mid-level people, never willing to go lower than an M-level.

And lastly, there was SilverSoul Company that catered to any level hunter, except for an F-level. The company became third in the country while becoming the kindest and most discreet one than the others.

Every hunter had a job, making a living, except for the F-levels who were left behind because they could not survive in the dungeons. Until one day, as everything started to grow, the hunters needed someone to carry their things that would get in the way during a fight. They also needed someone to collect the loot that the monsters would drop.

And that is where F-levels came in. Citizens were not allowed in the dungeon, and every hunter D and higher would hunt, so that left the F-levels to take the job. Once one person started it, earning cash, having F-levels carrying things spread like gossip in a high school.

From that day on, porters were born. And once it became popular, a company was made: the Porter Company.

Porter Company made its way to the top, making it easier for F-levels to make money like a hunter (even though they earned way less than a D-level).

The company also became known for not asking F-levels for their information, only wanting them to sign a contract because the government did not care for them. So the company had no reason to want their information besides a phone number to keep in contact.

The company would only ask for F-levels information when some high-level hunters want to keep working with them. It was uncommon, and porters had a higher death rate than a hunter, so it was hard to keep the same person.

‘A porter, huh?’ Obsidian thought as he rubbed his chin.

Obsidian, or commonly known as Neban Zaal, was sitting on the dungeon boss’s dead body. He was lazily scrolling through his phone as he thought about his plan to leave the hunters world.

He has grown bored with it, even though he only joined three years ago. Neban never wanted to be a hunter, especially when he woke up with abilities twelve years ago.

He was fifteen at the time and received a message out of nowhere, telling him that he was an SS-level while asking what class he would like to have. Neban was surprised at first until discomfort filled him when he looked at his level.

SS-levels were extremely rare, and if a person was at that level, they got everything most people would like to receive: fame and fortune.

And that was what Neban hated the most. He did not care for money; even though his parents were middle-class, they taught him that successful work was more rewarding than money. When it came to fame, he ran from it.

Attention was not his thing, while socializing was even worse. He hid in the shadows, he ran from making friends, and always wanted to live a life with low-presence.

Neban succeeded in his wish for nine years until something unexpected happened: he ended up with a son. One day, a woman he did not remember knocked on his door and handed him a one-year-old toddler.

She told him how she didn’t want the boy, how he was his son, and that he should take care of his child. Then, she left, leaving a confused Neban, with a baby in his hands, staring at a blank space.

Even though he could have caught up with the woman, he didn’t. Neban took his son in and started taking care of him (he spent the first few months asking his parents many questions on how to raise a child). During the first few months, he realized that his job did not give him enough to raise a son; even his small home was unfit for raising a baby.

So, he quit and did what he told himself he would never do; he became a hunter to make money to raise a child.

He was going to lie about his level, but when a person becomes a hunter, they make you check your level on the Orb of Yon while asking for a ton of information, unlike a porter.

Neban did not want to, but he put his son first, and becoming a hunter was the fastest way to make money. So, he joined SilverSoul, because they allowed hunters’ privacy, unlike the other two companies.

When his level became known to the world, the company locked away his information, gave him a name, so he wouldn’t have to use his real name, and let him rarely show up for press conferences. He wore a mask while covering his hair with a hoodie so no one can see his face while conquering dungeons by himself.

And now that he had enough money, he was tired of being a hunter.

For a month, he has been planning on leaving and possibly becoming a porter because he was a workaholic. Being a porter would allow him to spend more time with his son while still letting him work.

He thought of telling SilverSoul that he wanted to leave or asking for an extended vacation, but due to his level, the company and the government would not allow it.

So, he decided to do the next best thing: fake his death.

He told the company that he would take on one of the challenging dungeons that are hard to conquer, mentioning that he would do it alone. The person in charge of him disagreed with it but knew they couldn’t stop him because Neban would have done it no matter what.

Glancing down, he looked at the copy of his dead body next to the dungeon boss. He made it look like him, and the monster killed each other at the same time. Neban also blocked the company’s number to look for him in his last known location and discover his body.

