I Only Have Support Skills

Chapter 5: Player Dante

Thud.

Dante crashed to the ground, a painful grunt escaping his lips. As waves of agony coursed through his body, he let out a pained shout. In his torment, he rolled on the unforgiving ground, exacerbating his already grievous injuries. Amidst the anguish, a burning anger simmered within him, directed at the Ghast Wolves, at Lucius, and his companions. It was their actions that had led to this dire predicament, Dante thought as he struggled to rise, but he could only manage a painful limp, one foot injured.

With his skill fading, his mind grew increasingly groggy and dizzy, a consequence of the blood loss he had endured. Amidst the chaos in his thoughts, one burning desire prevailed: to confront and vanquish the dungeon's boss, then escape this wretched place. However, deep down, he knew that victory was unattainable in his current state. Only death seemed to loom ominously on his horizon.

Dante, after catching his breath, moved cautiously, leaning against the wall for support. His vision remained blurred, preventing him from realizing that this room was not the boss chamber.

Blood continued to drip from him, staining the path with every step he took. Dante was acutely aware that time was running out, yet an indomitable spirit within him yearned for one last battle, a final stand in his already f*cked up life. Even though the odds were slim, Dante pressed on.

They often said, "You can see a person's true character when they're at death's door."

Perhaps there was some truth to that saying.

Dante advanced further, not encountering any of the usual dungeon boss doors. He continued walking, and within his blurry vision, he caught sight of a figure—a 'woman' with her hand raised, as if blessing the land.

"Hey..."

Cough!

Cough!

Dante attempted to speak, but a fit of coughing wracked his body, and he coughed up blood. He teetered on the brink of collapse.

One step.

Two steps.

As he took his third step toward the 'woman,' Dante crumpled to the ground. His breathing grew increasingly shallow, but before his eyes, blurred by his fading consciousness, lay an ordinary-looking sapling, the kind one might find along a roadside.

Dante fell directly in front of the 'woman,' only to discover that she was not a living being but a stone statue. Her hand was raised, her palm extended directly above the sapling and Dante's head.

What should have been a dungeon boss room was instead adorned with an array of statues set into the walls. They varied in age and form, ranging from youthful figures to elderly ones, some barely resembling humans at all, while others were as massive as trucks. Their most striking feature, however, was their outstretched hands, as if imparting blessings. Above, there was no ceiling to this chamber, allowing the moon's radiant light to cascade upon the statues, the humble sapling, and Dante, who had just taken his 'final' breath.

The moon seemed to mimic the statues, bestowing its own blessings with its luminous glow.

***

One hundred and ten years ago, during the midst of the Second Industrial Revolution, the future held the promise of a brighter world. The rapid advancement of technology seemed to be leading humanity toward a utopian era. Inventions emerged in quick succession, propelling the growth of civilization. However, the fruits of their labor were about to crumble into oblivion.

It all began with a minor disturbance, a small fissure that resembled a tiny black hole. Initially, it went unnoticed due to its insignificant size, but one day, it inexplicably expanded. Eminent scientists from across the globe were summoned to investigate this enigma, and their collective findings pointed to a dimensional portal of some kind.

Nations grew suspicious of each other, fearing this might be a tactic of their rivals. No one dared to venture into the portal, as it remained inaccessible. Over time, the seemingly dormant rift continued to expand. Just when it appeared the situation had stabilized, catastrophe struck. Unidentified creatures emerged from these rifts, and to compound matters, countless new fissures materialized worldwide. The military valiantly attempted to combat the creatures, but their efforts proved futile.

Society crumbled, leading to a staggering loss of countless lives...

In their darkest hour, a hero was desperately needed to rescue them from this dire crisis.

And indeed, heroes emerged.

Not just one.

Individuals with extraordinary abilities stepped forward. They possessed the power to manipulate lightning, fire, water, and boasted physical strength so immense they could shatter walls, and speed that left normal humans in the dust.

They came to be known as "Holders."

With the sudden appearance of the fissure, humanity gained an extraordinary ability through "Blessing" or a ritual. If an individual possessed the necessary qualities, upon reaching the age of sixteen, they would undergo a ritual to determine their unique "Skill." With the aid of mana channeled from a Holder, they could then activate this skill.

The Holders valiantly battled the monsters, driving them back toward the fissure. Over the course of two decades, the world was reduced to ruins, with no standing buildings remaining. Corpses littered the ground, and the lingering scent of blood tainted the air. The war against the monsters endured for a grueling 20 years. Fortunately, amid the devastation, humanity managed to preserve their knowledge. This cataclysmic event served as a catalyst for the society's resurgence, surpassing even the achievements of the Second Industrial Revolution.

The Holders soon discovered that they could enter the fissure and hunt down the monsters within, and thus they began to refer to it as a "dungeon."

These dungeons were categorized into ranks to gauge their level of challenge, ranging from F class to A rank. To date, there were no records of dungeons surpassing the A rank in terms of strength, or at least none had been encountered thus far.

***

The forest echoed with the melodious chirping of birds, their songs welcoming the dawn of a new day. Sunlight pierced through the canopy, casting a radiant glow that dispelled the lingering gloom.

A gentle breeze ruffled the dark hair of a young man, approximately seventeen years of age, who slumbered serenely. His breathing remained steady, a stark contrast to his tattered and hole-riddled clothing, which resembled little more than rags. His ears twitched in response to the symphony of flowing streamwater and rustling leaves.

Dante gradually parted his eyelids, blinking repeatedly as he tried to grasp his surroundings. With a swift whoosh, he sat upright, surveying the tranquil forest and the brilliant sky above.

Upon beholding the peaceful scene, he let out a sigh of relief.

Yet, as his mind cleared, memories from before rushed in, the face of Lucius and the others who had betrayed him, all igniting a simmering anger within him.

A sudden sensation tingled in his left hand, prompting Dante to raise it to his face in astonishment. He marveled at the sight of his hand, still whole and unharmed. A dream? The thought flitted through Dante's mind but was swiftly dismissed as he examined his tattered clothes bearing bite marks. The vivid sensation of his surroundings made it clear that this was no dream.

He scrutinized his body, his amazement growing as he found no trace of the injuries he had sustained when facing the Ghast Wolves. Even the scar from a previous encounter had mysteriously vanished.

"Am I still within the dungeon?" Dante pondered aloud as the sound of flowing water reached his ears. His recollection of recent events was hazy, but he distinctly recalled losing a hand, and perhaps even a foot. He also remembered crushing the teleportation stone intended to lead him inside the boss room. How he had ended up in this place remained a perplexing mystery.

He rose to his feet, but a sudden jolt of surprise coursed through him as a mechanical voice infiltrated his thoughts, accompanied by the appearance of a translucent screen right before his eyes.

"No."

On it is the word "No" finding the single word displayed on the screen in response to his unspoken question. Dante took a startled step back, but the persistent translucent screen remained right in front of him.

Uncertainty gnawing at him, he stood there, his gaze fixed on the mysterious screen. Then, as if in response to his hesitation, new words materialized.

"Hello, this is the 'Support' System designed to assist you in becoming the most formidable support. Player Dante (Lv1), would you like to proceed to the tutorial?"

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