INHO 11

End and Beginning (11)

Choi Min-sik couldn’t bring himself to ignore what he’d seen—he’d seen Kang Yoo-ha.
But at the same time, he couldn’t report it to his superiors.

He had to protect his precious little salary, after all.

So instead, he chose to contact Transcendence, the group that always seemed to know things but never shared them.
Given the current atmosphere, it was a risky move in its own right.

He had confessed it only after pleading again and again for secrecy—“Don’t tell anyone I said this, promise me”—but…

‘If this gets out, I’m dead.’

He had thought, If someone she knows hears about it, maybe they’ll come check on her.
He never imagined that Min Ha-jun himself would come running.
And this fast, too.

Someone of that level couldn’t exactly sneak into a Gate unnoticed.

So Choi Min-sik just prayed that Transcendence would keep their promise and pretended not to know anything—looking confused, feigning ignorance.

‘Seriously, does he not have anything better to do?’

Was it normal for a guild master to rush out personally over a vague report that someone might have seen her?
He’d heard the man went into another Gate raid that very morning—what, does he have two bodies?

But putting aside Choi’s miserable feelings, his clean, conscientious heart had—unintentionally—driven a knife deep into another man’s chest.

“Damn it.”

Min Ha-jun was well aware that he wasn’t being rational right now.
The proof was that he was practically spitting words out without thought.

He knew in his head that the Association staff were just doing their jobs—but he’d nearly turned hostile anyway.

He had never thought of himself as short-tempered, yet now he was clenching his teeth to keep himself from lashing out.

The moment he entered the Gate, he hadn’t stopped moving for even a second. His body was tense, his nerves on edge.
Since awakening, he hadn’t felt cold once—yet the back of his neck felt icy.

And the fact that the “Gate Cleared” message still hadn’t appeared only made his anxiety worse.

After receiving that unexpected message, his mind had gone completely blank. He didn’t even remember how he’d gotten here.
Only one image kept replaying in his mind—

A woman collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut, hot air, slowly closing eyes.

The memory looped like a broken tape.

She’s not the type to go down easily.

He knew better than anyone how strong Hunter Kang Yoo-ha was. They had fought side by side, after all.

Her natural combat instincts, her mastery of mana control—no one in the guild could take her down easily.

Then why was he so uneasy?

He was sure she knew something—and was hiding it.

Min Ha-jun didn’t intend to pry into that secret.
But whatever her goal was, he could tell—it wasn’t something trivial.

She had never shown herself before, yet suddenly appeared in a moment of danger to save him. That wasn’t coincidence.

And this Gate… this Gate wasn’t normal either.
His instincts screamed at him.

“…Where are you?”

Then, the suffocating silence around him shifted—like breaking through the surface of water.
Sound returned, air came alive.

“Grrrr.”

Beastly growls echoed from every direction.
The once-dead space now teemed with movement and bloodlust.

Min Ha-jun spun around, piercing the neck of a lunging beast with an ice spear.
The hyena-like monster crumpled without a sound, blood foaming at its mouth.

Yellow eyes gleamed in the dark. Without even pausing for breath, he conjured razor-thin shards of ice and hurled them toward the noises.
Heavy thuds followed—bodies collapsing.

The smell of blood spread. Soon, every monster nearby would come running.

“I’d better hurry.”

The ice spear melted into water, trickling down from the corpse’s neck.
Min Ha-jun pressed forward, quickening his pace.

“Hey, hey! Wake up!”

Wind shouted at the fallen woman. Despite his rough tone, his hands were gentle as he supported her head.

“Damn it.”

His head throbbed. The sudden chaos had cut off his link for a moment—and when he came to, this was the mess waiting for him.

Apparently, that insane illusion hadn’t been just his problem.

I thought it was my issue.

This is why you shouldn’t sync too deeply with a clone.
But if the synchronization is too low, fine control becomes harder…

A double-edged sword.

