Chapter 10
“Hoo…”
A sigh escaped from my lips before I even realized it.
An initial gate raid being a B-rank one—and a Break Gate at that? Talk about bad luck.
“Woojae, are you really sure this is okay?”
“About as hard as a high-tier Tower floor 6 or 7. Nothing to worry about.”
“But still… this isn’t just a normal gate—it’s a break.”
“C’mon, it’s fine.”
Unlike regular gates that are pretty similar to Tower raids, Break Gates are unpredictable chaos, with monsters spilling out everywhere.
But if we were going to save people, we—well, more accurately Lee Woojae—had no choice but to jump in.
Clearing a B-rank gate safely usually required at least one A-rank and four B-rank hunters. But it was the middle of the night, and rallying a team would take time.
And really, how could I refuse when I had an S+ rank hunter standing right next to me?
Well, Woojae said he’d guarantee my safety no matter what, so… no problem, I guess.
“The helicopter will arrive soon. We’ll enter the gate from the air.”
“Wait, what? That means we’ll have to jump out of the helicopter?!”
What kind of nonsense was this?
Sure, I served in the Air Force, but I’ve never done anything like that.
That’s for special forces or something! No way I can do that!
Just then, Woojae spoke up.
“Boss, you don’t need to do that.”
“Huh?”
“Just move with me. I know spatial teleportation.”
“Wow.”
Of course! Is there anything you can’t do?
You’re officially Employee of the Month!
“The Association President will take the helicopter to a safe zone. The roads are jammed from the break.”
“Oh… alright, got it.”
“Oh, and about your part-timer spot… eh, it should be fine. You’re not the type of boss to make a fuss over that.”
“Then let’s go.”
Swoosh—
“…What the hell?”
Before he could react, they had vanished without a trace.
Kang Seok-gu stared as if he’d just seen a will-o’-the-wisp.
Noryangjin Riverside Road.
Normally, you could enjoy a beautiful view of the Han River, the 63 Building, and Nodeul Island. But now, it was literal hell on earth.
Fires from explosions raged on all sides, and the massive Han River reflected those flames in a dazzling, eerie light.
“Aaaaagh!”
“P-Please! Help us!”
“Mom! Don’t leave me!”
People were pinned under cars, trapped in flames, limping only to be hit by oncoming vehicles…
But no one cared.
Everyone was just trying to survive.
Even the hunters who first tried to clear the gate had long given up.
“Damn it, talk about unlucky.”
“See? I told you we should’ve brought just one underqualified guy.”
“How was I supposed to know this would happen?”
“Still, man…”
“You trying to get killed too?”
“N-No, sir.”
Huff. Puff.
B-rank hunter Shin Sung-hyun exhaled cigarette smoke under the riverside bridge. No monsters here—yet.
A sudden level-up of the gate? Completely unexpected.
“You think the Association’s gonna hold us responsible?”
“It’s a break. Not our fault. No one’s gonna care if the raid team died. Just talk our way out.”
“Yeah, hopefully. But those guys that died… they were underqualified.”
“Just say we didn’t know. Let’s make sure our stories match.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If they hadn’t acted as bait, we might’ve gotten hurt. You get that, right?”
“Of course.”
In the Tower system, your growth depends on the rank you cleared it with.
If you clear a high-rank Tower with a high grade, you’re classified as S-rank. If with a lower grade, then A-rank.
Likewise, mid-level Towers split into B and C ranks. Low-tier Towers: D and E ranks.
And those who clear a Tower at its lowest allowed grade are called “underqualified”.
For example, someone who cleared a mid-tier Tower at the bare minimum rank might be higher than D-rank, but still not a true C-rank in ability.
They’re officially listed as C-rank and allowed into C-rank gates, but in practice, it’s common for underqualified hunters to stick to one rank lower.
‘The problem was, there were three of them.’
Still, people did bring underqualified hunters into raids sometimes—for profit.
Gate raids required at least five members. So some just recruited one underqualified guy, threw them a few hundred bucks, and split the rest of the loot among themselves.
But these guys? They always brought three underqualified hunters.
Give them some cheap pay, and then the other two—Shin Sung-hyun and Park Woo-sik—kept all the loot.
Usually, a B-rank and C-rank could clear a C-rank gate. It was more profitable than a B-rank gate. And if things went south, they could throw the underqualified guys as bait and escape.
“The Association won’t want to be held responsible either.”
Besides, there’s no way the Association can officially track underqualified hunters.
The term isn’t even recognized by them.
They only figure it out after the fact—like when someone weak dies and it turns out they’d cleared the Tower at the lowest possible rank.
And underqualified hunters themselves won’t disclose it. Word gets around in the tight-knit hunter world, and they’d never get into another raid again.
Even if the Association did find out, they wouldn’t expose it. Letting a party with three underqualified hunters into a gate? That would spark public outrage.
So, like always, they’d just act like nothing happened.
“We didn’t know they were underqualified. They tricked us by claiming to be C-rank hunters. We’re the victims, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sigh… can’t believe the crap I go through because of those morons. Still, at least they were good bait.”
Honestly, they were useful on the way out.
