Chapter Insert: Class Weakness Analysis
Oliver took a step back from the ruby, his fingers twitching slightly as he flicked open the Systematic Guide, his vision filling with glowing panels. The cave dimmed around him, but his attention narrowed to the cascading text and data.
> [Class Directory – Active Classes Recognized]
Barbarian
Bard
Druid
Hero (Paladin)
Cleric
Summoner
Fighter
Mage
Sorcerer
Monk (Spiritualist)
Librarian (Structure Binder/Manipulator)
Rogue
He selected the entry for Rogue. The Guide pulsed once, then opened a breakdown:
---
> [CLASS: Rogue]
Type: Stealth / Assassin / Trap Specialist
Common Abilities:
– Stealth Movement (Active Camouflage)
– Phantom Thread Bindings
– Vital Strike (Backline Execution)
– Illusory Step / Spatial Flicker
– Object Marking (Item-based Player Tracking)
---
> [Known Weaknesses]
– Sorcerers: Due to high-field elemental zoning and arcane presence, Sorcerers can disrupt Rogue stealth and camouflage with area-based detection spells (e.g., Arcane Pulse, Heat Vision, Zone Bind).
– Monks: Spirit-sense abilities allow Monks to detect movement through aura disruption, even in total invisibility.
– Druids (situational): If in natural environments, plant-sense abilities can locate and interrupt hidden movement.
– Librarians: Can anchor environmental structures and reshape zones, limiting a Rogue's escape or stealth windows.
---
> Counter Suggestion for Blue Rank and Below: Avoid 1v1 confrontation. Travel with Sorcerer or Monk-class ally. Avoid holding targetable items (i.e., cursed rubies or tagged objects).
---
Oliver blinked, eyebrows tightening. "So that's it… Rogues don't like being seen."
Fern, standing nearby, nodded as she glanced over his shoulder. "Sorcerers light up the field. Monks feel the tremors. Librarians twist the ground. Rogues only win if you're blind."
Oliver closed the Guide slowly, staring back at the pedestal and the ruby pulsing faintly on top of it.
"If I had a Sorcerer here," he muttered, "we might actually get answers."
Fern placed a hand on the rock and replied softly, "We don't need a Sorcerer. We have the woods."
And somewhere deep in the forest…
A Rogue who could vanish without a trace
—was being watched.
-------
Chapter Insert: Unclassed
Still staring at the ruby and the dark note beneath it, Oliver hesitated—then opened the Systematic Guide again, his voice low in the cavern's chill.
"…Guide," he said. "What class system am I in?"
The screen blinked.
> [CLASS STATUS: ANALYZING...]
[RESULT:]
You are currently not assigned to any formal Class.
Designation: Semi-Class
Title: Mercenary
> Note:
"Mercenary" is a title, not a true Class.
Titles grant status, reputation, and flexible skill development.
They do not provide structured ability trees or innate powers like Rogues, Druids, or Sorcerers.
Class Binding: Unlocked (Open Path)
Recommendation: Binding to an official class may increase survivability, skill growth, and combat efficiency.
Oliver frowned. "So… I'm not even really a class?"
Fern turned toward him, calmly watching.
"You're unbound," she said. "It means you haven't chosen what to become."
He looked back at the guide, jaw tightening.
> [Mercenary Perks (Title-Based)]
– Weapon Versatility
– Access to broad-level equipment
– Cross-discipline tactics
– Reputation-based contracts
– Slower skill progression compared to Classed units
Warning: Classless Travelers statistically have a higher elimination rate unless aligned with powerful allies.
"I'm not special," he muttered.
Fern tilted her head. "No. You're just unfinished."
That sat with him. Heavy. Real.
In a world of Rogues hiding in shadows and Druids shaping nature itself, Oliver was walking a blade's edge. Not chosen. Not claimed.
Just a Mercenary.
But maybe… that meant he could choose anything.
And somewhere beyond the cave…
A Rogue who was chosen was marking the world with silence.
And Oliver?
He was still figuring out who he was supposed to be.
-----
Chapter: Shadows at Nightfall
Night fell like a slow, choking fog.
The forest no longer whispered—it watched.
Leaves didn't rustle. They shivered.
The moon was pale and distant behind a thin veil of mist, casting everything in silvery gray and long, jagged shadows. Each tree looked like a figure standing still. Each branch like a hand ready to grab.
Oliver and Fern moved quietly now, every step a negotiation with the silence.
The Guide dimmed in his vision, warning once again.
> [⚠️ Time Alert: Nightfall Detected]
[Rogue Class Bonus Active: Stealth + Enhanced at Night]
[Visibility Decreased | Auditory Traces Increased | Stealth Threat Level: HIGH]
Oliver's hand trembled near his sword. His breath, slow and sharp, fogged in the cold.
