The soldiers guarding us wore something resembling military uniforms, but they were mercenaries, and even then, they didn’t seem like proper combatants.

I didn’t know who handled recruitment for the Kang Han-min Cult, but from their perspective, the qualifications they required probably amounted to little more than nerves dull enough to stay sane inside the Rift, a bad enough temper to subdue rebellious workers, and maybe a little combat skill.

According to Jo Yong-gu, the naturally occurring antibodies inside the Rift weren’t just the large ones like the triangular mid-class types that threatened us; there were also frequent spawns roughly the size of a human or dog, closer to interdimensional lifeforms than monsters.

In fact, he said it was rare for such powerful monsters to appear in Area B—known as the Cabinet.

In other words, that monster was an unanticipated anomaly, and those soldiers weren’t equipped to handle it.

“...We need to call for backup. We can’t handle this alone. No way. We need at least an Old School Hunter,” Kim Jeong-hwan muttered in a daze.

His gaze drifted from the monster back to us.

“Until reinforcements arrive, stay here.”

He raised his gun at us.

“Step back and sit down! Now!”

Jo Yong-gu muttered beside me.

“That bastard. Looks like he’s snapped.”

I couldn’t say I didn’t understand Kim Jeong-hwan’s reaction.

In this insane dream-world, there’s no such thing as taboo.

Hell, we had a rape victim among us.

Fragging—a term for killing a superior officer—wouldn’t be out of the question either.

Especially for a guy like Kim Jeong-hwan, who seemed the type most likely to get fragged, even compared to other workers.

The problem was the firearm.

I had a hatchet hidden inside my coat, but with that automatic rifle pointed from a distance, even the great Professor couldn’t do much.

Bullets travel at 400 meters per second.

Faster than sound.

I sat down with the other workers.

This lowered the perceived threat level to Kim Jeong-hwan.

I quietly observed his actions.

He was fiddling with the radio.

Chzzzzk– chzzzzk–

There was static, but it didn’t seem like the signal was going through.

After tapping out some Morse code on the radio, he set it down and spoke to us.

“I sent a distress signal. A proper Awakened from the nearest outpost should be arriving soon.”

No one responded.

Time was what we needed.

Humans are creatures of adaptation.

Right now, Kim Jeong-hwan was mentally shaken—traumatized from watching his comrade die and terrified of getting fragged.

But after some time, that panic would settle, and he might begin to view things more rationally.

Sure enough, about five minutes later, his ragged breathing began to calm.

I gave Jo Yong-gu a subtle nod.

He was treated as just another worker here, but objectively speaking, the man was tenaciously resilient.

Resilience includes awareness.

Jo Yong-gu understood my signal and casually raised his hand.

Kim Jeong-hwan shot him a glare and jerked his chin.

“Uh, so, we’re a bit bored. Mind if we shoot the breeze a little?”

“It’s a tense situation.”

“We’ll keep our distance.”

“What if you run?”

“Run where? We don’t even have a car.”

“Shut up and stay seated. One more word and I’ll pop a hole in your mouth.”

Short exchange, but enough to grasp Kim Jeong-hwan’s personality.

He was an exhausting person.

Regardless of ability, someone with a personality like that drains everyone around him.

But for ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) now, I needed this man’s strength—or rather, his weapon.

I raised my hand and took a step forward.

“I said stop! Want a bullet in your gut?”

Kim Jeong-hwan barked sharply.

But to my eyes, he was just a small dog yapping.

I stared at him calmly and spoke.

“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

“I’ll take that monster down.”

The corner of Kim Jeong-hwan’s mouth twitched into a smirk.

“You? You will? How? With what?”

I looked at the weapon he was carrying.

“That’s a Hunter weapon, isn’t it?”

“Technically, yeah. But how? You ever killed a monster before?”

He gave a white-toothed laugh.

“I went to a Hunter school, you know. Dropped out halfway, though.”

I stared him down and said calmly.

“I participated in the Defense of Seoul.”

“The Defense of Seoul...”

A battle now considered legendary—an essential chapter in the founding myth of New Seoul.

Kim Jeong-hwan likely hadn’t been there.

A petty man clinging to such low-level power was probably from Jeju.

But even he would understand the significance and brutality of that battle.

How many monsters died there, how many nameless heroes rose and fell.

Still staring straight at him, I added,

“I once killed a monster using Monster Punch.”

“Monster Punch...?!”

It wasn’t a lie.

Kim Jeong-hwan looked visibly annoyed and stared at me in silence for a while.

He was thinking things through.