The world would be in dismay over his death, but this was the easiest way of getting out of being a hunter.

His phone made a pinging sound, showing a text from his mother. She asked where he was and mentioned how anxious they were because he was not there yet, especially his son. He told his mother that he was going to a dungeon today and would be back in four hours.

It’s been eight hours.

For three years, Neban always returned, at the specific time he told her he would; this was the first time he hadn’t. So, he can see how she was worried because she rarely contacted him when he was working.

He stood up, texting his mother that he was coming before pocketing his phone. Neban stretched as he grabbed his sword, that he stabbed into the ground, with his mask hanging off the handle.

Making the sword and mask disappear, he walked towards the entrance before using [Shadow Travel] to leave without being seen.

When he reappeared, Neban was at his parents’ house. He knocked on the front door, only standing there for a second when someone quickly opened the door. His mother was on the other side, giving him a worried look as she gave him a once-over.

“You know, you can give a longer response or text me on your way here that you are fine.” His mother told him, looking like she wanted to be mad, but couldn’t get the expression to stay on her face.

“You rarely text me.” He meant when he was in the dungeon. Other times, his mom is always texting him, making sure he was doing okay. Even at 27, she could not stop babying him to a certain extent.

“And you are never late. A mother cannot help but worry.” She retorted.

“I could have been dead or busy.” Translation: he could have been fighting a monster or dead to answer a text message. Dungeons are a dangerous place.

The mother sighed, “I know. I know that, son. But when a parent worries about their child, they do not think straight.”

Neban rubbed his chin, a habit he developed to indicate thinking or if he did not know how to express himself. He saw how his mother softened at the look, making him stop in his movement; he should say something.

But before he could get his mouth to form words, something quickly zoomed by, hitting him on his leg.

“Papa!”

When he looked down, his son, Theo, was holding onto his leg, smiling up at him. His face softened as a small smile appeared on his face. His parents and son were the only ones he showed emotion to.

He bent down, picking up his son, “Hey, buddy, how was your day?”

Theo wrapped his arms around his neck, resting his head on his shoulder, “Fine. I missed you.”

“Sorry for coming back late.” He apologized to his son, but Neban directed it to his mother because he did feel bad. His mother did worry about him being a hunter, but she swallowed it down after he came back fine each time for the past three years. And he only brought her worry to the surface by returning later than he usually did.

She gave him a soft smile before moving out of the doorway, “Come inside and eat before you go home; we made dinner.”

Neban nodded as he walked into the house, his mother closing the door behind him. He made his way to the dining area, where he saw his father already digging into the food.

“Hey, dad.” He greeted him.

His father hummed, pausing in his eating to look at him before turning back, “I see that you are fine.”

“Yeah,” Neban replied as he took a seat at the table, setting Theo on his lap; he started making his and his son’s plate (his mother already had the table set).

“Your thoughts?” His father asked him. His father meant how he felt about being a hunter (sometimes he thinks he inherited his dad’s social skills).

He talked with his parents last month about how he did not want to be a hunter. Neban told them how he made enough money to take care of his son for years to come and how he never wanted to be a hunter in the first place. So, he mentioned how a porter seemed nice to become.

His parents supported him on whatever choice he wanted to make, but they told him that he had to be sure and think things through. He thought long enough; Neban made his choice.

His mother walked in when he opened his mouth to respond to his father.

“I decided to become a porter,” Neban answered as he grabbed a napkin to tuck into his son’s shirt; the boy is a messy eater.

“Thanks, papa. And will I see you more?” Theo asked him as he turned around to gaze at him. Neban ran his hands through his son’s hair as he nodded. His son smiled, causing his heart to soften at the look.

“Yay!” Theo shouted before turning back around to dig in his food; Neban already felt pieces of mashed potatoes landing on his knee.

“And this is what you truly want?” His mother asked as she sat down, making her plate.

“Yeah. I thought about it for a while, and I decided to do this.” He thought about this for a whole month, his mind already made up. Plus, it is not like he can go back now; he already faked his death.