Upper lobe of the right lung, edge of G-44 District.
[Muhammad] let out a long breath and delivered the final blow. An LV30 [Bristle Pathogen] collapsed to the ground. He skillfully cut off the sellable materials and stuffed them into his backpack, which was already nearly half full.
Over the past month, he had pushed himself to the limit every day, practicing luring monsters, blocking, and deflecting force again and again. He had reached LV30, but nearly all his Bio-Energy had been exchanged for real-world currency. He still wore beginner armor and carried that secondhand Bone Shield.
He had planned to head to the public trading area, sell his haul, and pay the next installment of his mother's medical bills.
But at the passageway entrance, four players in finely crafted armor had already blocked his path.
"Run, then. Why did you stop running?" The leading [Berserk Behemoth] held a heavy two-handed blade and stood in the middle of the path. "You Dalit sure knew how to hide. We followed you to the trading area three times before we found this dump."
[Muhammad] stopped and tightened his grip on his bone club. He said nothing.
"You left the guild and even shared the price list with other poor trash? Now people want to work on their own every day." The leader sneered. "The manager gave the order. Hand over your backpack and sign up again. Otherwise, we'll camp you every day, kill you until all your experience is gone, and take every piece of your gear!"
[Muhammad] lowered his eyes, showing little emotion, but his mind raced.
He absolutely could not die.
Death would deduct experience and Bio-Energy, and he would have to wait half an hour to revive. His corpse, backpack, and equipment would all remain where they were, and