The next day, at lunch, Garfield and Jack sat alone at their table.
As it would seem, they were quite popular. Or, Jack was, at least. And even then, "popular" would be a bit of a stretch.
More accurately, among the Hunting club, they were known as quite a fearsome duo… even if one of them almost died to a goblin.
Though, Garfield's made quite a few improvements, as have I.
The Call of the Hunter was indeed a great boon. Though it had little to do with anything in relation to leveling up through the System, the truth of the matter was that it enabled them to hunger for strength that most other human beings did not share.
No doubt, it was a kill or be killed world. However, many remained ignorant of that fact, which was admittedly understandable. Not everyone was fit to kill, not everyone was fit to risk their life, and not everyone was necessarily interested in such violence.
Massaging his temples, vaguely listening to Garfield's continued ramblings, Jack kept his eyes closed.
It's hard to believe I was even like that. I started off at a mere level 9…
Focusing on his stat-screen, Jack found himself now at level 23.
Even in what felt like the blink of an eye, both Hunters had made staggering improvements to their abilities. Jack himself had even managed to learn Lightning Magic… even if he never used it.
The Call of the Hunter… how insidious. If not for it, wouldn't Garfield have never been at death's door?
Well, it's ultimately not all that important.
His eyes narrowed, the stormy night sky resting in his irises.
I want strength. I need strength.
"So yeah, that's why sticky footies are better than—"
Rambling about nonsensical things, Garfield was suddenly interrupted when a group of three students approached their table.
"Um, hello?"
Two men and one woman stopped before the table, the woman doing the majority of the talking. Her eyes lingered on Jack, just for a moment.
"Oh, hello," Jack responded, Garfield looking up at the woman. She had long brown hair, tied up behind her head. Garfield seemed particularly captivated by her eyes, which were an emerald green.
I don't even want to know what's running through his head.
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
The woman quietly laughed, looking at Jack as she twirled her hair. "Um, yes. See, me and my friends received a quest, and we saw you two do really well in Hunting class yesterday, so we were just wondering if, y'know, you wanted to tag along? Of course, you'll receive some of the money—we were just wanting some help."
Jack snuck a glance at Garfield, who was now staring off into the distance, his mind seemingly empty. And, since the Survivor didn't have any intention of answering, it seemed, Jack did it for him.
"Oh, of course," Jack said with a soft smile. "Just meet us after the Hunting club today, if that's alright with you?"
The woman nodded her head eagerly, smiling ear to ear. "Mhm, of course! Oh, I'm Jenny, by the way—but you can call me Jen! This is Mike and Thomas, um, yeah! We'll see you after school! Bye-bye!"
The woman—Jenny… or rather, Jen… excitedly waved Jack goodbye, walking away and going across the cafeteria.
Jack went back to eating, looking over at Garfield, who seemed overwhelmingly… distraught.
"What's up?"
"Uerrghh… Loneliness. Ah, where's my Hori? I need a freaky goth girlfriend."
"A what?"
"Basically, any woman that will look at me like I'm a human being. Ah, whatever! Anyways, sticky footies are wayyy better than—"
…
With nothing else to do, the two Hunters joined in with the three others. Their quest was simple—kill a good amount of wolves.
Walking through the forest, the five Hunters got to know each other a bit better. Jenny was an archer, Mike was a brawler, and Thomas was a healer.
And, of course, Garfield was sort of like an assassin, and Jack was a knight.
They managed to find their desired monsters… three wolves.
Survivor glared at one of the wolves, a confident grin on his lips.
Well, wolves are pretty weak, from what I remember. Let's do this!
Kicking off the dirt, Garfield rushed forward to kill one of the weak monsters… and promptly got mauled on the leg, only narrowly avoiding dismemberment thanks to Jack and Jenny's intervention. He crawled away in fear, coughing up blood… for some reason, despite his lungs not being damaged… and then looked back.
Jenny, rushing forward to cover Jack, drew back her bow. It was a mighty beast, with elegant wood, before pulling it back. She was far, far quicker than Garfield had expected. She was the most powerful of the group, surprisingly.
And, after using a decent amount of arrows…
"What the?"
Patching his wounds up, Garfield climbed to his feet, seeing three crystals on the ground.
Woah… She actually killed them? That means she's strong… and being strong is hot!
Flashing his most seductive smile, Garfield walked over to Jenny, leaning against a tree. He wiggled his eyebrows, his words dancing on his tongue.
"Hey… you wanna… Uh, mingle? Cause I'm single?"
Jenny paid him little mind, her face grimacing. Then, Jack walked over, doing his best to save the interaction.
"Hey. My name is Ben. Ben Dover."
"..."
The woman looked star-struck, leaping for joy.
"Yes, yes!"
…
"Well, I got money out of it."
Garfield was dismayed. Utter despair ensnared the fibre of his being, his eyes becoming like that of a porcelain doll—lifeless, destitute, and lost.
Well, I'll pay it no mind. There exists nothing in my heart but perseverance and strength.
It was so. He was Survivor, there was no doubt.
If this was enough to block his paths, then he would have never earned that name to begin with. His obstacles were not born of human beings—rather, anything that aimed to obstruct him from reaching his goal of absolute immortality would be the forces in which he battled against.
There is no point in leveling up my charisma. It offers little boost in battle—if that is the case, there is no purpose in refining it. Things that lack purpose are the most pitiful, most detestable of all.
I am strength itself, the chosen Survivor of the gods. For if it is within the will of mineself, there shall be nothing capable of defeating me. Though I may try and may remain a destitute wanderer, there is little substance behind it.
The only thing that offers any meaning to me is my own life. Not my survival, but my quest for eternity.
Survivor—that is the path laid ahead. I will walk my path, regardless of whether or not I have companions beside me.
So Garfield thought… sitting in his dorm room, eating a tub of ice cream as he cried like a child over his unbearable loneliness.