"He's got the advantage now, doesn't he?" he whispered.
Fern didn't respond. She didn't need to.
This wasn't just nighttime.
This was his time—the Silent Stalker's domain.
Somewhere out there, beneath this darkness, a teenager with no face in the light and a sword without flair was waiting. Watching. Moving between the cracks of vision and heartbeat.
This forest belonged to the Stalker now.
And Oliver knew…
Even blinking felt dangerous.
------
Chapter: The Pit Beneath the Leaves
Night cloaked the woods like a living veil, soft and suffocating.
Oliver and Fern pressed forward, the ruby now tucked securely in a small pouch at Oliver's belt. The Systematic Guide kept pinging faint detection pulses, uncertain, flickering between warnings and quiet.
> [ALERT: Presence Detected – Signature: UNKNOWN]
[Status: Neither Confirmed Nor Denied – Presence Exists + Doesn't]
"Still nothing," Oliver muttered, brushing aside another curtain of hanging vines, sword drawn and flickering faint silver in the moonlight.
"He's near," Fern said behind him, her tone eerily calm. "But not… here."
Oliver turned, frustration creeping into his voice. "How does someone exist and not exist at the same time?"
Fern's eyes scanned the trees. "He's built his presence between the cracks. The Stalker doesn't walk in the world like we do. He steps in between."
Oliver sliced through the next thicket of brush—then suddenly—
SNAP.
The ground beneath them collapsed.
"Fern—!"
"Don't resist—fall with the wind."
They plummeted through a curtain of thick vines and loose soil. Fern twirled midair with impossible grace, her staff guiding threads of green Vita to slow her descent. She landed silently, like dew on a petal.
Oliver slammed into something solid with a grunt, dirt in his mouth, but sword still in hand. He groaned, blinking in the faint green glow from Fern's staff.
They were in a wide pit—at least thirty feet down, damp earth walls and thick tree roots surrounding them like a nest.
And there—bound in strange, almost invisible thread-lines—was a man tied upright to a wooden pillar.
Brown vest. Red and blue bead necklace. Blonde hair dusted with soil and stubbornness.
Luke Astoria.
The monster hunter. The one who was supposed to be untouchable.
His eyes flicked open.
"...Took you long enough," he said.
Before Oliver could reply, a scrambling sound echoed from one of the smaller tunnels branching off the pit—followed by the squeaky voice of a panicked dwarf.
"AH! You're not the stalker, right?!" shouted Doli, the smallest of the Seven Dwarves, tripping into view, arms flailing. He skidded to a stop at Oliver's feet and blinked.
"Wait—you're not glowing red, you don't smell like mist—okay, not the stalker."
"Doli?" Oliver asked, stunned. "What—what's going on?"
Doli looked around nervously, wiping his nose with his sleeve. "I don't know! We were just walking and Luke said he sensed something and the next thing I knew BAM—threads everywhere! We all got grabbed—except me, I was too short!"
Oliver and Fern followed Doli to the center of the pit where Luke remained tied, along with the other six dwarves, hanging upside down or tangled together, grumbling and grunting in muffled annoyance.
"They're alive," Fern confirmed, eyes flickering with green energy. "No fatal damage. Just bound."
Oliver moved closer to Luke, studying the bindings. "It's those same nonexistent threads, isn't it?"
Luke nodded grimly. "They're real, but they don't exist. I've been trying to pull free for hours, but they've got no resistance—like they're cutting through space itself."
Oliver knelt, holding out his Guide.
> [THREAD STATUS: Null-Bind – Origin: Silent Stalker Class Signature]
[Function: Dimensional Binding]
[Weakness: Cannot be broken through force – requires structural destabilization or class magic override.]
Fern walked to the edge of the bindings and touched the threads gently with two fingers. "They respond to environmental shifts," she murmured. "He doesn't just tie people up—he traps them in places where help shouldn't arrive."
Oliver backed up. "So he left us a room of proof. This is a message."
Luke let out a low chuckle despite his restraints. "Yeah? And the message is what, exactly?"
Fern stood slowly, eyes narrowing. "The message is: even the strong can be paused. Delayed. Trapped."
Oliver looked up at the surface far above them, mist curling around the lip of the pit.
The Silent Stalker didn't have to fight.
He just had to wait.
He had to set the board.
And now they were all on it.
"I think he wants us to try to escape," Oliver muttered. "So he can watch. So he can hunt."
Fern nodded. "Then let's disappoint him."
Roots began to glow beneath her feet. The air stirred, faintly humming with the pulse of Vita.
And slowly, one by one, the threads began to tremble.
Above them, in the branches beyond the pit, a shadow leaned just slightly forward—expression unreadable, sword still sheathed.
Watching.
Waiting.
The Silent Stalker…
Was not gone.