A King's Avarice

by Animefandomshipper

Summary:

There shouldn’t have been much to it beyond what he was used to dealing with. It was supposed to be like any other obstacle he’s overcome. Get there, get it done, and get out.

That’s how it should’ve gone.

What he failed to consider, most probably, is that the untold mystery of this Scenario lead deeper into the lore of Ways of Survival than he could ever guess and in its center, a devastatingly powerful man with more relevance to the overall plot that Kim Dokja wanted to find tls123 and shake them silly.

At the time, though, he could only be described as a reader. How was he to know what his presence in the distant Worldline entailed for the whole of it all?

It was as [The Fourth Wall] said; he was set to fail the minute he compared the greedy protagonist to Yoo Joonghyuk.

Chapter 1: Worldline's Edge (1)

Notes:

The existence of this fic was inspired by the lovely Lindsey (now dumpling?) and her singlehandedly carrying this small tag. Girl, you're amazing. How do you do it? Seriously, I've gotten obsessed with this ship because of your fic and now I've been given a duty to add to this beautiful pairing.

I forgot how annoying coming up with a summary was... 0/10 did not enjoy.

Please be forewarned, this will be extremely self indulgent for me, so if there's something in here the readers don't like, I'm very sorry. I hope there will be more fics about these two boys because I am quite literally starved for content.

lmao, I find it so funny I wrote for these two rather than KDJ and YJH first. Don't know if I will tho, YJH is so hard as a character for me to write about. The man communicates with grunts and glares, come on.

[6 hours and 42 minutes remain until the start of the Hidden Scenario.]

Daunted blue, the system window darts out of his view with a quick, dismissive wave of his hand. He's been dreading this scenario for the little time he's been back into his own worldline, alerted earlier with the rattle of his breath as he read the vague, unspecified notification that routinely made its rounds within the landmarks of the more important Scenarios. And this one was unique in its own way. He didn't have to be a genius to know his companions wouldn't approve of this scenario, nor his ready-set decision to complete it, given the unmistakable terms that came with it.

[Only the Constellation ‘Demon King of Salvation’ can be applied to the Hidden Scenario.]

He wasn't sure what to make of this unexpected development, the rights of this Scenario once belonging to Yoo Joonghyuk fallen into his lap without him having to lift a single finger to change its course. Though, he wasn’t complaining. He hummed, his free hand drifting to the chains cuffed over his wrist. He didn't want to keep this a secret from them—impossible as it was, coddled under the protective, inscrutable eye of the Nebula—it still didn't sit right.

He thumped one of the shattered, half bent rubies imbued with Status, tilting his head against the headboard as it pulsed and coiled 'round him prisoner. "What a dilemma," he murmured, pouting at the double locked door, holed up in his temporary prison cell in the Industrial Complex; the room adequately equipped with a soft bed, a desk with books stacked up, a small fridge, and a bathroom adjacent to the tall closet with copies of his coat. It was perfect, with the exception of the chains keeping him stationary and the spoonful of sleeping pills he's fed daily to stay docile and compliant. If it weren't for that, he'd rate the service five out of five stars.

“By the way…” Listlessly, he yanked the cuff, the chains attached clattering thick and noisy against the marble-tiled floor. It stretched over in chunky, snakelike confinement. “Is it necessary to go this far?"

Both the door and chains were reinforced with Lee Hyunsung's immovable steel, folded ten times over with the dedicated effort in chipping away any chance he had to break through. He understood the sentiment, he did. His three year disappearance had irrevocably changed them, Secretive Plotter's abduction in the Great War of Saints and Demons and every reckless action he'd taken since their return from Oz had only made it worse, warped them into restless, swift-slung fighters with snapping teeth and fierce tenacity, persistently clawing at the man called Kim Dokja back within their grasps whenever it seemed he was drifting away.

He knew. He was well aware. He won't pretend not to know the consequences his deaths have lead to, though the emotions that came with that awareness was not something he could easily digest, nor did he have the time to. Because Kim Dokja was still the reader, and being the reader meant he had a duty to use any power up or cheat he could grasp onto for the sake of the future. And this was one he couldn't ignore.

Yes, he was gone for three years—which you couldn't really fault him for, he was under the impression he was gone for a week or two—and his precious companions were worried for him, something he greatly appreciated even if it suffocated him, but with his omniscient knowledge of Ways of Survival, and the steady procession of scenarios his companions have completed in his unfortunate absence, he knew what had to be done now that they were close to the end. 

A part of him thought their constant vigilance was ridiculously disproportioned. It wasn't as if Kim Dokja set out to disappear each time something came up and their backs were turned…

Well. 

After this upcoming scenario was finished, he’d make sure not to disappear anymore. Simple as that.

For now, he snuggled back into the soft blankets draped over him and chose to reread Ways of Survival to quickly refresh his memory on this particular Scenario. There was still ample time until he had to alert the Company of the start of it and what the Scenario entailed, but if need be, he'll sprinkle a few innocent white lies to make sure the process went smoother for him.

He twisted his phone out of his interdimensional coat, unlocked the screen to familiar text. Like home, he falls into the bold black letters. Like home, he slips behind every written word, lovingly cherished, his eyes raking across the pages in a speed skill he's achieved all his own after ten long years of being a dedicated reader. There's nothing quite like returning to a story well loved.

Unconsciously, he frowns with recollection as he reads the next passages of texts. When it came to this particular scenario, Yoo Joonghyuk partook in it a total whopping two times. In the 402nd regression and later in the 438th regression. The second time, he mentioned what a waste of time it proved to be in the end. In WOS, where he crossed dimensions, he found himself a companion he could barely stand. For the most part, he was indifferent to him, but Dokia remembers laughing every time Yoo Joonghyuk mentioned his rapidly failing will to not kill the man. He was strong, Yoo Joonghyuk made that fact clear, and he usually didn't mind having strong people as his allies, but something about how cocky the guy was annoyed the hell out of him. The whole endeavor proved to be useless, however, when in both regressions he got killed off by the Star Stream without getting much of anything done.

Still, Kim Dokja was confident that he could keep the man alive (unlike that damn protagonist), and be able to use him in the distant future of the dreaded Main Scenario.

Taking a glimpse to the floating panel, his lips quirked up.

[4 hours and 20 minutes until the start of the Hidden Scenario.]

It was time to have a talk with his companions.

 

---

 

The talk did not go well.

In fact, it went horribly.

The bed creaked and flinched, agitated by Kim Dokja's constant movements. With both arms detained in a surefire way of restriction, there wasn't much room to go against the solid might of Hyunsung's steel. He scowled, banged his head against the headrest of the bed, and doesn't deign his audience the courtesy of his earlier consideration.

“You can glare all you want, but we’re not changing our minds.”

He scoffed. That much was obvious. Jung Heewon, the Nebulous predator he could barely contain, stared him down, iron in her eyes and confidence set in her backbone—daring him to defy the mutual command that spanned between every member of the Company. Beside her stood Yoo Sangah, something hidden in her smile, hands folded neatly. Brushing her shoulder was an equally determined Lee Hyunsung, frowning tightly--yet it couldn't compare to the death glare their resident protagonist was so graciously giving him.

Ignoring the prick of his ire, he attempted to appease the gentlest of his companions. “Sangah-ssi, can you please knock some sense into them? Everyone's being a bit too controlling for my taste. Going this far, it's a bit excessive, don't you think so too, Sangah-ssi?" He pointedly avoided Heewon's bristle and Hyunsung's deepening frown, hoping that she could help their friends see reason.

Sangah’s smile curved like a flower, stretched with the shadow of something lurking. Coming to sit beside his restrained body, her disposition was regal and gentle, her hair flowing light brown down past her shoulders. “Dokia-ssi.”

“Yes?”

“It’s time for your medicine.” Her gentle smile, which never left her face, chilled him to the bone.

“…Eh?”

“Hand me the pills.”

As if they were connected as one, they moved at her command, Heewon handing her the pills and drifting beside Hyunsung, who steadfastly held his shoulders down. Yoo Joonghyuk crept closer until he pinned Kim Dokja under his murderous stare, much to his surprise.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Open wide~” Yoo Sangah was terrifying up close. With her soft voice and cold eyes, the bottle rattled ominously full with sleeping pills.

“Damn it! I’ll only be going for a week, no more! I swear! I’ll come back straight away!” He hurried to say. But it didn't seem to matter, Hyungsung's hands pressing deeper at his confession, Joonghyuk's own eyes flashing with unmistakable warning.

“You won’t be ‘going’ anywhere.” With that cold, no nonsense voice, Heewon forced his mouth open as pills went down his throat. The bottle of water was heaven, and he gulped it down with the smooth slide of pills. After several seconds of struggling, gasping for breath, Kim Dokja’s body slowly sagged with the telltale signs of sluggishness. His breathing evened out, and his face was slack with restful sleep. His companions breathed out a sigh of relief, trickling one by one out the room with one last glance to him.

When the door shut, he kept still for five more minutes for good measure, until he was confident no one was waiting behind it. Kim Dokja’s eyes flew open. “Phew.” Throwing the blanket Hyunsung covered him with off, he moved his body until he was sitting with his back against the headrest. Rotating his wrists, he unleashed a quarter of his Status, boosting his strength and breaking the chains apart. They fell, destroyed and useless, on the bed. Sure, Hyunsung's steel was a monster to deal with, but they seemed to occasionally forget his distinction as a Constellation. It was an advantage he was willing to use.

“There we go.” He rubbed his wrists, the skin chafed red. Another unexpected advantage. The resistance he's build against the sleeping pills was a welcome surprise. He intended to use it gratefully.

Lifting himself off the bed, he quickly strode to the window, barred with deadbolts he couldn't believe his companions thought would stop him. Once crushed, he dove out with the sprout of his Demon King wings and flew to the sky, hiding amongst the dark, gray clouds that hung over his ruined city. Glancing behind to find himself a good distance away from the Complex, he breathed easily, able to focus on the task at hand.

[2 hours and 18 minutes until the start of the Hidden Scenario.]

Now, to find the abandoned dungeon.

 

---

 

“Ew.”

With a grimace, Kim Dokja shook off the grime that touched him. Skipping over a studded rock, he was thankful that being a demon king somehow gave him better eyesight to traverse in the dark. Avoiding the shattered gravel that scattered the hazy, lit circle of another entry, he wondered which previous scenario this abandoned dungeon belonged to. It was one he didn't partake in, with three years worth of scenarios skipped, and was the cold, barren remnant of a possible Fable once passed.

“How deep does this thing go?” He muttered to himself, sliding out of the way from the water that came out of the hanging stalactites. There was about five minutes left until he could view the details of the Scenario in full, so he kept trudging deeper into the dungeon until time ran out.

A touch of colder breeze whispered in from the far distant split in the earth, calling to a curved path, wet and criminally small for anyone of decent size to go through. Aside from that, he’s practically reached a dead end. Landing down, he felt within the darkness to grab hold and not slip. The fit was slightly tight around his shoulders as he crawled through, complaining about the gross, thick air he was forced to breath in.

Jumping down at the end of the path, he dusted his coat, the blue glare of the system window floating in front of him. He stood in the middle of the damp cave, and looked up, a familiar ‘ting’ announcing access to the Scenario contents.

[Hidden Scenario #69 - A Monarch’s Ministry]

Category: Hidden

Difficulty: S

Clear Conditions: The Earth of a distant worldline is at the brink of collapse with the threat of the apocalypse. Assist the Shadow Monarch’s new heir in saving the world from the destruction his enemies wish to unleash.

Time Limit: 7 months (time will differ as 7 days for the current worldline.)

Compensation: 850.000 coins, ???, ???

Failure: You will be permanently bound inside the distant worldline and unable to come back.

–

While tapping his trusty blade, Unbreakable Faith, he smiled lightly at the time limit. So he wasn't wrong. It really would be only a week's time for his companions. He was glad for that, it was the one reason he was alright with going through with the Scenario. They didn't need another long, uncertain period of dreaded silence from Kim Dokja. If possible, he'll even be sure to bring gifts for them as an apology for going behind their backs like this.

On the other hand, for him it would be seven months spent in an unfamiliar worldline. One which WOS failed to describe in any useful detail. It lead to another question, another plot-hole he agonized over in his youth, one he never found the answer to in WOS. It was as interesting as it was mysterious.

What Constellation would commission Probability for a Hidden Scenario they couldn't view?

He was broken out of his musing, because moments later, the air rippled with the shift of Probability, dark red sparks swirling into the shape of a pit, teeming with enough potency that it made the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. He’s come across a portal or two before, but this one had a strange, visibly foreign vibe to it. It reminded him of the 1863rd worldline he visited not too long ago, but he quickly shook his head. Better not to get distracted now.

Briefly hesitant, he passed through, staggering with the pure force of something unknown. It was a rush, and he hurried to cross the borders of the connected worldlines.

When he blinked his eyes open, he was met with the intricate system of a cave. It was different from the one he was in, with Crystals towering in thick, glowing pillars, and the air clinging with the inescapable dry reek of spilt blood. Fresh, worryingly recent. As the portal glowed red, both he and the scene was cast in an almost violent neon hue, the broken bodies of monsters a gloriously vivid murder scene.

“Looks like someone got here first,” he mumbled, body taut with wired muscle. He's reminded of what little he knows of this Scenario. The monsters, the humans, the topography of its world. His knowledge was fractures to bits and pieces, and led by common sense. It's dangers were unknown, and ignorance was poison for a reader like him.

His mission now was to locate the Shadow Monarch’s Heir and learn more about this worldline he’s been dropped into. If lady luck was on his side, he’d get to learn what he needed from the target himself. That was to say if he wasn't met with hostility within the first minute.

Walking along the path littered with corpses, his mind whirred with theories, braced for any abnormality that could drop itself at any moment. From the carnage, it was easy to guess he wasn’t alone.

As the cavern dripped, cold and wet, water slicking off the long smoothed walls of compacted rock, the act of walking itself was a strange thing. This place felt inherently different. He didn't know what to make of it. The longer he moved forward, the more crystals there were. They thrummed with energy, electrified with a purity that would definitely be worth good coins. With the appearance of these crystals, the more he could sense something up ahead. His heart picked a bit of speed, the bodies of monsters piling higher and in greater numbers. Was it him? The target he's been looking for? The corpses raked up in the hundreds by now, all efficiently killed. For a single person to be able to do this, it was amazing. They must be powerful.

Kim Dokja hid his Status, several voices drifting over to him. Swiftly cloaking his presence and moving behind a tall ledge of rocks, he raised his head, spying a party of ten humans fighting the monsters he's seen only dead so far.

"Interesting." Even with the distance, he tailed the flashy equipment and items adorned over every member, sparks of collision glinting every time they raised their weapons to deflect and defeat the hideous creatures.

“We’re almost there, only a few more left!”

With that, a few of the members roared in unison, encouraged against defeat to keep fighting and reign supreme. As Dokja watched, the previous hoard of monsters were cut in half, reduced in numbers till the ones left were pitiful in their blatant panic. They were of decent height, but even from a glance, he could deduce that these creatures clearly weren’t known for their intelligence.

In the end, the last of them were taken down by a strong looking man with a shield, short, spiky hair and a scar running horizontal along his cheek. As the blood splattered across his armor, he raised his sword with a hearty shout, the rest joining in with their own cheers. The cave reverberated with their loud voices, echoing with their victory.

“You were amazing, leader!”

“As expected of Byunghee-nim! Without you, we would’ve been crushed!”

“Haha!” The man, Byunghee, laughed as he scratched his beard. “Come on now, you’re going to make me blush! We did it as a team, don’t forget that.”

Korean, he noted. Good, that would make communication much easier. By now, Dokja guessed the heir wasn’t lounging in this cave, and if they were, they were somewhere Dokja hadn’t explored yet. Though, something told him that he would know who the heir would be once he saw them. It made no sense, but his gut was rarely wrong.

As the group finished their celebration, they adopted serious expressions. He wondered what that was about.

“Newbies!” The leader yelled, making three people in the back jump in fright. Byunghee crossed his arms over his armor-clad chest. “How are you three holding on? None of you are thinking of running away from your first taste of a dungeon, eh?”

They all shook their heads, a boy with brown hair staring ahead with determined eyes. “N—never, Hyung! Running away is for cowards!”

“Right!” The girl beside him spoke up.

The leader nodded, satisfied. “Good, that’d what I want to hear. You know what comes after this, don’t you?”

This time, their nod came shaky, their faces pale with obvious fear. “Of course, Leader-nim.”

Byunghee didn’t say anything more, eyes sharp and following the darkened path up ahead the monsters first poured out of. Turning his back, he started to walk towards it, the rest of the group following him from behind.

Curious of what the man meant, he stealthily followed them until they stood in the fictile remains of a boss room, eggs oozing green slime as their shattered shells spoke of where the monsters had appeared from. Immediately, the members shivered from the pressure up ahead. Raising his head, Kim Dokja blinked at the gigantic, strangely shaped monsters that planted itself along the majority of the wall. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Byunghee reassured his party members in an even tone, unshaken, indisputably the leader. “An Elfer Croc’s size is meant to intimidate you, but it also compensates for their atrociously slow speed. Make sure to aim at its underbelly and ankles! Those are the most vulnerable part of its body! Go!”

“And remember to avoid it’s snout!" Another member informed, his yellow bandana nearly obnoxious to glance at. "It’s powerful enough to crush a human body with ease!"

With that, they dashed forward, battle cries ripped out of their throats as they all concentrated on killing the final boss. He wasn’t sure how long the fight lasted, his gaze roving over every person and how determined they were as they worked together in an almost perfect team formation.

When the monster fell, its stomach ripped down the middle, the members scattered and heaving on the blood slicked floor, Kim Dokja was able to breathe easily. He didn’t expect to get so invested, really, but with such a team, it was hard to look away.

Some were able to crawl to their friends, one boy waving his hand to a girl with a staff. “Heal us, Yun Yura-ssi.”

The girl nodded and proceeded to heal, going from member to member until only three were left and she perched herself beside the leader. Byunghee riffled through a gigantic backpack and threw mining equipment at some of the members.

“You know what to do.”

Some of them ran to the surrounding crystals, gleaming enchantingly, and began mining them rapidly. The remaining members were quiet, passing bottles of water even as the panting and groaning of the three remaining injured people were loud enough to be heard. It was as if they were purposely ignoring them.

Dokja’s brows furrowed, his gut feeling roiling at the strangely disconnected scene. Something was wrong here.

“Um– Hyung…?” One of the injured members stuttered, the man trying to keep his shaking to a minimum from a deep wound on his left arm, covered red. “Is– is Yun Yura-ssi tired…?”

It was a subtle way of asking why she wasn’t healing the rest, and the leader glanced to the three of them grouped together; panting, slumped to the ground and void of any strength left.

“No, she’s not tired.”

“…Eh?”

The two that kept quiet raised their heads, confusion coloring their expressions. “What do you mean… mean by that, Leader-nim?"

The man sighed, as if that question tired him. Another member scoffed, sneering at them. “Shut up and sit still. You’re annoying our leader, Bak Byunghee, unnecessarily.”

“What?” The guy with the arm cut bristled. “If the Healer isn’t tired, why isn’t she healing us? We’re injured too!”

The area was ice-bound, blanketed thick with silence. The earlier friendliness, the jokes, the laughter, and comradeship gave way for cold, clawing disdain. Dull, dead eyes suspended round the injured three like stiff judgement.

Bak Byunghee rubbed his temples, his warm and reliable persona crafted expertly, and dropping just as easily. The downturn twist of his mouth cupped his annoyance, waving his hand carelessly like they were a bunch of noisy flies. “Newbies like you complain too much. You wouldn’t last as a Hunter.” Turning his back to them, the frigidness of the situation reached its peak. “Shin Dawoon, make an example of him.”

Like the dart of sudden wind, the man, Shin Dawoon, pounced, stabbing clean through the head before the newbie could grant a scream. His dismembered body flopped down, the head dying with a last, gurgled breath of pooling blood, the crying eyes of a life stolen dimming dead.

A beat and two passes. Dawoon sheathed his sword, effectively breaking the scene. The girl of the group, screaming herself hoarse, scrambled to get away from the lifeless man and the murderer that killed him. Her shaking hands touched her face, screeching at the spurt of red, warm, human blood plastered to her, as the boy beside her stared at them with dawning horror. He barely breathed.

“Why…” It was a question filled with despair, of crushed dreams tapered to ash.

“It’s troublesome to share our winnings, you know? We were barely able to get this C rank dungeon from other freelancers. So… we can’t let a single mana crystal escape our hands.” Byunghee crouched, holding the boy’s gaze with cruel, adult-excused apathy. “This is the real world of Hunters, kid. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re… you’re going to kill us…?”

The man's lips curled, teeth sharp. There was nothing human in that smile.

The girl cried loudly, cowering, all too young to be front rowed in the horror of reality.

“Ah… ah…”

“No, this can’t… please!” The boy begged, but all their incoherent babble of speech could garner were parrots of vicious laughter. Cruelly, they basked in the sick pleasure of their despair.

Kim Dokja’s had enough.

Stepping out from his hiding place, coat billowing white, his presence marks him as unmistakable danger. With every featherlight tiptoe, Bak Byunghee and Shin Dawoon flinch, his anger roiling like acid-vapor, disappointment shackled into the sigh of his cold voice. "Doesn't matter where," he tuts, hands in his pockets, his reveal an intense development in the echoing Dungeon, “Humans just stay the same, don’t they?”

They are evidently unnerved as they swirl to face him, not expecting a stranger to wander in their Dungeon at the crucial time of their crime. The faces of some are fearful, like the Healer, irrefutably caught in the act of compliance. Others, followers of their leader, contort to rage.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“How did you get in here?! This is our dungeon!” They glare, raising their voices, as if the bloodlust they permeate can so much as brush him.

He skips closer, snorting. He watched them flinch back with a thoughtless shrug. “I was just passing by," he confessed, a lie, a truth—as if it mattered—and stopped, just short of reaching their circle of shared fault. “When I saw something truly deplorable.”

“Hey.”

The man leading this party, the one responsible for the death of an innocent human, came forward. His expression was something Kim Dokja was intimately familiar with. Incarnations, Constellations—even here, that didn’t chance, they all wore the same face of hostility. “I don’t know who you are, but it’s unfortunate that you saw something you weren’t supposed to. This dungeon is our private property, and you trespassed through it, so we have no choice but to kill you along with these pesky newbies.”

Well, all that for mana crystals? He was reminded back to the first Scenario, how in exchange for a measly 100 coins, a person’s life had to be forfeit. It was disorienting in its nostalgia. A life for a life.

At their leader’s command, six people surrounded him with raised weapons and murderous auras. Dokja didn’t want to, but he had no choice but to fight back. He just got here, and he wasn’t in the mood to take dying lying down. Not that they could kill him. Hah.

He unlatched Unbreakable Faith from his belt. His sword barreled towards them, the sharp noise of splitting air chorus to the screams of the humans pushed back. They dangled in the air like wispy flies, caught in a particularly harsh gust. These people… they were quite weak.

That doesn’t stop them from coming back, however, and like annoying flies, they persisted in their name for victory. The Healer, Yun Yura, stationed herself in the back to provide them support, staying out of harms way. Bak Byunghee’s shield managed to defend against some of his attacks, jaw set, body unmoving, determined to kill him and steal away with all the mana crystals. He barked orders, spit flying, forced his members to collide against the enemy. This man, he was as strong as Hyunsung at the beginning of the Scenarios—which was to say, not much.

Annoying.

He activated [Demon King Transformation], his black wings extending from his back, horns growing atop his head. The reaction this garnered was immediate; the humans shook in fear from their heads to their knees, pressured into submission, their weapons clattering to the ground with resounding defeat. A part of his Status unleashed regardless of his will when it came to the transformation and from the looks of it, it was clearly affecting them.

“M—monster…” one stuttered, falling to the ground and cowered.

Dokja frowned. “Now that’s just rude.” They were the ones that wanted to kill him first. What was he supposed to do, let them? Ridiculous.

Some started to scream in terror when he took a closer step, scrambling to get away. His frown deepened. Strange, he usually got annoyance in return to this form.

“Wha—what are you waiting for?!" The leader yelled. "Hurry and kill it!”

It? The disrespect of it all. Dokja closed his eyes and breathed in.

“Leader-nim! Didn’t you say this was a C-rank dungeon?! Why is there a humanoid monster in here?!”

“Was it hiding?! Is it the real boss?!”

“Shut up!” He roared, shutting their hysterical rambling off. “There’s no time for this, if we don’t hurry, that thing is going to kill us all!”

He readied his stance along with a few others, but not everyone had the same dedication to continue. Four of the ones still shaking stumbled back.

“R—run away!”

“Aaaah! I don’t want to die!”

As they ran away, the Healer hiccupped a sob. “I—I’m sorry, Bak Byunghee… but I… I can’t…”

The man’s eyes widened and he swiveled a moment too late. They were all running for their lives while less than half remained beside him.

“You COWARDS!” His yell pitched in disbelieving fury, his glare shifting to the ones that stayed behind. “If either of you run away, I’ll hunt you down and kill you myself.”

“No, we’d never do such a thing!” One reassured.

“Yes! We’ll beat this monster together!” The other nodded along.

They turned back to him, but by now, Kim Dokja had a headache and wanted to end this as quick as possible. His mood had plummeted too. So with a small portion of his Status activated, impact exploded and juddered through the group, and they stumbled, unstable, weak. Holy light slanted their vision blind, their bodies splayed out like the broken limbs of dead man, unequal in the face of a true combatant. He decimated his three opponents, knocking them hard enough for them to be out cold, but not enough to kill.

“Phew." Ear twitching, he heard the sound of a whimper and belatedly remembered the two innocent people still left. He smiled as he addressed them. “I took care of those guys, so you should be safe now.”

The girl with tears and snot running down her face, covered in blood and obviously stressed beyond belief fainted the moment his attention turned to them. The boy, overrun with instincts to survive, hastily grabbed his broken weapon and swiped it at Dokja without it actually touching him. He screamed, near incomprehensible.

Dokja rubbed his temple in frustration, sighing.

This was not at all what he had in mind.

Great.

Notes:

The update schedule for this will be every 4 days, mostly because I have a slew of chapters already done that just need to be heavily edited. Please be patient if the updates are slow, I do not do well with multitasking and school will start next monday so... ugh.

I hope the ones who read this enjoyed it! Comments are welcome, I love interacting with readers, so please don't be too shy!

Also if there's a discord of these two that exist then *rattles cage* let me in, LET ME INNNN

Chapter 2: Worldline's Edge (2)

Summary:

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Notes:

IT'S HERE! You guys wouldn't believe how impatient I was on uploading this chapter, but I stayed strong because I wouldn't want to destroy my schedule so early like this. I must learn the art of patience...

Sadly, no Dokjin meetup :( but that will happen in the next chapter and it'll also be longer than this one so please look forward to it.

“I’ll ask you again."

Silhouetted against the bright glare of his surroundings, his shadows glide ghost-like along his heels. They lash up, pulsing, seeped with potency, and a Shadow Soldier concealed in jet-black smoke rises behind the wide, powerful back of his King. Beru stands at full height, bold, assured in his own power as he waits for Jinwoo's unquestionable command. Jinwoo casts a glance behind him, soaking in that horrendously fierce aura, and the absolute loyalty that belonged to him.

The darkness beneath his feet folded into waves, deep, everlasting, so profoundly bottomless, Jinwoo could only bask in it.

“Will you really be okay?” Jinwoo asked, and the color drained out of Cha Haein's face as she planted distance between her and Beru, instincts relayed and sifted into the human mind. Her lips were sealed tight, breath rattling with the force of ice burrowing into the cracks of her composure. It was natural. Predators weren't hard to spot, and the one tamed beneath his hand was arguably the worst.

A weapon, once upon a time, a hate-born monster charged to oppress, dominate, and kill. Lead by the death of his own Queen, his sole purpose had been to eliminate the Hunters. Though, Beru was a special case from the beginning, and with his defeat, he'd molded into the shape of unwavering subservience so perfectly, Jinwoo designated him his most trusted soldier. Though, he could do without the formal speech he picked up somewhere.

The chances of her winning against him were…

Cha Haein nodded, gripping her blade, adjusting her stance. Beru quietly observed her. His emotions were neutral, lowering his head to inquire the situation. ‘My Liege, what shall I do with this person?’

‘Defeat her without injuring her.’

‘It shall be done.’

With the yawn of his mandibles, the blast of his screech struck like a physical blow. It was overwhelming, immeasurably painful, and echoed to the overhead lights. The glass shattered, falling in reflective, jagged shards. They splintered, whisking harmony like thin-sliced deadly snow.

Haein wobbled, clung to the tail-end of her blade. Goosebumps broke over her skin as the enormous quantity of magic energy her opponent released made her quiver. Faintly, just the slightest bit.

Blade-like claws extended from the ends of Beru's digits, and Jinwoo spared him a warning glance. ‘Put those away. If she gets hurt, I won’t let you go.’

‘Yes, my Liege.’

As Beru hastily retracted his claws, Jinwoo’s commanding voice reverberated in the dim, spacious training area.

“Begin.”

Beru disappeared—reappeared a distance from her nose, unsuspecting, with a pace inconceivable. Haein swung her sword, instincts blaring, muscles bunching, kicking up a dozen slashes for even one to land as her opponent evaded each and every one. The precise movements looped into flashes of light, the obvious display of power and its unbridgeable gap in their levels leaving her winded as she fought, fought against his soldier, and against the impossible odds Jinwoo had set to fail her.

Taking aim at his neck, she dodged a swing, shaking as he evaded her again. After images chased and taunted her, the creature not even moving with his feet so strictly attached to the ground. He could tell she was losing it. From the continuous onslaught of attacks and the vague, uncertain fear no doubt creeping into her, Cha Haein slowed, movements a tad dull. Gasping, glaring, sweat bead down her temple.

Beru took the offered opportunity. He smacked her sword with the back of his hand, pressing his face to hers and unleashed a screech so powerful, she was knocked away with her knees bent. Her sword hastily imbedded itself into the cracked floor to keep her from toppling over. Ragged, wheezy breaths clung to the disharmonious silence of the training space.

Jinwoo tilted his head down to address her.

“Are you satisfied?”

She cupped a hand over her mouth. “Not yet…” her throat rasped, every deep inhale dragging painfully against the cut of her bloody tongue. "Not yet. I can keep going."

Jinwoo's brow quirked, little jabs of worry stirring in his gut. “What is she thinking…” Mumbling to himself, he observed as she stood back up on unstable feet, fixing her sword. 

Cha Haein was a high class Hunter, undoubtedly. She was Korean's own 9th S-rank Hunter, was careful with every appearance she made in the media and wasn't the type to hunt after a fight she couldn't win. She wasn't reckless, so what was this? She's realized the difference between her and her opponent, and yet, she pursued to keep going. Whatever last trick she possessed, he hoped poor judgement wasn't what she aimed for.

He knew the extent to which his soldier was suppressing his killing intent, mentally linked into the emotions that twisted the longer the fight dragged out. It was a bit overwhelming, even for him. Beru's innate nature to be used as a murder weapon was inherently oppressive.

His gaze sharpened, watching them with distant caution. Beru sped to her, swiping a deadly claw in order to catch her, but she narrowly escaped, sliding back with a breathless huff. Beru's anger made itself known, scoring deep scratches into the metal of the reinforced floor like shredding paper.

It was as he predicted. Cha Haein used her skill, ‘Sword Dance,’ the tip of her sword drawing splendid arcs in the air as her movements sped with the deadly performance of a dance. Beru managed to grab it, easily defending against her smoothly flowing attacks. At the end of it, his expression crumbled. Snatching the sword, he crushed it with his bare hands.

With only half a blade left, she had one chance. She poured every single drop of magic energy into the broken sword to activate her special skill, ‘Blade of Light.’

It was a skill he heard she only ever used in cases of emergencies. Due to the great deal of mana it consumed to perform, she would be left weak and near useless. But for the first time in this fight, she revealed it in its full glory. It shone brilliantly, beautifully captured in its essence as she jumped to Beru’s front and stabbed the Blade of Light through him in a brief moment of weakness.

Urgency trickled into his perception, eyes snapping wide. Beru's mind spun beyond his grip, crushed and overwritten with the instinct buried deep within all of his Shadow Soldiers' psyche—the one designed to activate in times of great strain and distress, the one that rarely needed to be mobilized. The Oldest Order.

Protect the Sovereign.

The ever docile Beru transformed into a terrifying monster. His claws corrupted into something thick and scaly, split jagged to maim and kill, his body fortified to resemble impenetrable steel and he was close, too close, ready to rip apart his self dubbed enemy—

“Stop!”

With a loud, zapping boom, the scene lurched to a stop. Jinwoo, grappling hold of Beru's set claws from reaching the Hunter, dug his foot into the other hand much too close to her face and pause it in its tracks. The silence dyed with tension, reached its peak and ebbed slow. Jinwoo inclined to glance at Beru.

“I told you to stop, didn’t I?”

Beru leapt several feet back, bowed flat, pressed head first into the ground as that cold, disapproving voice condemned him to beg for forgiveness. “My—my Liege, have mercy…”

He huffed a breath. Turning to the girl still rooted like stone, he waited for her to bring her head back up. Yet she stayed still, rough hands clasped into her lap, never meeting his gaze. Jinwoo frowned. “Why are you overdoing this? There's no need to go so far to join our Guild."

Not even a peep. As she kept her silence, Jinwoo continued, confused, genuine in his lack of understanding. “It was only a test. An entrance test for a nameless guild, and one not worth someone like you risking your life for.”

Worst of all, she risked the depletion of her Mana pool with the usage of that dangerous skill, all in order to ensure a win. To think she'd take such a risky chance. It was bewildering.

“Tell me, why are you going so far?”

Something like this couldn’t be chalked up to only the desire to win. It was deeper, more reckless. Driven by emotion, most likely. So maybe…

“Could it be… you’re interested in me?” He phrased it cautiously. If he was wrong, he wouldn’t want to damage her ego.

“…Huh?”

Her expression was dazed as she blinked up at him.

That's not it either. What on earth was she thinking? He closed his eyes in thought.

“…Yes.”

A blush spread across her cheeks, her big eyes sparkling. She was flustered.

“I think so.”

 

---

 

“Hm."

Jinwoo wasn't one to be concerned about his appearance. It wasn't a topic he regarded with much importance on any occasion, but as he stood in the bathroom mirror, a towel draped over his shoulder, he was a bit curious to know as to what Cha Haein possibly saw.

The first observation he could make was his height. Taller, yes, grown more after his Reawakening than the four years he spent fighting in lower level dungeons as the world's 'Weakest Hunter.' He was in better shape too, with his continuous exercises. But that couldn't be all to construe his levels of attractiveness. Besides that, could he be considered handsome? He peered deeper into the mirror, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips before sighing at how ridiculous he was being. No, he wasn’t smug enough to actually think he was that good looking.

'Will to Rehabilitate.' That buff effect certainly played a part in his lack of blemishes, erasing any an all cuts and spots found in an average face. Not only that, he appeared younger, somehow, much more than before.

In some ways, it seemed he did change.

Opening the door of the bathroom, he spied two legs flailing off the couch. His steps drew his sister's attention as she raised her head, hair wispy and unkempt.

"Oppa, is it true what you said before? You're going to create a Guild?" Jinah's eyes widened, putting her phone down as a somewhat sly tone overtook her. "Are people gonna call you boss now?"

He shook his head, musing. "If it goes well."

"Do you have a name yet? What's it called?"

“What do you think about ‘Solo Play’ for a Guild name?”

“Eh? Are you kidding?" Her face contorted at his suggestion, criticizing him with the wave of her phone. "Why would you name your guild something like that? It's too weird. Your ability is to summon those Shadow Soldiers, so technically, that would mean you're not solo."

“Ah…" he frowned. "You have a point. Then what should I call it?"

“What about ‘Ahjin Guild’?” She offered. “Ah meaning ‘I’, and Jin meaning ‘To go forward.’”

“Ahjin?”

“It’s my name backwards! How about it, isn’t it nice?"

He gave her a contemplative smile, ruffling her hair and avoiding her swipe. "It isn't bad."

She pushed his hand away, grumbling. "Goodnight, bum."

"Goodnight, sis." As revenge, he flicked her forehead and slipped away to his room, her cursing his name going in one ear and out the next. Padding into the darkness of his room, he crept soundless to the bed, intent on sleeping and pushing the whole issue with Cha Haein out of mind. He passed the window, open, ruffling wind into the dry strands of his hair. The moonlight traced patterns on his face, dim and flat, and he breathed in the crisp night air.

Lazily opening an eye, he swiped the buzzing phone off his nightstand, leaning against the open window as he read the number. His brows ticked, frowning. “Now why would the Association be calling this late?”

He recalled, a second later, the abominable state he left the training room in thanks to Hunter's Cha's fight with Igris and Beru, and lets his shoulder slump. That was unfortunate. He'll have to pay for the damages, right? He didn't mind, he had the money, but it didn't mean he was happy about it. Better get it over with now than later.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo speaking.”

“Ah, you picked up.”

The gruff, familiar voice had him blinking awake. "Chairman?"

An unexpected call from the man himself, Jinwoo thought, the deep voice echoing deeper through the call as he chuckled. “You sound tired. Ah, it really is good to be young.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t worry about it. I was just talking to myself. I called you because I got an urgent call on an issue that I wanted to speak to you about.”

Jinwoo shuffled a bit on his feet. “Is it because of the training room?”

“What? Oh! No, no. Some Hunters leave it in a worse than you," he enlightened. "Although, the broken lights were... unexpected.”

“I apologize,” he said sincerely. He should’ve stopped Beru when he had the chance.

“Let’s put that matter aside for now.” He cleared his throat, the seriousness of his tone shifting Jinwoo's body into a more alert state. “There’s a Gate close by that was purchased by a group of well known freelancers. A C-rank Gate. So there shouldn’t have been any problems, but we just got a call from the survivors that they spotted a humanoid monster.”

Jinwoo stiffened, the pitter patter of his heart skipping a fraction too quick before he composed himself. Though even that couldn't stop his thought to run, rampant with possibilities. “A humanoid monster," he repeated, slow, considering. "Can it speak?”

"Yes. Korean, oddly enough, and all account repeat that it is incredibly powerful. They couldn’t do a thing against it. Unfortunately, there are no nearby A-rank Hunters at the moment to call on, so I wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind taking care of it.”

“Of course,” he reassured, smoothing a neutral tone. Keeping the budding excitement from springing forth. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I’ll send you the coordinates so you can go right away.” He said, then added more softly. “Be careful, the four Hunters that managed to escape were left terrified.”

Defiant, he smirked, eyes glowing blue. “I’m not the one you should be worried about, Chairman Go Gunhee.”

 

---

 

Secluded behind the half-finished construction site of an agency firm, thrums the steady, lukewarm energy of a Gate. His feet scuff the concrete as he zips into sight, spying a small group of Association members near the C rank Gate and between pillars of hard-stained wood. Somehow, there were no reporters, which was a rare case in itself. There was always one media hound sniffing along the perimeters of any Gates, hoping to catch a scoop. Either they had been rightfully driven away, or the Association was keeping the situation under wraps.

At night, the eerie blue lit Seoul in frantic, rhythmic waves. It was hard to describe their pervasive quality. Limited to nowhere, they existed, they thrived, shaking this world with the faint buzz of something not meant to be. Crashing signals and remotely disheartening, they had burrowed their way into the pages of history and the lives of all. And so, the Gate illuminated the faces of every human here, exposed the starkly pale expressions worn with fear and anxiety. An every day sight, always made worse by a Dungeon's unpredictability.

With his hands in his pockets and his hood pushed down, he approached the people of the Monitoring Division. They visibly brightened the moment they saw him, yelling his name.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo!”

