Prologue
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“DON’T LET ANYONE look down on you.”
That was what my grandpa, a Seeker, always used to say.
A Seeker is exactly what it sounds like—a person whose profession is searching for missing things. A Seeker’s target may be treasure hidden in ancient ruins, the ruins themselves, perhaps even a fugitive or an unknown creature. But the plunder that brings the greatest profit and most renown has to do with the coveted Abyss.
When a link is established between this world and the Void, ordinary land and buildings grow tainted by the Abyss. Seekers strive to locate these abyssal places and hunt beasts that manifest in these accursed spots. At least, that’s what they’re most commonly known to do.
If an Abyss is ignored, it will continue to indefinitely corrode the world, so the government encourages and supports the work of Seekers. Beasts, who thrive within Abysses, must be hunted and subdued to purify the land. Further, materials harvested from beasts are essential to produce the many inventions that form the basis of modern civilization.
Modern magic-engineered civilization.
Magic-engineered civilization is more prosperous than any that had ever existed. Today, massive airships dot the skies. Seekers, thanks to their wealth, their physical prowess, and their essential role in harvesting the raw materials necessary to keep society running, are superstars, universally hailed and beloved.
“Noel, men can’t let anyone look down on them.”
My grandpa was once a famous Seeker in the imperial capital of the Velnant Empire, Etrai. He was the toughest of the tough, a true hero.
“Noel, you better become a man whom no one looks down on,” he said, stroking my head with a hand rough as stone from the years he was active.
My grandpa had been a Warrior, a class well-suited to his massive stature. Classes are assigned by an appraiser, based on an individual’s potential, skills, and limitations. The average person began with a C-Ranked class and could climb the ranks through hard work and talent.
The most common combat-type class was Swordsman, a C-Rank class. The B-Ranks were called Gladiators, while those who achieved A-Rank earned the title of Swordmaster. In very rare cases, people might reach the special EX-Rank.
My grandpa began as a C-Rank Warrior, advanced to B-Rank Vanguard, then achieved the A-Rank level of Berserker. Finally, he was granted the EX-Rank title of Destroyer.
Though promotions don’t change a person’s class itself, skill compensation improves greatly, and there are new skills to be gained. Take, for example, strength: C-Rank Warriors have ordinary strength, B-Rankers have preternatural strength, and A-Rankers are truly superhuman. EX-Rank fighters have power akin to the gods.
Grandpa was really strong when he was young, rough, and brazen. My grandma, whom he fell desperately in love with and wooed, was beautiful and very kind. But she was weak. Grandpa adored Grandma so much that he quit being a Seeker for her. They moved from the polluted imperial capital to live in the countryside. He used his savings to buy some land, hired some hands, and founded a vineyard. It sounded like an ideal retirement. They were living the slow life.
My grandpa, once the most feared Seeker—nicknamed “Overdeath” by other Seekers—had become a devoted husband and contented retiree. He and my grandma loved each other dearly and supported each other in everything.
However, my grandma died giving birth to my mother. Her frail constitution made childbirth especially risky. Grandpa was grief-stricken, but instead of abandoning himself to despair, he decided to raise his daughter—my mother—on his own.
My mother grew into a wonderful person. She inherited her father’s black hair and hazel eyes, rather than her mother’s golden hair and green eyes, but she was otherwise the perfect image of my beautiful and beloved grandma. My mother showed potential in a production class, and when she grew up, she started working at a vineyard. She married a childhood friend. They had me, and the household grew to four.
But I have no memories of my parents. My first memory is of my elderly but still-muscular grandpa crying. I remember the warmth of him holding me while he sobbed.
“Noel, you poor child… You got me, kid. You’ll never be alone. I… I’ll never die, no matter what! I swear it, upon the name of Overdeath!”
My parents died in a carriage accident while I was still too young to understand. The gossipmongers said that the accident was caused by a curse laid on Grandpa by all the beasts he’d killed. They said that every member of Grandpa’s family died young due to that curse. My grandpa didn’t let them get away with that, of course. Whenever he overheard someone talking like that, he beat them to within an inch of their life with a steel bar he carried with him. And he always told me one thing.
“A man can’t let anyone look down on him. He must defend his family’s honor.”
I remember him saying that after I was bullied and called a cursed child by the neighborhood hoodlums. Grandpa went to their houses and tore them down to their very foundations.
Grandpa often spoke about his time as a Seeker. He and his comrades were my heroes. It was only natural that his stories made me grow up to admire Seekers.
“Noel, you look exactly like your mother,” he told me once. “But in you, I see talent as a Seeker that she didn’t have.”
He was right. When I turned ten, I was assessed for a class. I was told that while I had potential as a Warrior, I was most suited for the class I least wanted.
I was assessed as a Talker—a class specializing in party support.
The Talker’s role is to enhance the power of a party’s warriors. In other words, it was a supporting role—a buffer.
I’d really wanted to be a Warrior. Not only did I want to follow in Grandpa’s footsteps, but also because Warriors develop strong offensive and defensive skills. Buff specialists such as Talkers, by contrast, focus only on support skills. Talkers are the weakest fighters and extremely vulnerable in the field. We have to depend on the rest of our parties to survive.
Even with a tank present to absorb the brunt of the attacks, lacking the ability to protect yourself can be fatal for a Seeker. Even Healers have some offensive skills. Talkers, on the other hand, are nearly powerless.
It’s common for Seekers to mock Talkers for their weakness. It hurts to hear, but the truth often does.
When I received my assessment, Grandpa laughed gently and stroked my head. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.