I unsheathed my sword.

It was the cheapest sword I could afford, and the owner I purchased from reassured me that it was a one owner sword that was gently used. I couldn’t be choosy, and this was the sharpest and most intact-looking sword I could find within my price range.

“Plurrrk!” A labrador-sized goblin shrieked at me. It was small for a goblin, and its color was a lighter shade of green, indicating that it had to be young and inexperienced. The first floor was inhabited by the goblins, and they were considered to be one of the weakest monsters inside the Door.

I gripped my sword with both of her hands and aimed it at the angry goblin. My palms were sweating, and my legs shook because this was the third monster of the day. I was so sick of facing these disgusting green men wearing tiny flimsy rags I assumed were loincloths.

Even as I huffed and puffed from dodging its sharp fingers, I vaguely wondered some nonsense about why all the goblins were males. At least I assumed they were males because I hadn’t seen a single goblin wearing a rag across its chest.

The goblin sprinted toward me with another screech. My body tensed even more in anticipation, and I readied myself to swing. When it got closer, I swung with a shout, “Hup!”

Unfortunately, I was too slow. The monster hopped a step back before flailing its sharp claws at me. The goblin’s hands were crusted with old blood and god knows what else. I was sure to get a bad infection if I let it get to me.

It has been four months since I completed the mandatory RAC course that involved three weeks of learning and training. During the first two weeks, I was in a classroom with other newly marked Rhombics learning about the basics of the monsters, Doors, and Pockets. The final week included the same group going inside the Door and hunting on the first floor under the watchful eyes of an experienced Rhombic.

To successfully graduate, a Rhombic had to kill at least ten goblins. The novice Rhombics often used the gems earned from this hunt to buy their first weapons. I, for one, certainly did.

And if you saw my sword right now, you might have guessed how badly I did during this training. I ended up with the smallest low-grade red gems, which was why I could only afford this cheap sword.

The week of in-Door training was supposed to be just a formality. A Rhombic became an amazing hunter with the right instinct, sharp reflexes and unprecedented power the moment she was marked.

But for some reason, I did very poorly during the training. While all the other Rhombics killed their required numbers in the first few days, it took me the whole week to do the same. The class guide, which happened to be RM again, had to help me a great deal extra.

I was basically his “special” project.

In fact, RM had to search the first floor to find me the weakest goblins possible. This was the only way for me to “successfully” kill ten goblins and graduate. Although my speed was only mildly lacking, my strength and my aim with the training sword had to be the worst any Rhombic had ever displayed.

I was essentially that runt you’ll find in every puppy class. You know, the one that failed to learn even the simplest commands like “sit” while the other puppies were already acing their agility training.

Yes, I’m talking about THAT “slow” puppy that’s always busy smelling everyone’s butt while her classmates are on their way to become service dogs and police dogs.

But at this point, you might wonder:

“Dud! Why not just use a gun? Have you heard of this thing called the machine gun? Or maybe even a bomb? Why would anyone go all medieval and use a SWORD?!”

Well, let me tell you one thing about the Door. All electronic devices including phones, and any other earth technologies including weapons, failed to work inside the Door. Hence, the Rhombics including myself had no choice but to prance around like those knights from the good old days.

But to be fair, all Rhombics were, or supposed to be, mean fighters with any weapons available to them. I have even heard of many powerful Rhombics who are able to kill the strongest beasts with their bare hands.

“Ugh!” I groaned, barely managing to block the goblin’s attack with my sword. While doing this, I stumbled a little from the force. But without missing a beat, I gripped my weapon harder and boldly thrusted it forward.

I was aiming for the goblin’s neck, which I learned to be the weakest part of a goblin’s body. But as usual, I missed it by a mile.

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Well, I was once again frustrated by my lack of aim, but I supposed I should at least be thankful that I missed its loincloth too. If I didn’t, I would have been forced to witness the unsightly scene of a completely naked goblin.

Again.