“How is it?” He got straight to the point, his attention stolen by the swirl of the blue portal. “Has the boss been killed?”

She nodded hastily, speaking in a firm, shaky tone. “Yes, Hunter-nim. The boss has been taken cared of. It’s been twenty five minutes since then, and only half of the team have managed to get out safely.”

Nodding, he turned and headed to the group of shivering Hunters. They clustered together, clutching their emergency blankets and drinking the potions given to them by the medical technicians. As Jinwoo walked up to them, they flinched, their pale, bloody faces losing more color. It didn't deter him, but he noted the way they shrunk and avoided his eyes.

“That humanoid monster," he began once he was close enough, "Can you tell me about it?”

Between the four, one of them lowered his gaze, while another gaped like a fish, lips unhealthily pale. "The—the monster…"

He continued to stutter through his sentence, shaking, panicking, until he ended up crying with heaving lungs and a paramedic at his back. He tried asking the other three, but none were of any help, curling into themselves and hiding from his questioning. He sighed at the wasted time and rose from his crouch, flickering from them to the awaiting Gate. “I’ll be going now.”

He paid no mind to the person calling his name, stepping foot into the Gate and let the mana ripple around his body. As he came through, he scanned the area. It was a typical C-rank Dungeon, with its dark ambiance, wide spaces, and thick air tainted with blood. Its sole exception was how utterly void of monsters it was, foretold by the silence that echoed off the walls.

Ah, how disappointing for the boss to have been taken out.

Even if it didn't give much experience, he still like something to do. The humanoid creature was his only hope for a strong contender now, so as he walked deeper into the Dungeon, lead by his instincts, he thought back to the Hunters and their strikingly honest body language.

Terror, shame…

Guilt.

He mouthed the word, murmuring. “Now what would they be guilty for...”

Clearly, they weren't telling the whole truth, with possible fabrications in their story for whatever reason, and that itched at a distant, murky memory of his. Stopping short, he dismissed the thought and called his soldiers, the shadows at his feet roused by his voice.

"Behind me."

Tank, Tusk, and Iron took to the back behind their King with several randomly chosen ants. Beru stood beside him, keeping several steps between them so Jinwoo could take the front. They were close to where the boss's lair would be, muffled deep within the Dungeon. There was little over half an hour until the Gate permanently closed, but he was confident he could finish this altercation in five minutes.

Faintly, he could hear the sounds of a person screaming, yelling incoherently and crying, as if they've lost the ability to form words and were left incapable. Given the state of the rest of the team outside, this person must be another Hunter.

He wondered, with a guilty trickle of excitement, what kind of monster could leave Hunters in such a broken and wretched state. He’d seen it before, with the High Orcs and other amalgamations of monsters in his time spent as an E rank, but even then, high leveled Hunters weren't crippled so easily. They fought until their last breath, refused to give in because that would mean they failed, and failure, in the face of a dungeon break, was a hazard they couldn't afford.

The last time such a thing happened was…

The Jeju Island Raid, when Beru first made his appearance.

His fists curled sweaty, body struck stiff with anticipation as his steps walked faster. By now, he'd convince himself not to get too overly enthusiastic. There was that small chance it could be nothing, baited by something not worth his attention, but that's before Beru raised his head, antenna perked with caution.

'My Liege, there is something up ahead, something strong.'

Yes. He could feel it too, curling and twisting, and rattling his heart sick. The pressure urged him with a warning, and wasn't that a shock, that half-step twitch of hesitance Jinwoo forced himself to shake off? He bit the inside of his cheek, gaze trailing into the darkened heart of the entrance.

Beru, his most powerful soldier, had felt compelled to warn him. Whatever this was, it had garnered his providence. Jinwoo tasted the iron in his mouth, licked it, and smirked, his posture slack with coiling satisfaction. He wasn't wrong.

The cry was discernable now, loud with animal terror. Alongside it, he could hear the words of a second voice, clearly agitated by the Hunter’s hysteria.

“Can you shut up for a minute? This isn’t helping either of us.”

The response was but a fear-filled wail.

There was a sigh, and the familiar sound of a sword screeching. The terrified Hunter gave a yelp, a thud, and Jinwoo thought it was about time he made his appearance.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

His voice resounded deep and threatening, slid off the brilliant, faceted, fractal-edges of the Mana crystals that encircled them within the crux of the Boss room. With his army behind, he strolled into the light; tall, confident, his grin curved into his warning. As his eyes lifted, narrowed, sweeping across the area, it landed on white and—

Black eyes that glittered like starlight.

He falls.

Notes:

We're close!! Almost there! And believe me when I say Jinwoo's and Dokja's meeting will be... electric with tension ;)

Chapter 3: Worldline's Edge (3)

Summary:

“My name is Kim Dokja,” he stated, voice cascading smooth and soft, competently thoughtful. Raised his head as if he wasn't currently held captive. “I'm a human, like you, and I’ve come to offer you my assistance.”

Notes:

OH MY GOD? THERE'S SO MUCH?? JINDOK CONTENT ON TWITTER??? THE REVOLUTION IS UPON US! Oh its been so much fun being on twitter in the last few days with the several headcanons and Jindok threads I've read and 🥰🥰

Kim Dokja wasn’t sure what went wrong.

His expectations on a Scenario's progression were muddy at best, having learned the importance on not placing too much faith within the fickle hands of the Star Stream that dictated the sway of any Fable. But outside of it, dropped into this Dungeon without the interference of Constellations, he reckoned a more easily reached conclusion. Coming into contact with his target, maybe, but stumbling on a squad of people trying to kill off members from their own team wasn't what he had in mind.

The abrupt drop in scene aside, he neither had the obligation to help, nor the patience in running blind in a dungeon when there were people to ask directions from. It didn't sit right to pretend he hadn't seen anything either, so at a crossroads of decisions, weighing the pros and cons, he stepped out in to assist and was promptly handed his regret back to him.

Worse yet, he didn't mean to scare the leftover humans to the point of incoherency. What was up with that? They finished killing a crocodile monster the size of a house, how was his appearance that surprising to them? Sadly, any attempts of a reasonable conversation jumped out the window and hit the ground running the minute the girl lost her consciousness. Two leads went down to one, and one was currently shivering in a puddle of his own urine.

Kim Dokja dragged a hand down his face, pointedly ignoring the smell and everything else in favor of collecting his thoughts. Right, he should be gentle. Let the poor boy know he wasn't in any danger, and get what he needed. A perfect plan.

Kim Dokja leaned down, and stared at him with a brisk smile on his face, annoyance dragging in every syllable. "Can you shut up for a minute? This isn't helping either of us."

Whatever he expected, well, it didn't lessen the disappointment. Kim Dokja sighed at the strangled cry that contorted the boy's face, hitting the slumped body of the girl in an effort to scramble away, and proceeded to swing his weapon in an erratic manner.

Shaking his head, he cancelled his transformation and decided to put away his sword for now, because clearly, neither were helping in negotiating established contact with the one person still conscious. He swiftly arched his sword to the ground, wiping the splatter of blood until it shined silver. The guy cried out again as he sheathed Unbreakable Faith, this time wailing, eyes dim and head lolling to the side and—

Wait, was he going to—

He fainted, saliva frothing down his chin.

So.

Now he was stuck in an unfamiliar location, surrounded in a sea of unconscious bodies, and not having the faintest idea of knowing the way out with a headache pounding against his temple. That’s perfect. Unless the monster respawned, brought back from death for vengeance, the situation couldn't get any worse than this.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Okay. So maybe he was wrong, and maybe that meant he should start shutting up a bit more. But he wasn't expecting to hear the voice of another to wash over the silence that threatened to consume him, alright? Uncomfortably aware of what his position in this picture looked like, he swiftly turned around with the intent to plead innocence.

He offered the newcomer a blinding smile, tinged with badly timed unease.

“Um, ah, hi! It’s not what it looks li—“

Electric, glaring blue swept up and had him crashing to the ground.

Bent stiffly, a breath was punched out of his chest, his knees and arms puddling weak and trembling. He connected to the Dungeon floor, fighting to keep himself upright. Wheezing, he grappled for control, clawing to reason and sense, pressured down, down, deeper still, Dokja's heart racing a panicky, fleeing rhythm. He lifted his head, shaking, glanced to the flickering, oscillating system panel and choked. A single second stretched to infinity.

He tore his eyes away and was shocked to find the stranger in the same position as him. They resemble each other, forced mutually to the ground by an unseen force that had his Fables recoiling in confusion. The stranger had his teeth gritted, pushing up, and Dokja could just barely make out the dent he made when he crashed. After several agonizing seconds where they couldn’t move, the pressure lessened. Kim Dokja gasped a breath, jerkily scrambling up with the slide of his sword to lean on for support.

He panted heavily in quick bursts, frazzled, flighty, thoughts left in a complete mess. With that weakness, he doesn't notice the sharp, wide eyes of the stranger gliding up and down his body.

“What the—hell?” Dokja cursed, his sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. What the fuck just happened?

The stranger managed to get up, put together with loose limbs and a set jaw. Dokja found that a bit unfair, as he quietly shrugged the tremors that wracked down his sides. Silence descended as the man stared at him with an unreadable expression, this time complete with foreign tension. As he gazed back, taking his first proper look at the man, he stiffened. Without noticing, his mouth gaped open.

The man was devastatingly attractive, haloed like death in the orbit of slashing shadows—with vicious, unfiltered power corded into every inch of skin to the point it spilled, messy, uncontrollably potent. It was Status, yet it wasn't, dappled with the shades of something archaic. Dokja breathed it in, shivered, bit his lip, and noticed how the man's head dipped curious. Those blue, enchanting eyes raked low, didn't pay a thought to the tendril of darkness that slithered up his cheek—

Kim Dokja blinked, followed the tendril only for it to lead to tall things, wispy things, flickering black and cornflower blue. They seeped into the floor, bent into the will of a solid form and there were tens of them. Shadows. They were shadows.

It clicked, like puzzle pieces everything made sense. That strange, entrancing energy, the handsome face, the seeming army of Shadow creatures.

“The heir...?” He whispered, observing the way they all surrounded him. In his next breath, the wind clapped, one of them darting like a bullet. He yelped, and the monster cut through—met him halfway. The Ant-like being struck a blow, radiating such fierce killing intent Kim Dokja's quick intuition screeched for him to dodge. The claws missed, horrifyingly sharp. Belatedly, Dokja spied a few strands of his hair fly with the breeze.

Oh yeah, this was a dangerous situation.

Scurrying to escape the harrowing danger, he hysterically noted the suffocating strain this dude put out. It was different from what he got from the man, was leagues above the ordinary humans he encountered, and could very well be attested to its monster origins with how bizarrely atrocious it was. It stretched around the bodies of every creature here like the flickering flames of fire, connected, linked to one another, with the Ant being the notable commander.

Sadly, he couldn't analyze any further if he wished to stay alive by the end of this unnecessary confrontation. Kim Dokja drew his sword against the Ant, deflecting every deadly swipe with the clash of Unbreakable Faith, sparks of collision flashing like brilliant white light.

He knew the Ant was earnestly trying to kill him, could spot it in the senseless torrent of attacks it hoped to land, but Dokia didn’t want to do the same. That would only sour the heir’s opinion of him and make him hostile. He wanted to avoid that outcome. He was supposed to help him, after all. It was a shame they had to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.

So he defended himself as needed, pushing back the creature when his attacks got a little too dangerous for comfort, and effortlessly dodged with the usage of [Calm Observation] to predict his opponent's movements.

With every feint and trick, the Ant seemed to be getting angrier. It’s attacks pulled lethal to the point of raining destruction upon the already ruined dungeon, shattering the compact ground and seizing the shine of the Mana crystals.

'You dare run around like a rat, lowly demon?!'

Oh, and it could talk. Good to know it had a conscience as it tried to kill him.

It screeched, loud, piercing, wiping away any thought with the buckle of his knees. It's sheer intensity overpowered him and he barely managed to maintain his composure. It's talons grew a frightening length, the black throb of its body wired with the tense whirr of its wings. Shit, the thing had wings? Dokja grimaced, saw its eyes bleed red like disease. It was faster now, self control slipping and coded like a machine set to kill. Kim Dokja was thoroughly not enjoying this fight.

“Enough.”

Mercifully, that single word acted as law, the Ant restrained the second Dokja was about to deem himself in danger. It's eyes returned to its original color, almost gentle, and stopped from its relentless barrage of attacks. Obediently, it caved to the Heir. Great, now he could—

Unfortunately, Dokja didn’t get a second to breathe.

“Ruler’s Authority.”

“?!”

His body was seized into the vise of a powerful impact, kept frozen and complaint without the liberty to move. Wincing, even rotating his wrists or wiggling his toes were a chore. The duress was unnatural, skittering his control away and into the hands of the man. It left him on high alert. Bare, like a puppet tied to strings. It was a vulnerable feeling.

“I didn’t tell you to kill him,” the handsome man nonchalantly said to his Shadow, “I have something to ask first.”

Ah fuck. There was nothing much for Dokja to do but follow the man's slow stroll, swallowing against the powerful and regal aura that brushed against him. The way he moved made him feel as though he was being hunted, those eyes slanted with a dark want, crushing him, wrapping the danger like a fog just in reach. Kim Dokja involuntarily shivered at meeting them again.

He stopped short of Dokja’s invisibly bound body, one of his hands lifted, the other impassively hidden in his pocket. “You. What are you?” He asked as Dokja was held down by that foreign skill. His tone dropped lower, hinting at a warning. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he responded honestly, relieved to find that he can still talk. It wouldn't do if he couldn't use his voice. “I’m just as surprised as you.”

He scanned for a hint of deceit, guarded cold, and Dokja laughed with the tremble of dread. This was the tipping point, he realized, and he had to make it count. It was time he introduced himself to the Heir and contract a partnership.

“My name is Kim Dokja,” he stated, voice cascading smooth and soft, competently thoughtful. Raised his head as if he wasn't currently held captive. “I'm a human, like you, and I’ve come to offer you my assistance.”

It was nearly funny how evidently he wasn’t expecting that as an answer. His expression bloomed wide, open, something subtle flashing in the light of his irises. From the little Dokia could gather on the man's personality, he wasn't the expressive type, which made the minute fracture in his face all too noticeable.

“And you are?” He prompted encouragingly.

“...Sung Jinwoo.” Was the curt reply, said with an edge of festering suspicion. “What do you mean by assistance?”

This time, Dokja chuckled, helplessly partial in response. “To be honest, I’m not too sure? The conditions given to me were quite vague and unclear.”

The confusion in Sung Jinwoo’s posture was painfully easy to see, awkward and stark, his shoulders unwinding every passing second with his easygoing smile and soft speech. The tension bled out of his brows, lifting as he went deep in thought. Kim Dokja found him a bit cute like that.

He continued before he got the chance to be interrupted. “I’m sure you don’t trust me, but I’m not here to cause you harm, promise! I was hoping to have a chat with you before everything else,” he glanced to the Ant still obediently strayed behind Jinwoo. “Though your Shadow did catch me off guard, Heir to the Shadow Monarch.”

The Boss room buffered cold with Jinwoo's flinch, his clumsy slip of the tongue clearly the wrong thing to say as his Shadows grew menacing and imminent, stimulated by their Master's caution. He was forced on his knees, hissing quietly. Whatever Skill Jinwoo possessed was effective to the best of his convenience.

'My Liege, allow me to dispose of this insignificant being.'

“Why is everyone here so rude?” He mumbled to himself, gritting his teeth as he forced the pain in his knees and back away. “Feels like I never left home.”

Jinwoo didn’t outwardly react to the Ant’s remark. He bent down, black hair streaked with faint color as the air froze over. Jinwoo met Kim Dokja's gaze through the curtain of his bangs. They were close, way, way closer than before, and sensation nearly touched his skin. That shivery feeling ran through him again.

“You say I’m the Heir," he drawls, lazily flickering to every facet of his face, "Then answer me this. What are the identities of the Monarch?”

“Ah, that’s a difficult one.” Dokja’s muscles bunch beneath his clothes, straining to escape this damn oppressive Skill. “You’re the first one I met. I wouldn’t know who the Monarchs are, unless you were the one telling me. I’d have no choice but to believe you.”

The way he phrased his replies was deliberately transparent, and it did its job in leaving Jinwoo conflicted. His frown spoke volumes. “If you’re here to help, who sent you?”

“Hum,” Dokja smiled derisively. “It’s not exactly a ‘who’, so it’s hard to explain.”

"Your aura," a rumbled hiss of frustration clipped through, vibrant, avid curiosity glinting behind the low blue of his eyes, “It’s not that of a human’s.”

Must be because he was a Constellation. Even among his Incarnation companions, there was a definite distinction as the more powerful scenario participant. Not to mention, he was also a Myth-grade Constellation.

'My King. To be precise, he is half human,' the Ant informed wisely. Huh, this guy was surprisingly chatty.

At that, Jinwoo took a cursory glance behind Kim Dokja's back, soaking in the scene, that horribly culpable scene with him as the anomaly in its center. The bodies of the five unconscious Hunters were strewn like carelessly tossed trash, and Jinwoo lingered to the sole dead one spoiling the room with its foul smell and decapitated self.

Well shit.

Dokja thinks he knows where his thought process was going.

“Did you do this?”

“Ah, no! Well—“ he cringed, his panic running a bit too fast to contain. “Technically, yes. But I didn’t mean for it to happen! The Hunters were coming at me, it was an unavoidable situation—!”

“I think I’ve heard enough. Beru.”

With a wordless stare, the ant, named Beru, heeded his Master’s call and screeched again. Kim Dokja winced at the volume, his sense of oncoming danger bucking wild. Sung Jinwoo silently stepped aside, let the reigns go to Beru and ordered his other Shadows to pick up the fragile bodies. Even then, contained beneath the Skill, the drag of Beru's aura spelling death, the Heir never dropped his gaze. A watchfulness drifted from him, a constant thing that refused to waiver.

Kim Dokja was a bit of a petty bitch, so if he was going to stare, he might as well give the hunk of a protagonist a show worth his attention.

“So that’s it? You’re gonna kill me?” Kim Dokja asked, tone light, and clear of any judgement. Why shouldn't it? Jinwoo wasn't the first to want such a thing, and Death has always been a familiar friend. When Jinwoo didn’t answer, he smiled wryly, teasing. “That won’t do. It’s not on my agenda this time.”

[‘Demon King Transformation’ has been activated!]

Beautiful, illustriously black wings ripped from his back, folding gloriously over the peculiar teal of the Dungeon walls, two horns protruding from his forehead as his Status unleashed along with it. The composure of the Shadows ripple, shock barely concealed as Jinwoo's face cracked open like glacier melt and the wind trembled through his teeth.

[‘Way of the Wind’ has been activated!]

Without another moment to lose, he broke free from the restraint of Jinwoo’s Skill and dashed across the air. [Way of the Wind’s] accelerative force was astonishing, crossing the dungeon’s sky in an instant with the powerful whip of his thick, long-tailed wings.

“Sorry!” He hurried to call behind him, scanning the vicinity and it’s darkened corners. He located several channels where he could fly towards for safety. “We can talk again when you stop trying to kill me!”

Kim Dokja zipped away, disappearing into the darkness. A beat of silence descended before the Shadow Soldiers burst into uproar, all of them yelling with affirmations of catching the humanoid monster for their King.

He shut them up with a single phrase, irritation bubbling under the skin.

“Don’t let him get away.”

 

---

 

There were many aspects of his Demon King status he thought was a definite perk, and excellent night vision ranked high as one of the best ones. Because without it, he's sure he would've dropped like a pigeon at night hitting a car’s windshield. Kim Dokja didn't use the transformation for a lot of things, and kept it mostly as backup for the more niche fights that took place in the sky, or used it to run away—like today—but unlike the wide, expansive range of the sky, this was a dungeon with slippery walls and sharp rocks protruding out of deadly corners. Outside of an emergency, he'd never fly in such a dangerous place.

He huffed as he descended into another channel, wincing with every feather plucked out of his wings due to the force he changed directions with. There was something just within reach as he followed it through with intuition, a possible escape, and it urged him to go faster. He was nearly there.

Luck, unfortunately, wasn’t something he seemed to have here.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, back prickling and wings expanding with the pour of concentrated Mana. It was behind him, edging closer. “What the hell is that?” Taking a breath, he glanced behind and squeaked. “Eek!”

He didn't know what the conditions of being the Heir to the Shadow Monarch were, but his belief on Jinwoo being his target cemented further with the massive wave of unrelenting Shadows hurtling to reach him. There had to be a few hundreds in there compared to the tens he first saw. He couldn't tell if the number was normal, but knowing didn't make his desperate struggle to escape any less harder.

The Shadows were quite terrifying, now that he thought about it, all molded together at the base of the cave, grappling over each other with killing intent pointedly pinned to him.

"Seriously? Can't I get a break already?" Dokja clicked his tongue as he derailed into another direction, trying to escape the horde swiping at his heels. “I just got here.”

Complaining didn’t have a history of doing him any good, however, as Kim Dokja flinched with the monstrous screech from behind. He thought it might’ve been that Ant monster, Beru, that came to go after him again, but with one quick glimpse, found the culprit to be a whole other nightmare.

Kim Dokja closed his eyes. “He has that too?” Yelping, he batted the snout of the gigantic Wyvern with the swing of his wing. It flapped back, shaking it's head. Kim Dokja was the size of a child next to the damn thing.

Being chased by these monsters was a lot like trying to run underwater. The air was thick, surrounding, and he choked with the way his burning muscles pulled his weight downwards. He fought it, speeding up without much of a choice and kept [Way of the Wind] activated to propel him along the wind’s current. It bent to his will, keeping him airborne when all he had wanted to do was reach a consensus with the Heir. What a shame.

When he successfully created distance between himself, the Wyvern, and the Shadows, he decided he’s had enough fun for one day. Unsheathing Unbreakable Faith, he whipped it in powerful slashes, the fire attribute contained within drawn out with Dokja’s command. He aimed it directly at the Shadows, silently already making possible plans to mend his future relationship with the Monarch’s Heir and an apology to go with it.

The holy fire spread with the whiplash, cleaving the Shadows in half like disintegrating paper. They scattered to ash, leaving only the Wyvern behind. He dashed away, taking the chance to escape and didn't see how the Shadow Soldiers revived from the pool blackened beneath them.

A small, confident grin graced his face even as the Wyvern gave a loud shriek. He was close to the strange ripple in the dungeon now, and with a few calculated wing flaps that propelled him to whistle into it's trajectory, saw it for what it was. It was another portal, like the one that brought him here, but with a gentle, yet still ominous blue hue, instead of the entirely blood red one he experienced first. He didn’t know where it lead, but anywhere was better than here.

With a prevailing bolt, he rushed through the portal, the strange current that warbled over his body entirely different from the red one. Pushing forward, he didn’t stop for a second in case the creature decided to follow him. While the chances were low, it wasn't a bet he was willing to gamble on.

The fresh, whipping breeze is the first thing he perceived, a contrast to the thick, horrible air he was forced to breathe around in the dungeon. The wind rushed passed his lips, cold and refreshing, and it only took a second to notice the second contrast. There were voices out here, a chorus of gasps and yells as he flew out. Humans. He wasn't too keen on slowing, so he surged to the sky, a black and white blur that darted up until he was snugly hidden behind the thick, gray clouds that covered the night sky effectively.

He allowed himself to relax, his wings lessening in tension. His breakneck speed slowed to a lazy flight. High above the clouds, only but a black dot, he surveyed the view below. "Oh," he murmured, his gaze softening with something lost, nostalgic, "Seoul."

Seoul's air was blustery with hints of coming summer as it flooded through every feather, shadows blotting the magnificent sky, the revenant, chilling touch of the moon soft against his wings. The sight hardened him, and he realized the extend of destruction that could befall this world.

He felt his chest inflate with a breath—a gasp. The world ran electric, with skyline towers and artificial light blocking out the stars. It was the Seoul he thought he'd never see again. The night was cold, raising bumps over flesh. He allowed himself a moment of weakness and laughed joyfully, swooping through the clouds in great, bending arcs.

He was awestruck. This world was breathtaking, a mirror to his own. One rich with beauty, with humanity, one that had yet to be destroyed. It lacked the touch of Star Stream and its obsessive compulsion with Fables and Constellations. Stars were stars here, pretty, untouchable, kept distant to the world. How it should be. How it should've always been.

He wanted to protect it, keep it untainted from everything that went wrong in his own home. And yet, there was an undercurrent of bitterness in his smile as he swept to take it in. His emotions took root, swirled into a clump of messy stew. It wasn't hate, no not that, it was… envious yearning.

It was grief. It was loss.

Flowing in tranquil circles, little blue dots peppered his wide range of vision. It seemed this Seoul had its own unique properties divorced from ordinary life too. All around the bustling, lively streets and tall buildings, were hundreds of swirling blue portals, varying in size and attracting the attention of humans as hotspots to contain the rows of people that scuttled the borders.

What was the mechanics and setting of this worldline? Whatever apocalypse destined to come was attached to these portals, that he knew. Though, its destruction must've been ways ahead in the future given the utter lack of urgency.

He swooped down, spying the best locations where he could land and avoid regular people finding him. He landed on the soil of a darkened park, hiding behind the tall, rustling trees, the place completely void of humans at this time of night. Perfect. He canceled his transformation and patted down his coat, giving away to the dirt and grime of the dungeon it collected. He didn’t have any blood on him, which was a win in his book.

“Let’s check this place out.” Darting to the exit, he skipped out the park and mingled himself within the crowded streets of Seoul, something he didn’t know he’d miss until now. A smile played on his lips, the incoherent, lively chatter of so many people on their phones or talking to friends hitting him with nostalgia. His home was like this once, alive with the vibrancy of people.

He lifted his head and spied the numerous gigantic billboards lighting up the streets, unknown faces taking space with advertisements and such. He would’ve thought they were celebrities, but the words ‘Top-ranked Hunters,’ kept flashing in each one.

‘Hunters’, they were a reoccurring term frequently used in this world. From a glance in perspective to this world’s power system, it was obvious that Hunters dominated the globe. He focused, strained to hear the conversations of people around.

“—A new Gate opened up near my workplace—“

“—Remember Lee Minsung? The ex idol that was assigned A-rank? I heard he hasn’t done much for the Knights Guild—“

“—Yeah, it's crazy! Rumor has it a whole squad of Hunters from the Fame Guild were wiped out—“

“—I’m going to get my assignment test at the Association in a few days. What if I get E-rank? I’m so nervous—“

“—No, just because she’s quiet, doesn’t mean anything! Cha Heain-nim is still an S-rank Hunter—“

“—Hunters earn good money, so now that I’m C-rank, I can stop worrying about my debt—“

He pickpocketed the most commonly reused words, collecting information like a street rat scouting for food. Because it was night, he blend right in. His long white coat was the only thing that stood out about him, and not one person raised their heads, keeping to their own lives.

Gates. So the portals did have names, and from inside was a Dungeon that Hunters took part in to defeat monsters and collect mana stones and crystals. It was a popular occupation, and one that paid well.

He silently brought up his system window, his coin possession quietly in the millions. But this wasn’t regular Seoul, this was a different worldline where life was still effectively run by human money. That brought him back down to earth, a grimace spreading over his features.

He needed a job.

But Dokja didn’t know where to start. While this was Seoul, the ground-print was entirely unique and was divorced into its own arranged composition. Buildings he’s never seen before erected high and glittering, patters in layouts tracing foreign, with streets twisting into numerous unknown directions that it felt like he was walking without a destination in mind.

That left one thing for him to do.

He twisted his phone out of his pocket and tapped it open. His phone, its percentage perpetually in the 80’s, has plummeted to 4%. He didn’t even get a chance to open anything before he got the warning to recharge.

“Damnit,” he cursed, pouting. This was ridiculous. He rarely had to charge his phone since he only ever used it to read Ways of Survival, and unlike home, his phone wasn’t omniscient like he hoped. This meant he had to get information through other means.

“Are there any libraries open now?” He looked around any which way, jogging a little faster to locate at least one. If he couldn't, he'll just go to a PC bang, although he'd rather not be around a lot of people. He spend five minutes circuiting into different directions until he caught sight of one, quietly nestled between a store and an old flower shop. The shop's light illuminated the small library as he entered quietly, walking in and searching between the shelves. There were desks with computers in the back and he smiled, bending down without the notice of the little old lady coming from behind.

“Hello?”

Her voice spooked him, had him swiftly turning around. He clutched his chest before exhaling.

“Hello,” he sighed, smiling politely. “Are you open at the moment?”

She blinked up at him, straining her poor neck to meet his gaze. “Yes, though we usually don’t get visitors at this time of night.”

“I’m sorry for that, but I need to use your computer for a moment.”

She stared silently at him as if she didn't know what to make of him. It was decidedly getting a bit awkward with the lack of conversation. He coughed into his fist, clearing his throat. He didn’t want to bother the poor lady, but he had to get this done first.

“I’ll leave as quickly as I can, Ajumeoni," he reassured her. "I’m just a bit in a hurry, you see...”

“Oh!” Realization sparked behind her eyes as she took in his ragged appearance. He thought he was in trouble, but her next question dispersed that fear. “Are you perhaps a Hunter?”

“Ah...” Dokja glanced to the computer he needed to use. He wasn't above lying if that’s what it took. “Yes. I am.”

She broke out into a brilliant smile, her wrinkles, a story of her long life, crinkled with happiness. “I’m so sorry for keeping you then. Please, use it as much as you need. I owe my life to young Hunters like you.”

He nodded awkwardly. He wasn’t the most morally aligned person in the universe, but it did feel a bit wrong to take advantage of such a sweet old lady. “I appreciate it.”

“If you need anything, all you have to do is ring the bell on the front desk.”

“Of course.”

As she left, he let out a sigh of relief.

[ Kim Dok ia is a li ar ]

“I don’t need your input at the moment, Fourth Wall,” he muttered irritably. “You weren’t any help at all, so be quiet.”

[ Ba h ]

“Yeah, yeah.” Booting the computer up, he cruised the internet for information, and was astounded to discover as much as he did. Guilds, Hunters, Gates, Monsters, Awakened Classes of Mage, Tank, Fighter, Healer, etc. There were columns of websites and online pages dedicated to the full brunt of information that came with these terms.

“Interesting...” He clicked on another page, this one leading him to what being a Hunter entailed and the dangers that could befall an Awakened. “It’s so different from ours. There’s nothing about Dokkaebis and Constellations here at all.”

The most unique part that was detailed in this Scenario in Ways of Survival was the absence of Constellations. The Star Stream still existed, but it was as if this worldline was outside its influence, obscured from participation. Which made this Hidden Scenario all the stranger.

“Hmm.” Becoming a Hunter was a pretty easy and simple process to understand. What he needed was a Hunter's License, and for that, he'd have to go through an evaluation process first in order to find out what rank he fell in. “Rank E all the way to S. I think I have an idea what I would be.”

For the remainder of his time here, he used his personal Skill [Reading Comprehension] to readily speed through any article he stumbled on to get out of the sweet lady’s hair. He didn’t want to bother her anymore than he’s already done.

When he was satisfied, he raised his arms above his head, letting his muscles pop and stretch satisfyingly. Getting out of his seat and turning off the computer, he went to the desk to say goodbye to the little lady.

Breathing in the outside air, he made his way down the crowded streets. His next destination was a tricky thing. He wanted to avoid attention as much as he could, lay low to drag out the hunt Sung Jinwoo was no doubt hoping to catch him in, but he had to get that license. For that, instead of the main building, he should go to one of the smaller branches of the Association and make some process.

He needed a place to live and a job to sustain him, which was annoying, but had to be done. In any case, his hunger was demanding and the energy bars he stashed in his dimensional coat would only last so long. He stepped along the path of his destination, memorized from the address and steeled his heart. Nothing too bad should occur, and running away was always a viable option for him.

His feet carried him to a building decently sized, calculated in its distance to its main building and his own relief. It was ordinary, spotted in muted colors, and was perfectly perfect. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walked up the steps.

Time to get his Evaluation done.

Notes:

They've met, but now what? Looks like Kdj's going to be avoiding the protagonist so he's not killed. You couldn't have gone your introduction with a bit more class? tsk tsk.

Edit: I can't.... I've been misspelling Dokja's name this whole time... I.. *cocks gun at autocorrect* It's time for you to go

Is this why people have Betas? Damn...

Chapter 4: Interlude in Transmission (1)

Summary:

"Found you, my little runaway."

Notes:

I would've updated earlier, but the wifi crashed and I couldn't even open Archives 😔 not only that, but I think this chapter hates me because I had so much trouble editing it, like it would not work with me ugh.

Jinwoo breathed through the storm in his mind the minute Kim Dokja got away, wired with the spike of fear his Shadows naturally linked to him and strung with the drop of his shoulders when that indescribable aura of Mana disappeared and the rush waded slow and steady. The silence dragged as he called them back. As they heeded his command, their remorse wound palpable and uncomfortable and Jinwoo could never stay mad at them for too long. He sent his mental assurance to them, felt their twisted regret uncurl and sighed once the riot calmed. 

This was… unexpected. 

He’s never had an opponent successfully escape his grasp before now. It was his fault for being too careless, deftly ensnared in the elusive power of Kim Dokja and foolishly let himself be played a fiddle. It never occurred to him that he’d be able to break out of Ruler’s Authority, prepare for it even. In reality, he’s never had to, and the absurdity of it all had him itching to give chase. 

Jinwoo’s heart fell steady, panic and surprise ebbing its way for logic. He had his doubts, but he couldn’t disregard Kim Dokja’s open demeanor; honest, clumsy, a bit endearing. He never attacked either him or his soldiers, and mostly defended himself when they landed the first strike. Still. He was an unpredictable variable, and one who had just crossed into Seoul. 

“Let’s go.” 

The leftover Soldiers keep hold over the unconscious bodies of the Hunters, following after Jinwoo, their strides careful behind the turned back of their King. Jinwoo took note and reminded them that they were not at fault. 

As they assured him they’d track Kim Dokja down, Jinwoo simmered in the back of his mind and tried to make sense of their first meeting. Their eyes had locked, his to starlit wonder, and suddenly, they were both throttled into the Dungeon floor. He tried to push up, yet something kept him there, something even he couldn’t fight against. Like the click of fate, or a story rearranged, Jinwoo’s chest expanded and kept him hostage to the sight of those star-speckled eyes.

Suspicious and unnerved, he tried asking, but all he got was Kim Dokja’s own answering confusion.

Not only that, but…

Jinwoo shivered, something hot licking down his gut as he relived the pure, uncontained desire that overcame him at the cost of Kim Dokja’s mystifying self. The Mana that crowed over him was like nothing he’s ever seen before. It was coiling, intoxicating, and bafflingly tenacious. Then, it grew. Horrifyingly enough, it grew. Kim Dokja broke out of Ruler’s Authority and asserted his unwavering control with the shocking reveal of those magnificent wings, folding over the waves that crashed into him. 

Ruthless, it dug relentlessly into Jinwoo’s greed to own it as it thrummed along, absolute in its oppression. Jinwoo couldn’t move, and in his momentary uselessness, could only stare dumbly as he reached the Dungeon’s ceiling and vanished. 

Unconsciously, Jinwoo grit his teeth in an agonized grin, licking his lips recalling that bratty little smile and Dokja’s teasing voice. It was torture, watching him leave as he was stupidly frozen stiff. Ah, what a waste, if only he could’ve reached out and…

Unseen in the dimness of the dungeon, the glow of his gaze bled wicked. 

He hopped out of the Gate with time to spare, the flock of Shadow Soldiers the only thing keeping him from being swarmed by the terrified, flighty crowd of the Monitoring Division. He could guess what occurred in the time he wasn’t out, but Jinwoo didn’t have the time of night or patience to give. 

“Move,” he grimaced. They flinch back in fright, stuttering and yelping as Tusk and several others deposited the unconscious Hunters and the sole recovered dead body into their custody. He needed to leave as quickly as he could. Searching for Kim Dokja took priority.

Distracted as he was, and more than a little frustrated, he still caught the immediate dread that washed over the four recuperating Hunters. Jinwoo scanned them as they huddled together, silent, pasty-faced with guilt and the dawning horror of what Jinwoo knows to be an unspeakable truth.

Ah, so that’s how it is.

He wanted to leave, to hunt down his newest fixation—sleep be damned—but he lingered as they shook and one of the unconscious Hunters opened her eyes. It was the girl, and from her gear, a new Hunter on the scene. He decides to observe what she’d do or say. This way, wouldn’t it give him an idea if Kim Dokja’s flimsy explanation was a lie or not? The professional Healer held her gently as she woke up, speaking in low tones as she blinked at her surroundings. Her eyes cleared, face dabbed clean of residual blood, and zeroed in to the rest of her team several feet away.

Then, like rippling water, her face contorts, and she screams with the rage that can only be described as betrayed fury.

“You! You left us for dead! You monsters, how dare you call yourselves Hunters?!”

The touching reunion is not what it should be, dropped with the indisputable conflict of confrontation. The people hounding him turn attention to the scene. Any claims the Hunters make are shot down by the girl’s furious voice, the clatter of noise waking up the last of the team. Including the leader. 

When the girl notices him, she’s crying, her gradual rage bursting with a desperation to be heard. “We trusted you!” Croaked from a tight voice, her pain screamed out of her chest. “You’re nothing but a fake! All you ever cared about were the crystals and money you could get! You never gave a damn about the people!”

The man, who’d only just woken up, startled lucid. His expression was pale, eyes dark and gone with that same hateful ridicule and Jinwoo knew for certain the story that rivaled his own is lined in every facet of his shame. Quietly, he relived the memory of betrayal and anger, of his first meeting with Jinho and his first human murder. He barely restrained the urge to crush the man between his palms as he screamed his denials, red in the face. Thankfully, the Association intervened at the perfect timing, cutting his murderous intent short.

As a new round of questioning began, the area effectively hardening with the possibility of a murder plot, Jinwoo tilted his head down to the employee closest to him. “Keep me updated.” He wanted to know for certain of the outcome that would befall them, and that should they weasel their way out, he’d deal the punishment himself. 

Now, with his half-edged certainty of the situation, there was no reason to linger any longer. 

‘Disperse. When you find him, alert me right away.’ His Shadows broke apart to rush all over Seoul in search for Kim Dokja.

Jinwoo would find him, whatever it took. 

It was a promise. 

 

---

 

The soft, instrumental music drifted from the receptionist’s desk, trailed by the keyboard’s clicking and the rustle of clothes. He sat in a small waiting room, with only one other person there besides himself. It was a bit cramped, but he tolerated the uncomfortable size. As he sat in his seat, body tense with aches and sores, the single door beside the desk opened and out came a smiling man. He held his license tightly, thanking the lady quietly and trudged passed them to leave. Dokja was next after the other human and watched as he got out of his seat to follow the employee calling his name.

His head hit the troublesome chair, limbs splayed awkwardly about. From what he gathered, this branch building was for the citizens who either didn’t have the chance to go to the main building or simply didn’t want to. Apparently, there were tons of people that attended every day hoping to get their Evaluation done, while some unfortunately got the short end of the stick. 

It was quite a speedy process, which left him confused as to why there weren’t more people, but the receptionist let him know that those who end up with a good rank desperately want to get scouted by the Guilds that wait to bait the Hunters, and they lose that chance in here. While this place was decent in size, and ran several shades faster, it was nowhere near the grandness of the Association’s famous main building. 

For him, he was here with the simple mission to lay low. With Jinwoo most likely after him, gaining any attention before coming up with a way to keep the Heir from killing him could spell disaster.

“Who’s next?”

His head snapped up as the two men came out again. Dejection radiated out of every pore of the Hunter, clutching his license with a grim expression. It went without being said his results were unsatisfactory. 

He stood up. “I am.” 