I waited quietly.

And prepared for the worst-case scenario.

If talking didn’t work, I’d take him down.

In other words, I was ready to kill him.

It wouldn’t be easy, but I’d already confirmed that the fire selector on his rifle was set to ‘Safe’.

A textbook move, sure—but in this kind of situation, not the smartest one.

Especially when the guy holding the gun suspected we might frag him.

Fortunately, he reached a reasonable decision.

Thud—

Kim Jeong-hwan tossed me the Hunter weapon.

“Tch. Do what you want. Just don’t point that thing at me.”

Finally, he flicked the fire selector from ‘Safe’ to ‘Single’.

I nodded and picked up the weapon.

It was heavy.

Its name: Heavenly Bow.

It was the Korean domesticated version of the American Harpoonizer I favored—a Hunter weapon with separate propellant cartridges, a simple mechanism, and decent destructive power.

But as with all early domestic models, it had a fatal flaw.

It could explode during the cartridge-mixing process.

The manufacturer claimed it was a one-in-a-million mishap, but experiments showed a 2% self-detonation rate.

Bad enough already—but the bigger problem was excessive penetration.

Instead of detonating inside the monster, it often punched clean through and exploded somewhere completely irrelevant.

In other words, it was garbage.

Which is why it had been discontinued after brief use. Somehow, a unit had survived here.

A fitting weapon for a grunt like Kim Jeong-hwan.

Still, in this situation, it was our only option.

I had a fighting chance.

“Please hold this for me.”

I looked at Cha Chae-eun.

Since that incident, she’d been walking around with dead eyes. She gazed at me blankly.

“John Nae-non.”

I called my partner.

No response.

“Hayang.”

Finally, he emerged.

A feisty bastard.

“Could you stay beside her for a moment?”

Cha Chae-eun flinched.

“I, I hate rats.”

“Just for a bit.”

“Why is it so big?”

“This messed-up world might just have some big rats, okay?”

Before I finished speaking, John Nae-non leapt from my coat and wriggled into her vest.

“Eek!”

She recoiled, but John Nae-non was already peeking out from under her collar.

“Just take care of him for now.”

“B-but...”

“Please.”

I held up the Heavenly Bow.

“If I don’t come back, feel free to toss him.”

I was betting my life.

She stared at me silently, then slowly nodded.

I stepped forward.

“You sure about this?”

“Not really.”

Jo Yong-gu and Kang Gu-cheol spoke simultaneously.

Kim Jeong-hwan watched me from a distance with skeptical eyes.

“It’s suicide.”

Maybe he was right.

Maybe waiting for reinforcements that might never come was the better plan. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

But waiting wasn’t the way forward.

I wasn’t charging in with blind heroism.

At the very least, I had to lift my head and see what lay in front of me.

Click.

That was the conclusion I reached in this collapsing world.

The monster didn’t move, just stood by the car with its tendrils fluttering.

Those tendrils were the problem.

They yanked people from beyond visual range and turned them into meat chunks at the monster’s feet.

But there was one thing I could trust:

It hadn’t noticed me.

Clutching the Heavenly Bow, I took a step forward.

My target: within 25 meters.

That was, by experience, the minimum range for a repulsion shield.

I felt worried gazes behind me.

They might’ve been more nervous than I was.

Step.

Slow and steady.

The key to this kind of mission was composure.

I consciously pushed away every stray thought rising like smoke in my head and focused on one goal only.

Kill the monster.

Replaying the plan helped dispel distractions.

I closed the gap to 50 meters.

The monster loomed like a low-rise building.

I had to crane my neck just to see its top.

I considered my aim.

The tendril-clustered center was a good bet, but the broad lower section seemed safer.

Contrary to early theories, monsters did have vulnerable points. But the one constant was that enough damage made them disappear.

The Heavenly Bow had enough firepower to make weak points unnecessary.

The original Harpoonizer was overpowered to begin with.

I crept to 30 meters.

It still hadn’t noticed me.

The tendrils waved like seaweed, disturbing the edges of my vision.

I didn’t know how far they could reach or how fast they struck—but once they grabbed you, you were dead.

I hadn’t seen it clearly through the sandstorm, but from the screams of those dragged away, survival was unlikely.

Step.

“...”

It was right in front of me.

I aimed the weapon.

[Mix]

I removed the cap labeled "Mix" and pressed the red button firmly.

The gauge beneath the scope slowly turned red.

A domestic technician’s analog gimmick to indicate propellant mixing progress.

When it filled up, it meant the mixture was ready.