It wouldn’t have been the first time my poor aim failed me tragically. Remembering the embarrassing moment when I managed to strip a goblin nude during the training week, I shuddered. If I listened carefully, I could still hear the stunned gasps of the other Rhombics, which was followed by RM’s whisper, “Well, that’s a first.”

The goblins didn’t have hard outer skin, which meant that I just had to stab it anywhere I could reach. Jabbing its neck was no doubt the quickest way to kill it, but knowing my lack of… well everything including power, accuracy, and all else, I had to be realistic.

It seemed that luck was on my side today, because when I thrusted, my sword entered the goblin’s chest where its heart must be located.

If anyone witnessed this last move, they might have thought I was improving as a fighter; accurately stabbing a monster’s heart had to be an impressive sight. But I knew better. I had been coming to hunt everyday for the past four months, but I wasn’t getting any better.

“Plurrrrrk!” The goblin’s pained shriek made me cringe, but this wasn’t the time to hesitate. I pushed my weapon harder into the creature, and to my relief, I heard a juicy pop.

The goblin, its loincloth still intact thank goodness, collapsed to the ground.

I panted, unable to express the extent of my relief. This one didn’t take as long to kill like the others today.

And yay! I again managed not to get mauled to death today.

My breathing began to slow down as I watched the goblin’s dead body shrinking and transforming into a gem. I didn’t have to see the final result to know that it was going to be a red one, the cheapest grade of a gem.

Today wasn’t as bad as other days, but I still had several cuts all over my body. I also knew my back was going to be black and blue when I got up tomorrow morning. The healing potions, which were too expensive for me to afford, would have been enough to make these wounds disappear in an instant. But I was barely making three to four gems a day, which meant I better make do with some bandaids.

And probably not even the real Bandaids, but just the no name ones that caused your skin to come off when removing it.

The goblins I have been hunting on the first floor were the weakest monsters one would ever find in the Door. In addition, I only chased after the smallest ones because I couldn’t handle anything meatier.

A Rhombic was supposed to get stronger with more experience. With a defeated sigh, I looked down at the Marking on my left wrist. The tattoo-like rhombicosidodecahedron shape etched on my skin shone mysteriously, confirming that I was indeed a Rhombic.

So how come it was getting harder to kill the monsters?

I remembered my classmates easily killing much bigger goblins during the training week. All of the other newbies were stronger and faster. It only took them two or three kills before they got the hang of how to fight. Some even leveled up on their first day.

Meanwhile, even after four months since I was marked, I still remained Level 1.

Picking up the thumb-sized red gem, I summoned my Display.

“Display.”

A holographic screen appeared in front of me showing several lines underneath my name. All Rhombics had their own Displays that were visible only to the corresponding hunter.

[Leah Nowey]

Level 1

Power 21 [Offense: 10] [Defense: 11]

Skill: Unknown

A Rhombic’s power was measured by two categories; Level and Power. Everyone began at Level 1, and as one became stronger, one leveled up. The rate of level up was different for everyone, but generally speaking, most reached Level 10 within the first few months.

Well, apparently everyone except me.

The second measurement, Power, was divided into two subcategories; Offense and Defense. The Power, a total of the Offense and Defense values, always summed up to be 100.

The proportion of the Offense and Defense numbers changed over time, and it varied for everyone. But the total was always supposed to remain 100.

Well again, everyone except for me.

From the very beginning, my Power totalled to be only 20, and it hasn’t changed during the last four months. This had to be why I was so weak, and I wondered if this made me only a quarter of a Rhombic.

Great.

The last line on the Display was the Skill, which was something not every Rhombic had. When I first saw it on my Display, I was ecstatic. It was a rare few who were blessed enough to get a Skill, and it was supposed to make them into a fighting machine.

A Skill could be anything, and it was unique to each Rhombic. For example, I had heard of a Rhombic who could control water, while another had the ability to control wind.

Those who didn’t have a Skill didn’t even have this line showing on their Display. This meant that I had to have one, but for some reason, it remained “unknown”.

Gees, was I supposed to feel lucky that I was an “exception” to everything? That I was “special”?