“Please follow me.” 

He was lead into a slightly bigger room than the one he was in, with foreign equipment scattered throughout and a small contraption beeping consistently enough it drew his gaze. Standing near a table, the man explained the process.

“This is a device that measures your magic energy. It may be small, but it’s as accurate and efficient as the full-size measuring device located in the Hunter’s Association main building.” 

“I see,” he nodded. “What am I supposed to do?”

“All you have to do is to place your hand on the magic crystal over here.” 

On top of the circular plate there was a small, fist-sized magic crystal embedded in the middle, pitch-black and shiny. Dokja lifted his hand and placed it over the crystal. As they waited, there was a beep from the device and the employee let out a confused sound. 

“Hmm? How strange.” He tinkered with the small item, scratching his head. “It should be able to read your magic energy easily.”

“Is there a problem?” He asked, curious. 

“Ah, well—“ The machine beeped again, Dokja now seeing the ‘error’ on top. “A moment please, I’ll try again.” 

Dokja waited patiently, keeping his hand atop the crystal as the employee tried again and again to get the device to work. At the end of it, his face was pale as he muttered under his breath in a rapid pace. 

“Oh no, is it broken? I couldn’t have broken it, it was still functioning like normal a second ago. Damnit, I’ve only been here for three months, this can’t be happening...”

Oh, a newbie. Now Dokja felt a bit bad. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” Concern trickled out of his voice, frowning as the man lost the color in his face. Poor thing was even beginning to sweat profusely. 

“This—this, I apologize, this has never happened before,” he hurried to explain, stuttering clumsily, “I need to make a few calls, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting some more?”

He didn’t have any place to be after this so it made no difference. “Alright,” he agreed, amicably agreeable. “I don’t mind.” 

Without another word to spare, the employee rushed out of the room, the device carelessly cradled in his sweaty hand. Getting up from his perch, he sighed lightly as he walked to the small window, overlooking the star-speckled night and the artificial lights casting its glow all over Seoul. 

He wasn’t sure how he knew, but the alignment of the stars were strangely mismatched from the canopy of voyeurs he was used to dealing with back home. He recognized it earlier from the lack of an open channel, but be couldn’t sense the Status of a single Constellation here. 

It would’ve been a concern had he no prior knowledge to that little tidbit, but all he could feel was relief. It was nice to take a break from their ever fixed gaze, ceaselessly entertained with the struggle of humanity. It was like how it was in the beginning: peaceful, beautiful, the stars an unattainable abstract. 

They were nothing of the sort at present, perceived in matter now that Dokja knew the truth behind the black carpet of the universe. 

Losing count of the minutes, he watched the stars with a dull heart, adrift in the pages of his Scenario-lived reality. When the employee returned, he was still a bit pale, but stable enough to show him a light, apologetic smile. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait. I alerted some of the higher ups about the issue and they agreed to allow you a pass through the Association’s main building.”

Turning his head, he stiffened. “Huh?”

He nodded, completely unaware of Kim Dokja descending headfirst into chaos. “I’m not sure why it won’t work, so someone will be coming to inspect it in a moment. Do you know where the location of the Association is? Or do you need help getting there?”

He had the route memorized when he was in the library, with every intention of avoiding it. “Yeah, I know where it is.”

“Great! They’re still open at this time of night, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Right.”

The situation resolved, he was lead back to the waiting room, apologies spilling from the employee’s lips as the door was opened. Next thing he knows, the fresh, wonderful air meandered through his hair as he stood outside with the noise of life surrounding him.

“...huh?”

 

---

 

Dokja’s spirit sagged into a puddle of upset as he helplessly stared at the Association’s building. It was huge with its glittering edges and heavy-bearing Mana, all draped over each other with the sizable reluctance that Dokja wanted to avoid. It was teeming edge to edge with Hunters, and he briefly entertained the idea of running away, never to be seen again, but with one quick glance to the sad, crumbled bills in his dusty wallet, understood the need to accomplish this. 

“I mean, logically speaking, how bad can it be?” He worded to himself. They didn’t know anything about him. It would be easy to claim any lie and fool them. All he needed was that license so he could get a job, and if possible, a place to temporarily live. He nodded to himself, convinced.

With light, airy steps, he ascended the stairs to the Association, meeting with an employee halfway and giving his name. They must’ve known he was coming as they nodded, leading him to another waiting room. He barely contained his whistle as his eyes dodged to analyze the interior. This place was definitely a sight for sore eyes in comparison to the small branch. Spacious, lavish, dotted end to end with high class sophistication. There was also a coffee machine and air conditioning, which couldn’t be said for the last place. 

He felt himself relax instantly in such a nice atmosphere and skipped to one of the chairs. He sunk in like it was made of the softest material, his back melting into it. Seriously, maybe he should’ve just came here in the first place and not waste his time worrying so much. 

He swiped a hand to the table with ‘Hunter News’ magazines in the middle of the connected seats and admired the flashy, eye catching covers. Opening it up on a random page, he let himself read. Recognizing the many terms that occupied this world’s system was easier now, and there were more that he didn’t, with names of Hunters he had yet to learn about and the lives they lived. 

As he reached into half the magazine, he came to an embarrassingly late realization.

There was one mysterious Hunter who he knew nothing about. 

Sung Jinwoo.

He fought the urge to smack himself. Literally how did he forget to research the guy he’s been looking for and is also, possibly, currently trying to hunt him down like a cat after a scurrying mouse? He shook his head, pouting, and closed the magazine. He wasn’t in the mood to read anymore. 

Lifting his head, he observed his surroundings. Since he first entered, there were a total of nine other people in here with him, all of them wearing varying shades of pure terror. The humans of this world had many things to worry for when it came to their evaluation, with various aspects relying on the rank they got. From what he read, the first evaluation was a marker on their permanent record in their chances of success and failure. It was a label that followed you in life, and one that only lost its meaning in death. 

A man in a slick suit and glasses stepped out, intimidation tailored straight into the stylish attire and cut to force surrender. It was effective, some of the people here quivering under the man’s sharp aura. 

“Who’s next?”

Dokja noticed the middle aged man beside him, rocking, sweaty, something suspiciously like tears clinging to the crease of his lashes. He was shaking, muttering low, incoherent things, and wasn’t that such a sad thing to witness? The others with him clearly though so, as they all caved into themselves with the atmosphere of dread hanging over them like a cloud. No one spoke up, clutching onto ignorance for one more second in the face of a reality so crushing it could so easily be theirs. 

He sighed, swinging his legs aside and dropping the magazine back to the table. “I am.”

His confidence must’ve been strange to see, multiple eyes snapping up to meet his, but he didn’t falter under the weight of their scrutiny.

“Come with me.” 

He quietly followed after him, the door closing behind them. In the middle of the room sat, quite frankly, the most gigantic black orb he’s ever seen in all his life. Around it was a pinkish hue of condensed Mana. He gaped, eyebrows drawn high. The thing was easily twice his size. Where the hell did they get this? A dungeon? It was the only logical conclusion. 

The examiner walked behind the machine. “Your full your name, please.”

“It’s Kim Dokja.”

“Alright, all you have to do is put your hand on the black crystal and it’ll gauge your Hunter rank.” 

Lightly tapping the orb, he marvels how there was no texture save for its greasy smoothness. Palms held flat, he laughs when it shocks him. Not a smidge of pain is found. Instead, the sensation is electric, alive, leaves him tingling. 

It radiates Mana, and the orb rippled gold, shifting with color and acting like a prism. It’s pretty and mesmerizing, but with each one it leaves the Fables inside him restless. Like being toppled over, they whirred and flared, [The Fourth Wall’s] voice coming through with an urgent edge. 

[Le t go of th e o rb Kim D okja]

He wasn’t one to ignore any warning from [The Fourth Wall] no matter how annoying it could be and hastily retreated from contact. Going black, he sighed as the shaking settled down. As he raised his head, the examiner’s expression was frozen stiff, the results flashing a red hue over his face. 

“This...!! No way! Another immeasurable?!” The volume of his voice bolstered throughout the room, panicked and sped-fast. Stumbling into a swift curve, his hip hit the machine. “Assistant manager!”

Another man pushed through the doors, with a coffee cup in his hands and notable bags under his eyes. “Yeah, you called? Is there a problem?”

“Please come look!” 

The manager moved behind the machine. Dokja watched as his tired, sunken eyes rapidly changed to vibrancy, awake and trembling as his cup of coffee fell from his hands. It splattered to the ground, broken, and coating the tiles with scalding liquid. 

“Ah... hurry and get Changshik. Right now.” 

“Yes, sir!” His examiner left quickly, tripping over himself out the door. As the door closes shut, the manager’s eyes began to sparkle. 

“It’s only been two months since Sung Jinwoo turned out to be an S-rank! But to think...!”

“Um,” Dokja cleared his throat, “So do I just... stay like this or...?”

The man jumped as if he’d forgotten he was there. Whirling to face him, a wide, nervous smile broke over his features. The sweat bead down noticeably. “No, it’s alright. But I’m sorry to say that we can’t properly rank you at the moment.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You see, your magic power is currently outside the scope of what we can detect, so we need to request and get permission to use a more precise detector. Can you visit again in three days?” 

“My evaluation needs to be postponed?” He couldn’t hide the tremor of annoyance.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” he said. “If you give us your number, we will call you as soon as possible.” 

Without much choice, he gave his number, silently wondering if his phone worked in this worldline. If it didn’t, it would be another inconvenience piled atop all the others. Not that he’s called anyone since the start of the Scenarios. 

“Can you also give your home address?”

Kim Dokja hesitated at that. “Hmm, that’s gonna be hard,” he mentioned, offhandedly. “I don’t exactly have a house or place to stay at right now.”

He paused. “...I’m sorry?”

“I kinda—“ How should he phrase this in the least suspicious way possible? “—I’ve just got back to Seoul after a... very long time away, so I don’t have residency here.” 

The assistant manager gaped, staring at him with wide eyes. “That is... a troublesome situation you are in.”

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

“Well, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do for you,” he offered. 

Kim Dokja smiled gratefully. “Really? Thank you so much for your help. It’ll be great not to sleep in the streets tonight.”

“You can lounge comfortably in one of our break rooms while I take care of it. I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, moving to the door before the manager’s voice cut in again. 

“Oh, and,” the manager’s voice trembled a shade lighter than before, along with his smile. No matter how minuscule, Dokja caught the slight unease weighing his mouth. “Congratulations on becoming South Korea’s 11th S-rank Hunter.” 

 

---

 

It took no time at all for him to be allowed a temporary stay in an apartment complex close to the Association, housing some employees and general members of the Association. It seems he should thank the ‘immeasurable’ reading of his rank in scoring him a place to live. He had to make a deal with the manager in order to get this place though. It was a simple deal on the surface. He only had to go over to the Association again tomorrow and meet up with the Chairman of the place. 

Apparently, a person getting ‘immeasurable’ was a rare thing. No wonder everyone there started acting all crazy.

By the time he settled in, viewing the modern décor of the nice room and falling face first into the couch, groaning with every ache splintered in his back, it was two in the morning. He took out a bottle of Ellain’s Forest Essence and chugged it down, sighing in relief as the pain evaporated and all that was left was a sleepiness that came with the human body. 

Dokja wanted to get more knowledge on this world by watching some TV, but he was so dead tired that he couldn’t possibly even begin to try. He went to the bathroom, taking his first warm shower for the first time in a horribly long while. He was surprised to find that the apartment was already stocked with basic necessities, but Dokja welcomed it without question. 

After brushing his teeth and taking off his clothes—he didn’t have any other besides the ones on his back—he switched the lights off and trudged to the small bedroom adjacent to the bathroom. He moaned as his back hit the mattress, arms spread out and pawing at the thick, soft blankets that brushed his fair skin. It prickled with the cold blow of air conditioning, but as he snuggled deeper into the bed, cozy warmth overtook it.

Living in the apocalypse made him used to sleeping on the hard floors or against dirty walls more frequently than anything else. It’s not something he’d willingly choose to do, but more often than not the choice was out of his hands, and it was best to always stay on guard. With danger at every corner, since the Scenarios, proper sleep has been a dream he only wished he could attain. 

So a smile graced his lips as the pillow cushioned his head. While this place was unfamiliar, and he didn’t know much about the possible dangers this world had to offer, he should be safe for the time being in his own apartment. 

His last thoughts were of a certain man, Sung Jinwoo. Now that they’ve made contact, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility of it happening again. And when that happened, he needed to be ready. In the morning, he’ll try to think of a way to convince Jinwoo that he wasn’t the threat the man thought he was. 

Though, that might prove to be a challenge. Something strange happened in their first meeting, and while Dokja didn’t have a direct answer for it, he did have a theory. It could’ve been the trick of the light, with him dazed and reeling and tipped into incoherency, but when their met, the Fables inside him began to riot and a message all too briefly flashed in front of his eyes before it faded.

[A new Fable is—!]

Could it be this was the reason he was drawn to this Scenario? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but he presumed this mystery would indulge in messing with Dokja’s sanity. Either he somehow cracked the code, or the puzzle was still missing its pieces.

“A Fable... here?” He snorted, closing his eyes. “How unexpected.”

He thought back to Jinwoo, how his eyes had such a dangerous gleam, his face that left him speechless, and his Mana, arguably the most entrancing part of him. If there had been any doubt that Jinwoo might’ve not been the target, than his power smashed that uncertainty to pieces. 

In fact, there were already too many hints that he was the heir to the Shadow Monarch. Kim Dokja’s intuition was rarely ever wrong. 

“Now that I think about it, he was extremely handsome...” Dokja whispered, flushing gently with a shiver down his spine as he those blue eyes and that sharp, low voice appeared vividly in his mind. If he could, he would’ve admired Jinwoo’s attractive appearance longer.

[Ki m Do kja tho ught: I wa nt to mee t him a ga in.]

“So?” He grumbled, snuggling deeper under the blanket. “It’s for the Scenario. Nothing more.”

The echo of a snicker drifted into the weightlessness of his conscious and petered off quietly. He thought of Jinwoo, of his low voice and stern expression and smiled.

“Reminds me of the Sunfish…” his voice trailed into snores, breathing even as his body shrugged off the stress of the day.

 

---

 

Beneath the cascading spill of the moon’s glow, soft, inaudible snores could be heard from the center of a bedroom. As the huddled figure slept peacefully away, the mundane colors blend and bend, receding with the pulse of living shadows. Spread out and twisting up the walls, they stole the warmth and blocked the light beyond the window. A monster hunched over the bed, made of black and hue and remote strangeness, uncomfortably tall enough to collide with the top of the ceiling. 

‘My Liege, I have found him.’

The Ant, Beru, informed his King.

‘Good. Exchange.’

Beru dissolved back into the carpet of darkness where another figure stepped out from. Jinwoo was a waning silhouette against the pallid draped curtains, waiting seconds too long to form properly. He looked around the room. Simple, unlived in. Which only made sense as he darted to the sleeping man, vulnerable, thoughtlessly exposed. 

Jinwoo slinked closer, slowly, natural distance aching to dock. As he towered above, he couldn’t help but notice how small Dokja seemed compared to him curled in a ball, the bed swallowing him whole. The mop of silky black strands moved with every breath, the face he longed to confirm hidden beneath the blanket.

Fingering the soft blanket, he lifted it up, letting it trail down as the sleeping face was finally visible. 

Jinwoo let out a shaky breath, his heart stuttering in the ribcage of his chest as the strange mana intoxicated him again, this time to a lesser degree as the man slept. Jinwoo couldn’t even describe it, but it drew him in like a moth to a flame. Without noticing, his hand moved from the blanket to cup Kim Dokja’s face, quietly admiring the softness of his cheek. 

Pretty, he mouthed. He was quite pretty. 

Bending down, he shifted Kim Dokja’s head, cradling his face softly as he unconsciously thumped his fair, unblemished skin in smooth, repetitive circles. His breath rumbled hot over his ear as he smirked, voice purring low. He took pleasure in the shiver he felt run down Dokja's body, even asleep. 

“Found you, my little runaway.”

Notes:

I hoe this chapter was enjoyable, also a question! I'm thinking of making a smut themed fic of Jinwoo trying to kill Dokja and intergrade him into his army but failing. I wanted it to be crack (MEANT to be crack), but... it's taking a darker turn... What are you guys' thoughts? Should I make it?

Chapter 5: Interlude in Transmission (2)

Summary:

“Who said I was done talking?”

Notes:

I love myself a good cat and mouse chase ;))

Admittedly, Kim Dokja was a bit nervous.

The manner the agents come for him in is daunting. They surround him, three to one, sharp-cut in black suits and polished skill, weaving him out the door and into the extended hall. To the Chairman, they explain, and Dokja is asked to keep his mouth shut and eyes closed when they enter the elevator. They input the floor number the man himself resided on and distinctly heard a click. They got off and they escort him through another hallway, long, barren, the lights starkly glaring. The double doors are reinforced with powerful fluctuations of magic energy, and he doesn't doubt the Chairman to be a powerful, prominent figure in Seoul if he took such precautions.

One of his escorts knocked on the door, and a gruff, low voice weaved through effortlessly from the other side. "Come in."

As the door opened, he quietly thanked the men and strode inside, not unaware of the heavy thud the door made as it closed again.

With one step inside, his body seized up, trained to sense the Status that came with the Constellations of his worldline and deduce the threat of danger. It was replicated in fragments by this man, scoring deeply into the defenses of his mind. Terrifyingly enough, it easily reached Narrative-Grade, a turbulent upheaval of Mana that slept dormant under the Chairman's crescent eyes and polite smile. Not for the first time, he wondered out of what vein this world’s power system stemmed from.

He forced his body to move, stilted and jerky, quietly shushing [The Fourth Wall] as it shook with apprehension.

[Ki m Dok ja car e ful]

‘I know.’ He used Poker Face to keep himself collected, indifferent to the golden glow that carried the mans undeniable power. Besides Jinwoo, he was the second one to have gained his attention. The Chairman offered his palm in a handshake, and Dokja could feel the callouses of his hand, the bumps and ridges that scarred along the taut skin with the story of a life that struggled.

This man was a compelling entity indeed.

“I apologize for meeting up with you so early in the morning. I heard you’ve only recently returned to South Korea.”

His voice was low, but not forceful. He nodded in reply. “Yes, I have. It’s been... quite a long time.”

The Chairman leaned against the plush black sofa, legs crossed and head held high. His face was mature and noble, framed by wrinkles and the white waves of his hair, eyes expressively neutral—yet cautious. Dokja sat opposite of him, getting comfortable. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Go Gunhee, I am the leading president of the Hunters Association in Seoul. I was informed that another S-rank had been discovered yesterday. That must be you, Mr...?”

“Kim Dokja,” he offered, smiling lightly. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Go Gunhee-ssi.”

“Dokja,” he repeated. “A reader...?”

That comparison usually came second, so he couldn't help the huff of amusement. “Technically, yes. Although, I am an only child too.”

Go Gunhee hummed. It was as if something had caught his interest as he calmly surveyed him. “I can see what my messenger meant now that I’m looking at you. Your Mana is incredibly imposing. It’s no wonder there was such an uproar last night.”

“Aha ha,” Dokja shuffled, laughing nervously. He was under the impression he was doing good holding back his Status, but seems like that wasn't the case. “I never meant for that to happen. I merely needed to get my evaluation done as soon as possible.”

“Oh?" He clasped his hands, intently focused on him. "Why’s that?”

“I’m not,” he blew a puff of air, “Not in the best financial situation at the moment. I’m quite low on funds, so that’s why I’m extremely glad to Go Gunhee-ssi for allowing me to stay in that apartment temporarily.”

“That’s unfortunate to hear. I’m glad I could help. Does that mean you’re looking for a job?” Gunhee inquired curiously.

“I am, yes. I read that the job of a Hunter pays well.”

The Chairman's lips quirked, musing. “It does. Do you know which class you might fall into?”

Dokja blanched. Oh. He did not think of that. At all. “Um, I’m not too sure. I think I’ll have to wait until my re-evaluation to find out.”

There was a gleam in Gunhee's eyes that had Dokja fretting internally. He wasn’t giving himself away, was he?

“Then, where do you intend to go? Do you have a current Guild in mind?”

“Not—I’m... keeping my options open for now.”

Hearing that, the man brightened. “That’s good to hear. Rushing never does anyone any favors.” He leaned forward, face expectant. “If you’re looking for advice, I’d say you should go to the Guild of a friend of mine.”

“Oh?”

“Admittedly, it’s a new Guild without a fully realized name and very few members, but I feel like it would work for you.”

“That’s great to hear,” he answered politely. That was another problem he had to solve. Being in a Guild, depending on which, could very well restrict his time in pursuing Jinwoo and getting acquainted with him. Unless they allowed him to set the conditions, he wouldn't give them the time of day. Ah, this was a bit frustrating. Should he have gone with another job…?

Go Gunhee opened his mouth, preparing to speak when his office phone rang. He sighed under his breath and got up, swiping a hand over his pristine, gray suit and answered in a serious voice. Dokja observed as his expression soured, his proud shoulders collapsed with exhaustion. With every sigh, more lines wrinkled his features. It was a shame, the Chairman had a certain quality charm to him that was difficult to describe.

He ended the call with a frustrated huff, turning to him with an apologetic look. “I have to cut our meeting short, Kim Dokja. It seems I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Oh no, no! That’s alright!” He waved his hands frantically, smiling reassuringly to the older man. “I’m sure Go Gunhee-ssi is a very busy man.”

“I quite am, yes.” He sighed again, looking up, a small grin gracing his lips. “Please stop by the Association if you ever need anything. We’re built to accommodate the needs of Hunters all around as best as we can.”

Kim Dokja got up from his seat, shaking hands with the man again. His grip was less firm this time around. “I won’t take up anymore of your time, but it was a pleasure to meet you, Go Gunhee-ssi.”

The Chairman smiled. It was warm, near blinding. “Same here, Kim Dokia-ssi. I hope the next time we meet, we’ll have more time to converse.”

Kim Dokja got up with a smile, bidding him goodbye as he left through the door. He could feel the Chairman’s stare burning in his back, but he shook it off as he was escorted back down.

The meeting with him went much better than he originally thought it would go.

 

---

 

When Dokja woke up this morning, it was to a bug bite reflected back to him in the bathroom mirror, his cheek pinched red by some pesky mosquito. He had to walk with his cheek puffed and bear the lingering glances several people threw at him. It was annoying, but he was grateful no one outwardly mentioned it.

He heaved a relaxed sigh, the sky a cloudless blue as nearby trees rustled and piped with vitality. It was nearing high noon, with the sun beating warm down his face and neck. He felt like he could breathe easy, leaving the building with a temporary living space and the issue of his license close to dissolved.

Walking down the slightly deserted street, he didn't expect the warm breeze to make him shiver, a touch colder, the silhouettes at his feet spread dark and flickering. They move and warp, and he's frozen in place with the pin of those achingly familiar eyes.

Oh no, Dokja gulped. His target found him first.

Silent and regal, Sung Jinwoo ghosted along the black pool connected to his feet, the shine of the sun hinting him in red and yellow. Yet it doesn't touch Jinwoo the way it does him, lapping at the heat, skin glowing gold. He doesn't spare a glance to his surroundings. Even if there weren't many people, shouldn't he be careful? 

“I don’t want any trouble!” Dokja yelled, remembered the sword buckled to his belt and took a stance, just in case. He could run using [Way of the Wind], but without his demon form to rely on. He needed to avoid any scandals of a monster flying in the clear skies. “Seriously, it’s not my intention at all—!”

“Ruler’s Authority.”

He’s restrained in a tight, invisible hold, and he huffed at the pale reminiscence of yesterday. Grumbling under his breath, he rolled his eyes. “I see you still have no manners.”

There was a snort. "Your cheek is red."

Dokja glared. "Something bit me. Nothing some lotion can't fix."

With his hands in his pockets, Jinwoo strolled to him with the calculated slink of a lazy predator. Protagonists sure were a different breed. It was ridiculous how cool he looked doing something so simple. The same could be said for Yoo Joonghyuk, with his effortless charm and handsomely brooding visage whenever he was present, stealing Dokja's attention every chance he got.

Closing in on him, Dokja held his breath, their distance a strand's vulnerability. Jinwoo never broke contact, his mouth parting with the hiss of his subdued voice. “The unconscious Hunters from the dungeon woke up.”

Kim Dokja sassily raised a brow. “Oh?”

Jinwoo nodded, and there was a split second where his grip of authority over him wavered slightly. “They confessed.”

He didn't interrupt, kept still to listen to what he had to say, and possibly even the conclusion he's been hoping to tilt into his favor.

“From what I understand,” he began, slowly, perceptively captivating, “You protected the two newbie Hunters when Bak Byunghee ordered for the third one to be killed. Half of the accomplices confirmed that they planned to kill the three Hunters and steal the loot from the dungeon. The rest, including Bak Byunghee, denied any comment.”

“Figures.” Dokja rolled his eyes. “Are they okay?”

“What?”

“Those two innocent Hunters. They screamed when they saw me, but I guess I can understand why they thought I would try to kill them." He broke into a lazy smile. “The people here don’t respond well to abnormalities, it seems.”

“They’re fine. A little ruffled.” Jinwoo's stare burned, intensely piercing. His chin tilted down, voice murmuring as Dokja shivered. His skin prickled with that eerie, pervasive quality roaming over him. “…You didn't kill Bak Byunghee.”

Dokja shrugged, leaning back. He forced himself to act natural, passively unbothered from Jinwoo's pulling snare. “I didn’t want to cause too much trouble when I’d just gotten there, but I couldn’t sit back and watch innocent people die. Knocking them unconscious seemed the best way to deal with it.”

“They’ve been screeching how you’re a monster.”

Dokja, roused by that cute little phrase, had a smirk curling at his soft lips. “Are they any less for what they did?”

The wind tousled their hair, dragging fingers down their clothes with the muted voices of people left unheard in their mutual constraint. Then, ever so slow, Jinwoo's eyes trickled back to it's slate gray, the first muttering of a laugh gracing the air. Dokja unintentionally relaxed at the soft sound.

“No, not at all.”

His body sagged, fully released from the clutches of that strange, unknown Skill. He smoothed his skin, pinching lightly to reignite feeling into them. ‘What now?’ He wanted to ask, still wary Jinwoo might dash towards him with the intent to kill.

“You called me the Heir to the shadow Monarch,” Jinwoo recalled. “What makes you so sure about that?”

There were lots of reasons. “I mean... you have a shadow army.” He stated lamely, gesturing to the lively movements of his silhouette.

Somehow, Jinwoo looked amused, eyebrow quirking up at his reasoning. “That all?”

“Well, are there any other Hunters here with a legion of Shadows and overwhelming Stat—er, Mana?” He fumbled with his words. Damn, he had to be more careful in not letting any information slip. “If there are, I’d happily ask you to point them out so I can be on my merry way.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed a bit before he smoothed back into neutrality. He glanced behind his shoulder. “Did you just come back from the Association?”

He nodded. “I did. I got to talk with Chairman Go Gunhee-ssi. He’s a very generous man.”

“Go Gunhee?” Jinwoo blinked.

“Yes. Why?” He questioned, frowning. “Do you know him?”

Unexpectedly, Jinwoo snorted. Dokja had a bad feeling. “We're close acquaintances. He’s the one that let me know there was another S-rank around…” then, he smirked, a little dangerous, “And a monster in a dungeon.”

Oh fuck.

That meant Go Gunhee knew where he came out of. His mouth snapped shut, alarms blaring in his mind. He was idiot, he knew going to the Association was a bad idea. The man was powerful, equaling to Jinwoo, it was natural they'd know and be in contact with each other.

Then the meeting this morning… was it to keep him in check? And his apartment… getting it so easily…

Shit. He couldn't even delude himself into the blanket of safety anymore.

“...Did he now.”

He calculated the chances of him running away. If they were as close as they were seeming to be, did that mean there was a chance the Chairman let Jinwoo know about the apartment building he offered to let him stay in? Hold on, who was to say it was safe at all? They could've planted cameras or defensive measures to obverse him. This was turning out to be a bad day.

“I won’t do anything.”

Dokja raised his head in surprise at his statement, then promptly swallowed a squeak at the brief dangerous glow.

“Not if I’m not forced to.”

“...I’ll keep that in mind,” Dokja mumbled. He couldn't stand this a second longer. In his haste to end this insufferable conversation, he very stupidly checked his wrist, bare and void of a watch to tell the time. “Wow, would you look at that? I need to be somewhere else that isn’t here. Goodbye!”

He bolted out of there, leaving Jinwoo in the dust as if his life depended on it. Rounding a corner, he let a small relief bloom in his chest. Clearly, that was mistake. He sensed the presence of a powerful being following, him, not bothering to look behind as his answer came in the form of a raspy, chuckling voice.

“Who said I was done talking?”

Dokja gulped at that tone, whining in annoyance. The guy could be scary in his persistence. He ran, power crackling along his body as Jinwoo gave chase, hunting him down rusty alleyways and up the tiled roofs of staggeringly tall buildings like a feral cat to a scared, little mouse. The leaped from top to top, until Dokja was forced to rely on the help of [Way of the Wind] to keep him afloat without the usage of his wings. The humans would flip if they saw him, and media attention on his second day in this worldline was not an attractive proposition thank you very much.

With one glance behind he could decipher the emotion Jinwoo was currently feeling, his iron-clad soles clattering on the cement and marble tile featherlight, his smirk the biggest Dokja's seen. Amused by Dokja's attention, he winked back, laughing heartily when the reader squeaked and shot like a blur into a random direction.

"You're having way too much fun with this—ah!” Dokja barely managed to escape a swipe of his hand, legs braced with a thunderous shove to propel him sideways. He didn't know what would happen should he catch him, didn't want to find out. So he scurried into spaces not meant to be crawled into—using tricks and feints—in hopes of breaking the trail Jinwoo was effortlessly pursuing him on.

It didn’t work, duh. The Hunter was far too agile and fast to even be affected. This must’ve been like a light jog for him.

Jinwoo was right behind him, hand stretched out to snag his fluttering collar, and just as Dokja whimpered from the warm graze of his finger at the back of his neck, Lady Luck must've felt pity for him as an unfamiliar voice broke through the mounting tension.

“Oppa?”

Instantly, Jinwoo stilled, feet scuffing at a stop and whirling to meet the wide eyes of a teenage girl who was carrying grocery bags. She resembled him in very faint ways, but Dokja only needed a second to know that she was likely his sister—who he was distracted by. He gladly took the chance to escape—finally—with [Way of the Wind] guiding him out of the reach of Jinwoo.

In a matter of seconds, he was gone.

 

---

 

Kim Dokja, leaping through the impossible roads of Seoul's network, finds himself in front of the structure of another apartment complex. With ten stories to its height, it stood old and decrepit, yet confusingly familiar to him. Canting his head, he tried to recall a name, anything at all, as his memory ripples with the old pages of a life before the Scenarios.

“No way,” he gaped, wide-eyed. “It's here?”

This was the apartment he used to live in. When his Seoul was still a towering metropolis of human activity and he was a common, forgettable salaryman, this was the 'home' he would come to every day. With it's simple design, modern furnishing, spacious view, and repetitive loneliness, it used to be the only place he belonged to.

“I lived on the eight floor, didn't I?” Dokja muttered, forgetting Jinwoo as he rounded up plans in his head to transfer apartments at the first chance he got. The place he was staying at now should be valid for no more than a week or two, since his re-evaluation will be in two days. He didn't want to take advantage of Go Gunhee's charity any more than he has (and letting him live while knowing he came out of a dungeon), intending to make money by conquering dungeons. There was also the issue of being indebted to the man, and he never liked owing people in the past. It was like they had leverage over him. That was something he wanted to avoid.

He filed the location of his old apartment safely, his hand dragging over the bumpy, rough wall, chalk excess staining his fingers white. It was odd. By now, it's been years since he'd last seen his apartment—yet here it was, an unmovable thing rooted in the surrounding scenery of a different worldline. Dokja sighed, his back turned.

Attachment was quite the constricting thing, wasn't it?

He trudged to the street as his stomach grumbled loudly. Ah, that’s right. He hasn’t had anything to eat, has he? Neither did he have groceries. He would have to deal with that now, and not for the first time, he cursed the restrictions placed on him during this Scenario. With no viable way to convert coins into money, he'll have to purchase his necessities manually. Checking the Dokkaebi bag itself was a waste of time, his access denied along with every other facet unique to Star Stream. It would save him so much trouble if that wasn't the case.

He stepped confidently inside a local market, although that didn't last long as when he stepped out, the automatic doors sliding closed, in his hands was a small, measly bag of cheap convenience store cup noodles, several water bottles, and a single loaf of bread. In his disappointment, his stomach rumbled louder. Fortunately, he won't die if he went a few days without eating. He's used to it enough from being intentionally starved as a child and malnutrition from what little he did get to eat. Didn't mean having an empty stomach wasn't annoying, though.

At the very least, he had his energy bars with him.

 

---

 

‘He got away.’

His lips pursed, brooding as he made his way to his Guild's office. Yoo Jinho was inside waiting for him. He had a cloudy expression, his steps thundering as he closed the door behind him and unceremoniously sunk into the office couch. It was soft and long enough for him to lift his legs. He sighed.

“Hyung-nim, are you feeling okay?” Jinho asked, concerned. He brought over some drinks for them, but Jinwoo wasn’t in the mood for anything.

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed.

Jinho's known Jinwoo for long enough to know when to drop an issue he didn’t want to talk about, so he derailed the conversation's focus back to their most pressing matter.

“Hyung, I don’t want to bother you, but we still need a name for our Guild. Have you perhaps...” he gulped, sweating, “Come up with another idea?”

Jinwoo's eyes fluttered shut, a little tired, but nodded when the topic was brought up. “Yeah. How about ‘Ahjin’ Guild?”

Jinho brightened up considerably, hands clasped together like a prayer. “It’s great, Hyung-nim! Let’s use that for our guild name.”

“Then it’s been decided. The only thing left is getting another founding member, right?”

Jinho made a confused sound. “What happened to Hunter Cha Haein yesterday?”

“I don’t think Hunter Cha will work. She’s not the person I want,” Jinwoo said.

Jinho was visibly surprised. “Uh, what kind of person do you want then, hyung-nim?”

He let his head hit the couch, thinking of the aspects he wanted their hypothetical person to have. “Someone with a Hunter license, who has no interest in Guild activity, and is trustworthy.”

“There are a few people who come to mind...”

There was a tentative knock on the door, and Jinwoo got up to open it. It couldn't be Hunter Cha again, could it? “Who is it?”

Instead, three people he’s seen in the past from the Knights Guild were stiffly presented with wide, forced fabrications of genuine smiles. He raised a brow at the display.

“Hello, I am Park Jongsoo, the Guild Master of the Knights Guild. May we have a word with you, Hunter-nim?”

Jinwoo let them in, opening the door wider for them as they veered to the couch in the center of the room. Sitting down on the opposite end, they hastily brought out a laptop, showing him a clip of a gigantic swirling Gate, the quality slightly poor from all the shakiness.

“—L—look! Are you recording this?!”

“—Woah, is that for real?”

“—Why’s the Gate so big?!”

Park Joongsoo began his explanation. “As you know, the physical size of a Gate and its Rank don’t always match, however in this case, they say that an immense amount of mana is flowing out of that Gate.”

Jinwoo watched the footage with a critical eye. “Was it determined to be S-rank?”

“It is narrowly within an A-rank’s measuring limit," he corrected. "It is the largest Gate to have ever spawned in Busan.”

Behind him, Jinho made a scared sound.

“You should’ve read it in the article, but the Association is trying to deny us entry. From their point of view, it’s difficult to trust our Guild because we don’t have any S-rank Hunters. So if you agree to join our attack force, we’ll be able to take care of this raid.” Joongsoo smiled pleasantly, “You will be well compensated for your contribution.”

Jinwoo quirked a brow.

“Normally, S-rank Hunters get around 10% of the profits from a raid, but we’ll give you 20% from this dungeon.”

He hummed. “Let’s do it 50/50.”

“…Huh?”

His confusion carried with the stiff expression on his face, yet Jinwoo didn't waver. “I will cooperate if you treat me as a Guild, and not as an individual. We’ve just established the ‘Ahjin’ Guild.”

“Then… how about 40/60…”

Jinwoo stared at him. “I am not trying to negotiate with the Knights Guild.”

Joongsoo tightened the clasp of his hands, contemplative, before giving in with a sigh. “Very well. Then, would you take care of the boss-level monsters for us?”

He shallowly nodded, biting back a grin. Just what he wanted. “I understand.”

“It’s been almost a week since the Gate was discovered, so we'll need to start the raid tomorrow.” Joongsoo leveled Jinwoo with a firm handshake. “Let’s head down together in our car.”

“No, I will meet you tomorrow. I have business to take care of tonight,” he stated, firm. “Regardless, I won’t be late.” As he turned, he heard one of Park Joongsoo’s men gasp, but his attention was preoccupied with his phone. It rang with an unknown number. Who could it be?

Briefly, the face of his newest fixation flashed in his mind. No, it couldn’t be. That was just wishful thinking.

“Excuse me, I’ll be taking this call.” Barely acknowledging the Guild master’s reply, he stepped outside the building to the front door, the crowd of rowdy civilians lining his sight. Though he knew the chances of the call coming from him were low, as the half human ran away from him a while ago, a small part of him still hoped against hope.

Letting the door shut behind him, he took a breath as he answered the phone. “This is Sung Jinwoo.”

“Son.”

His pounding heart calmed down instantly. “Mom? Did you buy a cellphone?”

“I did. I called as soon as I got the phone because I wanted to hear your voice,” she confessed over the receiver, “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Not at all.” He said that, but he couldn’t help the dull twinge of disappointment that thinly layered his voice. He leaned against the door, a hand casually stuffed into his jeans, a small smile on his face. Really, what was he expecting? For Kim Dokja to somehow have gotten his number and give him a call? His rat was a little slippery, so he'll have to corner him somehow. “Mom, let’s have dinner tonight.”

“Okay, sounds good to me!”

 

---

 

After having dinner with his small family, Jinwoo strode to his room and left through the open window. He sat on a tall building, surveying his beloved and quiet neighborhood and sifted through the information coming from the metal links with his Soldiers. They all checked in how all of the people in his life were doing, all of them safe and sound, before he gave his full attention to the one he eagerly wanted to see.

He watched through his planted Soldier, Tusk, to find Kim Dokja back at his apartment. His head was firmly planted to the coffee table, a sour, grim expression on his face. While he couldn’t hear what he was saying, something was clearly displeasing him as he talked to himself animatedly while watching TV. Dokja pushed himself up and went to the kitchen, coming back with microwaved cup noodle soup and sat back down, eating dully.

“No suspicious activity at all,” Jinwoo murmured to himself. In fact, Dokja hasn’t done much worth his suspicion. He was a typical Korean man, if you didn’t count his utterly mysterious, inhuman self and the countless mysteries surrounding him like a fog. Kim Dokja was part demon, that was clear to him. Kaisel’s own emotions swept through the link as he thought about Dokja’s demon race, excitement and curiosity at the forefront of what his Wyvern wanted to convey to him. No Soldier of his has ever shown interest in anything or anyone that wasn’t their King, which made the several that were hushed in their curiosity, though eager, all the more baffling. They tried keeping it to themselves, but failed, making him shake his head.

Opening his inventory, he took out his Demon King's Dual blades and felt it quietly, imperfectively thrum as it sensed the half demon near. His breath shook with the whirl of combined sensations, his own interest in Kim Dokja deepening further. His riddled, unanswered questions piled on top of one another, all centered around one being, and he was desperate to unravel it.