Like the saying goes: you don’t have to outrun the bear—just the guy next to you.
They threw the underqualified guys toward the monsters, who gladly gobbled them up.
That gave them time to escape.
If the whole team had been proper C-rank hunters, they probably would’ve all survived—but some injuries would’ve been inevitable…
Slish.
Time froze.
Or no—it didn’t freeze. It was just his perception spinning while everything else stood still.
In front of him: Park Woo-sik’s shocked face.
Below him: his own body.
“B-Boss…?”
As Shin Sung-hyun heard his name being called for the last time, he saw Woo-sik’s head separate cleanly from his neck.
[Is this really okay? I mean, sure—they deserved to die…]
[It’s fine. Like they said, no one cares who dies in a raid. And you said to kill them.]
[I said they deserved to die, not—]
[Same difference.]
[It’s not, though.]
The reason they teleported to the riverside bridge first was simple: to assess the situation.
No matter how powerful Lee Woojae was, gates were full of variables. It was better to be cautious.
That’s when they overheard the hunters talking.
‘What a bunch of scumbags.’
‘You want me to kill them?’
‘Wait, no—’
Slice.
Too late. Heads already rolling.
They had it coming.
Bringing underqualified hunters is one thing—but using them as live bait without remorse?
And from their conversation, it was clear this wasn’t their first time.
[It’s technically my first time killing someone. So why… does it not feel like anything?]
[Because I’m the one doing it. You’re sharing some of my emotions. If you’d done it alone, you’d probably be traumatized.]
[So we’re not just sharing a body, but emotions too?]
Right now, Woojae and I were literally one.
More specifically, Woojae’s puppet had turned into a full-body armor suit, covering me like Iron Man.
Or was it Batman? Maybe Venom?
[Still, the look is cool, right? Like a Death Knight.]
[I won’t lie—it does look strong.]
It was Woojae’s idea to hide my identity.
With my face covered in a black mask, body cloaked in black magic, and even shadows trailing behind me—it’d be impossible to recognize me.
Also, we were moving as one being, unlike before.
It was a skill called Blacken, letting Woojae’s magical engineering puppet fully cover my body.
[There’s a three-hour time limit, but this won’t take that long. Plus, you’ll absorb my combat experience.]
[Not sure I can keep up, but…]
[You can do it. Even if not, I’ll carry us through. It’s still useful for you.]
[Fair enough.]
It was nearly a perfect skill—full protection, hidden identity, and combat experience transfer.
Stylish, too.
It was a little scary how numb I felt about killing people—but maybe, in a situation like this, that was for the best.
Right now, saving people and clearing the gate was what mattered.
[Let’s move before it’s too late.]
[Got it.]
“Huff, huff… ngh…”
“O-Oppa… I can’t anymore…”
“Still—keep running!”
A monster was gaining on them.
Stopping meant death.
No—even running might not be enough.
“Hrrk… khh…”
Even though his lungs were about to burst, Hojun kept running, dragging his sister Ah-young along.
They’d come in a car with their mom… but somewhere in the chaos, she’d vanished. Pulled away by the crowd.
Honestly, not being crushed to death already was a miracle.
Many more were being trampled than eaten by monsters.
“Move!”
Thud.
Suddenly, the grip on his hand vanished.
He turned around—and saw his sister on the ground.
“Ah-young!”
She had long since run out of energy.
She tried to get up despite the monster behind her, but her legs gave out each time.
“Ah-young! Ah-young!!”
He knew shouting wouldn’t change anything.
But it was all he could do.
If he ran to save her, they’d both die.
If he ran away, he’d live with the guilt of leaving her.
“Kiirrrk—”
The monster reached her.
It was avian—sharp beak, predatory eyes.
It pecked at her.
Then it opened its beak wide to devour her whole.
“…Mom…”
She whispered, too softly for anyone to hear.
Hojun shut his eyes. He couldn’t watch.
As her brother, he should protect her. He shouldn’t look away—
Slish.
“…Huh?”
But the sound wasn’t bone crunching—it was clean, slicing.
He opened his eyes.
Before him stood a figure—black mask, black armor, and dark magic billowing from its body.
A monster?
“A hunter!”
Someone shouted.
Not a monster—a hunter.
An awakened being who’d cleared countless Towers to gain power and now used it to protect humanity.
Just like the heroes on TV, in the news, and in textbooks.
[Are you okay?]
The hunter picked up Ah-young and handed her to Hojun.
The voice was deep and echoing—like from inside a cave. But the tone was gentle.
Trembling, Hojun replied.
“Thank you… Hunter-nim.”
[Good. Now run.]
“Yes! Thank you!”
The hunter didn’t respond—just turned toward the distant monsters.
But as he started to move, Hojun shouted again, driven by instinct.
“Hunter-nim!”
He turned his head slightly.
He probably had to go save others—no time to spare.
But Hojun had to know his name. Someday, he’d repay the favor.
“What’s your name?!”
After a pause, the hunter turned and said one word:
[V.]
V…
Hojun had never heard that name before.
But he kept repeating it to himself—over and over.
Someday, if he awakened and became a proper hunter, he’d become one just like V.
A true hero.