Lee Yul usually created just one clone, syncing it closely enough to function like his real body.
The real one didn’t move during battle anyway, practically comatose—so it was safe.

It’s like having a spare life.

The sensations were real—including pain—but the advantages were worth it.

Even now, he could feel the soft brush of the woman’s hair against his fingers.
He shook her a few times, but she wasn’t waking anytime soon.

“What the hell happened here?”

Everyone else around him was still unconscious.
This is why you don’t send weaklings into Gates. Sure, their lives are their own, but who’s going to clean up the mess afterward?

He told himself it didn’t count—since he was only a clone.

Through his mask, Lee Yul looked down at the woman’s pale, sweating face. The sharp, quick-tongued fighter from before was gone.
Maybe he’d gotten attached in that short time—his chest tightened a little.

“I told you to wait outside.”

She couldn’t hear him, but he said it anyway. His voice came out weaker than he expected.

“Grrr, arf arf!”

“Ah, damn it!”

Hostile growls erupted not far away.
Apparently, the monsters had noticed the easy prey.

“They refused to come out before, and now look at them—all crawling out at once.”

He muttered, scanning the area.

“Well, not like any Gate is normal anyway.”

The survivors were scattered far apart. He couldn’t use wide-area skills—too risky, too many could get caught in it.

Clicking his tongue, he conjured a large dome of raging wind.
It separated inside from outside completely—anything that touched it would be shredded like it went through a blender.

He straightened up and sighed.

“Figures. I’m the only one working my ass off. Should’ve stayed home today.”

Already, beast-type monsters were gathering outside the dome.
They moved in packs, snarling, dripping saliva—no chance they’d back off easily.

His eyes narrowed behind the mask, irritation burning through.
Maintaining such a powerful defensive skill while fighting was pushing his limits. If this were his real body, maybe—but with a clone, one wrong move could end it.

So he chose to stick with the plan—keep moving, stay busy.

Whiiish!

“Grrrrrr!”

The noise was louder now. They were fully aggroed on him.
Lee Yul grumbled inwardly, Why don’t they ever fight each other?

“What does this guy eat, anyway?”

He dropped the unconscious man he’d been dragging and tilted his head back.
Up above, something with enormous wings—part dinosaur, part bird—was circling the dome.

“This just keeps getting better.”

He’d only come here for some easy money.
How did it turn into this nightmare?
He never wanted to go near a Gate again after this.

Protecting this wide an area while fighting was impossible.
So he’d been manually carrying unconscious people toward the center—an unwanted, infuriating chore.
And this guy he’d just moved? He weighed twice as much as anyone else.

Crrrkkk.

Then he heard it—the faint cracking sound of his wind dome fracturing.
As the spellcaster, he noticed it immediately.

Something strong enough to break this?

Damn.

If that was the case, everyone here except him was as good as dead.

He glanced down. Normally, he’d have shrugged it off—he’d done his best. But this time… his gaze caught that familiar round head.

“You said you wouldn’t haunt me, right?”

If he let this woman die here, he was sure her pale, ghostly face would float around him day and night.

Lee Yul decided to pull back. He couldn’t fight here.
He had to at least improve their chances.

But when he shot forward using his skill—what he found ahead was something completely unexpected.

“Oh, it’s been a while.”

“…Why the hell are you here?”

What were the odds of running into the number-one-ranked hunter while trying to deal with rampaging monsters?

Lee Yul figured it was less likely than tripping and cracking his skull open on the street.
Sure, meeting another hunter inside a Gate wasn’t strange—but him? The guy’s schedule was probably packed down to the minute.

While Lee Yul was momentarily thrown off, Min Ha-jun calmly stepped through the hole he’d made in the dome—unscathed.
The hole sealed up behind him as he passed, as if nothing had happened.

“Your skills haven’t dulled,” Min Ha-jun said with an easy smile.

But Lee Yul noticed—the man’s eyes were cold.

“Not as sharp as yours,” he replied.

Whatever was going on, Min Ha-jun clearly wasn’t in his right mind.