Unknowingly, he kept watch through the link and observed every movement he made, so ordinary, so blameless, yet strangely enthralling. As if he wasn't completely tethered to this world. Even this late, he wore his white coat, a black shirt and pants underneath. His sword was carelessly strewn to the floor, and even like this, Jinwoo could see it thrumming with power. Oh, did he desperately want to spar with Kim Dokja, to know if he was as strong as Jinwoo hoped him to be, seen only in glimpses with every short interaction. Easily escaping his grasp so—ah, not once, but twice—a feat no other past opponent was able to accomplish against him. 

The thought of someone so powerful so close in his grasp made him clench his fists. His heart beat, unsteady.

Not yet, he reminded himself. Tomorrow, after the dungeon raid, he will decide. Jinwoo's shape loomed large over the impossibility of his impatience, the future of their dual relationship undetermined.

Enemy, or ally.

Notes:

We're getting close to one of my favorite scenes in SL!! Oh it's gonna be so much fun with Dokja's involvement!

I’m sure you already guessed, but Jinwoo pinched Dokja’s poor cheek when he slept lol

I also want to take a moment to thank everyone for taking the time to comment. I appreciate your words and try to reply to everyone if possible ☺️ It’s been amazing writing this and I feel consistently inspired haha

Chapter 6: Orc Terror's Wreckage (1)

Summary:

“Guess you’ll die without knowing the truth.”

Notes:

Update time! This one took a while because goodddd was I busy. I had online class today and I was the only one that did hw so the teacher kicked everyone out until I was the only one left. I had class alone, but dunno how to feel about that...

I always felt bad that the girl in the bathroom died like that 😔 its okay girl live your life and remember therapy is an option

Surrounding the Gate in Gwangdali, Busan were the plentiful Hunters from the Knights Guild, the Division members of the Association hovering near the crowded bustle of media to keep them contained behind the red tape. Park Joongsoo, the Guild Master, stared down at his phone, clad in full body armor and biting through his nails. "He's not going to be late, right? Ah, damn it…" he cursed, tugging at his short hair, "We're starting in three minutes…"

The Raid's permit was only permitted with the participation of him, as if the Association was waiting for that confirmation all along. Scanning the drab site, the beach sand scarred gray under thick clouds—yet still unable to kill the buzz of excitement all around—goosebumps raise over his skin and armor.

He sucked in a breath, not needing to turn to confirm that that Mana is evidently, unmistakably Sung Jinwoo. It blanketed them with it's arrival, had it caging the highest A-ranks in his arsenal. A momentarily weakness.

Jongsoo whirled to spot him walking up to them, jumping through the tape and stooped in front of the Gate, clinically observational.

"Sung Jinwoo Hunter-nim!"

Sung Jinwoo nodded in acknowledgement before blinking at the Gate. It was massive, nonsensically huge, and the magic energy leaking through had his smile curling up. "…It's bigger in person."

That only meant the monster inside would be worth his time. A perfect deal for him.

Tearing his eyes away from the Gate, he surveyed the open space, the distant waves crashing onto land. Both the Retrieval team and the Mining team were preparing their equipment, with two groups of low-ranked Hunters several spaces beside them. The Assault team consisted of thirteen A-ranks and twenty B-ranks in total, all oozing their unbridled confidence in the face of such a disproportionately huge Gate.

It was expected of the Guild with the most A-ranks in comparison to the other existing Guilds, the members kitted out in proper metal armor and high-end defensive equipment. It was a shame that such a Guild would be unfairly underestimated due to it's shortage of S-rank Hunters.

“Umm…”

"Excuse me…"

He sneaked a glance, not expecting himself to be pinned under the awed excitement of the Guild members.

“The Jeju Island raid was amazing, Hunter-nim!”

“How do you summon those black soldiers?!”

“Are they even Summons in the first place?”

"Will you be taking the lead in today's raid, Mr. Sung Jinwoo?"

Jinwoo stepped back as they bulldozed him with question after question, pressing forward, shining with their admiration. He couldn't reply to the outpour with the speed they spoke at. Luckily, a Healer close by rushed forward and waved them back. “AH, hey! Hey! Don't trouble him, why are you making Hunter Sung feel awkward?”

Her wayward colleagues were mothered under the glare of her scolding, shuffling and mumbling under their breaths. A Healer was responsible for the overall well-being of the raid team, and she handled them with the iron clad experience of an A-rank.

The Healer spun, airily soft and dazzling. Her eyes shone, ambiguously cryptic. “My name is Jeong Yerim, and I’m the main Healer of the Knights Guild elite Assault team. It's a pleasure to meet you." She extended her palm for a handshake. "If anything, shouldn’t the raid leader and the main Healer be on the same page?”

Hm, a misunderstanding. Jinwoo heard footsteps behind him and glanced in the corner of his eye. “You haven’t explained yet?”

Park Jongsoo walked up, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “My schedule was a bit tight, but I can do it now.” He turned to face his members. “I, Park Jongsoo, will be the leader of this raid.”

The excitement that was shared between all of the members simmered down. “You again, Guild Master? But we have Hunter Sung Jinwoo…”

Another member sighed. ”That’s a bit…“

Park Jongsoo was a tanker and an understandable option, but Jinwoo could tell he was the slightest bit annoyed at being dismissed by how own Guild members like so. Jinwoo imagined majority of their raids happened under Park Jongsoo's leadership. The strongest Hunter present taking the lead, that was a commonly-accepted rule when raiding a dungeon.

“Hunter Sung Jinwo will be in charge of the rear and make sure we’re safe. I've already discussed this with him and agreed to do the raid this way, so if you have any complaint, save it until we finish."

Suddenly, a cocky, young voice laughed. “Are we so weak that we need someone else’s protection?” The boy had his hands to his hips, an ever more confident smile present. “Do the elite members of the Knights Guild look that weak to you, Mr. Sung Jinwoo? Is that right? Hyung-nim? Noo-nim?”

The complexion of the senior Hunters went pale.

“Erk! Hey, youngest!”

The Guild Master chuckled. “Our members are quite gutsy, don’t you think? It might’ve been a bit rude, but we usually have this kind of atmosphere.”

“It just means they’re that confident,” he reassured, relaxed.

“We should get going,” he said, checking the time on his phone. It was just past eleven in the morning now, though the weather certainly didn’t reflect that. “Hey now everybody, it’s time!”

Everyone around rose up with the Master’s loud voice, giving him their attention.

“The raid is starting!”

 

---

 

There's a peculiar colorlessness in the sky, clouds thick and heavy with waiting rain. It's a hue he hasn't seen in a while. Checkered in traffic like dominoes, the cars on the road were stuck, the melody a discord of honking wheels and cursed yelling. He could spy some people rolling down their car window to complain of the stagnation of traffic. They all had places to be, that was clear.

In some ways, he was glad to not have a car. Although all the compiled yelling did nothing to spare him from the traffic induced stress as he ran along the rim of the bridge, muttering low, whistling things that went unheard.

“The weather’s pretty bad today for something like this…“ Dokja swerved out of the way of the lingering pedestrians, their umbrellas split wide open, his shoes puddled with the dirty, muddy water that came from the brief drizzle earlier. It oozed into the crumbling, dead soil, revived only briefly.

The plan for today is a sudden one. He had no idea where the place he had to go to was so he had taken to the streets to ask for directions. So far, most of the people here were not in the best of moods so he was turned away most of the time.

Kim Dokja glanced up to reread the Scenario panel, giving off a light blue glow.

[Sub Scenario #? Annihilation of the Orc Clan]

Category: Sub

Difficulty: B

Clear Conditions: A Gate discovered far too late has spawned at a Highschool, and inside it are bloodthirsty Orcs known for their hatred for humans. Defeat the Orc leader and save the high schoolers before tragedy befalls them.

Time Limit: two hours.

Compensation: 100.000 coins, the trust of the Shadow Monarch’s Heir.

Failure: ???
—

“You couldn’t bother to give me the name of the Highschool though, huh?” He waved the panel out of sight, fastening his pace. He had to be quick. The time limit was uncomfortably short for a Scenario of this caliber. He gathers information from several strangers. There were three schools around these parts. One of them was closed, so that left two more. He decided to check out the one nearby his old apartment, silently hoping that was the school he had to go to. He couldn’t afford to waste precious time.

He wasn't sure for what specific reason this Sub Scenario was given to him, as it didn't seem immediately involved with Jinwoo, but it helped in confirming a theory simmering at the back of his mind.

"Someone is watching me," Dokja spat, the pallid rays of spent clouds cloaking him in its dull, mundane shade. He reaches his old apartment, bolting into a hazardous sprint, his cloak billowing white under the harsh wind. And what nerve, whoever they were knew he couldn't refuse. Who would, when the compensation was so utterly tempting?

The breeze caressed him, the world taut under his thundering speed. The school's path split into two, sectioned from the front with its open gate. He faltered, a nauseating dread dropping in the pit of his stomach. He was right. That something shaped into an omen, that something was monsters—Orcs.

Several students glanced to him, suspicious, so he hastily rerouted into the back of the school. The ones in front were safe, out of harms way. The ones inside, however…

His eyes narrowed.

The wall scaled high, bricked off, but with a quick survey to see his surroundings deserted, he mounted over the wall and landed onto school grounds. He deduced the source to be on the second floor—a Gate, broken through—tepid shivers skirting over his skin. The Mana these creatures exuded was disgusting, revoltingly evil. There were tens of them, all pouring from the point of supply, slinked shoulder to shoulder and beating their meaty fists with the roar of their inborn violence.

Orcs, they were nasty creatures that savored the spilled blood of humans, strong, incomparably gifted hunters. While lacking in intelligence, they far exceeded regular humans in terms of physical power and brute force. They were greatly excited by the smell of flesh and blood--pure born fear. Screams of torture were triumphs, victories over prey. Domination—if love was an emotion they could feel—was what they craved most.

As blood stung his nose, his expression went stiff cold. He traveled through the air using [Way of the Wind], tracking the repulsive collection of Mana to the second floor. The glass shattered, picking them off his hair and shoulders. Screams, echoes of terror boxed him in every direction.

Even by steeling his heart, the sight waiting for him was nothing short of a massacre. Every scrape of the half corrupted walls were painted with blood, fresh, human blood, the bodies of teenagers propped aside like broken dolls. Classmates and friends hunched over the ones already dead, too late, too powerless as they screamed and cried, shaking the shoulders of people precious to them in hopes they'd wake up. Impossible a dream that was, from the warped pain their reality brought. Innocent children like them never stood a chance.

[The Exclusive Skill ‘Fourth Wall’ has offset some of the mental stress!]

He walked up to the a girl hunched over her friend, heaving, frail whimpers falling like unsalvageable prayers. She flinched at his silhouette, her dilated pupils shaking in great distress as she cried. He crouched down, lifting his hands. "Easy, I won't hurt you."

She hid in her arms, crumbled, flecks of blood attached to her school uniform. Gentle, gentle, his cruelty was not favored in a worldline like this. "Can you tell me where the Orcs went?”

She blinked through her tears, relaxing further when she judges his form as a human and not an Orc monster. “They—” she stuttered, breathing shallow, “They went to the third and fourth floor. That’s where almost everyone is. I—” her eyes watered again, her body shaking. “Are you h—here to save, save us?”

He nodded, considerate to the terrified little girl. “Yes. I’m going to kill the Orcs, so run away as fast as you can and get to safety. Do you understand me?”

Her pale, chapped lips trembled. Her hope, fail and so small, shined through. “Yes, M—Mister…”

“Good. Now go.”

Shakily, she got to her feet. She gave the boy she cradled one last look, her devastation masked behind a sob as she took off running in the opposite direction of the Orcs, yanking on the arms of the several students still slumped to the ground.

[K i m Dok ja th o ught: I’m g oing to sla ughter eve ry o ne of the m.]

“And I will,” he promised, dark. Leaping to the next floor, he kept a keen ear out for any small cry or scream.

A nasty laugh rushed through the padded halls, gravely, sickening. A girl cried, terrified.

“Please save me! I don’t want to die!”

And Dokja followed it like a command, weaving through obstacles as he unlatched Unbreakable Faith from his hip, swinging it into the chest of an Orc easily twice his size. It tore into its strong, green skin like butter. Activating the fire ether, it sunk into its body and melted him from the core. Its screams of copied agony were much preferred to the screams of helpless children.

As the body rotted, leaving ash and brittle bones, the girl that screamed stared up at him, slumped against the open door to the bathroom stall. Her phone, which had gotten through to a call, glowed softly, but neither took notice. “Ah… I’m alive… you sa… saved me…”

“Get to safety, the first floor should be clear of any Orcs,” is all he could say. He had many more to take care of before he could take a breath.

His white coat whipped as he spun and rounded the corner to a busy, blood-filled corridor. Three Orcs swung their heavy, barbaric weapons, grinning in the face of its self-satisfied bloodshed. The children that cowered were pathetic, slamming against an exit that wouldn’t open and awaiting a theoretical savior that they desperately clung to.

It was a fortunate thing Dokja was in the neighborhood.

Worn from the tragedy, Dokja cautioned into the light with a burning sword, features lit like a scarlet angel cradled in fire. But relieved of the mercy of an angel, he cropped the heads of all three Orcs and let it fall with a resounding thud. He didn't care for the obscene blood pooling at his feet, making eye contact with the high schoolers.

They trembled, grouping like sheep, and stared at him with shocked, watery disbelief.

“Hu– Hunter…?” One them whispered, voice broken.

“It’s a Hunter!” Another yelled, visibly elated.

“We’re saved!”

“All of you,” Kim Dokia cut in, face serious, “Get to the first floor and call for help. But before that, where are the rest of the Orcs?”

“Wait, Hunter-nim are you going to take care of them yourself?!”

“You can’t! You’ll die!”

“Where are they?” Dokja didn’t waver, earning their obedience as they gulped and gave an answer.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Run!”

Most of the hallways on the fourth floor were left spotless, but he didn't let that display of psychological torment complicate him. The walls were crushed, the exits bent with its crooked metal immovable for the average human strength. The Orcs had purposefully destroyed the floor to confine the remaining teenagers inside. Better to pick off prey if they were all penned in the same cage.

As he neared the classroom with the highest pool of Mana, the door dismantled and shoved aside, the kids' screams fenced into lyrical fear, he allowed the Fable writhing under his skin to sprout its angered wail.

[The Fable, ‘Demon King of Salvation’ has begun its storytelling!]

[’Demon King Transformation’ has been activated!]

His Status became unbearable in its pressure, secured by the depths of his rage as his wings sharpened and his horns glinted. Unbreakable sword cried with the fire attribute, waxed alive with his Fable's song. Just like him, it was eager to tear and shred the monsters it was called to butcher.

The Orcs stopped their rampage, the one with its monstrous axe stiffening. Beyond it, the remainder of the high schoolers were there, cornered against the back of their classroom, small, weak, utterly petrified.

Their fear was delicious to the monsters. They viewed the humans with naked and raw hunger, the hunger of primal things born to hurt and kill. It sickened him to the bone.

“Monsters like you are always so cocky,” Dokia declared, vibrant, stewing in the bank of his receding patience. “You need a good beating to remember your place.”

“You…” the tallest one turned to Dokja. From its appearance and the Orcs' formation, he accurately guessed it to be the leader of the Orcs. “What are you? A human… no.”

The bloodlust warped into killing intent, gazing at him with feverish eyes, hate burning into the curve of his wing. “Boss, that is a…”

“A demon,” The third Orc finished, voice rumbling low. They proceeded to ignore the humans, fully turned to their new enemy. Good, he'd be insulted otherwise.

Kim Dokja taunted them, teeth sharp. “Am I? Who knows.” His sword flickered with devastating fire, the leader raising its own pathetic weapon.

“Why do you protect the humans?” The leader demanded. “Do you ignore The Voice’s command?”

The Voice's command?

His brows furrowed at the loose slipped information. He didn't understand what The Voice entailed, but he pocketed the term into the library of his mind. The Orc shattered his time to ponder the question as it flashed in front of him. It was fine though, he's entertained his patience enough.

It was time for them to die.

Using his wings to lift him into the air, he swung his sword with the fierceness of his Status.

“Guess you’ll die without knowing the truth.”

The first strike hits with the crack of an unrestrained blow. His fiddled lie dissolves alongside them, with no way to predict its devastation as it burned and destroyed them. The boss cried its rousing anger, thundering with its axe held high.

Dokja sighed, "Pathetic."

He sidesteps the heat-withered corpse of the Orc, scattered to ash and dead by his sword. He expected more out of a difficulty B Scenario.

As it fell away, the palpable tension in the classroom was broken by soft sobs. The high schoolers fell down, drained, exhausted. They held onto each other in their shared trauma, alone in a room without the monsters that had terrorized them.

His feet scuffed the floor, a little awkward now that he had nothing useful to do. “Er, are you kids okay?”

They raised their head, staring, and just as Dokja was about to break the silence, they all began to cry. "Oh shit—" he panicked before realizing those were tears of gratitude and relief.

“Thank you… thank you so much Hunter-nim…”

“We’re alive…! We’re alive!”

“I thought I would die! Jinaahhh!!” A girl cried to her friend, clinging to her.

They barraged him with compliments and he accepted it as he could, but…

"You're very pretty, Hunter-nim!"

Right, this was getting a bit much.

“No, no,” he chuckled nervously, with no idea how to digest their incessant praise, “There’s no need for… that.”

“Hunter-nim… do you have wings…?”

“But don’t only monsters have wings?”

“Shhh!”

“Don’t worry,” he spoke up, waving them off, “It’s… just a special Skill of mine.”

“Oh! Woah, that’s so cool.”

“Hunter-nim, you’re amazing!”

As they all continued their appreciation for their savior, worryingly shifting into possible adoration, Kim Dokja opened the panel to escape from their combined emotional brew. He expected the panel to be cleared as it jumped into view, but his eyes widened as it remained uncompleted. How? He killed all the Orcs, along with the boss. How could—

Out of nowhere, a monstrous amount of Mana blanketed him, making his wings fluff up in alarm. He spotted the Orc a second to late, a fist the size of a basketball pummeling his body into the wall until he fell through to the classroom adjacent to it. His head connected to the floor, and he belatedly heard another round of screaming. As he lifted his aching head, he spotted the Orc that snuck up on them, long wavy black hair and numerous of red markings atop its body.

Surprise filtered through the rush of pain, with the appearance of three glowing red, beefy figures safeguarding the kids. They were… Orcs, and yet occupying a differing countenance, their bodies licking across the floor and merging with shadows. Shadows. Wait a minute—

“…Oh shit.”

He swallowed, metallic rust coating his tongue. Those weren't merely Orcs, they were the Summons of Sung Jinwoo. And the girl they were protecting under the order of Jinwoo was his sister.

 "So this was her school all along," he coughed, shaking the concrete caked in his hair. "Now I see the Scenario's correlation."

The back up Orcs that came with their leader were screaming out its name.

“Guroktaku! Guroktaku!”

He got up as the Orc and the Shadows clashed. The Orc leader, Guroktaku, seemed to be having a conversation with the Summon, but it clearly didn't lead anywhere. As Guroktaku swiped at the Shadow, killing it from its spot, it was surprised to see his opponent regenerated back. Well duh, it was already dead.

The Orc was frustrated, glaring as the Summon formed into its sold shape. Dokja finally got up, steadying himself on the shattered wall as his wings ached horribly. Then, the Orc’s eyes widened and it yelled out.

“The girl! Grab the human female!” Its shout commanded its army to take action, focusing everything they had in shattering the form of Jinwoo’s shadows before they got a chance to regenerate. He knows what they were trying to do. “The high Orcs are powerless while they regenerate! Keep attacking, restrict their movements!”

“No! Jinah, it’s dangerous!”

Guroktaku roughly grabbed the girl’s face, lifting her off her feet. His sneer was slimy, disgusting in its arrogance. “As I suspected. It was you. I can clearly sense the magic power.”

“Shit!” Dokia cursed, lifting his wings and activated [Way of the Wind].  

“Die.”

“Like hell!” Dokja roared, sprinting with the arched glide of Unbreakable Faith and stabbing into Guroktaku’s abdomen. It breached thick, green skin, his howl of pain jolting the fury of the rest of his allies. Dokja caught the falling body of Jinwoo's sister, creating distance between them as she coughed uncontrollably, her face bruised purple and tears streaking down in rivulets. Her nails clung to the fabric of his coat, body shaking, hiccupping through her winded lung as Dokja quietly shushed her.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. Don’t force it,” Dokja gently arranged her in his arms, felt her chest stutter with choking panic and spoke softly. "Take small breaths, yes, that's it. Good, you're doing good."

When her raspy voice stopped wheezing and some of the tension uncoiled, he lowered the girl to her friend, delicately prying her fingers out of its deathlike grip onto his shirt. “Here. Take care of her.”

“Oh my god! Jinah, are you okay?!” Her friend tended to Jinah, grappling over her and hid her from the monstrous Orcs that still bound them into the enclosed space. Kim Dokja raised his sword in order to crush Guroktaku down, allied with the help of Jinwoo's own High Orcs. He was thoroughly fed up with this vexing Scenario. Dokja’s glare withered, though, with the rapidly crumbling expression on Guroktaku.

He felt it a moment later. It was a pressure so oppressive, Kim Dokja almost mistook it for a Narrative-grade Constellation coming down to the Scenario. But that couldn’t be, this worldline was exalted from the influence of Star Stream. So it could mean one thing.

Sung Jinwoo was here.

And he was furious.

“Something…” Guroktaku stuttered, fear hooked into the indistinct tremble of its body. Its canines clanked noisily, “Something is coming. Something terrifying…”

Any ounce of bravado the Orc had crumbled under the sheer force of Jinwoo's presence, fleeing to door of the classroom as a mighty, ear-splitting explosion crackled along the side of the building. The Hunter yelled towards his men. “Brace for impact!”

Kim Dokja flinched, pushing himself away from the main space and hid behind the wall that he broke through earlier. The building rocked with the brunt of something incomprehensibly massive. And then, it gave a screech. A very familiar screech. Right, okay. That’s it. It was too dangerous for him to stay. He feared whatever misunderstanding his presence would bring into the battle would only get worse in Jinwoo's obstinate rage. He couldn't let that happen, not when things were progressing somewhat smoothly.

[The Fable, ‘Pebble and I’ has begun its storytelling!]

He masked his presence, a pebble among shattered stone and concrete as Jinwoo’s figure passed through the smoke of debris, staggeringly gentle as he walked to his sister and patted her head. "You're safe now."

As the smoke faded, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but gape at the size of his wyvern. He could’ve sworn Kaisel was not that big in the dungeon. Well, it was dark, and he wasn’t paying attention to anything other than escaping, but still. What the fuck.

Jinwoo’s hunched figure straightened back up, the power of his Mana winding around him like a dangerous shield.

Stupidly, the Orc began to talk. “I am Guroktaku, proud Chieftain of the Red Blade—“

“You.” He lifted his hand, whipping up another storm of Mana. His eye blazed blue, shadows writhing over his body with every crackle of his cold, unforgiving rage. “Shut your mouth and wait.”

[Ki m D okj a tho ught: god damn n ow that’s a prota go nist.]

“…Please just shut up.”

Notes:

I have a cutesy childhood friends to lovers Jindok fic in the making, but there’s a chance it might be long... I hope it doesn’t take too long to finish 🤞🏽

Chapter 7: Orc Terror's Wreckage (2)

Summary:

“…I saved ten, Chairman.”

Notes:

Please enjoy and if you can, read the end notes

“Oppa!”

Tenderly, Jinwoo patted his sister's back as she coughed, her wheezing breaths whistling through her delicate throat. "It's alright now," he reassured, holding the trembling girl carefully as he checked and rechecked to see if she sustained any other injuries. “I'm sorry I'm late.”

He took in the exhausted, sobbing faces of the teenagers, noting that their tears were more of joy and relief than despair. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes…!”

“Yes!”

“It's fine now,” he repeated. “I'm here, so everything will be okay.”

He inclined the sentiment to his sister's best friend, who hastily nodded back to him. Patting Jinah's head, she cried harder. In the quiet, the sound was deafening and left his ears ringing. As she dug into his shirt, Jinwoo could see the discoloration, half her face disgustingly marked red by the Orc that dared to touch her. The pit of his rage deepened, a bottomless void that ached for destruction. It took root, festered, and with exceeding restraint, gave an order to his Shadows.

‘Igris, take care of Jinah.’

Igris formed behind him, black tendrils of shadows licking up his body. They were darker, somehow, rendered deadly with his ascending animosity. ‘Everyone else, take the students and head down first.’

Taking a breath, he extended his 'Sensory Perception', mind muddled black from focus. All he could tell were the ones alive in this room, the rest killed and laying dead in the aftermath of a wretched massacre. From his peripheral vision, the Orc whose name he couldn't give a shit about squirmed, and the space he occupied warped, his glare ice-cold.

“I said don’t move.”

They heeded his threat, frozen altogether like stupid prey under the stare of an apex predator.

“Everyone,” he addressed the remaining kids, “Follow my summons out of the building.”

The students were assisted by a number of his Summons, clinging to Kaisel’s wing as they were lowered to the ground floor beyond the destroyed wall Kaisel broke through. When they made it to safety, his sister accompanied especially by his trusted Knight, his gaze drifted towards the stairs outside the classroom. He sensed two of the Orcs going downstairs, most likely to capture the kids, but there was no need to worry. Igris was on the ground level and Kaisel circled the building from above. Nothing would escape him.

Like asking for death, Guroktaku began to talk.

“I see the immortal High Orcs were your soldiers. Who are you? Why are you able to speak our tongue?”

Jinwoo exhaled softly, heavy with dense amounts of Magic energy. He made his way to them, slowly, with calculated steps and cruel anticipation.

He had no intention of answering.

The Orc took clear offense, baring its fangs with a shout. “Attack!”

A bald Orc took center and raised its axe, intent on killing him. What he didn’t expect was to be grabbed, his fingers snapped, and body slammed into the ground. Jinwoo raised his leg and cracked the Orc’s skull. It broke apart like nothing.

Two other Orcs jumped to reach him, but Jinwoo raised his hand, Mana glowing around it.

[Skill: ‘Dominator’s Touch’ has activated.]

The two Orcs were forced into each other, and he crushed them together into green paste. Another three yelled monstrously, catching the attention of five more Orcs as they all rallied to corner him. Too bad, Jinwoo wasn’t in the mood to play around with monsters today. Every time his fingers brushed by an Orc's head, shoulder, waist, and midriff, the monster exploded into bits until the only evidence of them was the green blood coated over his hand.

Now, the only one left was Guroktaku.

The Orc trembled, its lips parting with difficulty. “W—what…”

With his Skill activated, he crushed Guroktaku’s face in, smashing him into the wall and shattering the glass. Glancing into the corridor, he spotted the dead, bloodied bodies of teenagers littering the school floors. There was devastation everywhere he looked. He didn't avert his gaze, but imprinted the sight into his mind.

“… Why’d you do it.”

His voice was incomparably icy, the grip he had on the Orc’s face tightening. “Why is it that your kind wants to kill humans to this extreme level?”

Visibly, Guroktaku had lost its ability to resist and could only tremble in fear as it replied. “In our heads, telling us constantly… ‘kill the humans’…”

“Then what about me?” Jinwoo questioned, black ice dripping the frost of his voice. “Do you not hear the voice telling you to kill me?”

He brought his face closer, and it was inevitable for it to look into Jinwoo's eyes, his inexistent mercy. The Orc shook its head and shivered, cried. This supposedly brave and mighty warrior shed its tears like a child, and Jinwoo's head cooled as he watched the terrified monster cower in his presence.

“F– Forgive… forgive me…” He pleaded pitifully.

“Answer me!” Jinwoo’s expression cracked like a glacier, domineering, unforgivingly frigid. “Do you hear the voice telling you to kill me?”

The Orc began to shake, droplets of undeserving tears falling down. “Forgive… me…”

"…So that's how it is."

A human, something he couldn't even be seen as to this monster. Although, a monster's opinion had little value to him. He simply killed them. He summoned his dagger, 'Demon King's Short-sword,' shining with the crackle of electricity. “As expected, I’m not a human in your thoughts as well. Though, it doesn’t really matter. I’ll forgive you.”

His Mana, bottomless and hungry, reared its jaws to the Orc in the form of Death.

“However, don’t think that the process will be a painless one for you.”

Inevitable, cruel Death.

 

---

 

The rain poured down harder than ever.

Multiple police cars and emergency ambulances were pulled up outside the school, yellow tape set up to keep the frenzied crowd from breaking through. Bodies in stretchers were taken to the back of the ambulances, several A-rank Hunters keeping the crowd stationary. While that was the plan, it didn’t stop the parents of the high schoolers from crowding to the forefront.

“I need to confirm what happened with my own eyes!”

“Let me go! My son goes to this school!”

“Get out of the way!”

They pushed and shoved, umbrellas creating a melody with the muffled pitter patter of rain. One woman crumbled next to the covered corpse of her child, shrieking and begging for it to be true, her husband silently crying beside her.

“Are there any other survivors?”

“No sir!”

A Hunter frowned, the collective crying of the parents and adults behind a dreadful reality. Something like this never should have happened.

Several spaces away, hidden from the media outlets that are taking the majority of the school district for their respective news station, President Go Gunhee opened the door to his car for Sung Jinwoo. Before either of them entered, they heard the fragmented voices of several students.

“Is he here?!”

“Is the Hunter-nim that saved us gone?!”

“Please tell me you’ve seen him!”

“We should go now, Hunter Sung,” Go Gunhee stated, walking to the other side of the car, “Before they find you.”

Jinwoo nodded, quietly entering the car and closing the door. Go Gunhee gave instructions to his personal driver and they set off into the road. The traffic had become nearly unmovable since the news of a dungeon break happened at the neighboring school in Seoul, so the driver expertly evaded the busy roads for a smoother ride.

“The 213 students who escaped in the beginning are all safe, but the rest of the students who failed to escape are all…” He let his sentence die out, the whirr of the engine taking over before he continued. “It’s a shame, really. This accident could have been predicted and prevented,” the president said, handing him the statistics the Association has collected. “This shows the increase in the Gate activity around Seoul for the last six months and this shows the worldwide stats of the increasing number of Gates. The number of Gates appearing has spiked noticeably throughout the world, however, that isn’t the only strange thing.”

Jinwoo observed the statistics, listening to the president’s findings.

“More and more people are wanting to confirm their awakened rankings. As more monsters appear from the Gates, the number of Hunters who can block the Gates is also increasing,” Go Gunhee hummed. “As if to maintain a balance…”

Something is starting to change.

“Then what you wished to talk to me about was…”

Go Gunhee handed him a wad of documents. “Japan, USA, China, Russia, France, Britain, Germany… and even the Middle East. These are official documents from those nations wanting to make contact with you, Hunter Sung Jinwoo.” He chuckled, though there was little humor in it from the worried tilt of his smile. “I’m certain that some have even made unofficial contact with you already.”

He recalled Adam White, the USA representative.

“In all honesty, the Hunter’s Association has no right to block these people. We can only protect your personal information according to your request. We know everything depends on your decision, Hunter Sung Jinwoo, but…” the President sighed, weary with fatigue, his shoulder heaped high with responsibilities, “I fear that our country will not be able to adapt to the incoming changes if you decide to leave us.”

Jinwoo didn’t say anything as the hospital came into view.

“…We have arrived. Your sister is in this hospital.”

Jinwoo opened the door, getting out as the rain continued to pour down.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo.”

He turned.

“We will provide you with anything within our powers. So… would you please stay in South Korea?”

Jinwoo blinked, caught off guard by the President’s sincere words.

“Officially, there were ten S-rank Hunters including Hunter Sung Jinwoo. We lost three among those.” He gripped his temples, smiling, though there was pain in the corners where his lips tilted up. “Two died at the hands of monsters, while one abandoned Korea for America. The Hunter’s Association cannot afford to be hands-off in this matter anymore. We have to do everything possible for the Hunter’s Association to be playing it’s part.” Go Gunhee’s expression became open and earnest, dare he say, desperate. “Hunter Sung Jinwoo, please tell us what you need.”

Jinwoo was quiet for a moment, his hair shadowing his expression. “If that’s the case… would you let me enter high-ranking Gates all by myself in the future?”

Go Gunhee’s eyes widened. “Are you asking me to exclude you from the minimum headcount rule?”

“Yes.”

“The headcount regulation is the minimum safety net for the Hunters. Is it the policy to prevent Hunters from entering a Dungeon without preparation and losing their lives,” he explained calmly. “Are you asking me to remove it for you–?”

Go Gunhee twitched as if he realized something.

“Perhaps… the reason you made a Guild is…”

“Yes.” There was not a shred of hesitation in his confession. “Will it be difficult to fulfill that request?”

“It’s not impossible to grant that wish. Just leave it to me.”

Jinwoo let a small smile slip out for a few seconds before it disappeared. As he closed the door, Go Gunhee’s phone began to ring. “Seems like we both have important things to do. Let’s talk another time, President Go Gunhee.”

“Yes, lets. But before you go, let me thank you again,” he smiled, elderly and soft. “For saving the lives of those thirty students. South Korea is lucky to have such a powerful young man on her side.”

Go Gunhee nodded his goodbye, swiftly picking up the phone. He turned back to the front as Jinwoo walked away. As the rain softly drizzled, his steps came to a stop. His back was arched stiffly, his mind rewinding the words of the President.

Where did Go Gunhee get that number?

Jinwoo only saved ten students.

As his expression lifted into confusion, the President called his name from behind, still parked where he dropped Jinwoo off. Jinwoo went back to the window, Go Gunhee wearing a confused expression matching his with his phone lowered beside them. “Hunter Sung Jinwoo, can you confirm the number of students you saved?”

“…I saved ten, Chairman.”

He blinked repeatedly, frowning. It was like he couldn’t understand what Jinwoo meant. “Are you sure?”

Jinwoo’s lips thinned. “It’s not possible to get the number wrong.”

Go Gunhee stared at his phone before clicking the speaker button. He cleared his throat. “Can you repeat what you said to me, Jinchul?”

“Of course,” came the familiar voice from the other end of the call. “Hunter Sung Jinwoo saved thirty of the students that didn’t die, and the parents of those children want to thank him. But some of the students are saying that that never happened, even though it doesn’t make sense.”

“I was the only one on the scene,” Jinwoo reminded slowly, his brows furrowing.

“That’s what we told them, but the twenty students keep insisting that there was a Hunter that arrived before Hunter Sung Jinwoo did and massacred most of the Orcs. We couldn’t find the bodies, but there is evidence suggesting the usage of the fire element. We asked for them to describe the appearance of the Hunter and none of what they described fit into the catalogue of South Korea’s existing Hunters.”

“What about a name?” Go Gunhee asked.

“The Hunter never gave out a name to them, Sir.”

“What did this Hunter look like?” Jinwoo demanded. His heart, for whatever reason, began to beat frantically inside his chest.

“Lets see. All the witnesses account for the same things. This unknown Hunter carried a sword with him and wore a long white coat. They all say he had a very pretty appearance and that he was incredibly soft spoken to the students. He had short black hair typical of a Korean male, but that his most notable feature was his fair, soft skin and large eyes.”

Both Go Gunhee and Sung Jinwoo froze at the description. There was only one person that fit that summary of appearance quite perfectly.

“…I see.” Go Gunhee cleared his throat, composing himself as Jinwoo stood stock-still. “That suggests that there was another Hunter at the scene that helped save the students. If you are able to gather more information, let me know.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Go Gunhee hung up, sighing and rubbing his temples.

“Go Gunhee,” Jinwoo started, voice unnaturally calm, a forced indifference, “When was his next evaluation scheduled?”

The President met Jinwoo’s gaze, trampled over a shiver. “Tomorrow.”

Jinwoo nodded stiffly, hands clenched by his sides. Go Gunhee watched him leave with a worried expression, but Jinwoo didn’t pay any mind to it.

 

---

 

After escaping the hospital's off-white, thrumming patterns and bustling traffic in his visit, convincing his mother to go back home to rest, and later meeting with Jinho's cousin, Yoo Soohyun, who agreed to become their third and final founding member, he left the office with a sole mission wired into his system. Throughout the rest of the day, ever since finding out that he wasn't the only one to partake in the confrontation with the Orcs, that Kim Dokja was there, him failing to properly sense him—Jinwoo had continuously used ‘Sensory Perception’ like a man obsessed.

But, like with every other involvement of the little enigma, there was a problem.

No matter how he tried, Jinwoo couldn’t determine the location of his Soldier. It was blank, frustratingly absent. A spiral of connection still there, but without the visual feedback, nor the means of 'Shadow Exchange' in usage. He could trade with every other Soldier that wasn't Tank, and that was as frustrating in its abnormality as it was disturbing.

With that concern, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the traffic-choked streets below a prismatic stream of light, the civilians a blurring current. The neon signs and billboards bloomed in bright splashes of red, blue, gold, and any other color that hued his skin as he hunted for any sign of Kim Dokja.

Every time.

Every time he was involved, something inexplicably unusual occurred. Breaking out of Ruler’s Authority with ease, subsequently gaining Kaisel’s interest, the reaction he forced from his Demon King’s Dual blades, somehow evading his Sensory Perception when it had worked before—their first damn meeting. Jinwoo pulled towards the earth as something unnamed writhed alive, the lull in his pulse and his stuttering breath, palpable undercurrents shot with a bolt that throbbed from his temple to his veins. And yet, it was anything but painful.

His mana had flared, his heart had quivered, his entire being lit alive in response to the mystifying existence of Kim Dokja.

It was all so confusingly, enthrallingly exhilarating.

Then, Kim Dokja saved his sister, was there to protect her when he was stuck in that stupid Dungeon. Time lost its footing, slid all around as he entered the hospital ward whose walls held a terrifying, cottony noiselessness. Her hand was warm in his, grounding; he was sure that if he let go, he would've floated into the coldness of his own mind. As she squeezed, he tightened his fingers, laced his feet in decisive steps against the scuffed linoleum.

The bed swallowed her as she answered, confirmed it herself.

“A Hunter saved me, Oppa. A very pretty one.”

Watching her sleep, his sister so frail and small, something like acidic apprehension burned in him when he realized he’d almost—lost it all. As he heard the steady beep of the monitors, the phrase cemented itself in his mind, carving a place where Dokja was marked inescapably into memory. Kim Dokja kept her alive when Jinwoo had been so utterly careless.

Moving far beyond the borders of his neighborhood, his command thrummed strong and binding, heard across the various mental links with his Soldiers.

‘Find him. Now.’

With their confirmation, sparse information passed through the connection. The apartment Kim Dokja took residence in was the first place he tried, but it was bare, without a single hint of Dokja ever going there after leaving the school.

Jinwoo growled, his singular focus pinned to the memory of a white coat and the subtle twist of lips. Where the hell was here? And why the hell couldn’t Jinwoo sense Kim Dokja sooner when he was in that classroom? Was it because he was part demon? He wasn't thinking clearly during his fight with the Orcs and didn't give it much thought.

His frustration was mounting higher and higher. He needed to have a talk with Kim Dokja, a proper one this time. This couldn’t wait—he didn’t want to wait. His fists clenched at his sides, skipping above a dozen buildings as he widened his perception. His Soldiers did their best to accommodate him, but not a single one of them could find Kim Dokja. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air.

It didn’t matter how long they searched, not a single one spotted the man. Was it possible? Did he actually leave? To where? How? Why? He said he was here to aid Jinwoo. For what reason could he have to vanish like this? Someone had given him this task, could whoever they were have been the cause of this? Was Kim Dokja somewhere he couldn’t reach?

And why—why did the thought of that fill him with such vexation? Why did his hands go clammy and something resembling fear stutter in his cool headed emotions?

Jinwoo stopped on another building, the information his Shadows sending him starting to come with regret and disappointment. There was nothing to be done. From end to end, not a single sighting of him to be found.

‘Just come back. All of you.’

