The afternoon sun beat down on the streets outside the Association, warming the stone pavement beneath Yui's feet. People streamed past him—merchants shouting prices, children weaving through crowds, and low-rank Explorers returning from small dungeon runs with tired faces.
Yui walked slowly, staring at his empty hands.
He needed a weapon. Any weapon.
Weapons weren't cheap. Even a chipped dagger or cracked shield cost more money than he had ever held. He reached into his pocket and felt the three copper coins inside. Barely enough for food. Certainly not enough for gear.
Still, he wasn't giving up. He started searching.
He went to a roadside stall first, one run by an old man with a long beard and piles of rusty gear. The cheapest in the district. The seller gave him a bored look.
"What do ya want, boy?"
"…A weapon," Yui said.
"For what class?"
"I… haven't decided."
"Then I can't help ya," the man grunted. "Every class uses different things. Pick one first."
Yui thanked him quietly and left.
Next was a pawnshop tucked between tall buildings. The air smelled like dust and old wood. The shopkeeper pointed toward a rack of items.
"Cheapest thing we got is a Rogue's rusty dagger. One silver."
Yui winced. He didn't even have a quarter of that.
"Anything… cheaper?" he asked.
The shopkeeper stared at him. "Kid, this thing's already almost scrap metal."
Yui nodded and stepped out, trying not to let disappointment show.
He wandered through back alleys, hoping to find anything someone might have dropped—a metal rod, a broken bow, even a half-shattered mace. But in this city, even trash was valuable. Scavengers picked things clean before someone like him had a chance.
He sighed and kept walking.
"What class am I even supposed to choose…?"
Everything felt wrong. Warrior seemed too strong for him. Rogue was too sharp. Ranger required skill. Brawler required training. Tank meant heavy gear. Element Mage required talent. Cleric required devotion. Summoner required affinity.
He had none of those.
By the time the sun began to dip behind the buildings, Yui found himself behind an older district, where a pile of discarded junk sat beside a neglected house. Broken crates, old furniture, and wooden scraps were stacked haphazardly.
He crouched down and began digging through it. Maybe something usable was hiding here.
Minutes passed. Then—his hand brushed something smooth.
He pulled it out.
A long wooden stick, about the length of his arm. Straight, mostly intact, though cracked a little at one end. Probably from a broken broom.
Not a real weapon.
But it looked like a staff. And staffs were used by Brawlers.
"…This might work," he whispered.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't even good. But it felt sturdy enough to hold.
He tightened his grip on it.
"Tomorrow… I'll try again."
With quiet determination, Yui walked home holding the wooden staff. It wasn't much. But it was a start.