The Rotten World
The world was rotten now. A damned world where everything was decided by suddenly granted powers, no matter how hard anyone worked. Once you were born weak, you had no rights, no voice, no place. The only life allowed to the weak was scavenging scraps left behind by the strong.
I used to fantasize about it sometimes. Maybe a hero straight out of a novel would appear and fix this broken world. Maybe people like me would finally get a say. Maybe we could go back to how things used to be, when everything felt normal. But no matter how desperately I wished for it, no miracle ever came. All that stared back at me was an empty bank account that couldn’t even cover this month’s rent and food.
To avoid starving, I had to do something. After the Disaster, finding decent work was like hunting for a needle in a desert. The only option left was raiding random dungeons, hunting monsters, and scraping together whatever money we could. Those blessed with real power by the suspicious System turned the crisis into fortune and grew obscenely rich. Most people weren’t so lucky. I was one of the unlucky ones.
My abilities were average at best—nothing that set me apart from ordinary people. No party would ever accept someone like me as a proper member. This cold, brutal world ran purely on strength. No one took in the weak or the powerless anymore. In the end, the only job left for me was that of a porter. Porters didn’t fight; they just hauled loot and followed the party. It was the most common role in the business, paid the least, and if danger struck, no one would bother saving you. High risk, low return. Still, for an ordinary person inside a dungeon, there was nothing else to do. So I did it, whether I wanted to or not. At least it kept me from freezing to death on the streets.
I’d been doing this miserable job for years, swallowing my pride. I’d nearly been eaten by monsters after getting separated from my party, and I’d been trapped inside dungeons more times than I could count, but I clawed my way through every time. Among porters, I was one of the lucky ones. Even so, I never let myself grow complacent. Every time I stepped into a dungeon, I prepared myself for death. Life came first—always before money. Helping others out of some foolish sense of duty would only get me killed first.
Despite that mindset, I’d once casually thought that someday I’d probably die in a dungeon. And unfortunately, that prediction came true far sooner than I expected.
Agony like my entire body was burning made me groan soundlessly. I couldn’t see in the pitch darkness, but at least two or three bones had to be broken. Deep sword wounds in my stomach and thigh bled nonstop, and my mind was growing hazy. With great effort I lifted my head and saw an endless cliff towering above me. Surviving the fall at all had been a miracle. …Just like that man said, climbing back up from here was impossible.
My hands were growing colder by the second; sensation was already fading from my fingers. My body cooling rapidly told me death was right in front of me. To think I’d die like this. I let out a hollow laugh at the irony of my own end. Killed by another human instead of a monster—the sheer absurdity of it kept the bitter laughter coming. If I’d known this was how it would end, I should’ve spent every last coin I’d saved. Not that it mattered now.
Even in this rotten world, I’d thought a tiny bit of luck had finally found me. But this merciless place wouldn’t even grant the weak that much. It was unfair, yet what could I do? This was the world we lived in. I had no intention of dying while whining about injustice. I only felt bitter resentment toward myself for trusting another human and letting my guard down, even for a moment.
Accepting the death creeping closer, I slowly closed my eyes. I prayed this hellish life would finally end.
But at that instant, an unknown light suddenly appeared. There was no reason for anything like that to exist this deep underground, so I cracked my eyes open again. In my blurry vision stood a black cat glowing with a soft light.
While I frowned, wondering what on earth was happening, the creature slowly approached and whispered.
"What a pitiful human. At this rate, you’ll meet your death soon. But… you’re lucky! Meeting me right now means you’ve used up every last bit of luck you’ll ever have."
The suspicious creature puffed out its chest with an air of self-importance. I wanted to say something, but the situation was so absurd that I could only open and close my mouth. The being stared at me in silence, its innocent blue eyes sparkling.
"You don’t want to die like this, do you? Don’t you want money and fame? The power to take revenge on the people who did this to you? Or how about all of it? Just imagining it is thrilling, isn’t it?"
The creature continued its devilishly sweet whispers. Its tone felt exactly like a con artist’s, but with my consciousness fading, I found myself nodding weakly without thinking. Seeing my answer, it smiled—an unsettling, knowing smile. I wasn’t sure if cats could make expressions, but the feeling was unmistakable.
"I’ll grant you everything you desire. On one condition—make a single contract with me."
A mysterious being offering a contract out of nowhere while death loomed over me. At the time, I still didn’t know what those words would bring. Back then, I had no idea at all.