They did as told and hid back in his shadow. He sighed, jumping down to Seoul’s streets. Tonight was a failure.

His jaw set in determination. He wasn’t going to give up.

Not until he found his slippery, little runaway.

 

---

 

Kim Dokja has always known he had terrible luck.

[You have failed to clear the Scenario.]

As such, he should've expected this.

“For fucks sake!” He screamed as he used [Way of the Wind] to run atop the river water. The waves used to be tranquil, a brilliant seaglass that waded slow, unassuming. But he made the fatal mistake of sinking his hands in and causing the sea monster slumbering within to wake and riot the waters so brutal that anything in its path was tormented into a tidal bore. It bellowed a horrendous screech, announcing its presence and bid Kim Dokja as its next meal as it started to rush towards him with the intent to kill him.

He had no choice to run away as the sea monster called its friends. He found himself running away from at least ten of these monsters. They came from either behind or beneath him, all ready to rip him apart. He yelled out in frustration, as if by some mercy, someone would be listening in. “It’s not my fault I failed the Scenario—he came out of nowhere!”

With the worst possible luck imaginable, he had accidentally failed the Sub Scenario. The condition was for him to be the one to kill the Orc boss—which he thought he did, at first—but Jinwoo had swooped in like a devil of wrath and stole away his only way of clearing the Scenario. Now, his punishment for failing was to stay in this dungeon until the system deemed his suffering boring enough to leave. Which, when he checked, his eyes bulging wide, would only come after more than half a day had passed.

“I have to stay in here for sixteen hours?! With these things after me?! Damnit!” Dokja hissed, jumping over the tangled, flexible body of a blue sea serpent, Unbreakable Faith shredding its skin as he ran up and sideways. Clutching onto its scaly head, the reader lifted his leg and plummeted it against its long snout, crushing the monster’s bones with unforgiving strength. Dokja flew up just as the monster’s roar petered off into a dying wail, it’s body crashing into the river.

He slid onto the back of another serpent, cursing aloud as he heard [Fourth Wall’s] amused giggle reverberate in his head. “You, be quiet. You’re no help at all.” Kim Dokja held on for dear life as the serpent shook its whole body in an attempt to throw him off, yelling as two more of its friends were speeding with their jaws wide open to show rows of sharp teeth. “Come on, I have an appointment tomorrow!”

He’s been in this place for four hours, not to mention he barely finished fighting before he came here, and while he’s gone through much worse than a rowdy group of sea monsters that were smaller than the Ichyosaur ever was, didn’t automatically mean he was having a fun time on an empty stomach and a caving headache. The panel counting down the hours he had to spent here glared mockingly blue, never moving from beside Kim Dokja as he did his best to stay alive.

Stabbing Unbreakable Faith into the eye of the serpent, dropping down as it screamed in agony and fell down, Kim Dokja huffed an annoyed breath. What even was this punishment? It totally didn’t fit the Scenario he failed to complete. If anything, it was made to inconvenience him in the most annoying way possible by making him lose precious time.

“What kind of Dungeon is this?” He asked himself, grimacing at the serpents that coiled and writhed together. It was like watching them try to fuse together. It was gross. While the Dungeon he met Jinwoo in was his only reference for what the Dungeons in this worldline was like, it still felt strange and different in comparison to the other one. There were no Mana stones or crystals, and there didn’t appear to be an exit. He was transported. A Gate didn’t open and suck him in to trap him. “Did the System generate this Dungeon, instead? Is that even possible? Hah, what I am saying, anything is possible if it's the Star Stream.”

The Dungeon appeared more like an intricate cave system of underwater pool webs, winding into sections with different sea creatures. The one he was currently fighting off were serpents, when the first ones he encountered were strange, half crab, half shark things he couldn’t put a name to no matter how hard he tried. They had been so damn ugly too.

Skipping the water with blurring speed, he jumped to the edge of small land that connected the two neighboring rivers together. The first thing he found out was that these creatures did not allow him to stay on the patch of sand for long, coming out of the water to lure him back into their element. He felt like bait, pushed in whichever way without any control.

As he was surrounded by both sides, barely able to catch his breath, Kim Dokja stared dully at the gigantic, unintelligent monsters with his blood in their scent and saliva dripping down his body.

“Ugh.”

Without meaning to, he glanced to the panel screen.

[Time Remaining: 11:41:33]

His soul plummeted to the ends of his stomach.

This… is going to be a pain.“

Notes:

One of these days, Dokja's gonna break out of this story and kill me because I'm really making him go through it

I bring unfortunate news; my grandpa is in the hospital (family thinks it might be covid) and it's putting a lot of stress on me and my family members so I'm not sure I'll be able to keep my 4 day update schedule for long. I'm really sorry, but I just needed to let you all know. I'll keep writing, but it's going to take longer now :(

Which also leads in to my dissatisfaction to this chapter, and I'll try to edit it better but... I don't feel very... good right now I guess.

Chapter 8: Orc Terror's Wreckage (3)

Summary:

He folded his twined fingers under his chin, voice purring into his eager smirk. “Want to go on a raid with me?”

Notes:

Hello everyone! Sorry again for disappearing for two weeks, but I'll always come back to this story, so don't worry thinking I'll abandon this. I'm way too invested (✿◠‿◠)

Sorry I took so long to reply to the comments, but I was down in the dumps and swimming in bad thoughts and couldn't reply in that headspace. But today I'm feeling the best I have in weeks!!

My grandfather doesn't have Covid, thankfully, so the problem is coming from something else. But he is steadily getting better, which I'm so happy for and hope doesn't change!

The skyline sprawls the misty, silken hush of dusk above them. The wind tinted with the gray of rain. The chatty reporters and hungry news outlets crowd the area, their excitement beset by the gigantic Gate that burrowed inescapably into their sights. Jinwoo listlessly watched them from behind the car window, eyes narrowed, his lack of proper sleep apparent in the light circles underneath. His head tilts towards the glass, sighing. Unlike usual, he couldn't feel a shred of expectation with the Gate. It was impressive as an A rank Gate, but that was it.

Jinho parked the black van within the scattered circle of Association faculty, who kept the screaming crowd of eager spectators at bay behind yellow tape. As they get out, Jinho strapped his big backpack while wearing a helmet for protection, he gaped at the sheer size of the Gate.

"Hey, Jinho? Your jaw will come loose if you keep that up." He stuffed his hands in his pocket, Jinho mindlessly nodding.

“Hyung-nim… I’ve never seen anything like this before. I have to look up really high just to see the whole Gate!”

If this excited him, how would he have reacted if he stood near the Gate in Busan? Ah. He shouldn't think of Busan. It would only lead him through the path of his sister's suffering, his careless mistake, and losing Kim Dokja. Even now, he hasn't found a hint of him in Seoul.

"Will it be okay to not hire any retrieval teams or mining teams? I don't think I'll be able to do it alone."

"You won't need to." Jinwoo’s shadows warped and rippled, rising with his will as the surrounding area was covered. The crowd gasped as his Soldiers came into view, most never having seen them. To reassure him, Jinwoo patted his arm, pointing at his thirty-something summoned Elite-grade Shadow Soldiers, some of whom had been with him the longest. "These guys will carry those tasks out."

His minute flinch had him tensing, but with a reassuring squeeze to his arm, Jinho relaxed and nodded in agreement. As his Shadows sifted into solid form, a hulking army of monsters raised beneath his order, they raked the attention of the employees dispatched from the Association. Led by the dense pressure overflowing from them, they approached him from afar, a familiar and friendly face among them.

"Good day, Sung Jinwoo Hunter-nim."

"Section Chief Woo," Jinwoo nodded, "It's good to see you."

Woo Jinchul, head of the Monitoring Division, received a portable energy measuring device from one of his subordinates. It was shaped as a speed gun, a sleek and classy black. "Will it be alright if I measure them?"

"Please do." With his slight motion, his Soldiers took a uniform step forward, a united march. As he measured the magic energy emission each of his Soldiers exuded, the Chief's eyes began to waver behind his sunglasses. Jinwoo sympathized with his shock. Each individual Soldier were either B rank or A rank. Their high altitude was unquestionable, and was how he so easily exceeded the criteria for earning the raid permit for an A-rank Gate like this.

"I'm finished with the confirmation," Woo Jinchul cleared his throat. "There are no issues."

Good. Now there was nothing else that would get in his way of starting this raid. Or, that's what he thought, but…

“Sung Jinwoo Hunter-nim, please look this way!”

“Please tell us how you feel as Ahjin Guild faces it’s first raid!”

“How did you decide on Ahjin as your Guild’s name?”

“Hunter Sung! Please tell us your relationship with the third founding member of your Guild, Yoo Soohyun!”

A proverbial torrent of questions flood down on him, spat from the countless reporters that barreled incessantly against the police line. This was the first official raid Jinwoo’s Guild would embark on. This meant that the reporters that camped in the reaches of the Gate since daybreak, foaming at the mouth to capture this "historic" moment with every nauseating flash of their cameras, inevitably proved to swindle any inch of space near the Gate's vicinity.

He clicked his tongue. It was noisy, the screaming, the persistence. If there was one notable difference from the Guilds of other Hunters and their raids, it would be the employees from the Association holding the reporters back, instead of a Guild’s own personnel doing that job. Louder still, they reached out to him.

He turned to the head of the Monitoring division. “Chief Woo Jinchul, I thought you were protecting my information.”

“Although we can protect your information, there’s not much we can do about the location of a Gate,” he informed, and then grinned. “In the future, maybe not posting on SNS might help.”

“Ah… I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Like a brutal tide, the Association employees fought off the frenzied media dogs, containing them below whatever warnings they commonly told. Jinwoo thought that he could momentarily feel the considerate hand of President Go Gunhee patting him on the back.

“Please, express my gratitude to the President.”

“Yes, I will definitely do so.”

Jinwoo turned to address Jinho. “Are you sure about this?”

"Yes, Hyung-nim," Yu Jinho inhaled audibly and gathered his wits. “Even if it’s to the ends of hell itself, I will follow you wherever you go.”

Jinwoo smirked at his earnest determination. Even apprehended in the clutches of fear, Jinho didn't lose himself. It was admirable. Yoo Jinho was a D-rank Hunter, and it was suicide for a D-rank Hunter to step inside a Dungeon this dangerous. He didn't try to change his mind as he insisted to stay Jinwoo's porter. He had faith in the kid.

"Alright."

And he can protect him should he be in danger. It wasn't a problem for him.

“Okay, so. Shall we get going, then?”

“Yes, Hyung-nim.”

“Indeed, let’s get going.”

They raised their heads and spotted Woo Jinchul, rid of his usual black business uniform.

"Oh!" Jinho exclaimed in surprise.

“I thought you left?” Jinwoo asked, a tad puzzled. He didn't expect for the man to be back, and with a suit of expensive armor.

Jinchul casually answered them as they stared at him. “The Association President ordered me to find out if it’s safe during Hunter Sung’s raids. Will it be a problem if I accompany you on your raid?”

“Not at all. But Chief Woo Jinchul, are you sure about this?”

The man blinked. “Huh?”

Jinwoo stared, the corners of his lips twitching up. “Ah, never mind. You’ll know soon enough. Jinho.”

“Yes!”

“Let’s go.” Jinwoo strolled to the Gate, Jinho speeding to reach beside him with a bright smile. His previous nervousness in the car was gone. It seemed he was wary of his unexpectedly bad mood earlier. Jinwoo felt sorry for him to have to deal with that.

Jinchul walked to his other side as they entered the Gate. When he crossed, the System message welcomed him like an old friend with the familiar mechanical beep.

[You have entered a dungeon.]

 

---

 

Off the coast of Seoul, a Gate opened up.

It was small, perfectly ordinary and not a cause for any concern to the pedestrians that barely gave it a glance. As they continued their way home or to work, the Gate rippled and thrashed. Whirring a strange noise, it parted for the figure of a person covered in green and blue blood. The tip of his sword dragged against the chalky ground, his white coat matted and dyed and destroyed in several places. His face could barely be seen, wet and blue, as he casually walked through the streets. Everyone that's seen the recently emerged Gate seconds ago stopped to stare, unable to make sense of what has occurred.

“Is that... a person?”

“Did he just come out of the Gate?”

Kim Dokja, with neither the patience or shit to give, ignored the people's whispering. The sky was dark, and the air tasted of damp grass, effectively rendering his inner clock useless. He walked, unsteady on his feet, aching with the remnants of running, and running, and wow—more running. With no time to tell on a dead phone, he resorted to getting to the Association as quickly as he could. His license was waiting for him and he was in desperately in need of a warm, long shower. After that, he'll fall asleep on his comfy bed, dead to the world.

He darted in a sprint to reach the neighborhood, brightening up considerably when he saw the familiar wide doors of the building. Hurrying up the steps two to three at a time, he burst through the entrance and into the counter of the reception desk. He cringed as she raised her head and squeaked, gaping at his horrible, nightmarish appearance. Common sense dimly lit, he cursed the problem of not having spare clothes to change with at the moment.

“Good afternoon,” Dokja gave her a charming smile, hoping it would take away from mess he accidentally tracked inside. “I’m here to take my re-evaluation test.”

Her mouth gaped like a fish before she hastily nodded. Her fingers humped across the keyboard of her computer. “Your name is Kim Dokja, yes? Your appointment was supposed to start an hour ago, but I can see that you were... busy.”

He laughed. That was an understatement. “Just a bit.”

“I’ll be escorting you to the evaluation room.” She got up and rounded the long desk, heading with Kim Dokja following from behind. The hall was long, the marble floor tiled blue and a design elegantly cut into sharp corners. This Seoul had a strange, near futuristic touch to it that was detached from what he knew of his own ruined city.

The worker squeaked as she stopped in her tracks. “P—President Go Gunhee?! What—what are you...?”

Stepping out of her shadow, Kim Dokja sized up the President in front of the gigantic door, half a head yet to reach the top of it. There were two unknown men beside him, wearing the same sleek suits and shades. He tilted his head as the man's gaze flickered to him, frowning in confusion as they shined a gentle warmth. 

“I can take over from here," he told her. Turning to him after she left, Dokja shivered from his carefree smile. “Kim Dokja, you’ve finally come. We tried calling you, but something seemed to have come up for you.” He was very pointedly suggesting his ragged appearance, curiosity alit, but kind enough to leave it be.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I was... preoccupied by a problem I had to take care of.”

He couldn’t exactly tell them what he was doing, or where he'd been. Ah, he should’ve taken off his coat before stepping inside. His black pants and dress shirt hid blood better than anything white.

Go Gunhee gestured for him to come closer, lightly patting him on the shoulder. “Would you like a bit of time to take a shower? I can prepare some clothes for you when you’re done.”

“Eh?" He jumped, "But, the evaluation...”

He waved him off, laughing heartily. “It’s fine. We can wait a bit more until you’re comfortable.”

“Oh,” Dokja said softly, smiling up at the man. “Thank you. I’d like that very much, Go Gunhee-ssi.”

He eagerly took Go Gunhee's generous offer, guided to a private bathroom he could use. Then, after fifteen minutes, Kim Dokja was wrapped in a fluffy towel and changing into the new clothes he’d been lent. It felt so good to be clean. Graciously, Go Gunhee even offered to wash the ones he had to get the blood out. Kim Dokja didn’t know why he was going so far to do this, but he was grateful all the same.

When he stepped out, he was decked in a basic plaid gray and blue striped shirt with another brand set of black pants. It fit him snuggly, hugging his hips just right. He didn’t wear blue often, but it seemed to fit him. When he was finally clean and ready, he took his sword where it laid against the wall and met back with the President and the other two men. The room was as big as it was empty, the white nearly encompassing any other existing color.

In the middle of the examination area, it was obvious how its interior layout resembled an indoor gymnasium. It's biggest difference were the powerful fluctuations of magic energy brimming off the walls and floors. Most likely, the magic had been utilized to reinforce the structure in case something went wrong.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kim Dokja.” A man holding a clipboard greeted, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Hello,” Dokja greeted back politely.

“Before the re-evaluation can take place, we must confirm your abilities first and set the new classification for you.”

Right. Hunters were classified as a melee, mage, healing, fighter, assassin, or even support-type according to their abilities, and performed their roles where they were needed the most.

The examiner clicked his pen. “What kind of abilities can you use?”

President Go Gunhee didn’t return to his office and, while leaning in the far corner, stared at the examination process with a great deal of interest. It felt a bit awkward to be stared at so heavily, but the man had a gentle countenance that made him feel inexplicably safe. It was strange, but Dokja didn't have the time to contemplate that patch of observation.

From what he understood, Gunhee wanted to confirm Dokja’s powers with his own eyes as he crossed his arms and didn’t blink.

Which led him to his next dilemma.

Was it alright to show them that form? The Chairman should have his suspicions since he's the one who sent Sung Jinwoo to deal with him, and since they must be in contact with one another…

The examiner and the President waited patiently as he mulled over his options. Sighing, he nodded to himself. The Association needed S-rank Hunters to protect Korea. The privilege of information privacy extended to him too.

[‘Demon King Transformation’ has begun!]

His black, lustrous wings unfurled from behind, the horns curling from stubs to sharp-gleaming spikes. With it, his Status was activated, and the push and pull of Mana in the air was combated by a foreign power. He didn’t know if they could tell or not if what he had wasn’t Mana, but their reaction became violently alarmed. The President stiffened and the examiner quaked where he stood, his clipboard clattering to the ground.

He couldn’t even form sentences as he stood there frozen. Go Gunhee walked up to the man while he was unresponsive, putting a hand firmly atop his shoulder and shallowly shaking him back to reality.

“Get a hold of yourself.”

“Ah...! Right, of course! Is—is there anything... else... you can do, Kim Dokja-ssi—er, Kim Dokja Hunter-nim?” His voice wavered, unable to look at him in the eye.

There were a lot of things he could do, unexplainable things that would surely alarm them. There was so little they knew of him. Either way, he didn’t want to reveal every card he had up his sleeve. That would be ridiculous.

“A few, but I mostly use a sword as my main weapon,” he informed them. He noticed the way they were still staring at his wings, transfixed by it. Belatedly, they nodded.

“Let’s get on with the re-evaluation then.”

 

---

 

As he strode out of the conquered Gate with Tusk holding the monster corpse of his newest Soldier, Jinwoo froze.

He could feel it. Iron’s connection with him warbled strong, tying itself to its King as it greeted him with confusion and servility.

Kim Dokja was back in Seoul.

He didn't give a second glance to the reporters shoving into his face or the obnoxious flash of the cameras as he zipped through the crowd, leaving Jinho and Jinchul with his last parting words. Tusk knew what to do, so he wasn’t worried and entrusted it to transfer the withered corpse to it's respective division.

He used ‘Sensory Perception’, his eyes blazing blue, and could pinpoint his location with ease and familiarity. Not wanting to waste another second, he crossed Seoul over like jumping puddles, his emotions vibrant across the mental links with his Soldiers as he felt their own excitement mingle into his. Kaisel was especially loud, trilling in his ears and letting him know of it's eagerness to meet Kim Dokja.

It encouraged him to go faster and faster, eager to reach the Association’s steps. Once he saw Kim Dokja hopping lightly to the bottom of the stairs, a smile on his face and a new license in his hand, his own smile broadened. His phone buzzed incessantly and he didn’t have to wonder to know that the list of Korea’s top ranked Hunters had just been updated on the Association’s website to inform the country of her newest S-rank Hunter.

He chuckled.

"What an intriguing person."

 

---

 

His eyes curiously scanned over the license, skipping merrily down the steps to reach the bottom. It was sleek and shiny, the ink boldly pronounced. His photo extended over half the card, taken the first time he went to get evaluated and was classified under the 'Immeasurable' category. The license shimmered every time he moves it.

"How official," he lightly comments. Thankfully, he wasn't ugly in the picture and looked somewhat good. It wouldn't do if he had a bad picture and was insulted for it. He loved his companions, but they would've torn him to shreds.

On more important news, he got that shower he'd been dying to get since yesterday. All that's left was for him to get some food in his rapidly decaying system before it doubled down on killing him. Like the petty person he was, he cursed Star Stream for being so stingy on not converting coins into real, useful money.

His apartment was a few blocks away, and when he diverted in its direction, a terrible dread crept up his spine. His reaction was immediate; he vaulted into a sprint, wheezing breaths punched out of his chest with the inconvenience of exhaustion crackling along his calves. Unlike the day before, zigzagging through the City with assumable control, Jinwoo quickly cornered him in hollow of an unlit alley.

Using that damn Skill—Dokja was sure it was his favorite—he hung helplessly at his mercy, his body locked up. His scrambling panic mistook the pressure for killing intent, gulping as the man stared him down. He had to crank his neck real high. Damn that protagonist height.

“...You’re surprisingly very hard to catch.”

“I’m told that a lot,” he joked, nervous. Give him a break, he hasn't slept in a day.

“If I let you go,” Jinwoo informed, watching him carefully. “Do you promise not to run away? I don’t want to fight you.”

Dokja could force himself out of his grasp. He's done it times again. But the offer was tempting to his exhausted limbs and sleepy mind. Convinced by the hint of sincerity in his voice, Dokja caved. “Okay, I won’t run.”

Jinwoo kept his end of the deal, a half second of surprise flashing through Dokja's eyes. The pressure seizing him naturally let him go. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Let’s go somewhere more private so we can talk.”

A tad hesitant, he followed him as he turned out of the alley, a cautious distance kept in between that couldn't have escaped Jinwoo's line of sight. "Where are we going?"

“Somewhere we can get some food.”

Dokja perked up at the mention of food. God, he was starving. This is exactly what he needed right now. He walked after Jinwoo more eagerly now. Soon, they reached a quant, homey little place with sizzling food smelt in the air. He had to try his best to swallow his rampant hunger back. The [Fourth Wall] helped in keeping his face neutral.

Once they sat down, they were handed menus, and this time he couldn’t stop the grumble from his stomach. Jinwoo’s eyes darted from his menu to him, and like a fool, Dokja pretended his ears weren’t burning. The brat should know staring was rude. Before the waiter could reach their table, Kim Dokja shamelessly crossed his arms over his chest and pointedly glared at the Hunter. “You’re the one paying, right? With several attempts at my life by now, I think paying for dinner should be the least of what you could do to make up for it, hmm?”

Dokja kept himself from shriveling up with [Fourth Wall] laughing at him. Jinwoo tilted his head before he nodded, serious. Wow, he was taking advantage of this guy's surprising sense of debt. “You’re right. I apologize for that.”

After they ordered their food, and were given their drinks, an awkward silence descended onto their table. What should he even do? Small talk wasn't possible under the circumstances of this context. Worst of all, Jinwoo kept him pinned under that relentless stare. If he didn't know any better, he'd compare it to the famous Yoo Joonghyuk stare, when he disapproved of something Dokja was scheming. But it felt different from Jinwoo. It was as if he was intrigued, looking at something that interested him.

[Your understanding of the Anomaly, 'Sung Jinwoo' has increased.]

Huh?

The Anomaly?

After a while, Jinwoo opened his mouth.

“There were multiple witnesses saying that an unknown Hunter helped save the students in danger,” Jinwoo began, his gaze never wavering. Dokja felt his heart skip at the revelation of the conversation’s direction. “He wore a white coat and had a sword with him. Were you there during the Orc dungeon break at my sister’s school?”

It was a question that demanded an answer.

The students had seen him and there were multiple accounts. So it wasn't as if he could lie. He lowered his glass of water, clearing his throat, “Yes. I was there.”

“How?” He demanded. “How did you know there was a Dungeon Break when even the Association was late to detect it?”

He took deliberate bites, shrugging. Omitting fragments of the truth was a better hand to be dealt given the low chances of Jinwoo believing them. Particularly, his Star Stream System. He had to remind himself that most of the people here were normal. They didn't have the tragedy of dancing in the hands of Constellations.

“I was out at the time and near the school. I sensed an abnormal fluctuation of Mana coming from the school and checked it out. I would've gotten help, but this was a time sensitive situation. Those vulgar Orcs wouldn't have waited on terrorizing and killing those kids. I had to do what I could before backup arrived."

“Did you know that was my sister’s school?”

“Nope," he answered honestly. "Didn’t even knew you had a sister until you stopped chasing me yesterday to talk to her.” His glimmering eyes tilted into a soft glare.

Jinwoo huffed a breath, his lip twitching up. “Right.”

Their food arrived and Dokja was quick to dig in. Finally, his stomach was no longer suffering from the hunger that tormented it and was now buzzing pleasantly.

“Where did you go after I arrived?” Jinwoo questioned him. "I couldn’t sense you in the classroom."

“Hmm, I don't know about that,” Dokia hummed among the food. “But where I went… It’s complicated.”

“?”

“You shouldn't worry about it. It was annoying and nearly killed me," he chuckled, "And lasted sixteen hours, but I took care of it in the end."

“??”

“Your food is gonna get cold if you keep that up."

Hesitantly, he dropped it. Between each bite, he kept glancing to Kim Dokja’s face, seeing the bliss he couldn’t hide as he ate and filled his belly. Jinwoo’s phone buzzed and he took it without looking away.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo speaking.”

“Hyung-nim! Sorry if I’m bothering you, but there’s an A-rank Gate open for us in an hour. Just wanted to remind you.”

“Ah, thanks. Ill be back at the office in a bit.”

“Okay!”

Jinwoo’s eyes blinked as he came up with an idea. He wasn’t sure how it would be received, but he wasn’t one to not take risks. He straightened his back and asked Jinho. “Is it alright if someone comes with us during the raid?”

“Eh? Ah, well, of course! It’s not a problem at all!”

He smirked. “Good. See you in a bit.”

As he ended the call, he directed his gaze back to Dokja.

“Kim Dokja.”

“Hm?” He raised his head.

He folded his twined fingers under his chin, voice purring into his eager smirk. “Want to go on a raid with me?”

Kim Dokja’s utensil clattered on the table.

 

---

 

He followed Jinwoo in a daze, not sure what possessed him in saying yes. Now he was being led to a Gate he could see from a distance in a van with Jinwoo and someone else he didn’t know. He introduced himself as Jinho, the self proclaimed driver and Vice Guild Master of Jinwoo's Guild (he had a Guild??) and was now humming as Dokja sat in the backseat.

He bit back a yawn, creaking the stiffness of his neck. It wasn’t that he was so tired he couldn’t go another round, he would've just preferred not to. He swung a bottle of Essence after leaving the restaurant to help his aches after he thoughtlessly blurted his answer. All he wanted to do was snuggle back in bed. Unfortunately, his wish couldn’t be granted because he cursed himself by agreeing to go in the first place.

Jinwoo was being especially quiet this time, Dokja noticed. It was after they got to his office and he caught sight of a girl sneaking around. He told him to go ahead inside and meet up with Jinho before he darted up to her and they began to talk.

Even from a glance, Kim Dokja’s reader heart instinctively knew that the girl must’ve been the heroine of this world. She was utterly stunning, with big, doe gray eyes, short light blonde hair, and an attractive figure. Seeing her stand next to Jinwoo, the protagonist, well, they made for a beautiful couple. He could say the same for Yoo Joonghyuk and Lee Seolhwa.

Though, when he came back and they got to the car, Dokja wondered what the expression on Jinwoo’s face meant. While he was getting to know Jinwoo, he still didn't know enough about him. He was in deep thought, barely paying attention to Jinho as the boy chatted their ears off. It couldn’t be that the girl broke up with him, right? Or did he confess and she rejected him? Suddenly, he felt very sympathetic to whatever Jinwoo was going through.

They reached the Gate in record time, and Jinwoo didn’t wait a second until he jumped through to reach the dungeon. Jinho didn’t seem concerned as he smiled at Dokja and gestured for him to follow. Dokja sighed.

They’d only been in the dungeon for an hour and Dokja couldn’t stop staring at the absolute destruction Jinwoo’s soldiers were laying waste to the rock Golem monsters under his command. Since they so clearly had everything under control, Jinwoo told both he and Jinho to relax against the bark of a graying tree as Jinho took out sandwiches and drinks for the three of them. He sat in the middle, knees folded politely beneath his calves.

“Haah, this sure brings back memories,” Jinho sighed as he took another bite out of his burger, chewing loudly as his lips smacked together. Kim Dokja grimaced and leaned a bit to the side, his shoulder brushing featherlight against Jinwoo’s. “Of us running around in C-level dungeons together, remember, Hyung-nim?”

“Talk after you swallow what you put in your mouth,” he reminded, sharing a glance with Dokja.

He smiled lightly, Jinho nodding and chewing even more frantically. After, he could be properly heard by them both. “Hyung-nim, the summons can move by themselves, right? So why not let the summons do the work while we eat or when we can’t move?”

“That won’t do.” He pointed behind him, to show the scene of an ant soldier brutally gorging on the head of a Golem. “I can’t be sure what these idiots would do when I’m not watching.”

“Huk!” Jinho paled as the ant screeched, Dokja keeping his lips from twitching up as Jinwoo lightly took a rock and threw it speedily at the ant and making it crash to the ground. Another ant, one from the mining group, made the same decision and began to eat the crystals it was mining. Jinho scrambled up with his hands waving in panic. “Hey! Hey! Don’t eat that, we need those! Hyung-nim, can I–?!”

“Go ahead,” he shrugged.

“Come back here, Ant~!” Jinho took off running after the ant as it scurried to keep its mouth away from his hands. They watched as Jinho cursed and jumped to reach the half-inhaled crystal.

“Does this happen a lot?” Dokja couldn’t help but ask, a bit worried as Jinho wrestled himself on the ant’s back.

“A bit,” he replied.

There was a bit of a lull in conversation as they continued to watch Jinho’s confrontation with the ant. Dokja glanced at Jinwoo, took in his serious, attractive face, his sharp eyes and flat mouth. He bit his lip in contemplation. “I hope you don’t mind me asking but…” his words drew Jinwoo’s attention back to him. “Is your little sister doing okay? Going through something like that…”

Jinwoo’s head dipped down, the mood lulling a bit dour. “…They’re saying she should relax for a bit. Her school won’t be open for a long time because of all the damages the Orcs made. Though, I left my most trustworthy guard next to her so I don’t need to worry for her safety.”

“That’s good,” Dokja mentioned lightly.

Jinwoo’s eyes closed, as if he was concentrating, falling silent with only the backdrop of sound of Soldiers scurrying throughout the dungeon. Kim Dokja took his time to properly analyze his face. He knew Jinwoo was attractive, but the extend of it was breathtaking. Black hair softly wading with the wind, a sharp, perfect jawline, thin, sleek eyebrows that moved expressively when he showed emotion. And his body, Dokja couldn’t begin to describe how handsome he was. He didn’t hesitate to think that Jinwoo could clap Yoo Joonghyuk’s face two times with ease and a sly smirk on his face.

He noticed how Jinwoo’s face moved with a variety of emotion; annoyance, exasperation, confusion, and then… embarrassment?

“Jinwoo?”

The man jumped, face coloring red. “Y–Yes!”

His suspicion narrowed at the uncharacteristic reaction. What could possibly make him make that face? Jinwoo coughed into his fist, face returning back to normal as Jinho came back from his personal quest. He was breathing heavily, but he wore a satisfied expression. The crystal he held was only half the size it used to be, but Dokja didn’t think it was necessary to mention that.

“Oh, Hyung-nim, I just remembered,” he panted, holding the shirt to his chest. “Did you hear? The S-level Gate that appeared in Shinjuku, Japan? Apparently there’s not even three days left until a dungeon break. They were gathering Hunters from everywhere, did they not contact you?”

Dokja’s eyes widened in surprise. An S-rank Gate. He hasn’t heard of those at all.

“They did, but there was a more pressing matter, so I’m thinking about it.” With that, he got up, dusted himself off and strolled forward. “Let’s go, we have work to do.”

“Finally moving?” Dokja got up and stretched, moving beside Jinwoo with a skip in his step. Jinho hastily packed his big backpack, running to reach them from behind with a shout.

Jinwoo nodded, “Let’s get this raid started, Kim Dokja,” Jinwoo smirked back at him, eyes glinting a troublesome eagerness. “I have high expectations.”

Dokja’s lips stretched wide, dangerous, pink soft. “I’ll be sure to meet them.”

Jinwoo’s left brow twitched, lingered on that infuriating smile. His own only grew bigger.

Notes:

Unfortunately, I am in midterms hell week and these teachers are going h a r d on us. save meeeee ╯︿╰

Midterms: hard and cold, crying intensified by 35%

fic writing: soft and warm, happy happy serotonin boost

Chapter 9: Secret to the Cartenon Temple (1)

Summary:

“It's okay, Hyung. It'll only take a second.”

Notes:

HEHEHE aaahhh they're growing closer I'm so glad! I was about to go insane over here~

Updates will now be 1 every week, mostly because I'm gonna be needing more time for future chapters now.

I know everyone likes regular updates you don't have to wait very long for, and I do to, but I just don't want to burn myself out :(

Please enjoy!

Jinwoo fiddled with the simple black key, confirming with the System message it would take another few torturous hours until he could have access to the Dungeon. The dull key sparkled faintly in the light—his entrance, his guide back to the tragedy of his beginning. That place that once raw wrought with his terror, his betrayal, his death, and there he will go again, to finish the chapter of his past properly.

The hunger roiled monstrously in his gut for a taste of his fated rematch, teeth clenched and palms clammy. His heart beat out of sync, frenzy with anticipation. It's been a long time coming.

His phone vibrates from the coffee table, snapping him out of his dark musing. Jinwoo clamored to grab it, reaching over the sofa and flipping it over. It's an unknown number, and not the first he's ever gotten. He shifted his body straight, cautious as he answers.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo speaking.”

“Oh—aha, it worked.”

On the other end, the voice soft and melodic, familiar. Jinwoo's eyes widen. The tension unconsciously bleeds out of his muscles.

“Kim Dokja?”

A hears a sudden, short giggle. “You sure like saying my full name a lot.”

“…Ah. Sorry.”

“No, no, it's fine. It just reminds me of someone I know,” he said, tone tinged with curiosity. “Jinwoo, how old are you?”

Jinwoo raised a brow, answering carefully. “I'm 24 years old. You?”

“Aha!” Kim Dokja made a sound of triumph, causing him to frown. “I knew it~ I am older than you!”

“…You are?” He couldn't believe it. “But you look so young. How old are you then?”

“I'm 28, which means I'm four years your senior,” he informed, sounding smug. “Shouldn't you be respectful towards your elder?”

How unexpected. Rubbing his temples, he blew a breath of air. He imagined Kim Dokja to be much younger than him due to his short height and pretty, fair-skinned appearance. “Guess I'll have to. But, is there any reason you called?”

“Huh? Yeah, I wanted to ask something ahaha…” was that a hint of shyness he detected? “Um, do you know any good stores I can get clothes from?”

“Clothes?”

He complained on the other line. “Yes, clothes. I don't want to sleep in my coat anymore, but in actual sleepwear. Since I figured I've been getting income from going on raids with you and Jinho in the last few days, I thought I'd go shopping a bit. So do you know any stores?”

“I know a few,” he confirmed. Getting up from his perch in his bedroom, he walked out and fished the keys off the kitchen table. “I'll come pick you up at your apartment.”

“Yeah okay, I'll—huh?!” Dokja sputtered through the phone, alarming and concerning sounds coming from his end as Jinwoo was quietly amused by his reaction. He stopped at the door, Dokja coming back with a louder shriek. “No, no, you don't have to go that far! You can just send me the location…”

Jinwoo pouted, startling himself with such a childish action. He dropped to his knees to tie his laces, angling the phone close. He pitched his voice deliberately low. “But I want to go with you. I don't mind. Won't you let me, Hyung?”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to snort as Dokja yelped. “You, you…!” His voice dwindled to a resigned grumble as he relented to Jinwoo's will. “…Fine. I'll be waiting for you, Jinwoo-yah.”

His ear tickled at the sultry drop of his name. Humming, his eyes go soft without notice. “I won't be long. See you then, Hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

With that, Jinwoo ended the call. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and finished lacing his shoes. Soft footsteps stop behind him, the presence motherly and hovering. The sound of their TV played in the background, consistently showing updated news relating to the S-rank Gate of Japan in a special broadcast that had captivated every citizen of Korea.

“My son?”

He glanced to her, reassuring his mother's consistent concern. “I'll be right back.”

For several seconds, there's no reply. Then, her gentle voice wavered to him, a quiet sort of warmth nestling near his heart.

“Your mother doesn't have to worry about this, right?”

His lips quirked in a half-smile, always warmest for his fretting mother. “Yes. I have a promise to keep.”

In a way, it was a promise he made with the System, wasn't it? He had worked hard for this exact reason. To protect his small, precious family. Even worried, even opposed, she nodded, as if to reassure him.

Unlocking the door, sunlight spilled and speckled his black-clad figure. “I'll be back soon.”

 

---

 

He drives to the Association-owned apartment complex, winding down district roads and barren streets. He parks in the parking lot. He had a few hours to kill and spending them with Kim Dokja seemed the most advantageous in appeasing the rate of his heart and mind. He scoped him near the front, wearing the same outfit in their first meeting a week ago and in every other after. Dokja bid him a good morning, flopping in the passenger's seat.

Jinwoo stared at him.

Dokja notices and frowns in confusion. “What?”

“Are you really bringing your sword with you?”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, and?”

“You can't bring a weapon like that in the residential area, Hyung. There are civilians around and it would leave them on edge. It's best to leave it behind.”

“Oh, I understand,” Dokja taps the hilt of his sword, shrugging. “I'll put it away for now.”

Then, without warning, he lifted the sword and it disappeared. Jinwoo froze, watching the small ripple in the air so similar to his own as Dokja patted his coat pocket and casually put on his seatbelt. No way. Did Dokja have an inventory Skill like him? In his coat? Or was the coat itself the Skill? He was about to ask when Dokja turned to him with a beaming smile.

“So, where are we going first?”

He hesitantly drops the thought, rearing out of the parking lot and into the road. There are a slew of stores he knows to pick from, if Jinah's opinion in fashion had anything to say for it in consideration.

The streets, as oddly deserted as it is, has weight behind it as most of every person in the whole country was watching the same broadcast coming from Japan.

They reach the first store, and throughout the ones he chooses to stop by at, he learns something new about Kim Dokja. While browsing through the numerous options, he generally avoids the flashier, more eye catching outfits and picks ones simplest in designs. The least to gather attention. He wasn't sure if it was awkwardness, but Dokja didn't try any of the clothes he chose without his insistent prompting. Without his interference, Dokja would've chosen clothes too big for him to wear comfortably in public.

“Thanks,” Dokja said, bagging his new clothes and looking a bit out of place. “I don't think I need this many though…”

They enter the car, Dokja putting the bags beside his legs as he closes the door. Jinwoo starts the engine. “You didn't have anything else to wear, this is a good number to start with.”

Driving them back to Dokja's apartment, his internal clock ticked down with every minute. Enough time has passed for the location of the Double Dungeon to be revealed and his anxiety was growing a shroud beneath his impatience. Dropping him off, he waited until he entered the building. Breathing in deeply, he focused as the minutes dissipated into seconds. The key rattled as a light clouded his sight.

[Item: Key to the Cartenon Temple]

Difficulty: ??

Type: Key

A Key that allows you to enter the Carthenon Temple. It can be used in the designated Gate.

The location of the designated Gate will be revealed after the predetermined time has been reached.

[Time left: 00:00:32]

-

His heart, anchored in the waves of tranquility, began to pick up a precarious pace.

[Time left: 00:00:15]

[Time left: 00:00:04]

[The location where the Key can be used will now be made available]

Jinwoo opened his eyes.

‘Isn't that place…’

The location of the Gate within the System's message was a cruel joke, and he clicked his tongue at the distastefulness of such an irony. After all, it a place he'd been intimately familiar with only days ago. Thankfully, it wasn't too far.

