My Alt Account Became the World's No. 1 Hunter

He blinked, and everything went white.

When he blinked again, he was lying flat on the ground just outside the forest. The morning sky above him was a dusty orange, birds chirping like nothing had happened. A breeze ruffled his hair. His face was in the dirt.

"Thanks for the graceful exit," Lanz mumbled, spitting out a leaf.

He sat up slowly, groaning as his back popped like a bag of microwave popcorn. The fake armor was still on him — shredded and grimy — and the helmet felt like it had fused to his sweat glands.

With a long sigh, he pulled it all off and shoved the gear into a bag that he hid near the gate. Black cloak, gloves, the boots with one toe busted, and even the busted dagger — all gone into storage. Zero was off-duty, and unfortunately, Lanz is back.

ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ N(o)vᴇl(F)ire.nᴇt

Now, he looked like some unlucky high schooler who lost a bet and got yeeted through an abandoned cosplay convention.

Shorts: ripped.

T-shirt: a war crime.

Face: dirt plus blood, but with extra handsomeness.

He stretched his arms, shouldered the bag, and started walking home.

And as he limped along the gravel path toward the city outskirts, the system updates began trickling back in, like a delayed power-up montage narrated by an unpaid intern.

"Okay," Lanz muttered. "Let’s do the roundup."