A clever and innovative idea, but due to other problems, this nifty feature disappeared. A shame for Korean Hunters.

As expected, the monster didn’t budge until the mixing was complete.

It hadn’t seen me.

I raised the Heavenly Bow.

Target: lower body.

No—change of plan.

Considering its instability, aiming for the torso would reduce risk.

Or maybe not.

“Phew.”

It might be insane, but I decided to get even closer.

Even if it pierced through, I’d hit at the right angle for maximum damage.

Of course, if the monster reacted mid-approach, I’d be minced meat.

A sudden spike of fear stung my chest like a drug, but I ground my teeth and forced it down.

And advanced.

A murmur rose behind me.

They were probably more shocked than I was.

But I wasn’t doing this for applause.

All I ever wanted was for the monster to die.

I walked across the ashen earth, hoping for its death.

20 meters... 15...

Then—

10 meters.

No reaction.

I was tempted to go even closer, but that would be reckless.

If the Heavenly Bow detonated immediately, I’d be blown apart too.

Whispers of death tickled my ear, an old friend inviting me to sleep—but I stared down the monster and pulled the trigger.

Chhhhhh—

With a fiery hiss, the arrow shot toward the monster.

I tossed the launcher and sprinted backward.

In that instant, I heard a silly little pop.

Poof—

No explosion.

“...”

I didn’t have to look to know.

The arrow pierced the monster.

And that was it.

BOOM!

It detonated high in the sky.

One of the Heavenly Bow’s fatal flaws—overpenetration—was once again proven.

I turned around.

The pyramid-shaped monster was half-blown apart, barely held together by invisible force.

Targeting the base had maximized the internal damage.

But it wasn’t dead.

And that was all that mattered.

Thud!

A shockwave burst out. One last tendril whipped violently.

It twisted like a serpent and lashed toward me.

I held my breath and dove to the ground.

Sreeeeeeeech—!!

Even lying flat, the force raked across my back like a hurricane.

Ashy dust filled the air, blinding everything.

“Hey!”

“Chief!!!”

Before visibility was gone completely, I leapt forward and charged the monster.

I no longer had the Hunter weapon, but I had another.

Shick—

My old friends.

Two axes.

Thud!

Another shockwave, another ash-out, but my senses—my nose, my hatred—remembered where the enemy was.

I rushed in and swung my cold steel at the broken beast.

Crunch!

I felt it.

It was a monster—just another one.

Same brittle hide.

I swung with rhythm ingrained in my body.

Crunch! Crunch!

Amid the swirling white haze, my axes didn’t rest.

Thud!

A final flail?

A blast surged from the front.

I felt a shift in the air.

I dove again.

Sreeeeeech—!!

A tearing lash ripped through the air, briefly clearing the dust and revealing the world.

The monster was collapsing.

I lunged in.

Crunch!

One last blow.

The ash closed in to hide its remains, but the glowing particles bursting out couldn't be concealed.

“...”

Another enemy slain.

I steadied my breath, feeling something inside me grow full.

“There was a sandstorm—couldn’t see a thing.”

The workers welcomed me back.

Cha Chae-eun walked up and held out John Nae-non in both hands.

“John Nae-non.”

No response.

“Hayang.”

As I reclaimed John Nae-non, Kim Jeong-hwan approached.

He stared at me, then beckoned me somewhere quiet.

While Jo Yong-gu repaired the truck, we walked off.

“Hey.”

I looked at him.

“Take off your mask.”

I did.

Kim Jeong-hwan stared at me.

A flicker crossed his eyes.

I thought about my axe.

From this distance, it’d be nothing to bury it in his neck.

But then he chuckled and suddenly bowed his head.

“Alright. You can go back.”

His tone was unexpectedly polite.

He walked off first.

“You can ride in the front seat.”

What had changed?

He sat in the cargo bed.

Next to him, Cha Chae-eun was reading Kang Han-min’s biography.

Kim Jeong-hwan scoffed.

“Why bother reading that ridiculous fiction?”

“Sorry?”

“The real hero is someone else.”

“Who?”

Cha Chae-eun asked. Kim Jeong-hwan snorted and looked at me.

“Professor.”

“Professor?”

“He’s the greatest Hunter the Academy ever produced.”

I pretended not to know.

This was a world where anything could happen.

It wouldn’t be strange to meet someone who knew the old me.

“Propeller?”

“Who the hell is Propeller?”

“Wasn’t that it?”

“I said, who the hell is that?!”

I let out a shallow sigh.

“...”

So let’s just go with that.