Accessing a feature his Hunter-only phone retained, he coursed through the website of the Hunter's Association and checked the information of the Gate in question. As expected, it was the same where the Association's warning notice, issued three days ago, said it'd be.

“I've been had,” Sung Jinwoo glared at the system message. The System said the information on the Gate would be made available, not that it would be appearing in the time he would reach it.

He kept checking, finding that the Gate, containing a C-rank Dungeon, had already been purchased by the Bravery Guild. And they were busy clearing it out now. It wasn't a high rank for him, but the real problem was not knowing what the Gate hid within its endless feasibility.

It would take ten minutes by car, but he couldn't take the chance of being second too late. There was a Soldier loitering near the school, which worked perfectly for him. It was the fastest route he could take. As he got out of the car, shutting the door closed, he heard his name being shouted.

Looking up, he saw Dokja running at top speed back to the car. “Hyung?”

"Jinwoo." He reached the hood of the car, panting lightly. “Are you going into a Dungeon now?”

The Hunter's eyes go wide at his abrupt question. How the hell did he know?

“Because if you are,” he continued, grinning, “You're going to need my help.”

Jinwoo watched him from the corner of his eye. He think, if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have tolerated this. But all he can feel is fond exasperation as he nods in acceptance.

“Wait, why are you out of the car?” He questioned just as he was opening the door.

“It would take too long by car.”

“Then how do you intend to get to the Gate? Running?”

“I had another idea.” He shook his head, quietly observing the other. “Hyung, come here.”

Kim Dokja frowned in confusion, but did as asked. He tiptoed uncertainly towards Jinwoo, keeping a short space between them. Suddenly, a hand struck out, grasping his wrist and tugging him into a broad chest. His yelp was swallowed by the rise of shadows, face planted and smushed. Jinwoo stopped him from leaping away, snaking an arm over his back to keep him close. “Wha—?!”

“Shadow Exchange.”

Dokja squeaked as the vibration of Jinwoo's voice droned into his ear, reddened and receptive, and he unconsciously clenched his fingers in the black shirt. Jinwoo's warm hand cupped into the bow of his waist, holding him firmly. His face, as warm as it could possible be, was thankfully hidden from sight.

Pitted in the dimensional cleft of darkness, he peered down to check of Dokja. Jinwoo frowned as Dokja trembled imperceptively, his delicate hands fisted harshly in the fabric. He didn't think he'd be that afraid. Hoping to reassure him, he lowered down to his ear. “It's okay, Hyung. It'll only take a second.”

Dokja made a sound, maybe a whimper, and gave him a tiny nod. Jinwoo rubbed his hands comfortingly over his back, settling to his waist. He raised his head and ignored how delightfully small it felt in his clutch.

Focus.

As the enveloping darkness shifted locations, it gave way to the athletics field of his sister's former high school. After the Orc attack and it's devastating losses, the school had been closed indefinitely. Currently, there were no civilians present that could be hurt in this excursion, safe for the raid team facing the most potential for danger.

He recalled the underground Temple's cruelty. The apathy in terror, the sobbing prayers that shook with tears and wild, manic hysteria, nails and claws and desperation that were screams for mercy from things that knew nothing of the meaning. The lives lost, his own nearly taken—once, twice—and the rage was there, in tainted memories, in the heart, yet his anticipation curled like a waiting killer.

He couldn't deny it.

He felt alive in that Temple. Fighting for his life, he wasn't some useless, powerless rank E Hunter who was mocked with the title as the weakest—he was a challenger, a person who dared to go against impossible odds.

For the first time, beneath the chaining haze of tremoring fear and weakness, was something close to competence.

A small, bell-like voice broke him out of his musings.

“Jinwoo… can you let go of me now…?”

Kim Dokja, still trapped in his constrictive grasp, squirmed, a pale-veined figure tugging against him. Reluctantly, his arm slid off the curve of his spine, unaware he'd secured him flush. “Oh, sorry.”

As he let go, Dokja jumped several paces apart, clearing his throat and surveying their surroundings with a comprehensive glint. “Are we—?”

“We are,” Jinwoo affirmed, utilizing 'Stealth' to disguise his Mana as they rounded the front gate of the closed-off, bleak school. Flocking the swirling Gate were a handful of employees and Guild staff members, guarding its perimeters from opportunely placed reporters. Through the serious decked charge, the atmosphere carried in quiet, unushered waves. It was clear they haven't heard any urgent news from the raid team.

Undoing his 'Stealth', he announces his presence with Kim Dokja by his side. On opposite ends, several employees raise their heads, cutting their stroll with a warning.

“Hey, both of you! You're not allowed in here.”

He flipped his hood off, and a plethora of gasps circled them in considerate attention. As he's recognized, a drove of low-ranked Hunters thread closer.

“It's you! Hunter Sung Jinwoo!”

To his immense relief, the female employee he briefly met at the Red Gate that popped in the middle of the road was one of the people assigned post in this particular Raid. He spoke to her directly, certain it would take the least time.

“You have to cancel the raid right now.”

Flustered by his demand, she gawked, her round glasses slipping to the bridge of her nose. As predicted, she tried to reason with him. “Huh? But according to the measurements, it's a C-rank Gate…”

“It's not,” he stated, pensive, and in no uncertain terms. “They're in danger. If the raid is not stopped, they will all die.”

“!!”

His solemn, set glare is affixed to the taunting Gate, the Hunters careless and oblivious to the staggering aptitude it exuded. Couldn't they sense that?

Beside him, Dokja grimaced in disgust. The eerie aura crept steadily along their necks, overwhelmingly sickening. He rubbed the goosebumps off his arm. “That's vile.”

He was pleased Hyung could recognize the skulking danger. Unlike these trained professionals.

“Who is that?” The employee asked, scrutinizing the stranger. It must've been strange for Jinwoo to be accompanied by another person. Every one knew he raided alone.

“He's with me,” Jinwoo declared, his annoyance pinched as the employee seemed to not believe him.

“I am Kim Dokja, Hunter Sung Jinwoo's companion,” Kim Dokja revealed, demeanor bedecked pleasantly. Jinwoo's lips twitched up at the friendly title.

“Ki—“ She stiffened, a contemporary sort of wariness edging her face pale, “Kim Dokja? That Kim Dokja?? Seoul's 11th S-rank Hunter?!”

Word of an eleventh S-rank Hunter's emergence had spread like ripples throughout South Korea in the last few days. With hopeful, excited whispers abounded as yet another rumored powerhouse appeared within their country, only months after the high of their tenth S-rank Hunter's own miracle story.

“The very same,” Kim Dokja certified, tipping his chin to the Gate. “How long has it been since the team went in?”

It was crucial to know the exact time, as the longer it took, the deeper these uninformed Hunters would've gone. And that significantly decreased their odds of returning safely.

She wrung her hands together, apprehension gradually ringing her frown to deepen. “It’s been about two hours.”

Two hours. Not too long then. It was the best they could get in this situation. Dokja opened his mouth to answer when a buff hand clapped his shoulder, sternly turning him around.

“And who the hell are you?” The man demanded, suspicious. "You from the Association?”

It seemed this Guild staff member wasn’t happy with this newcomer’s attitude. The female employee yelped, her face draining of any color. The man didn't pay mind to it, lowering his head to Dokja's height when he didn't get a reply.

“You should answer back when people are ta….”

“Let go.” Jinwoo's voice lashed like black ice, bitterly cold as he addressed the stupid, foolish man. His threat ribbed with thinned patience, and recognition flit in the beady eyes of the man as his teeth chattered.

“H—Hunter Sung Jinwoo?!” He yelled.

“It's rude to grab a person so suddenly, no?” Kim Dokja smiled, and it was not a nice smile. It was a knife's sharp edge as he crushed the offender's hand with his lithe fingers and smacked it off his shoulder. The man howled, clutching it as it grew swollen. Miraculously, there was not a hint of blood.

“I… I'm truly sorry.” The man scurried away.

Time was wasting away uselessly. Jinwoo clicked his tongue, irritation dragging low. “We'll go inside to collect them, but we need to do it now.”

“I… If you could just explain…!”

“There's no time.”

His insistence edged vehemence. They were losing time, and while there were a slew of means he could've distracted and cruised in unnoticed, he needed to cover his and Dokja's bases to some degree so no annoying problems dragged behind them in the future. The sole reason stopping him from jumping in were the countless probabilities that could occur outside of his control once inside.

The employee's lips thinned, clear conflict tormenting her as she contemplated breaking regulations made to be followed. Something like this, if it was from anyone else but Sung Jinwoo, would be unimaginable. 

She sighed, dropping her head.

“…Please, go in.”

Jinwoo nodded in thanks, with Kim Dokja smiling at her.

“Thank you, Miss.”

As they ran into the Gate, a mechanical beep welcomed him.

[You have entered a dungeon.]

 

---

 

There were corpses of various monsters strewn dead and plundered all over the Dungeon. Their magic crystals removed, the remains ignored. It was a lower ranked dungeon, after all. Their corpses wouldn't fetch for much of any money, so the only real source of income were from the magic crystals they had.

Jinwoo concentrated, yet couldn't sense the presence of the raid team.

“They couldn't have…”

No, the magic energy from the bodies of the freshly deceased leaked steadily. The issue he was dealing with, on the other hand…

“Jinwoo-yah,” Dokja called, voice echoing softly, “This Dungeon is stupidly huge, huh?”

Ah. Right.

He nodded, studying its familiar layout. “No wonder I couldn't sense the raid team's presence.”

The sense of déjà vu hit hard, memories of the day he got his power flashing.

“Over here.”

If this Dungeon's structure was close to the one he knew, that would mean it had another entrance deep within. That would answer why neither of them could sense the Hunters. It wasn't possible when they possessed a negligible amount of Mana individually.

Jinwoo stopped at the entrance of the cavern. Like before, there was one sole path, completely shrouded in total darkness.

“Hyung, can you see well in the dark?”

He heard the man chuckle. “Of course. Who do you think I am?”

“I'm not sure,” Jinwoo mused, painfully honest, his smile tilting in mirth, “But I'd like to learn.”

“After we get out of here,” Dokja mentioned, peering at the encompassing darkness. “It's long.”

“There's a chance we can get separated, so,” Jinwoo offered his palm for him to take, “Here.”

Kim Dokja stared at his hand with a strange expression on his face before he broke into a sly tone. “How bold, Jinwoo-ah,” he cupped his mouth as if scandalized, “Holding hands this early in our companionship? Oh my. Not even Yoo Joonghyuk has done such a thing.”

“…Forget it.”

Jinwoo, ticked off and confused at the name drop, took back his offer, strolling into the obscuring shade. Dokja laughing obnoxiously behind him all the way.

His Perception Stat, pushed to the extreme, showed him the path within this inky blackness. His eyes glowed in a pale, cold hue. Sensing Dokja walking behind him, he formed an idea. Taking a deep breath, his feet scuffed the ground and he shot forward like a bullet. The background images blurred into one flash, catching Dokja's cursing as he's left behind.

“Hey! You asshole!”

He snickered, rushing forward. His speed conquered the long passageway, reaching his destination in no time. It was quite different from his first time, when he had to walk for a whole hour to get on the other side. Soon enough, he sensed the Hunters of the raiding team. They surrounded one spot, talking amongst themselves in front of the intricate doorway.

“You can't be serious! You want to turn back when we've come this far?”

It was a relief they hadn't stepped foot inside. If they had, they wouldn't be chatting like this.

“Did you think I couldn't do the same?”

Jinwoo unconsciously smiled at the annoyed voice, not deigning Dokja a glance with his gaze pinned to the arguing Hunters. “I had faith you'd get out eventually.”

Dokja pinched his shoulder, but he felt no pain from it. He huffed, deciding to humor him when he pouted so cutely for him. “Ow.”

“Shut up. Are we going or not?”

As the Hunters discussed going back out for the cooperation of a bigger Guild, a multitude of members were vocal in their disagreement. They couldn't go out empty-handed, only to come back with half the share of whatever untold wealth lay waiting to be snatched. He understood that, but as the survivor of the Double Dungeon, he wouldn't let them make the same mistake. His conscience wouldn't allow it.

“This is a trap.”

The loitering Hunters jolted, abruptly uniting as a team. The slip-second scramble for formation, should it have been any other creature or person not Jinwoo, would've easily spelled their deaths. Honestly, how could they leave their guards down like that?

"Holy—that surprised me!”

“W—who are you?!”

Jinwoo pointed at the steel door with his chin. “I’m a survivor of a Dual Dungeon incident.”

The Hunters whispered amongst each other. Jinwoo and Dokja moved closer into the light.

“Isn’t that person Hunter Sung Jinwoo?”

“For real?! No way!”

“But why would an rank-S Hunter come here?”

He walked up to the doorway, his stride calm and measured, reaching to the bronze-rusted handle as the Hunters parted for him in instinct. His touch featherlight, trembled. He was here.

“I know what is behind this door.”

His reminiscence is tinged with vivid sensation; the sorrow thinking he'd die, the pain of a past survived, and the relief, the staggering relief of being alive.

It's been a long time.

His disbelief is lost to suspension.

For the sake of these Hunters, as well as for himself, he couldn’t have any uninvited guests stopping him from doing what is necessary. He surveyed each of the Hunters present, a heavy weight to his voice.

“This place is incredibly dangerous. I’ll take care of things from now on, so for the sake of your safety, you must leave the Dungeon.”

They burst into uproar, angry and loud and telling him exactly what they thought. Finally, their leader pushed through the gathered team members.

“Excuse me, Sung Hunter-nim.” The Master of this small-to-medium Guild, grave faced with the dissatisfaction of being told to fork over the Gate they had undoubtedly been fighting to earn, spoke up. “We at the Bravery Guild bought the permit to raid this dungeon fair and square. You may be an S-rank Hunter, but you simply don’t have the right to tell us to leave.”

“T—that’s right! Being a rank S isn’t everything, you know!”

Jinwoo closed his mouth in a straight line to the opposition coming from these rowdy Hunters.

“Hunter Sung is trying to help you.” Kim Dokja came to his aid, his arms crossed with a judgmental look. “We are intervening for your safety. You don't know what lies behind this door, but he does. Yet you insist on arguing?”

“Who's the other guy?” One of them sneered.

“My name is Kim Dokja,” he introduced himself.

They looked unimpressed. “Never heard of you.”

His eye twitched, very briefly. “Jinwoo.”

“We're done with them.”

Without another word, he faced the intricate, heavy door, twisting the knob once to find it immovable. Whatever restrictive magic it had, was imbued with the task in keeping outsiders from stepping foot into its holy, monstrous gallery of statues. As he thought for a moment, a new System message came in.

[The door to the Cartenon Temple is currently locked.]

[Please use the key provided.]

He took out the black key, it's design quite different from what it was before. Simply slotting it in the keyhole, the door slid open on its own volition. The Bravery Guild Hunters, having struggled to budge even an inch, sputtered in collective shock.

“What?!”

“How did he manage to open it?!”

Jinwoo ignored their whispering and spoke to them in a cold voice. “I won’t stop you. If you want to follow me inside, it's your choice.” He didn’t forget to warn them, too. “However, it’ll be hard for you to come back out alive if you decide to do so.”

That one sentence managed to freeze the Hunters. This was advice given by an S-rank Hunter, something you'd be stupid to ignore. However, true to his Guild's name, Master of the Bravery Guild stepped forward, showcasing a confident, unbothered visage.

“I’ll go in.”

Whatever the cost of his decision, the man would have to deal with it.

The Guild Master was not accompanied by a single person, judging their cowardice with a glare. His hesitation lasted mere moments; after mustering the courage needed, he took a step inside.

[An individual not holding the Key has entered the temple.]

[This entry has been denied.]

[Failure to comply will result in the immediate retaliation from the Gatekeepers.]

The ignorant Guild Master took another step forward—

—And a large hammer fell, unseeing, towards the crack of his skull.

The hammer smashed to the ground and shattered the stone slab into pieces, the Guild Master yanked by the scruff to be shoved into the arms of his startled team members.

“Guild Master, are you alright?!”

The S rank faced the terrified Hunters, disapproval radiating from the downward turn of his brow. “The monsters in there are all like that. You sure you want to go inside?”

The Guild Master shook in his boots, his fellow Guild members assisting him to his feet and escaping from the unquestionably dangerous Dungeon. After confirming that the Hunters had left for good, Jinwoo made his way back.

[The holder of the Key has entered.]

He eyed the Gatekeeper warily as Dokja casually strolled into the Temple, ready to protect him at any moment. The statue blurred, it's rusty axe aimed to cut Dokja down, and as his fingers twitched, Dokja snapped his wrist to catch the barbaric weapon. He wound the weapon out of the statue's grip, sliding it into his favor and cut it down instead, a symmetrical wedge to its stone body from the middle.

As Dokja lifted his eyes to smirk at Jinwoo, the Hunter couldn't help but be impressed. Turning their backs, the wide, ancient door imbued with Mana closed with unsaid finality.

The massive scale of the Temple is towered by the grand, pale stone statues. They line the walls, circling the God statue like it was a worshipful monument to be infected.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, everything matched his memories.

He was back, back to the place where it all started.

Notes:

We've reached the Cartenon Temple! Now, I wonder what'll happen after this?! Tell me your predictions! Not gonna lie tho, I reALLY wanna kill Kdj, make Jinwoo go fucking crazy, and then bring him back to life hehe (*^▽^*)

Will we be seeing his angel transformation in the fight? Does anyone want that?

I hope everyone enjoyed this! I might be finishing up another smut fic with yjh/kdj/sjw I had made on my twitter in the coming days ;)

Chapter 10: Secret to the Cartenon Temple (2)

Summary:

"I wonder, can you handle the might of a God, vermin?"

Notes:

Ngl, I like it when OP characters struggle. Like I get they're strong, or whatever, but it's nice when they sometimes feel fear and such. It makes them feel more human to me :)

Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I had many things to do that took my attention. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts at the end!

Blue, flickering fire lights along the ancient wall, its touch etching faint depth over the stone faces of the Temple's statues. Walking slowly, the cold deepens; an ominous state composed from the curving shapes of things that were never alive.

Eyeing the pedestaled figures, an old caution seizes him. 

He remembered the bloodshed all too easily. The despair, the desperation. However, as the Temple remained unchanged, untouched and preserved, there was one key difference that surpassed the past he was molded from. The one that had suffered and grown, struggled and thrived—himself.

And due to that growth, he could decipher the truth behind these statues. As he lingered on each one, their stonework pristine, their bodies unmoving, solidified by their master's will, he could see them for what they were. No more than puppets, they were never monsters to begin with. Roped with strings and gone vapid, they were merely pawns bound to the control of the mastermind.

In this Temple, this hallowed sanctum propped with the husks of servants, its figurehead perched upon its framed throne, only one creature emitted any energy for Jinwoo to detect. It was slight, concealed so expertly Jinwoo traced its menacing drift in a single direction. He shifted his head. Once, as the 'World's Weakest Hunter', he couldn't have dreamed to come this far. With his heart balanced in the cage of his chest and tainted memories in his every step, he confronted the orchestrator of his tragedy.

"You were the real one, this entire time."

The atmosphere jilted, wavered, seeping frost by the narrow of gleaming red eyes. They stared, unblinking, underneath the hood. His lip quirked stiff. His offer for conversation was left ignored. Kim Dokja frowned at the creature, alert and body coiled with tension.

"Don't be like that."

Jinwoo's speed blurred, his short-sword aimed acute to stab into the creature's chest.

"You wanna play it like this now, huh?"

His attack, predictably, was redirected by the tack of a tablet taking the hit. It dug deep, creating fissures into the laws written within it. As he jumped back, Kim Dokja a grounding, assuring presence beside him, they scrutinized the savage split of a grin hissing wide. Its wings, huddled six, slowly blanketed them in a towering silhouette.

The pervasive silence was shattered by it's voice, thrilling in a delight-laden rasp.

"At last, you've come."

Like a spell broken, the stone guards surrounding them rattled in a thunderous creak. They groaned and twitched, roused by the speech of their owner. They calmed, still, as the statue, designed in the image of an Angel, rose from its position and unwound its bent back. It's expression was sick. It leered at Jinwoo, glowing with satisfaction.

His stomach twisted and roiled, wired to stay vigilant in the face of a strong opponent. His Mana canted towards the danger, prepared, lashing, biding by his instincts for their inevitable battle. Yet, it didn't strike, it grinned. The stone tablet, damaged earlier by his weapon, was tossed to the side and left to shatter into rubble. Worthless, insignificant rubble.

As the Angel butchered a laugh, Jinwoo's eyes narrowed.

"Those rules… there was no meaning to them from the very beginning."

None of it, none at all had meaning. All it was, for all the deaths he was forced to bear witness to and unable to prevent, merely entertainment. It could've killed them at any time it chose, and instead preferred to pick and play with the lives of humans.

"There was meaning," the creature drawled, somewhat bored, "Only they remain obsolete now."

Then what was it? What did it want with him? The hardships he has gone through; the impossible quests, the cruel dungeons, everything that came with escaping death in this Temple—what did it all signify, if anything?

The answers, the questions pick-pocketed in the back of his throat, he's finally gotten an opportunity for them.

Kim Dokja glanced to him, avidly curious.

"You know that thing?"

He nodded, mutely. "Unfortunately. We have history together."

And the answers he wants.

The rhythmic pulse of his heart stumbled uneven, its steady thump, thump, thump, rising with the bait of a possible revelation. Head tipped and cloaked, the Angel acknowledged his quietly contemplating companion. He addressed Kim Dokja, the first flash of a frown disrupting its wicked features.

"An intruder? No one besides the Player should be able to enter my Temple." It observed Dokja, suspicious, only for his expression to warp into shock. It's red eyes shook. "What? How can my System fail to classify you?!"

Then, Jinwoo wasn't alone in encountering this unforeseen problem. Dokja lounged beside him, with his easygoing posture and vaguely subdued power, shrouded in white-clad secrecy Jinwoo couldn't begin to strip apart. Honestly, who was he?

Hiking his ever growing fascination with Kim Dokja aside to the mind, he threw out a question for the Angel to answer.

"Were you the one who summoned me here?"

"That's correct." It proceeded to loosen it's various joints, horrible sounds of creaking making him grimace. "You have done well to get here."

"Are you a monster?"

The dreadful waves of magic energy emitted by this statue in comparison to the commonly regarded monsters he's encountered and fought against were certainly on different planes of power. And with it, it struck and spilled, had them discreetly attentive to whatever impulse it reveled in. the Angel raised its head, it's smile wiped from its face.

"That's the wrong question to ask."

A chill crawled over the back of his neck.

"Rather than asking who I am, you should be asking what you are, instead."

He froze. The Angel lazily clapped its hands, that impending awareness creeping and digging in high alert. Whatever it had planned for him, he had to be ready. This was no place for failure.

"This will be your final test. If you're still standing by the end of the test, everything you wish to know will be revealed to you. That…"

With the snap of its fingers, a petering red glow flared vividly within the armored statues, lifelessly housing the bodies without a soul.

"Will be my reward to you."

The collective snap of the heads of servants thundered loud. Jerking off their pedestals, they pivoted to the direction of the two Hunters in uniform order: weapons gleaming, curving formidable. Even as puppets, they were still going to prove tough to deal with, massed in such high numbers together. He swept a glance, Dokja sauntering forward, armed with a glare and vibrant annoyance.

"You're quite the vague one, aren't you?" He complained, pointing his elegant sword disrespectfully in the face of the Angel. "Would it kill you to be straightforward?"

"Kill the mouthy human first," the Angel commanded, coldly glaring down at him. "He is worthless to me."

"Wow, piece of shit," Dokja sneered.

With an equal to protect, Jinwoo would not allow for Kim Dokja's death.

"Arise."

Dancing in wispy, black slashes, his Shadows clung to the silhouette of his figure. They barely began to form when the Angel laughed, high and amused, and snapped its fingers again.

"Oh no, we can't have that."

[For the duration of the Final Test, all of your Class-specific skills have been sealed.]

[Usage of various potions and the Store’s functions have been prohibited, and status recovery effects from levelling up and quest completion bonuses will be inapplicable during the duration of the test.]

"What?"

[You can not exit this chamber until the end of the Final Test.]

"I'm not interested in the abilities of your servants."

He uncharacteristically shuddered. He should've known. The System had been with him since the beginning, and with him knowing its code of operation the best, its usage would've threatened the authenticity the Angel was looking for in the Final Test. Shaking his head, he could hear them still. His Shadows screeching in indignation, silenced under the control of the one they did not follow. 'It's fine. I can handle this,' he replied, to the distress of several of them.

"…So, it's going to be like, is it?"

"Is something the matter?" Dokja questioned, the tinkering armor of the moving statues clanging in rioting disorder.

"The hidden cards I've been preparing ended up being useless," he said. "Along with my Shadows."

"That's not good," he sighed. "Guess it'll be up to us. What do you say, Jinwoo?" Teasing, he smiled even in a situation like this. "I don't think I've seen you go all out yet."

"Neither have I," Jinwoo agreed. In that case, he'll overcome this with nothing but his own power.

He gathered his deepening resolve and drew his weapon at the same time as Dokja. The most logical way to deal with this situation was to target and take out the main offender enabling these statues to move in action. However, the Angel was smart; it flapped its great set of wings and hovered above like a cruel god entertaining itself with a play. Cunning, it watched their struggle from deliberate distance.

For the time being, they will have to take out their closest enemies. He'd prefer not to, but he'll go along with this charade, up until he gets his chance to fight against the one administrating the Test.

The statues rose without swift delay, silent and striking and faster than he first guessed. Their advantage laid in their size and their numbers. But he wouldn't give up, no matter what odds stacked against him. Never once since acquiring the System did he ever pause, stop, or fail to polish his skills, never backed off in working hard to achieve the impossible he aimed to gain, regardless of the barriers that tried to hinder his growth.

He dodged a sudden strike to his right, blocking a dangerous spear stabbing him with his short-sword. He disarmed the guard of its balance, drove it into the chest-plate of an archer and crammed them both into a screech of noise.

Kim Dokja zipped passed him, an electrifying flash of white and wind and brought a tide of devastation to the statues that lined their path. They burst with the force, unable to go against the power he exuded. As Dokja tilted his body halfway and let an axe brush passed, he raised his leg and kicked the head of the enemy clean off. Debris exploded from the compact floor as the axe flew wayward. The statue's body broke into pieces with another, weaker kick from Kim Dokja,

"Oh, come on~ I thought you were supposed to be a threat," Dokja taunted the Angel, sticking his tongue out at it. "Seems like you're a coward too."

The Angel glared at him.

In a momentary lack of concentration, an arrow flew to his head, and Jinwoo quickly caught the arrow, stopping the projectile from reaching him.

"You're so good, Hyung," Jinwoo rumbled lowly, lifting a hand to flick a small splash of dirt that landed on his cheek. He dropped the arrow and crushed it under his shoe. "But try not to play too much."

Dokja pouted, stepping back. "I'm taking this seriously."

They jumped in opposite directions, a sturdy, long-built sword hailing down with the brutality of its wielder. A proper assault from the buffer statues he was forced to parry against with his buffed physical strength. Shoving the blocked sword, his short-sword traced diagonal lines in the air in swift cuts, the arm of the statue crashing to the floor.

Two more bounded together, and with an annoyed growl, he manifested his 'Demon King's Daggers.' Leaping onto one of the stone guard's head, he dug his dual blades into its helmet, jumping off and smashing the second one into the first. They collapsed in a heap, destroyed, demolished, his glittering ire spun in sharp steel to the hovering instigator.

"To come this far with a human body… it's true, you've grown well," it complimented him, sounding nearly proud, "What an amazing feat."

In a flurry of whipping wind and electricity, the area became immersed in light, a whole horde of statues taken down by Kim Dokja. It allowed Jinwoo to fight much more freely, the thinning horde dealt with ease.

The Angel hissed at the dominating display of favor, sneering. "This will not do. That human is interfering with the King's Test," it growled, a sinister smile spreading jagged across its lips. "Yes, what better way to deal with bothersome pests than this."

With Kim Dokja's aid, they played the field and swept the guards into a cyclone of ravaging gravel and stone. As he sent a quick, grateful nod to the Hunter, Jinwoo took note of the untimely System window beside his scope of vision. As his gaze pulled towards the pop up Quest, icy coldness snapped his steadfast concentration with fissures, split and caving.

[An Emergency Quest has been issued.]

No.

[Defeat the Enemy, '*e&on ^i%g $f  S(lv#t%on' in the allotted time.]

[If this Quest is not completed, a Penalty will be issued as a result.]

[Time remaining: 15:00]

[Time remaining: 14:59]

His pulsing Mana flared, swerving to icily glare at the smirking Angel. A statue made the mistake of reaching for him, only for it to fall crippled into the floor as Jinwoo ruthlessly smashed a sizeable hole in the upper half of its body.

No, he couldn't.

Not him.

Not Hyung.

His breath hitched to call out to Dokja, but a rumble shook the ground in violent bursts. With the commanding laugh of the Angel, the God statue mustered itself for movement, a great clockwork behemoth ticking its rise slowly to life. They lifted their heads to the colossal, gripping its armrest of the throne and lifted itself to a substantially huge height. Its gleaming eyes ranged over the pillars that held the Temple, slid to the puppet guards, and thrummed a murderous red to the enemies of their collective.

"Sung Jinwoo, what the hell am I looking at?" Dokja exasperated, having to crane his neck to even spot the behemoth statue's disgustingly smiling face.

Jinwoo didn't answer, gritting his teeth at the primal brutality in the God's crimson hued stare. Internally, he agonized over the minutes he had left, the seconds echoing in resolution. Dokja squirmed beside him, innocently oblivious to what he was forced to do.

In its first steps, the vast interior of the Temple trembled and surged. The Angel unfurled its arms in a gloating show of the colossal statue's power, its magnificent weight. "I wonder, can you handle the might of a God, vermin?"

"What? You think he's the first 'God' I've gone up against?" Dokja chuckled, his sword glowing an eerie type of darkness. "You're dead wrong."

The giant eclipsed the low, navy light, its palm rapidly shaking the chamber as it slapped the ground. Jinwoo hurriedly flung himself away to get out of the range of the gigantic palm strike. All the other statues, so intent on killing them, were reduced to fine powder under the giant's sheer significance.

Jinwoo clicked his tongue. "What a bothersome guy."

As the statue raised it's palm again, his eyes widened as its stonework feet aimed itself in the direction of Kim Dokja, who was fighting against another set of smaller, but persistent axe wielding statues. He shot forward with the help of 'Sprint', whistling with the wind as Dokja turned to face the foot headed to smash into him. His eyes widened, his reaction a bit too slow, but Jinwoo struck his hand and took hold of his body.

Flinging them a safe distance away, Jinwoo squeezed Dokja against him as they tumbled and crashed, collecting most of the damage to his back as he battered into the upheld wall. He hissed and coiled above Dokja's head, the rubble sprinkling over Jinwoo so nothing too big could fall on him.

"Hyung, are you okay?" Jinwoo huffed, squinting, scrapes and cuts dancing along the curve of his bunched arm. Dokja coughed in his chest, and he worriedly looked down at him.

He blinked up, eyes wide and gasping. "Holy fuck, that thing is huge."

"It is," he mindlessly agreed. As they both sat up, Jinwoo's lips thinned. The hand at his side clenched in a fist, white-knuckled with strain. "Kim Dokja."

The white-clad man turned to him, his brief surprise withering to adopt a serious expression at seeing Jinwoo's own.

"We have a problem."

Dokja nodded, paying attention.

Jinwoo took a deep breath. "I have to kill you."

Dokja raised his brow, but besides that, there was no other outwardly reaction. "…Uh huh. Can I ask why?"

Jinwoo's brows furrowed at his lackluster reaction, but kept his calm as it started to crumble with every lost second. "I have a System, and if I don't finish this Quest, my heart will stop." A strain of pain warped his features. "There are things I need to know and I can't stop, even for you. I'm sorry, I have to do this."

"Ah." Dokja's head tilted to the side. "The Quest is telling you to kill me?" He hummed, snorting. "A bounty, huh? Been a while."

As he dusted himself off, he offered a hand to Jinwoo, who hesitantly took it.

Dokja didn't struggle against the revelation that Jinwoo had to kill him, carefully put together and adaptive to the situation. Seeing his expression, Dokja snorted, and that had him spinning. With a confused, meandering voice, he stared at him. "Hyung, aren't you…?"

"Hm? What? Afraid?" Dokja's eyes formed into sly crescents, amused. "I don't doubt you can kill me, Jinwoo-yah, but you're not the first to think you so either. Now, I see your dilemma," Dokja nodded, eyes sharp as he scanned the area wall to wall with enemies. They were beginning to move in their direction. "So just give me a few minutes to come up with an alternative."

"What?" Jinwoo's eyes widened. "Hyung, what do you—"

"Just focus on killing that damn God statue first, okay?" Kim Dokja yelled as the giant shrieked in rage, bounding its way to them in large strides. "While you do, I can reach that annoying angel, beat it, and it'll hopefully cancel the Quest, right?!"

He nodded, his 'Demon King's Dagger' glinting ominously. "I think so."

"Good!" Dokja beamed, his elemental sword dancing in fire, making him appear strikingly righteous next to it. "Now less talking and let's go squash those bastards!"

As they both thrusted themselves back into the fight, there was a ripple in the magic energy in the air as Dokja's black wings tore from his back and he flew up towards the Angel. Jinwoo parried against the tireless horde of statues he didn't have the time to deal with and blasted and struck his way through.

Distantly, he heard a screech come from the Angel.

"I am the Architect of the System and you will obey me!"

As he took a breath from the continuous onslaught, he violently flinched. The bone-chilling red light in the god statue's eyes were coagulating, and it was aimed right in the circle he occupied.

He quickly calculated that his escape routes would be useless if they were to be blocked by the stone statues. And he'd rather not get melted down to nothing by the laser beam. If that was the case, he stabbed his short-sword into the head of another statue, raising his free hand and used 'Ruler's Authority' to stack several statues together in a cluster.

He threw the makeshift shield into the god statue's trajectory, and as he expected, the laser beam shot out and melted the shield made of stone and into the ground. Thankfully, with 'Quicksilver' he evaded the attack range of the beam. Dokja was right, getting rid of the statue was definitely a priority. His respite was brief as he raised his head, only for the Architect to growl in fury.

"Destroy him, my creation!"

The God statue turned its attention to Dokja, who belted his sword against the Architect with furious strikes in an attempt to incapacitate him. Dokja swiped out of the way when the statue clamored to squash him, beating in circles and flurried winds. Jinwoo used the wide head of a bumbling statue and jumped into a sprint to run up the side of the giant, grabbing wherever he could reach to get to the highest point.

In a wicked display of power, the statue's speed gradually climbed higher, and to Jinwoo's horror, the statue got him. Its palm clapped over Dokja's small form and had him battering inhumanely from the sky all the way into the fragile ground. The crater broke through and Dokja disappeared into its all consuming darkness. Even up to the statue's waist, he couldn't see him as he laid inside.

"Kim Dokja!" He yelled, fury enveloping him as he himself tumbled back to ground level. He sped his way to the crater, a tickling fear in his heart that gradually eased as his Quest timer had yet to abruptly stop. Which mean Kim Dokja was still alive down there.

Distantly, he heard something flutter.

In the next second, a blur of dazzling white shot up from the deep crater.

 

---

 

['Angel Transformation' is activating!]

His feathered wings, usually dyed in black, morphed into pure white ones. His demon horns withered away, a pure, warm energy filling his body. As it always did when he used this form. Dokja rose into the air, his Status bearing down on the Architect as he gawked at him with an expression he wasn't sure if he should be arrogant enough to call fear.

His own wings, stone and hard, flared up, threatened by his transformation. As Dokja let the divine element coat 'Unbreakable Faith’, the features on the Architect's face cracked like a moving glacier.

"You…! You are a Ruler?!"

Dokja raised a brow, murmuring. "I've never been called that before." Nor has it ever been mentioned in Ways of Survival. Which meant it had something to do specifically with this worldline.

"No," the Architect growled, assessing him more clearly with hostile eyes, "Not a Ruler. You are… something else. Something… old."

"Rude," Dokja sneered, offended. "Have you taken a look at yourself lately?"

"What are you?" He demanded, bypassing his insult. "You should not be here."

"And why should I tell you?" Dokja sassed, decidedly tired of this cryptic bastard. He wasn't sure how much longer he had until he was forced to meet swords with Jinwoo. It was best to get rid of the annoying thing now.

[Fable, 'Right Arm of the Poor Sword Master' has begun its storytelling!]

His Fable grew and whispered around him, quiet and willing to assist him in defeating his enemy. He dashed forward, just as the Architect recognized the unknown Fable and stiffened. His voice was ice cold, like a freezing tundra. His eyes, crazed and haunted.

"Constellation."

"You know of us?" Dokja smiled, razor sharp. How unexpected.

"No, this can't be!" He shrieked, something like terror crossing his expression as his Fable wrapped around them. It was as if he was in pain. "Your kind has been forbidden from entering this territory! These worldlines do not belong to you! He made it so!"

"Forbidden, hm?" What an interesting piece of information. "Whoever decided that clearly made an exception."

The Architect had a dark face, warped into murderous intentions. "I shall kill you. Here and now."

"I thought you'd given that honor to Jinwoo? Now, now," he chuckled, his sword meeting the Architect in a flash of nipping sparks. "Don't be greedy. "

The Architect snarled like a beast, and he had to tilt his head to avoid the fist set on smashing his face in. The power behind the Architect's swing was surprisingly on par with some Constellations he knew. Although, in a fight against other Constellations, his impatience would definitely be the factor that spelled his humiliating defeat.

They flew in circles, zigzagging each other as Dokja swung his sword down in clumsy, deadly strikes that the Architect barely dodged. In a lucky shot, his sword caught against one of the stone wing, shattering it. Now only five remained.

Whilst furious, the Architect began to laugh sinisterly.

"One minute," he purred, a sadistic smile jagging across his face at his mild confusion. "If you don't die before then, the King's Vessel will perish in your stead. Is that what you want?"

Dokja froze. Glancing to Jinwoo's position, he took note of the near desperation that drove itself into every surface of his being. He's been trying to reach where Dokja and the Architect were, but they since they kept moving, it was hard to pin them down. He desperately wanted to kill this guy, but from what he got, there wasn't time for that.

"Haah, I hate guys like you the most."

Pettily, he smashed another one of the Architect's wings, snorting at his shriek of pain and offense. Five down to four. He flew back to ground level, landing neatly, and yelped as Jinwoo darted and collided with him.

"I'll make it painless, Hyung. So please, stay still." Jinwoo growled, dead-set on killing him now that time had all but run out. Dokja spun his way back, his blade shrieking against Jinwoo's daggers as sparks flew around them.

"Shit—" Dokja cursed, evading the deadly hits as he fervently read Jinwoo's attack pattern. "Ah, come on!"

"Hyung… I'm sorry."

He could so clearly hear the misery in his voice. And Dokja couldn't help but frown at it, blocking whatever strike Jinwoo threw at him. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for, Jinwoo. This wasn't your choice to make."

"I—"

"Hey," Dokja glared. "Stop the excuses. It's fine."

Dokja could hear a sound coming from the god statue, that eerie buildup of hissing that meant only one thing. It targeted them both, Jinwoo's eyes widening in alarm.

"Jinwoo."

In his momentary lack of attention, Dokja squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"Trust me."

He blasted Jinwoo away with a violent swirl of [Way of the Wind], moving him a safe distance from the god statue's aim. He stayed in place, watching the beam grow into a calamitous degree. This was a shot that guaranteed almost no one survival.

His lips twitched up.

He ignored the desperate shout of his name, smiling in a way that he hoped to ease Jinwoo's frantic expression, yet only made him panic more. It must've been deeply unnerving, but Dokja only shook his head indulgently, as if Jinwoo was the one who couldn't understand. His lips moved soundlessly, the hissing beam growing louder until it was all that could be heard. Still he wished to convey his cruel words.

Trust me.

But that was impossible for Jinwoo to do. Dokja knew, and it was an unfair thing of him to ask. Yet he still did.

He was right in the range of the beam, after all.

He stood, unyielding, back straight and eyes unblinking, staring at the God levelly. The wind tossed his hair gently, wispy soft, played delicately with the severe fold of his cloak before it tore its fingers into his hair, whipping high, brutal.

As the beam resounded in the already ruined chamber with an ear-splitting boom that had his ears ringing, Dokja closed his eyes.

As his body was consumed by the light, his memories drifted away.

Notes:

Next chapter we'll be delving into Jinwoo's feelings about, ya know, Dokja's "death" and I'm going to have SO much fun making him suffer. I'm not sorry ;)

I purposefully made the method Dokja used to ensure his life incredibly vague (because I'm a bastard like that sue me), so I wonder if you guys have any theories?

Chapter 11: Secret to the Cartenon Temple (3)

Summary:

“The decision is up to you.”

Notes:

Sung Jinwoo, S rank Hunter, has always had something to protect, has always had the strength to keep those precious safe.

So what happens, in the arrogant, confident mind of a man like that, when he fails?

It breaks.

It doesn't feel real right away.

He blinked, wide, unseeing, shifting denial like lapping waves. He craned his head, the ground lifting and swaying beneath his feet; one moment, Kim Dokja was there, breathing, smiling wide, bursting with life as he fought beside him in a way no one else ever had. And the next, coat whipping under the boiling beam of contention, he—

Jinwoo staggered, vision tilting, wavering, claws sinking into his chest as his heart thumps, thumps, thumps a cold, squeezing rhythm that threatened to choke him into suffocation. He heaved a thin breath, feeling weak, feeling useless (as if he's back to an E-rank, the Weakest Hunter) and felt his hand reach for some sort of anchor, fail, grappling empty air.

No, no—

He's not the type of person to be rattled easily. Cloaking himself in impassive calm and nonchalance, he basked and thrived in the stern sweep of change. Welcomed it, challenged it. With the System, he was stronger, faster, more competent.

He never failed.

He didn't lose the people he swore to protect.

And yet, and yet—

The haze of panic and realization sets in with staggering cruelty, veiled by gentle, nipping whispers.

Jinwoo has experienced loss before: his father, his mother, his sister—but never like this.

Kim Dokja's death seeped from every corner, caging, taunting his weakness. Unkind shadows collected in dots under the hollows of his eyes and the curve of his jaw. Skin muted bruise-like purple in the Temple, yet free of damage, he has never felt more false.

Kim Dokja is dead.

Because he chose to sacrifice himself to save Jinwoo. An action he never expected, a deliberate stunt perfected with a lasting smile sent his way. It left him reeling, heat searing into the cavity of his chest. It was always him getting left behind, him being the deadweight, the nuisance that was better off a surrendered corpse in a Dungeon.

He's dead, he's gone, there's not a single thing left of him—

The giant statue was a hazy, godlike figure above as it roared, and Jinwoo's face cracked open like a collapsing glacier. He ushered every inch of Mana into his crouched legs, tensing, building, condensed for the sole task to jump. Darting like a bullet, the ground was left a decayed dead spot unable to handle his force. As gravity slowed, Jinwoo reached the highest point; his surroundings had come to a standstill.

Jinwoo's eyes glittered with brilliant, bright fire, a little mad, burning with the grief of raw loss.

Kim Dokja.

This thing had killed his companion. For that, it will be met with its own death.

The god watched him, silently. It was an undeniable threat, with its gargantuan size and ancient malice, but Jinwoo raised his hand free of weapon at the coagulating beam—a tad reckless.

“Ruler's Authority.”

His Skill, quietly upgraded in the time he hadn't paid attention, pulled at the shoulder of the statue. He reeled himself in, sizing the disparity. He wasn't capable of dragging the god; its incalculable weight bound like a building wedged deep into the earth. But it was a start, fighting against the whiplashing force. 

He snapped his teeth, shouting (not giving up, he doesn't know the meaning of the word) until the statue miraculously creeps an inch. The power of his Skill, fueled by the impotence of his rage, manages to let him land on its shoulder. Escaping the beam with seconds to kill, he gripped over the raised stone collar, the cracking, half-devastated Temple falling with a shudder.

The destruction fed his nettling temper, blackened his heart. His grief was close behind, sticky and bitter and chasing his every wheezing breath.

As he sprinted to its neck, ‘Violent Slash’ gleaming his dagger a radiant hue, he realized quickly how useless it was against the god. The slashes did nothing, repelled by the thick stone, and only capable enough to inflict superficial nicks on the puppet. A weapon of his—favored with use and able to slice into any monster it clashed against—reduced to some cheap, insignificant toy.

Silhouetted in the corner of Jinwoo's vision, a big palm swept to swat him. He dashed to its other shoulder, his glaring eyes seething in determination. His obsessively invested strength stat sapped Mana into his right arm, fist curled and smashing in into its face. To his satisfaction, the immovable giant trembled. He hastily secured himself into the chipped bridged of its nose as the air of the Temple itself shook alive.

He didn't deign the arrogant Angel a glance, even as its excited stare burned his back.

Kim Dokja.

The god staggered with the blow of his second hit, rubble settling in the base of its face, warped with animosity. Jinwoo swiftly turned to the approaching hand and smashed it to irreparable grit. The arm fell as its hand detached from its wrist, crashing to the floor and creating a sizeable cloud of dust. Once the offending danger was gone, he craned his fist in a deadly swing.

A barrage of explosive blasts reverberated in continuous repetition. Cracks spread like a web on the god's face, held thinly by the rapid fractures Jinwoo beat apart. Realizing the danger, the god ran in large strides, its legs stomping viciously on the stone corpse-ridden floor. Jinwoo pounded harder, powerful beyond measure, the thread of his mercy snapping as it desperately tried to shake him off.

I'm so sorry.

Jinwoo's elevated arm snaked with bulging veins, thick with horrible amounts of Mana; all clustered for one last hit. His fist collided and half the god's face was blown to smithereens. With the clap of backlash, the god statue's head dipped on a lax neck, its buckled knees kicking a thick cloud of dust into the air. Powerless, it tilted over like a pawn with its strings cut. The Temple rumbled a boisterous noise. Jinwoo walked over the massively collapsed figure, quietly waving the thick fog of dust away from him safely. He exhaled a breath.

He defeated the monster of his past.

He recalled the Hunters who lost their lives inside this Temple, returning his gaze to his hand.

He felt stronger.

He clenched his fist, the silence, the humming quiet snaking to choke him when it should've been filled with cheers, with the voice he'd gotten to know in the few past raids he'd gone in.

So why… why couldn't he have saved Kim Dokja?

Whatever power ricocheting in his chest, awakened in his struggle for life and death, did it even matter? What was the worth of power if he couldn't protect one person with it?

As he lamented his own incompetence, a tall shape loomed in the darkness of the ghostly revered Temple. Striding forward with an inescapable sense of purpose, each click of stone bootheel on stone accompanied with a series of slow claps. Jinwoo scowled at the Architect, repulsed by its etched smile. Its eyes glittered, as cold and ruthless as its ever been as it approached him.

“Excellent work, Player.”

Jinwoo, with the patience of a baited predator, stared back at it, his leveled gaze a stormy night.

“We have an agreement,” he reminded.

The Angel knew what he wanted, what he came here for, what he had Kim Dokja killed for—

He embedded his nails deeply into the skin of his fist, droplets of blood coating pieces of jagged rock by his feet. The pain was nothing short of cheap penance.

The Architect knew this. So when its stiff smile spread into something indulgent, breathing a cursory laugh, Jinwoo prepared himself for the worst.

“Hah hah It regarded him with faint amusement, taking a step closer. “Your test isn't finished yet. In here…”

Jinwoo didn't move, or flinch, or cowered like something weak. It closed the distance between them, standing opposite its enemy.

“I'm still here, aren't I?”

The decrepit, spear-grained wings twisted and contorted into an array of arms. Two of which stayed as stumps courtesy of Dokja's own given strikes. In total, with two extras from its shoulders, it came to six gigantic, hulking arms, corded with muscle.

“I am your final test.”

Before he even had a chance to open his mouth, the Angel laughed, simpering down at him with too knowing of a gaze.

“No need to worry about my ‘life’, Player.”

It knew exactly what he had wanted to say. Jinwoo trekked the statue's movements as it pointed to its head. As its smile widened, Jinwoo's gaze turned steely.

“A quick-witted human,” he said, joyfully impersonal. “Don't attempt to control your power if you know what's good for you. If you do, it'll be difficult to measure the true extend of your strength. To prevent that…”

The Angel's lips quirked, moving at a mechanical pace, but its voice came from somewhere else.

[An ‘Emergency Quest’ has been issued.]

[If you fail to defeat the enemy within the designated time limit, your heart will stop operating altogether.]

[Remaining time: 10:00]

[Remaining time: 09:59]

“Kim Dokja was right,” Jinwoo affirmed, brows pinched in frustration. The theory had festered since he mentioned the possibility, but to think it came to be true.

“Correct.”

[Correct.]

As it spoke, the voices of the System and the Angel's intertwined.

“What are you?”

It laughed, and it was cruel, echoing hollowly off the walls.

“As I told that wretched star, I am the Architect of the System.”

[As I told that wretched star, I am the Architect of the System.]

His lips curled in a revolted sneer, the flash of hatred sliding deep in his gut.

Without the Architect's notice, his speed blitzed with a sudden attack. His dagger materialized into his grip with familiar ease. He didn't give it the time to get surprised. No more playing around. It wanted to gauge his power? His strength? Then Jinwoo was happy to indulge it. There was good to be had in destroying the Architect piece by piece.

Gone were the days wherein he was too powerless to threaten the Master of this cursed Dungeon.

The Architect evaded his attack with its blurring speed, and threw a large, tightly-clenched fist Jinwoo urgently raised his arms to block. The force of it pitted him into the far side of the ruined Temple, crashing, a rain of debris tumbling from above.

"Oh? Do you despise it for the mention of that star? You know nothing of the good his death brings."

[Oh? Do you despise it for the mention of that star? You know nothing of the good his death brings.]

The burn of his incandescent rage broiled, spitting the taste of copper from his mouth and relished the clarity the pain brought. Physical pain wasn't something he humored often, but he preferred it to the mental turmoil his failure to protect encased him in.

“Shut your mouth.”

A torrent of flying fists rained down to him, wedging holes in the wall and beset with the barrage Jinwoo was forced to block and deflect. With two arms against six, it was a falsified disadvantage the Architect pettily took pleasure in. it might've not have expected him to do well, as Jinwoo noticed its bewildered stare and the creeping smile he loathed with every fiber of his being.

Quick and dodging, he slid to the right and jabbed the Architect in the face. Half of it broke off, deposited, shattering, its webbing chin sunk low on the froth of smattering rocks. The Architect peered at him with the split chunk of parsing judgement. It smiled, vacant; a hollow cavity for a hollow creature.

He didn't bother to feel cocky.

Pride was the hollowest of sins.

The battered Angel picked itself up, shuddering, its arms wringing in a disturbing manner. It was his most formidable enemy yet, and the answers he wanted—the System, the purpose of a Player, the state of his precious world—was penned behind its watery, crumbling rasp.

[How amusing.]

As he clenched his fist, a trickle of warm, red moisture slid a path down his face. Seemed as his counters weren't pitched to perfection. The blood seeped to his eye, reddening his vision. Taking a breath, he activated ‘Ruler's Authority’. The Skill that managed to commit impossible odds; swatting Beru, tilting the God statue, could merely shove the Architect the slightest bit.

It extended its six arms, the weapons of the dead stone statues rising to fly towards the Angel. It was his Skill. Albeit on a weaker scale, it was unmistakably ‘Ruler's Authority.’

He shifted to the timer.

[Time remaining: 05:39]

Long distance wouldn't work then. He summoned 'Demon King's Dagger' and had his heart thumping another unsteady rhythm. A single weapon against many. He ignored the chill as the weapons flew his way, drawing a calming breath. They exchanged blows. With deafening roars and exclaiming shouts, the two parrying opponents rebelled against the flow of momentum.

They were evenly matched, and victory belonged to only one.

The sword wielded by his opponent brushed past his shoulder, tilting slightly, a gap in the touch that shouldn’t have been detectable. His sensory perception, for the lack of his one bloodied blind eye, twisted in surmounting limitations; breaking, exceeding, reading the trajectory of every flung weapon. He countered each, outpaced by seconds and landing his own with scary accuracy. The Architect steadily crumbled with every inflicted wound, yet its speed remained a constant—a constant Jinwoo equally measured to.

Under the glare of the interior that was remote in blue-black draping, the blue of his Mana blazed long, shimmering trails. Chased by ruin, Jinwoo breathed in the terrible breeze.

The Angel trembled, shocked, yet it grinned with shrieking laughter; a brewing amalgamation of emotion Jinwoo couldn't pinpoint the meaning of, nor bothered to try.

Ticked off, Jinwoo cleanly sliced off its arm. As it flew, the Angel reacted slow, blinking to see it was not only the sword that was cut away. Silently, he wondered if the Angel could feel pain. Only seconds later was his musing answered.

It screeched, face contorted into pain, tottering unsteadily and retreated from Jinwoo's distance. Hot, bright fury radiated from him palpably; Jinwoo could see the savage glow of his eyes as it trembled.

[How dare a measly human!]

Jinwoo's smile stretched, showing teeth, darkly gleeful. “Oh, did that hurt?”

The Architect's eyes glared, bright with fever. It didn't take kindly to Jinwoo's taunting.

[You dare!]

The fallen, destroyed stone statues all stood up. Even the God statue and its partially-destroyed head pushed itself off the ground as well. Jinwoo could sense his enemies being reanimated. He closed his eyes. This was no reason to panic.

He pounced on the Angel once again. Agility, Perception, Strength, and even Stamina—all of Jinwoo’s Stats had far exceeded whatever expectation the Architect had for him. It roared out like a wild beast, and the reanimated stone statues chased him like bloodhounds.

Together, they made a horrifying sight.

[03:02]

Even in the midst of all this chaos, the timer was still resolutely ticking down to zero. It ticked loud in his ear, every second inescapable.

His short-sword sliced another one of the Angel's arms, morphed from its wings. Four left.

Unfortunately, the resistance of the reanimated stone statues was nothing to scoff at. There were far too many of them surrounding him now and it became too much of a task to dodge every single attack coming his way. He focused on attacking the Architect and dodged only those that might critically injure him while ignoring the rest.

Perhaps unavoidably, his HP and Stamina were cut down.

[2:43]

A stone statue slammed down with its shield on his left shoulder and Jinwoo diverted its attention towards another statue. As it prepared for another strike, Jinwoo clicked his tongue. Annoying. He moved from the Angel, using his elbow and stomped on the head of the offending nuisance. The drop ensured that the statue’s head would explode into tiny, irreparable pieces. With no sense of space, other statues surrounded him, the shift of gray stone a bit of a dizzying prop. Jinwoo activated his skill and threw them away, some flung as if they were thrown off from the center of an explosion.

“Shit…”

He couldn't catch his breath. He leapt to the side as the God statue threw its fist down. It managed to sweep its smaller allies, and for his gratitude, he ran a wide arc to the Architect's direction.

[2:31]

The Architect howled, falling into a frenzied melee. He nudged the blunt head of a guard, shoving it back only to groan as one caught him by surprise. Sharp pain lanced through his chest. He ignored it.

He set off with a lurching gait, sweat and blood and lashes of Mana coating the air.

[2:20]

The stone statues were forced back, the god statue slammed its fist down, the weight of it was not insubstantial. But he was used to defying tougher things than himself. A common habit from his past that defined him.

He stood in the middle of the chaos, and unforgivingly, he struck.

Arm, after arm, flew from the Architect. And the Angel fell, responded by screaming, thrashing and tossing, fitted form destroyed with Jinwoo's onslaught. It crashed to the floor, enveloped in an electrifyingly violent struggle. Broken wailing, missing keys, missing minds. The Architect arched, held tensely in its inflicted agony.

Jinwoo calmly strengthened his arm, pressing the blade of his dagger to the Angel's statue’s neck. Way above both of them, the God statue was about to pound down with its two hands locked together.

He was ready to cut it off in one slice—

The Angel's lips warbled.

[I lost.]

The whistling rasp of its voice was thick, rigid, its yield studded through with thin resistance. His dagger didn't flinch from its spot. Even as the Architect's body was slumped like a ragged sheet and in the shape of defeat, he knew better than to trust something that could kill.

Unexpectedly, the giant statue and whatever bumbling stone guard all froze with its voice.

[The Final Test has ended.]

Along with the timer.

[Remaining time: 02:11]

“…I want to know.”

He mumbled, his spine aching to fold under the weight of everything.

It pondered, watching him, gaze boiling with a trace of madness.

[If it is within my knowledge, I shall answer you.]

How agreeable of the bloodthirsty Angel to give into his demands without further denial.

He lowered his head. “Tell me,” Jinwoo demanded, his eyes glowing an unforgiving hue, “Tell me everything. About who I am.”

[The answer to that is…]

The Architect stopped, only to smile humorlessly when Jinwoo pressed his dagger into its neck. It had no fear of death; a being made awake, not alive. Yet it complied. Tired, maybe. Indulgent, in the sickest sense.

[It lies within you.]

As the Architect said that, a mechanical beep abruptly ran out in his head, accompanied by the usual of voice of the System.

[Recalling the stored data in the System’s memory.]

[Will you consent to its playback?] (Y/N)

Jinwoo shifted to the defeated Angel. Gone was the smile on its cracked face, speaking with an emotionless face. It was but withered to rags and shattered stone, breath rattling still and dust-smeared face caved.

“The decision is up to you.”

Its voice separated from the System, machine-like, stiff with a trace of masculinity grating his ears. Jinwoo shut his mouth tight.

He's earned what could be his one and only chance to confirm the truth for himself. Finally, after so long. And it couldn't have been a trap, with such an elaborate process dictated to the letter. After all, the System possessed the power to decide when his heart would stop beating, didn’t it?

‘Just as the angel said, if all these were just the processes of a test, then… then, I have earned the right to view this data.’

Jinwoo made his decision, inevitable as its always been.

“….Yes.”

In his answer, he fell backwards, somewhere dark and tunneled and black as the System's voice drifted with the echo of a mechanical beep. He gasped, unmoored to the ground, floating, consciousness a wispy thing he couldn't grasp. With it, the thought of his lost companion came to him.

[The saved data has been successfully uploaded.]

 

---

 

The gaps in him felt cold, raw-bitten numb, like emptiness, like infinity. His mind ached, space void of nothing and darkness and a rapid blinding light that shook his vision pure white. As the blinding light dissipated, an immense spectacle laid out below him. An army, consisting solely of innumerable monsters, stretched beyond the scope of his vision alone. From where he flew, all the way to beyond the horizon. Countless monsters completely covered up the ground until there was no uncovered patch left.

Bizarre, rocky outcroppings jutted like spires from the heat-withered plains, void of any signs of green and grass and life. This couldn't have been Earth. The landscape was estranged from his planet, unfamiliar and derived with listless, yawning craters. The monsters, on the other hand, grouped in a class unit. Within the expansive swell of monsters, they ranged from common low ranked beings, all the way to the powerful, deathly feared monstrosities. High Orcs, White Phantoms, and even Giants.

And they were… waiting.

There was something immensely disturbing about the silence, quiet in a way such a large gathering would never be. Jinwoo turned his head and felt his heart render in a panic. The Gate was jet-black, swirling and teeming and possible the largest Gate he's ever seen. The sky was a purple indigo, blocked off by the massive size.

The monsters' eyes were shuttered and blank, unreflective as they watched the same sky. His anxiety increased. Something catastrophic was behind that Gate.

It warbled, and his breath stuttered; the Gate cracked open.

A flood of soldiers poured from the shrieking entrance; patterned in sharp luminescence and gold-silver armor. The wings they decked were the purest of white, six each, the gleam of holy weapons adding another edge of danger to them. As the monsters covered the entirety of the ground, the winged soldiers blotted the sky in white light.

It was a contrasting view, and there was nothing he could do besides quietly admiring it in shocked awe.

However, the monsters howled at the top of their lungs in unison, bucking in agitation upon seeing the silver-armored soldiers covering the sky.

He didn’t have to guess what would happen next.

It was clear.

This was war.

 

---

 

The passage was long, the Dungeon shrouded in a dark, dreary darkness.

Choi Jongin and his Hunters moved at the fastest speed they could afford without breaking into a sprint. Though they were nominally high-ranked Hunters, their individual speeds ran contradicting courses. And among them, Cha Haein was the fastest in their group.

Both he and Woo Jinchul could see her thrumming with energy, her light steps striding faster and faster until Jongin had no choice but to grip her wrist in a hurry.

“Hunter Cha. What do you think you’ll achieve by going there alone?”

She didn't reply, but he understood that she wanted to save Sung Jinwoo from danger (they all did) but if she went ahead, she'd leave the team and they might end up falling in great danger.

“If we try to keep up with your speed, there’s a good chance that the entire team might become disorganized, instead.”

Cha Haein’s expression hardened as she stood still, but eventually, she stiffly nodded and returned to the rear of the team. Woo Jinchul watched her make her way back and whispered softly to himself.

“I guess the rumor was true.”

Choi Jongin stepped beside him, whispering back. “Not that surprising. When you think about it.”

The Agent tilted his head and shifted to the front. The ominous Mana quietly flooded from the deepest part of the Dungeon, and while he didn't—couldn't doubt Sung Jinwoo's own indisputable strength, the waves of Mana were still utterly repulsive.

Silently, he prayed they weren't late.

“Jinchul,” the Hunter began, “Did Hunter Sung Jinwoo enter the Dungeon alone?”

“No,” he shook his head, “He came in with another S-rank Hunter.”

Choi Jongin paused, raising a delicately trimmed brow. “Who?”

Jinchul was a bit surprised. He imagined that the Ultimate Soldier would've known about Korea's newest S-rank Hunter. “He's new in the Hunter world. His name is Kim Dokja.”

“Oh?” He hummed, caught off guard in a way he rarely was. “And why would Hunter Sung enter a Dungeon with this person? I thought he'd rather go on raids alone.”

“They were said to have already been seen together when they came to the Gate.”

His lips thinned. He couldn't share the things he'd uncovered, nor the things he and the president spoke and kept under wraps when it came to the entity, Kim Dokja. Though, he himself had yet to meet the man. He had heard enough from Go Gunhee to know he was an interesting fellow to have caught both their attentions.

He recalled how Go Gunhee's eyes had sparkled faintly as he recounted his findings when he went to oversee Kim Dokja's reevaluation. He had known of the man's existence by then, but was baffled by the Chairman's behavior.

(“Wings, Woo Jinchul,” he awed, pacing his office with a bounce in his step and a lively glee he hadn't displayed since he learned of Sung Jinwoo, “You should've seen them. The darkest of night and utterly beautiful. And his Mana,” Go Gunhee had stressed, smiling wide, a sigh of delight curling at the end, “I never expected to meet such a monster again in my lifetime. It was breathtaking.”)

“Seen together? Hmm…”

Thankfully, the red-haired Hunter turned away with an inquisitive hum, undoubtedly curious about the one who had so quickly, so impossibly befriended the icy, and unsociable Sung Jinwoo. A man of equal mystery and inaccessible by default.

After a while, they came across the end of the cave, bridging the horrendous gap with their fast-paced marching. "We’re here," Woo Jinchul stated, and his lips hastily curled to the skin of his teeth. “Choi Hunter-nim, can you—“

He grimly nodded. “I can sense it.”

And it was a rumbled hiss of bitterblack viciousness, sensation dragging fingers like spite in death. The S-rank Hunters stiffened, pure malevolence stripping the air from their lungs and color from their complexions. Choi Jongin had sensed it; outside the Gate, the inside much worse.

They steeled themselves. They were first-class, the elites of Hunter Society and wouldn't bend a knee to any monster regardless of its horrors. They will fight, and they will carve their dignity into their Guild's name to insure it.

“Let’s go, we need to hurry!”

The doorway led to a towering Temple, venerably reminiscent for its ancient stone and primordial depiction. The spectacle inside its doors, on the other hand, was torn like storm-surrendered chaos. Pitted and slashed and broken were the strewn remains of innumerable stone statues they walked in, every Hunter gaping and whispering in frantic prattle.

“This… What on earth is this….?”

“What the hell is this place?!”

“Wha—?! What is that?!”

One of the Hunters raised his finger, body shaking, face white with fright.

Austere and chillingly dignified, was the statue of a God; its colossal figure frozen and its shattered hands interlocked in the gesture of smashing down. Disturbingly, its face was caved, its powdery remnants sifting along the once tiled floor. The decaying breath of grandeur was nearly tangible in this Temple, and the signs of desperate conflict were too clear in their destruction to ignore.

The testimonies Woo Jinchul had carelessly disregarded from the case fled to him in alarming clarity. The survivors of the previous Dual Dungeon and their haunted expressions, all saying the same warning;

“The God statue is monstrous—it can melt down a C-rank Hunter with nothing but its glare. Red and inescapable. And the other statues…. they killed… killed so many…”

“Wait, where is—“ he inhaled a breath, rattling cold in his throat, “—Hunter Sung Jinwoo? And Hunter Kim Dokja, for that matter?”

Choi Jongin shifted his head, unaware of the tremble hitched in his tone, trying to locate Sung Jinwoo’s signature presence. He blinked, caught sight of the man itself with his eyes peacefully closed and laid on his back against a mountain of upheaved rubble. The Mana wrapping around him was like a thrumming, muted thing. He almost believed the man was asleep.

“There!”

“Wha?! Sung Hunter-nim!”

A chorus of voices spilled in their excitement and worry, feet drumming against the shattered stone-path. They didn't get far before Cha Haein sped past them, raising her arms to stop them. Woo Jinchul's brows raised and took in the urgency painted across her features. She was trembling.

“There's something there.” She shook her head, pale drawn. “Something dangerous.”

There was a touch of dread as something shifted, awake, unknown, and rose silhouetted with one brawny arm and seven torn stumps on its back. The first grate of its voice was low and tightly controlled, the callousness of its tone crowding shivers from every Hunters there.

“I don’t remember inviting any humans in here.”

[I don't remember inviting any humans in here.]

The statue swept itself to a confounding height and squinted at them all, running a frankly avaricious eye over the lost little Hunters. As it smiled, viciously sharp, it was clear who the title of master in this Dungeon belonged to.

“But to think, for humans to be so eager to die.”

[But to think, for humans to be so eager to die.]

Behind them, the door closed shut.

Notes:

My fingers from typing so much owwie ;;

I hope this chapter was enjoyable to read, I’m pretty satisfied with how it came out. In the next update (or the one after that) we might find out in what Dokja used or did to escape death 👀

Tell me what you guys think! i love hearing from you 💕

Chapter 12: Secret to the Cartenon Temple (4)

Summary:

“This is for Hyung.”

Notes:

Sorry for being so late, I was not expecting chapter to be so damn long 😓

Dokja makes his appearance again, finally!

The balance of power was a delicate thing.

Undoubtedly, humans were pitiful and wary creatures. They craved control, power, and upheld it against the strange and horrific with a desperation that made them aware of their own mortality. They were skittish and frail, and boasted their confidence with collective teamwork and the notion of hope, of tomorrow, of humanity can win—in a war against monsters in Gates they didn't know the full extend of.

They were a species that clawed to adapt to the abnormality in the ten years it became their every day life, bleeding, screaming, dying a thousand deaths before they could make sense of it. And they did, with rapid succession and advanced science, they explored the untapped power humans were awakening with. They studied and picked it apart, put it together and made a plan of action.

With cooperation between nations in a critical and dangerous time, they helped and fought, lost and won, and won, and won.

But not every time.

Because when that balance was broken, the streak of victory shattered, tipped to the opposite side; there was one pressing, crating emotion they felt besides instinctual fear.

Hopelessness.

Plaintive cries filled the ruined Temple, melancholic and heavy as they choked out of the throat of a female Hunter. Cha Haein squatted beside her, whispering, talking in low tones as the woman curled over a broken body. It had taken no time at all for death to fall on a Hunter, the culprit, the soulless existence with staggering poison in its Mana and cardinal revulsion roiling off its proud, stiff shoulders, responsible. It watched them, silent. Considered them, dissecting them like insignificant things, like it took effort to determine if they should live or not.

And as the A-rank Tanker folded dead, tears falling to a face destroyed beyond recognition, a lover killed, a friend and ally dealt in a single, randomly-spiked annoyance of a strike, the weight of danger dangled in their faces with horrifying certainty.

The first casualty was a warning; you live at my disposal.

Cha Haein held the woman by the shoulder, distraught at the lifeless weight, but competent with wired expertise to realize the fickle precipice they stood on. Quietly, she explained to her, and the Hunter lost her anger, encased in sorrow for her lost love.

Choi Jongin, at the forefront as the deciding leader for the raid, saw her glance at the undisturbed figure of Sung Jinwoo; her fists clenched and her feminine features contorted into painful longing. It seems the grieving Hunter wasn't the only one holding back. If they survived—he shivered at the uncertainty, rarely ever skeptical of failing in a raid (The Jeju Island Raid, something telling whispered)—he'd have to have a chat with her.

It came, then, the laughter, loud and sharp and unsuspectingly cruel. The brittle walls shook, perceived by its owner, held up in structure and ready to topple at its will. Choi Jongin hid his flinch. Something like that shouldn't have that much power. But it does, monsters did, and Hunters like him were meant to keep them controlled with number and force.

“I'm feeling quite merciful,” it grinned, cold, yet mild, considering as it relaxed, “With the rogue Star dead and the King resting, I might as well have some fun with my newest past-time.”

The choice of words were flippant, and with a snap of its fingers, the ground rocked with the shift of an unnatural earthquake. But underneath their feet, not a single crack formed. Their confusion didn't last, dawning realizing creeping over the faces of every Hunter like savored dread. The statues, thought destroyed, began to stand one by one. Broken, headless, missing limbs and impaired, they equally rose from their stone-gone graveyard. Dust cascaded down from the powdery remains where shattered body parts used to be.

As the guards rose, the God followed.

Every facet of its imposing form was cut in design to oppress and subdue and horrify, standing in a height abundantly immeasurable. Its face, its expression—blue, steeled-gravel, and half-caved—was sickening. Haunting, nightmarish, its smile infectiously morbid. Hunters staggered once they saw it. Through its eyes, not a cell of a soul could be seen. A puppet in the purest sense.

“Now.” The Angel statue opened its arms. “Amuse me.”

A deep sense of death overtook the Chief of Division, Woo Jinchul, as he flinched violently. He screamed, instinct ignited with a remembered piece of information. “Everybody, get down!”

With the urgency picked raw in his shout, every Hunter complied immediately. With no gap to spare, a laser beamed above their heads, frizzing stray hairs to nothing. The low hiss dissipated with the red glow.

Woo Jinchul bowed, along with the other Hunters, panting and wheezing. The air above them was suffocating. His forehead touched the floor, sweat beading down. If he wasn't informed of the God statue's specific and deadly trait when he was, the chances of them surviving the encounter were…

A shudder of terror wracked through him. How had Sung Jinwoo dealt with this monster the first time?

“Those of you who manage to survive until all of my puppets have fallen will be given the privilege of witnessing the King's glorious rebirth!” The Angel informed, gesturing to Sung Jinwoo's sleeping self. “And those who do not… who prove their slight power… will make fine sacrifices for the King.”

Like all cruel tests of fate, it wasn't the end even if they wished for it. The revived guards rushed towards them, their movements so quick only high-ranking Melee Hunters would be able to follow. Fortunately, Jinchul was one of them. Inside the wide scope of A-rank Hunters, he was one of the best to rely on.

With the click-click-click of his armored feet, he sent a powerful punch to a statue stalking his direction. Yet, the exclusively-constructed glove, as it slammed into its face, it was left unscathed. It was pushed back as it recovered from the impact like his strike was a slight breeze.

The thrust of its sword was a blur, and his enemy wasn't slow enough for him to evade the attack without consequence. It struck down, and a powerful explosion had the statue flying out of his trajectory. He sighed at the voice beside him, his savior whipping in scarlet reprieve. He tugged at his ear, the buzzing slow and quiet.

“Are you alright, Chief Woo?”

Woo Jinchul nodded in gratitude to the S-rank Hunter, their leisure in conversation torn with the panic of several Tankers. Their panic overlapped over each other.

“Chairman Choi!”

“Vice Guild Master Cha!”

“My Taunt Ability isn't working!”

“They won't move with my Psychokinesis either!”

“Damn it! Aggro skills don't work against these statues!”

Their expressions hardened. If there was anything experience had hampered into them in their fledgling years, is that the weakest Hunters in their group would be the first to be targeted and picked off like flies. And in these types of serious cases, the circumstances where the Healers were killed would prove fatal for the whole of the team. Without them, their line of defense would collapse in no time, and it would be impossible to turn the tides in their favor.

As they mulled in silence, a shriek had their heads snapping up. They paled, their situations becoming despairingly critical as the massive statue, stagnant in motion, began to creak and groan, whirring cognizant.

“This is…”

“I have an idea,” Choi Jongin declared, staring in the direction of the sleeping Sung Jinwoo as Woo Jinchul followed him, “We have to wake Hunter Sung Jinwoo.”

He was aware just as well. Only one person present could handle the lawless, authority-bound statues. The situation was something they couldn't be careless with, and would change greatly with Hunter Sung's involvement. He sighed. Even collected with the best, they still required his help.

Sung Jinwoo was truly invaluable.

“The only reason he's asleep now is because he likely became too fatigued fighting them.” Jongin's hands became alit with flames. “All we need to do now is wake him up.”

Brimming over with fire, he cast the magic with bulldozing speed. His nickname, ‘The Ultimate Soldier’ didn't originate from his firepower alone, it extended to his deadly accuracy too. Sung Jinwoo might experience a bit of discomfort from the strike, but he'd make up for it if the impact did what it was meant to do.

The flames chased its target, leaving a long, lasting trail. It exploded, spitting streaks on the torso of the Angel as it stepped into range and took the brunt of impact. The Hunters gaped at the unexpected interference, wary, cautiously raised as its head turned to them. Its face was distorted, bitterly captive in rage. For the first time, it bared its mouth in a copy of a snarl, its teeth a crumble of decay.

“How dare you interrupt the slumber of the King?!”

Choi Jongin and Woo Jinchul shared a look, equally confused by its words. The King? Who was the King?

As they pondered the strange wording, the Angel raised its fist in the air and smashed it like a brutal hammer. It descended at high speed straight to Jongin's head. As he stiffened in alarm, a flash of light streaked past him. A sword made out of pure light wavered in front of his face, short blond hair encasing his vision.

“Hunter Cha?”

“Do not lose your composure, Chairman!” The Hunter barked, blocking the statue's fist with her Skill ‘Blade of Light.’ If it weren't for her, his head would've gone flying. “I can take it from here, so please help our other Hunters. They are struggling much more.”

Choi Jongin agreed, relieved by her quick speed. “Got it.” Behind him, Woo Jinchul followed to provide support to the other Hunters battling the statues, while Hunter Cha dealt with the Angel statue currently staring at her glowing sword in curiosity.

“Haha.”

Cha Haein flinched at the monster's brief, mechanical laughter, ready to defend herself at any given moment.

“How amusing,” it smiled, jagged and malicious across its face. “You are the third one to have been able to block my attack.”

Third?

She wasn't given the luxury of time to figure what the statue meant as it strengthened its fist. Her knees bent, the ground cracking, scratches spreading deep onto the stone. In terms of raw strength, she was losing against the Angel. The power it had was near nonsensical, and it smiled derisively at her, musing. Focusing her Mana, she was determined to last as long as possible. As she glared, forcing the fist back by several inches, the statue's eyes gleamed. Haein scowled.

It shamelessly enjoyed her struggle, nothing more than a brief distraction for it.

It struck out unexpectedly in a flurry of fists and she activated her special Skill.

‘Sword Dance!’

She anchored herself with her confidence, her movements significant and drawing stylish arcs with her sword. Fatal attacks rained down at her from above, a hail powerful enough to kill. She couldn't afford a mistake.

But she was losing, fast.

She pays for her mistake, hand slipping, eyes widening and a scream bubbles in her chest as she takes a hit to the shoulder. Her sword fails to deflect the attack and she retreats with gritted teeth. She cradles her arm, stiff, throbbing—useless. Her bones must've gotten broken since she couldn't feel a single thing. She tore her dismayed gaze from the sad limp.

“Disappointing,” the Architect taunted. “Is that all you amount to?”

The Angel closed the distance. With only a single functioning arm, she missed more attacks and gradually got destroyed. Her skin tore and bled, suffered, and kept going. A fist the size of three struck her lower stomach and stole her breath, shriveled her lungs and lifted her off her feet.

She fell back, painfully. Several paces from where she was, her body curled into itself and hugged her sword. The statue approached her. A blade came into his grip and it took at aim at her chest. It wanted her death, but as a blue light enveloped her, it didn't get its way.

Her eyes opened with a gasp as rotated her body and swung her sword. The Angel leaned back, but not before the tip of the blade brushed past its brow. A thin line was drawn on its face.

She regained her balance. Thanks to that timely healing spell, she finally succeeded in landing a single counterattack. She was lucky, but because of that, the Angel's head swiveled to the direction it came from and a pit formed in her stomach.

“Get away from there!” She cried out.

The main Healer stood behind the Tankers and casted various healing magic spells until her cry was heard. But they were too late, as the statue zipped into the main healer's sight and smashed him straight to the ground.

In horror, she screamed, “No!”

This monster, perched confidently in its superiority, lost its smile. The time of mercy has ended.

One by one, Hunters fell. The impact shut their bodies down, lined in trauma and rendered useless. They died powerlessly. Incapable of change, their combined strengths meant nothing to a being this monstrous. Their numbers decreased like falling dominos, the frontier of Tankers collapsing like they had all feared.

“Boring.”

The Angel could've ended them at any moment—it had only been humoring them.

The balance that kept them afloat had broken.

It was pandemonium.

Relentlessly, she cut down the statues and pounced on the Angel. Her rage fueled her, her fear and sense of duty unfolding over her sword like a blooming flower dipped in gold. But she is no match against something rotting with boredom. The Angel gleamed at her with barely a glance, blocking her descending sword with its wrist. It was perfectly intact, not a cut in sight. The force of its kick sent her flying. It no longer considered her an opponent.

“Shit!”

Choi Jongin cursed and tightly clung onto Woo Jinchul's shoulder as they watched her fall into the opposite end of a wall. “Didn't you say there was another Hunter?!” Jongin hissed, agony burning in his flames. His Hunters, propped under his support—the best of the best—were demolished. Nothing but human.

Woo Jinchul pounded a statue, nodding. Wait. Where was the Hunter? They had located Sung Jinwoo, but it was only with the mention that he realized he hadn't seen Kim Dokja anywhere.

“There was, but where…”

“It doesn't matter!” Jongin yelled, fire sparking in his hand, all consuming. “I'll gather their attention to myself. Chief Woo, you go and wake Hunter Sung. It's the only way.”

“We're going to try again?” He asked.

“Yeah, we have no other option,” he grimaced. “You saw how the statue moved to ‘protect’ Hunter Sung, yes? That means him waking up proves to be fatal to the monster. So hurry!”

As the agent nodded in understanding, Choi Jongin roused every ounce of magic energy and a giant circular shaped mass of flames formed on top of his hand. The sparks that flew from it caused powerful explosions to resound out every time it touched an object. Naturally, their attention was pinned on him.

While the S-rank Hunter was buying time, Woo Jinchul hurried to where Jinwoo slept. As both of the men were doing their best to wake Sung Jinwoo, the Angel statue stood before Cha Haein as she lay on the ground while panting heavily every bone in one side of her body had been crushed as she was kicked. She tried to reach her sword, but the Angel ruthlessly stepped on her arm before she managed to brush against the hilt.

“Aaahk!” She screamed and grabbed her arm. For the second time, a wound has left her useless in a fight.

“A shame. This is the end for you, human.”

She glared at the statue, her breathing rough and heavy. She knew that, painfully she did. But she wasn't about to give it the pleasure of stopping her struggle.

The angel formed a blade with its hand again. Its lips quirked watching her and lifted the blade. As it gleamed silver, Cha Haein closed her eyes instinctively, waiting, only for nothing to happen. Slowly, she opened them again and saw the Angel… hesitating.

“Why have you come here?”

She blinked at its sudden question.

“What is your relationship with Sung Jinwoo?”

When it didn't an answer from her, it scowled and snapped its fingers.

Woo Jinchul, who was busy reaching Sung Jinwoo, was pushed down by the invisible hand and face planted to the ground. The man tried to resist against the power, but he couldn't move a single inch. Pained moans escaped him as the Angel pulled its hand back slightly.

“I shall ask you again,” it repeated, threatening, as it pointed its finger to Woo Jinchul. “If you do not answer, I shall kill this man and every single one of your comrades.”

Her breath rattled unsteadily as she nodded.

“What is your relationship with Sung Jinwoo?”

“… Friends.” She glared. “We are friends, and I am here to save Hunter Sung Jinwoo.”

“It was not part of the King's intention, I see,” it grinned, huffing a laugh. “My mistake, then I shall bless you a chance.”

“What opportunity?”

“Today, one of the noble Sovereigns shall descend upon this world. I will give you the chance to witness this glorious scene in history.” Its smile was gone from the face of the Angel statue, murderous and bloodthirsty. “But for everyone else, they will die where they stand.”

But, the answer it expected to come was not from the front, but from its back.

“Says who?”

A chill blanketed the Temple.

 

---

 

[Playback of the saved data has concluded.]

With a labored suck, Jinwoo gasped awake.

His body was laid in a pile of gray rocks, the disgustingly familiar grandiose Temple assuming his return. Under the thunderous wail in his chest, he was assured with the beating of his twin hearts.

It wasn't a dream. No, he couldn't delude himself from the truth even if he wanted to.

There was motion and winding sound all around him, and when he raised his head, it was to the sight of Hunters fighting against the Temple's stone guards. Laughter entered his ears, sickening, and found the Architect cornering Cha Haein. At hearing its words, Jinwoo made himself known.

“Says who?”

Without giving the Architect a second to its confusion, he dealt a devastating punch to the Architect's face. The statue couldn't deal with the force behind it and crashed to the floor.

“You.”

His leg kicked into the hollow of the Architect's throat, pressing him further into the floor several paces deep. His hand pressed to the right side of his chest, clothes in absolute tatters.

“What the hell did you do to my body?”

For a single moment within the recalled data, he had become the Shadow Sovereign. It was then that he realized there was another heart of magical energy beating within his chest. The powerful surges flowed ceaselessly from the new heart, and the change was undeniable.

“How…”

Jinwoo looked down.

The Architect stared coldly, and spoke through thick, stumbling tombstone teeth. There was fear, the first he's ever seen on its expression, even as it pretended to keep itself composed. “You are not the King.”

“No.” His voice, awe-inspiring and reserved, is nonetheless as soft as cold, ice-bound vicious he can ever be. “I am not the King you waited for.”

“How… how can you retain your former ego, even with the Black Heart beating inside you?!”

By its rendered shock, it couldn't be responsible for the 'Black Heart' in his body, and what's more, it shouldn't have ended well for him. Retaining his ego was an unpredictability the Architect didn't account for. Jinwoo's grip tightened, deep cracks forming in its neck and he didn't react as its face distorted into pain.

“You were opposed to choosing me as a Player, but what is a Player exactly? What were your intentions for me?”

However, the Architect seemed to not be in the right mind to provide for an answer as it screeched. “No… could it be?! Shadow Sovereign, you dare to… against us! Do you think the other Sovereigns will stand by and watch?!” It continued to mutter nonsense and Jinwoo became fed up.

He dug his fingers deep into its brittle neck. A bit more, and he could shatter it to pieces. The Angel screamed and it echoed off the walls and high ceiling.

“Just answer my questions.”

“Hahaha… it wasn't supposed to turn out this way. I think.” It's eyes glowed a menacing red. “I think I know why you were chosen.”

“Ah…! No!”

“What?! Those things!”

“The statues are starting to move!”

The Angel guffawed out loudly. “If you kill me, no one will be able to stops my dolls.”

As it asked that question, Jinwoo formed a wide smile, eyes glowing a dangerous periwinkle. The blood covering his eye made him all the more dangerous.

“What if I kill you first, and then your puppets?”

“If you… kill the Creator of the System…”

His smile dragged sharp. “I could go back to being an E-rank Hunter? I've thought about it.” He reclines, steeped in shadow, and the Architect was caught in his contempt. Defying him would offer the Architect nothing of mercy. “But even if the System's Creator disappears… the System that's already been created won't fall apart.”

“If it's come to this, I'll destroy…!”

Jinwoo watched with cold antipathy as it tried and failed to activate its final risk. The Architect froze under the System messages only the two of them could hear.

[System has denied the System Administrator’s access.]

[System has denied the System Administrator’s access.]

The same message repeated itself to the eyes of the disbelieving Architect.

[System has denied the System Administrator’s access.]

Even the System itself had turned its back to the Architect.

“How?” Jinwoo muttered, savoring the Architect's fall in despair and berserker rage. He was unrecognizable, championed by hybrid in the Dungeon that had both killed and rebirthed him. “I devoured the System.”

He summoned every dagger in his inventory and poised them to the Architect. His Mana, elevated to something incomprehensible, blazed and wisped in violet currents.

“No! you…!”

“If you won't answer any more of my questions, it seems there is no point in keeping you alive now.” A risen Monarch, and Jinwoo is a new thing; arrogant in his youth, blackened by rightious fury. His daggers lashed in zigzagging viciousness, the final, decisive blow for this creature. His eyes glowed with violet luminance. “This is for Hyung.”

Some part of him relished the scream breaking through the Architect's brittle throat, relished the newly unlocked power, his own ability to deal destruction to his tormentor. As its maleficence petered a dying red, its following words were an omen as it spoke through stonetomb teeth. “Prediction… No, the prophecy… when the pillars of fire are built to uphold the Heavens, an inevitable death shall find you.”

Jinwoo tasted the slight sting of death from its scraping decay, haloed in debris and landing lightly on his feet. Angling his head over his shoulder, his hostile acceptance dripped like venom. “Of course.”

For a moment, Jinwoo coincided with the silence. He didn't get to indulge for long as a desperate voice called out his name. Choi Jongin was in trouble, getting backed by several guards and Jinwoo shook himself awake. Realizing he still had some things to take care of, he proceeded to deal with the remaining puppets lost without their master. He managed to find his ‘Demon King's Short-sword’ and went on a killing spree against every guard still moving.

The Hunters gathered to gawk at him from afar, up until the last one fell and the tension in the air simmered to pure relief. Sohn Kihoon, who had been battling a few while yelling for back up, shakily picked himself up after the God statue fell by Sung Jinwoo's might and grumbled his way beside the Division Chief, who merely patted his back.

Jinwoo exhaled a shaky breath when he was finally done. His mind swirled with more questions than he came into the Temple with. The recalled memory defeating the King of Demons, Baran, Sovereign of White Flames, the ‘Black Heart’ and his +100,000 surge in MP just after coming back. He couldn't process or organize any of it.

His eyelids were coated in blood and much too tired, as he slowly walked out of the rubble of the permanently destroyed guards. As he blinked, hoping the prickling pain would lessen, something shiny glinted paces away. Not sure why, but he let himself be led to it. He lifted his hand and pushed away the broken parts of statues and as his hand brushed against the object, he stilled completely.

His breath hitched.

Pulling his hand out slowly, the elegant, white hilt of the sword was as shiny and untouched as it was before. Even under the beam of the giant, not a single imperfection coated it. He didn't notice when he started to tremble.

Kim Dokja.

This… this was the only thing he had left of him. His hearts pounded, out of sync and his body growing cold. His lips thinned as he clutched onto the sword, pressing it to his body and closed his eyes.

He could no longer cope with the surge of acidic grief that tinged his tongue, that followed the loss of him, burning as it ached. Jinwoo's skin is muted by his upswept collar, clothes torn and damp with puddling patches of blood. His struggle did nothing to save him.

Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry.

Distantly, he could hear soft footsteps. He was tired, so tired.

“Hunter Sung,” Woo Jinchul slowly approached him from behind, brows furrowed at the way he stood so still, and moved to the side for a better look. He found Jinwoo staring down at a glinting sword, gaze faraway. The Chief blinked, his voice a bit too loud. “Could be that… Kim Dokja Hunter-nim is…”

“Kim Dokja… he…”

Jinwoo couldn't finish his sentence as he staggered and his vision went unfocused. His last thought were of the man in white before he fell unconscious in the Dungeon Temple.

Choi Jongin coughed at the kicked up dust that blew their way, lowering his head to check up on his Vice. “Hunter Cha, how are you feeling?”

“Ah,” she coughed lightly and sighed. “I've been better.”

“Sung Jinwoo!”

At the distressed cry of several Hunters, both their heads swiveled to see as Sung Jinwoo swayed on his feet and connected to the ground in a heavy thud. Without thinking, Cha Haein sprung up and ran to the S-rank's side, half her body in a riot of agony and screaming for her to stop.

Choi Jongin's eyes widened. “Wait, Hunter Cha! Don't aggravate your wounds!”

She paid him no mind, quickly grappling him onto her. She held his head as he steadily bled from the wound on his forehead. He was pale, his body shutting down with no strength left in his arms and legs. Her heart seized into her throat as she turned to the rest. “We have to take him to the hospital!”

Woo Jinchul quickly ordered several Hunters to take care of Sung Jinwoo, since Cha Haein herself was in horrible shape and couldn't hold onto him for long. As two big Tankers took him from shoulder to shoulder, another voice rang loud in the quiet Temple.

“Chief! We have a problem!” Gina, an A-rank Mage standing beside Sohn Kihoon as they both glared at the closed Temple doors. “We can't open the entrance!”

“What?!” Woo Jinchul redirected his bewildered stare to the rest, whose pale faces drained further of any color whenever an attack of theirs couldn't put a scratch to the heavy doors. He audibly cursed.

They were trapped inside.

“Keep trying!”

The Hunters did as told, pushing, kicking, aiming spells that should've worked onto the doors, only for it to remain as untouched as ever. After minutes of continuous onslaught, the Hunters were clearly growing tired, their combined firepower that was already low from the earlier fight dwindling even further.

“What do we do…?” Cha Haein whispered, unable to even get up after her earlier burst of energy that sapped whatever strength she had in her left.

Choi Jongin watched as the Division Chief directed the Hunters and assisted them as best as he could. The S-rank didn't want to say it, but it was looking bleak for them. Sung Jinwoo was currently unconscious, and every other high ranking Hunter was too weak to do any real damage, even combined as it was.

“I'm not sure.” he admitted, sighing as his body protested every slight movement, “But if we don't come up with something soon, we might be in trouble.”

 

---

 

There was a certain Skill Kim Dokja was in possession of.

[Currently, ‘Bookmark’ skill is in activation.]

[Currently, the sixth Bookmark is in activation.]

It wasn't part of his plan to have used it so early, but the situation was unavoidable in nature. The thought had germinated in his head since Jinwoo mentioned the bounty on him and since Kim Dokja had yet to have any usage for it, a part of him wanted to experiment and see how it worked.

He first acquired it from the Secretive Plotter while returning from the 1863rd worldline, although technically speaking, it wasn't considered a 'Skill' either. Since he wasn't a writer to begin with, the method he had learned it from was, once again, quite the cheat.

[The Character registered in the sixth Bookmark is ‘Director of the False End’.]

The Director of the False End, the 1863rd turn’s Han Sooyoung.

[Your degree of understanding on the applicable individual is very high!]

[Exclusive skill, ‘Avatar Lv.???’ is currently in activation!]

[You have used up 2% of your memories to generate an avatar.]

Kim Dokja gasped awake, groaning as his head was assaulted by a pounding migraine. He wasn't as talented as Han Sooyoung clearly, given her composure when she did the same during the Great War of Saints and Demons. Rubbing his eyelids to fight against the headache, Dokja clutched the wall of compacted earth as purchase to get up from his place on the ground.

He took a moment to balance himself, careful to remain upright as his legs felt like weak jelly. Once he felt a bit more composed and not ready to trip, he raised his head to the gigantic hole above. From where he stood, it should be impossible to see anything from the outside to where he was in, given how deep he had been shoved into the Temple's depths.

Although, the crater the God statue broke his body into had been the perfect hiding place for the Avatar's body when he sacrificed a small portion of his memories to create it. He patted his body, humming with a frown. It was strange knowing that the body he was now in wasn't his original body, and that he'd lost it within minutes of making the Avatar, but he guessed he shouldn't think too deeply of it. This wouldn't be the first time for him losing his body and getting it back in an unthinkable way beyond anyone's expectations.

Due to his body acting somewhat as a doll since his original body's death, it would take time until he could properly integrate into it. If he had done so above with such a raging battle going on with both the God and the guards statues, his body wouldn't have been as protected and he would've died for real.

The Architect itself wouldn't stand knowing a part of him was still alive and incited its puppets to kill him.

But now… it was quiet.

Was the battle over? Had Jinwoo won against the Architect?

Only one way to find out.

He activated ‘Way of the Wind’ and manipulated to air to fit him, jumping up until light spilled and Dokja could breathe easier. While the oxygen up here was tainted with blood, the one underground was hard to breathe through. Dokja blinked, a whole lot of people he didn't recognize all huddled into one end of the Temple. They were near the entrance, and guessing from their fancy getup, they weren't enemies Dokja should be wary of.

He landed lightly on the cracked floor and analyzed the situation.

[Personal Attribute, 'Scenario Interpreter' has been activated!]

Firstly, the statues of the God giant and Architect, along with the rest of the annoying guards, has been defeated and looked like they wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. Seems Jinwoo managed to kill the Architect. Second, the Hunters surrounding the doors must be trying to open it, but with every attack and spell, they were growing weaker and weaker. With the Architect's death, the doors had been permanently closed until someone strong could break through. Which led to his third observation. There was another, smaller group of Hunters with Jinwoo in the middle. From the lack of movement and their visible panic, he was unconscious to be of any viable help.

He stepped forward, terminating his Skill and his signature Status envelopes the dead chamber. The higher tuned Hunters flinched greatly, whirling to face what they instinctively perceived as a threat. Dokja's steps were soundless as he approached them. He sighed lightly as they all gathered and raised their weapons to him.

“Who the hell are you?” One of them barked, suspicious.

Dokja shook his head. It would've been great if Jinwoo was awake so he wouldn't have to explain himself.

Suddenly, someone pushed through the horde of Hunters and stared at him. The man's brows furrowed, and Dokja saw in confusion as his eyes widened in recognition. “Kim Dokja?”

“Hm?” Dokja tilted to meet his gaze. The man had orange hair and black eyes, but he couldn't place a name to him. “Do I know you?”

“No, no… we haven't met, but I'm Woo Jinchul, A-rank Hunter and the Chief of the Monitoring Division,” he informed, and the somewhat civil conversation was able to make the rest lower their guard. Woo Jinchul paid them no mind, and simply stared at him with a dazed expression. “You are Kim Dokja, the newest S-rank in Korea. Hunter Sung said you were dead. How…?”

Oh right. Dokja closed his eyes. This was his least favorite part every time.

“Ah, no. I'm not dead, as you can see. I came from the crater,” he pointed behind himself, dusting himself off, “And I've been unconscious ever since the God threw me in there. Is Jinwoo alright?” He redirected the conversation to the Hunter and frowned at his appearance. Since Dokja was temporarily gone, he must've suffered many wounds from the numerous statues.

“Sung Hunter-nim is currently out cold,” Woo Jinchul explained, gazing at him with a curiosity he couldn't place. "And we've been trying to get the chamber doors to open, but since the head statue was taken out, it won't open no matter what."

Dokja poked his head beyond Woo Jinchul's shoulder. “Maybe I can try. As it stands, I'd rather not wake him just yet.”

Darting to the front of the Temple, his sudden appearance spooked some of the Hunters still loitering near it. In an unwitting show of strength, helped with the whisper of his Fables, he kicked the door down in a rictus of thunderous noise. Wind whipped against him as it fell, powerless to his uncontained power. He sucked in a thankful breath. Ah, finally. It was so stuffy in that Temple.

Dokja whirled to them, smile sparkling, the sweep of his coat shimmering with still-clinging dust. Gathered, they gaped at him. “We should go,” he reminded, gesturing at them to follow, “Now that we can leave.”

They numbly nodded. Dokja moved behind for Woo Jinchul to take the lead, Hunters gathering the injured and leaving the Temple. They'll have to go back to retrieve the Hunters who didn't make it, but for now, they had to get help for the ones still alive.

As Dokja kept glancing to the held body of Jinwoo, noting from the two burly Hunters helping him there was that stunning blond woman he saw before hovering near them with a fretful voice. He wasn't paying attention and stumbled slightly, knees bending with sudden weakness. Since reintegrating into the Avatar, he felt a bit weak still.

Accepting the bruise he'll get from falling, he was unexpectedly caught by someone. He raised his head, blinking through the fog of haze. Ruby eyes behind glasses and styled red hair entered his vision. “Ah, hello… who are you?”

“Choi Jongin, S-rank Hunter, Guild Master of the Hunters Guild,” the man professionally quipped, raising his body with one arm so most of his weight fell on him. “And you… are Hunter Kim Dokja.”

He hummed, forced to wrap an arm over the man's neck to keep himself up now that he's pretty sure he's lost all feeling in his legs. Hm, maybe the kick did more damage than he first expected. Breathing quietly with his eyelids closed, he didn't notice the inquisitive stare in his direction.

They got out of the warbling Gate, and the sudden burst of changing Mana made Dokja woozy. His weight draped over Choi Jongin, who grunted in surprise.

[Ki m Dok ja is ti red]

‘Maybe… a little.’

"Kim Dokja?”

His consciousness wisped away, body safely cradled.

He was in desperate need of some sleep.

Notes:

Finals week is now upon me and my tired soul..

Pray for me.

Chapter 13: Japan's Crisis (1)

Summary:

“The Association will not partake in the S-rank Gate in Japan.”

Notes:

Hi everyone, I'm sorry for taking so long to update ╯︿╰ I had to scrap the chapter I already had because it didn't make sense and skipped interactions that needed to happen, so it took energy to rewrite.

I'm in vacation and finished with school until August, so I hope to make and post more jindok fics for you guys! o(*°▽°*)o

Slumped beside the open window, Dokja is suspended beneath the fuzzy, orange-tinted clouds, hours twisting into a knot that feeds the stiffness in the joints of his body. The pain is scattered, felt throughout, in his arms, neck, chest—but he shrugs it off with the disinterest of someone who's used to pain. Surviving the way he had, it's normal to be acquainted with the blood and gore and trauma more intimately than being void of any wounds at all.

In the small, slivered pendant of privacy, Dokja muses how strangely untouched this world is from the expectancy of Scenarios. Even the stars were quiet, as if they were nothing more than flickering compacts of light. While this world's apocalypse was still fated to occur, it edged slower, in perpetual ripples than all at once. He wasn't used to death not breathing down his neck like a noose.

It felt so foreign to him, a place, a story within Wos that didn’t reflect it. He couldn't guess how many times he's read Yoo Joonghyuk's life, theorized every aspect, from his childhood to now, and still come out of it with unanswered questions. It's his insatiable need for control of that ambiguity, that derailing stop into unknowns, that compel him to stake himself into his sacrifices, the pain and uncertainty—to prevent their deaths with his own. Easing their burdens, and making their climb up the Scenarios to their ◾️◾️ all the easier for them to bear.

He shifts, the barest hint of a breeze chilling the back of his collar. The spike of stiffness eased, mind rendered quiet in the sprawl of an infinite sky; the scope outside the window is a daub of faint pinks and a delicate orange. The midday is desolate, the distant sounds of radios and channel segments cooping everyone inside their homes to hear of Japan's ongoing crisis.

He basked in the springtime air, preferred over the clinical smell that seeped every inch of the hospital room. It was peaceful. Quiet. It left him uneasy. In the obvious lack of danger, his body springs to restlessness, biting his lip and scratching his arm. His mind wanders; would his own world ever heal from the things it has suffered?

And isn't that why he's here? To reach the conclusion that question poses?

He slips from the window, darted to the plush bed in the center. Carefully arranged, it held the recuperating body of Sung Jinwoo. Dokja took in his mussed hair and bandaged self, the handsome face frowning as he dreamt.

So far, three days have passed since Jinwoo lost unconsciousness in the Double Dungeon they had taken part in. Dokja himself regained consciousness on the second day and was forced to keep himself there so that the doctors could check him over for any lingering side-affects.

He was fine though. He reassured them that he didn't need their treatment (he's taken on stronger things in the past).

But he stayed. It was best to watch over Jinwoo until he could wake up. His own bed lay adjacent to Jinwoo's, left unoccupied and clean. He didn't want to bother the nurses and annoy them, thinking it was better to tidy it up himself when he couldn't stand to stay still in the bed. He much preferred to overlook the view of Seoul.

Dipping down, his eyes raked down the Hunter's chest and muffled his relief at him breathing evenly. Luckily, he hadn't suffered anything too serious. Out of everything, he had exhausted himself in Mana in his long drawn out fight against the Architect. Other than that, nothing else plagued him.

Now, if only Jinwoo could wake up.

Dokja sighed. He wondered how long it would take Jinwoo to wake up from his self-induced coma.

Dokja looked to the side for a moment, the blue-tinted system window popping up for him to read. He almost forgot about that.

[You have succeeded in clearing the Sub Scenario!]

It read something like this:

[Sub Scenario - End of the System's Reign]

Category: Sub

Difficulty: A

Clear Conditions: Assist the Monarch's Heir in defeating the owner of the Cartenon Temple.

Time Limit: 45 minutes

Compensation: 300.000 coins, ???

Failure: death

-

This Sub Scenario, like the last, dropped suddenly into his lap when Jinwoo had brought him back after shopping. Considering it popped up just as Jinwoo was about to leave, he had to quickly run out to the car and catch him. It meant Jinwoo was planning to go to a Dungeon alone for whatever the Scenario informed him of.

And now, here he was. The rewards of his efforts has come to fruition.

[You have obtained 300.000 coins!]

And the other compensation was…

[You have obtained 'Fractured Remnant of the Architect's System'!]

Something like that. He cocked his head. Could it be what he thinks it might be? Dokja's eyes read down to the description of the reward he got.

[This fracture can allow you to see the existence of the Architect's Leveling-Up System. But you cannot intervene with it in any way.]

He was right. Dokja rubbed his chin with his hand while he hummed. This meant that he would be able to view the System Jinwoo uniquely had. Something told him it'll be pretty different from the one of Star Stream. He wasn't sure how Jinwoo will take it himself when he notices Dokja can now see his System. Or if he would have a reaction at all.

Another pop-up caught him off guard. As he read it, his mouth dropped open.

[You have relived 'The War of Monarchs and Rulers'.]

[450.000 coins have been obtained as a reward for reliving a historical event.]

That's right. The data memory. After Dokja died, he thought he'd be mindlessly floating in the void once more until he could assimilate with the spare Avatar, but unexpectedly, the second stage of 'Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint' was accessed just before his death and he was projected into the third stage by Jinwoo's all-consuming grief. He didn't think it would happen that quickly, but Jinwoo was full of surprises.

Because of that, both him and Jinwoo had been transported into whatever saved data the Architect forced them in and Dokja had bared witness to the Chaos Realm and its inhabitants going to war. Seemingly, it had been a one-sided battle, but only up until another figure had entered the fight and overturned the entire tide of war to his side.

The Shadow Monarch.

From what they both saw, the Shadow Monarch had been betrayed by some demon (who Jinwoo seemed to know, by his flash of surprise) and was instantly enraged. But the memory didn't last long. Just as one of those Rulers went up to the Shadow Monarch, the memory flitted out of existence and they were taken back to the temple.

[An extra reward has been generated.]

[You have obtained…]

Dokja blinked at the reward, brows raising and a smile tugging at his lip. Along with the Fracture, this could be useful…

As Dokja mused his new rewards and smiled at his fattening coin-stash, the door to the hospital room was opened. Dokja blinked, refocused, saw the trio of men waiting with stiff, serious expressions. Only one, he could name. Woo Jinchul, with his slicked back orange hair and quietly contained Mana, stalked the bed and stood proud.

“Here again, Woo Jinchul-ssi?” Dokja smiled with slight humor, leaning against the chair. He was here yesterday, taking in his accounts of the events that took place before their arrival and Dokja's unfortunate… black out. He had to spin a tale that didn't allude to his death from the little Jinwoo managed to tell him before the man fell unconscious, and was able to avoid suspicion.

“Good afternoon, Kim Hunter-nim,” he greeted politely, the narrow twist of his brows showing his awkwardness. The comatose body of Jinwoo hovered like a shadow.

“What brings you here?” Dokja asked.

“I've come because the Chairman wanted to talk to you.”

Go Gunhee wanted to see him?

“Is this something that can wait?” Dokja questioned, and from Woo Jinchul's expression, it likely wasn’t.

“President Go Gunhee insists. You just need to go to the Association. That's all you have to do.”

Dokja frowned, wondering what it could be about. Glancing to Jinwoo, he noted how peaceful he slept. He might not even wake up any time soon from the sustained mental drainage he was hit. Besides, he felt like he owed it to the agent for helping Jinwoo when he couldn't.

Dokja leveled the agent with a stare, dissecting the man in front of him and of what use he could be for him in his time in this worldline. Dokja tilted his head, could feel the waves of tension of tiredness of him and pictured the Chairman's gentle tone and grandfatherly smile.

“Alright, take me to him,” Dokja said, getting up and sliding his coat back on. The expression on Jinchul's face, as tired as it was, bloomed into something grateful. The two other agents beside him shuffled, moving to whisper in their ear pieces and sliding the door open for him to move past.

As they clamored out, lining along the middle of the path, the familiar figure of a young girl moved into view. She was running, and Dokja yelped as she nearly collided into him. Thankfully, Jinchul managed to grab her and stabilize her from her sprint. She gasped and moved back, raising her head only for her eyes to widen.

Dokja put the face with a name. Sung Jinah, Jinwoo's sister.

“S—sorry…” Jinah mumbled, gaze darting from the Association agents to Dokja. He didn't know what the glint in them meant, just that her body language conveyed discomfort. She was hunched over, shrinking from the stare of three older men. Dokja glared at them to move. They did, giving her more space to breathe.

Dokja made sure to stand a comfortable distance. He smiled a small thing to the girl. “Here for your brother?”

Jinah darted up, biting her lip and slowly nodded. She kept glancing behind, shuffling, eager to go to her brother's side.

Dokja moved to let her see the door. “He's still resting, but I don't think he'd mind.”

Jinah nodded again, voice soft and barely a mumble. “Thank you, Ahjussi…”

With that, she swiftly strolled to the door, darting inside. Dokja breathed out, gesturing for them to keep walking. As they reached the end of the hall, the soft, frantic footsteps of a woman entered his ears. She clutched her purse close to her as she panted, passing by Dokja with a wild whip of her black hair.

“Jinah, you shouldn't run…!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced to Dokja and gave him an acknowledging nod. In a single moment, she disappeared through the door to Jinwoo's hospital room until all was quiet.

Dokja turned away, scratching his chin as he was lead out of the hospital and into an expensive, back car. Honestly, he hadn't expected to meet Jinwoo's family when the man in question was unconscious. But somehow, he had. Even more, he didn't think he'd end up giving his number to the mother of Sung Jinwoo after she learned of his involvement in getting him back safe and sound yesterday. She was surprisingly persistent, and after a bit, Dokja couldn't deny her any longer.

When the Hunter woke up, Dokja hoped Jinwoo wouldn't mind too much.

 

---

 

Sitting in the lavish office of the Chairman was a bit nerve-wracking. Outwardly, he didn't let it show on his face, both Go Gunhee and Woo Jinchul watching him from across the coffee table. After he had been picked up by the agent and taken to the Chairman's office, he had stayed behind beside the man.

“I wanted to ask,” Dokja mentioned, hiding his wince as he gained their attention, “After I fell unconscious, were you able to gather the fallen Hunters back in the Dungeon?”

Go Gunhee's eyes widened a tad in surprise, but smoothed into a small, sad smile. “Thankfully, we were. I heard you kicked the door to the inner Temple and helped the Hunters Guild manage to escape. Backup and those that offered were able to gather all 20 of the fallen Hunters from inside before the Gate closed.”

He nodded, silently mulling over his words. It was good that they were taken, or else their bodies would've been lost in the Dungeon forever. The families of the people that died would've never been able to recover them for a proper funeral. Woo Jinchul took the laptop that had been under his arm and opened it in front of Dokja. His brows furrowed, confused. Woo Jinchul hadn't said the reason why Go Gunhee had asked for his presence. He was under the assumption it was because he wanted to ask him directly about what happened in the Double Dungeon and possibly get more information.

Instead, Go Gunhee looked at him with a serious expression. “Kim Dokja-ssi, do you know about the Jeju Island Raid?”

Dokja shook his head. He didn't anything about that. Although he did hear the name be mentioned at times in the online forums he browsed for information the day he came into the worldline. “Not much.”

He nodded and Woo Jinchul opened the laptop for him to see the footage taken from the incident. As he watched, his eyes widened in surprise. Gigantic ant monsters cocooned within the womb of the island and ranging in the thousands, all them deadly, monstrous, and unapolagetically slaughtered by the one and only Sung Jinwoo.

“Over a month ago, the Korean and Japanese Association decided to collude in a united raid team in an effort to reclaim Jeju island. Korea had attempted three times before, but were unsuccessful. This time, we had no choice but to take action after it was revealed that the ants there were evolving at a rapid pace. One even managed to escape, and many suffered as a result,” At that, Go Gunhee had a slightly painful expression.

“But, during the raid, damning information was unveiled,” Woo Jinchul quipped, with Go Gunhee nodding beside.

Dokja watched the shown footage taken during fourth, and final, subjugation attempt. His eyes widened as a familiar figure stepped into the scene. The camera was shaky, but the monster was unmistakable.

Jinwoo's ant soldier, Beru.

“After the emergence of this creature, the Japanese Hunters had one-sidedly cut off communication and abandoned the mission to run with their tail between their legs,” Woo Jinchul's lips thinned, ice frosting into his Mana. “They were already planning to leave us behind, having the six Korean Hunters killed off so they could assume leadership with us crippled.”

Go Gunhee sighed, the weathered lines of his face wrinkling into something pained. “Because of such an underhanded scheme, we lost a very important member of our community. The sole S-rank Healer in South Korea, Min Byunggu,” his tone, layered in the patterned silence, dragged somber. 

Dokja glanced back to the footage and dissected it. The Korean team had the mission to kill the ant queen, jumping into the ant tunnel while the Japanese were tasked to buy them time, only to withdraw from the island and leave the other team to face certain annihilation.

As the footage faded to black, Dokja leaned back against the plush chair, Woo Jinchul tugging the laptop to him and closing it with a click.

Go Gunhee’s eyes sharpened, a tendril of anger spiking in his impressive Mana. “Even then, President Matsumoto tried to steal Hunter Sung Jinwoo from us. Even though he is not branched with the Association, he still had the arrogance to ask for a negotiation.” Even if he was, they would never hand him over to any other country, Dokja was sure of it. Jinwoo was too valuable of a Hunter.

“Do the citizens know?” Dokja asked, curious.

“They will,” Go Gunhee assured smoothly. In the pocket of his suit, he slipped a small black box and showed it to Kim Dokja. “This was attached to their communication equipment, the one Goto Ryuji's team was using. I’ve only delayed its release for the sake of our people. At the time, I didn't want to dampen their joy as they basked in the glow of a hard-fought victory.”

“Now,” Woo Jinchul said, pushing his shades up his nose, “There is no reason not to reveal the existence of this file to the rest of the world.”

“That means…” Kim Dokja's body rose, understanding dawning on him. His expression was mirrored by the President's. “The Association will not partake in the S-rank Gate in Japan.”

“No, we won't,” he reaffirmed without a hint of hesitation. Woo Jinchul closed the laptop and took it off the wide desk.

Dokja had heard of it. On every station. The sudden, horrific death of a Russian S-rank Hunter, Yuri Oslov, employed to block the Gate, only to be killed in the wake of the Dungeon Break. He was the first of the casualties. And now, the Japan Hunters Association were scrambling to send messages to any prominent Hunters around the globe to lend a helping hand.

Dokja hummed, unperturbed. It was a shame to them, then. Such a betrayal was evidenced in meeting its consequences, wasn't it? The Association's decision wasn't something he was against, had no reason to be. Kim Dokja had no sympathy for them.

Although…

[A new Sub Scenario has been generated!]

He sighed, head lolling to the back of the chair as read the description of the Scenario.

[Sub Scenario - Reclaim Japan from the Giants!]

Category: Sub

Difficulty: A

Clear Conditions: there are Giants terrorizing Japan. With the Shadow Monarch's Heir, kill the owner of the Dungeon and liberate the citizens.

Time Limit: 7 to 10 days

Compensation: 320.000 coins

Failure: you will lose one Historical-grade Fable

-

Dokja grimaced at the penalty. This Hidden Scenario was seriously putting him to work, huh?

He raised himself back into a more comfortable position, biting the inside of his cheek as he frowned. He fixed his gaze with hawk-like intent, detracting some of his cursory passivity. “Then, what about individual Hunters?”

Go Gunhee didn't reply, firmly stable at his desk. He was a powerful force, possibly the best when compared to any other existence that wasn't Jinwoo. For Dokja, his age did nothing to hinder the command he soundlessly wielded.

“Would Hunters not affiliated directly with the Association have the freedom to decide if they should aide Japan?”

He waited, expectantly wary, but startled as Go Gunhee chuckled at his expression. Woo Jinchul merely shook his head.

“If those Hunters want to aide Japan, we won't stop them.” Go Gunhee smiled, something knowing hidden in the crinkled edges, “We'll even situate them with transportation so they can safely reach their destination.”

His own lip twitched up. A sharp man. “I see.”

Dokja stood up, the conversation effectively over with. Neither stopped him. Bidding the goodbye, he turned to leave. He momentarily gazed over his shoulder, curious.

“Gunhee-ssi, did you not call me over to change my mind?”

After all, didn't it seem as if they already knew of his decision? So why…

The man shook his head, smiling softly. Unexpectedly, he got up, walking from his seat to stand before Dokja in front of the closed door to his office. A gentle hand landed on his head, making his muscles freeze in place. The touch was soft, utterly, the Mana wrapped around this man tickling his senses.

[The Fourth Wall is shaking faintly!]

His fingers thread through his black hair, combing with a tenderness Dokja refused to decipher. His heart lurched, something near painful stuck in his throat. And the look Go Gunhee had—Dokja darted his eyes down, beating the strange warmth from out of his ears and into a far, untouched corner where it belonged.

“Not at all,” he rumbled, amused, “In full honestly, I wanted to ask you to please look after Hunter Sung Jinwoo.”

“Uh…?” He unintelligently said.

“Hunter Jinwoo-nim's decision…”

Ah.

Chairman Go Gunhee knew it too.

A shaky breath left his mouth. He didn't lean in to Go Gunhee's touch, seeking out that phantasmagorical warmth Dokja couldn't unravel for the sake of his own sanity. He didn't shake, the Wall picking itself up to cradle the thin breech of space.

Jinwoo… was a bit predictable, huh?

Dokja detached himself from the touch, eyes darting up and left, sliding to the doorknob and escaping that look. A skitter of discomfort drove his shoulders to remain raised, bleeding like tension.

“I will,” Dokja reassured, fighting the cramp in his fingers. “Goodbye, Chairman.”

He swiftly turned with one last nod to Woo Jinchul, opened the door and closed it behind him. From the current floor till the bottom level, Dokja jogged until he could breathe. He shook his head, thoughts scrambled as the wind whipped his coat from side to side. He ignored the mess of them, and decided to focus on his newest Sub Scenario.

The top of his head tingled.

It was warm.

 

---

 

When the door closed, and all was left were the two older Hunters, Go Gunhee moved back to sit behind his desk.

“You're not normally one for physical affection, Go Gunhee-nim,” Woo Jinchul informed, and Go Gunhee leaned into his chair. His closest associate was watching him with something close to shock.

Go Gunhee glanced to his hand, raised to jostle Dokja's hair without his permission and felt the tiny flinch under it. Saw the wide-eyed incredulity. He folded his scarred, old palms together. He closed his eyes, serene, musing.

“I wonder.”

 

---

 

Jinwoo wakes up from the drudges of unconsciousness to a persistent, augment-echoed headache. He hisses a groan, nose scrunched and puzzling through the sting. Sitting up, he rubbed at his temples. The pain of light sensitivity blinked through his retinas, and he sighed, leaning his back against the headboard. In the harsh, blinding glow of his surroundings, he opened his eyes and noticed the bed felt too foreign to be his.

From the cottony white and the scent of antiseptic in his nose, Jinwoo's mind realized his position. He was in the hospital again. With the sole exception of the heart beating into his skull without mercy, he didn't have any other wounds, all healed under the bandages.

As he rubbed his head, he noticed a weight pulled over his legs and looked down.

His eyes widened before they softened. From the corner of his vision, another person was there, their soft breaths the only sound in the hospital room. On the outside, looking through the window to see it was slightly dark out, he smiled as he realized they must've stayed for hours beside him for them to fall asleep like this.

“Jinah? Eomma?” He called out, raising his hand to pat at his sister's head. She moved and shifted, Jinwoo calling her name again. She yawned, circles under her eyes, slightly disoriented as she looked to the hand patting her.

Jinwoo swallowed the swell of emotion that threatened to overcome him as his sister's breath hitched, her brown eyes shaking with tears. Low sounds came out of her as she suddenly climbed on top of the bed and threw her arms around him. He caught her, held her close as she quietly cried in his shoulder. The sound of her distress woke his mother up, who looked at them in surprise before she got up to sit on the opposite end of the bed.

“How do you feel, son?”

He clasped his hand over hers, drawing strength from her motherly smile, her soft voice.

“I'm…” Jinwoo trailed off, able to breathe now that he wasn't trapped in the underground Temple anymore. Underneath the sheets, something cold and metallic bulks heavy, but stays unnoticed by his family. The name of someone lost whispers over the hilt that touches his thigh. “My body's healed, I just have a headache.”

She nods, understanding. “Do you want to stay for one more day?”

“No,” he shook his head, Jinah drawing back with short hiccups and a teary-red face. He was exhausted. He took refuge in his mother's embrace, familiar, comforting, in its utterly debilitating effect. “I want to go home.”

“Okay,” she nods, kisses him on the forehead and tugs on his sister so they can get him discharged. It takes no time at all for him to get to leave with his mom and sister fussing over him all the way home.

When he's finally home, warm from the shower and stationed in his room, he gets a call from Jinho telling him that he's sorry he wasn't able to meet him immediately after Jinwoo woke up.

“It's fine, we can meet tomorrow.”

“Good night, Hyung-nim!”

The kid hangs up and Jinwoo puts his phone down. Sitting in his bed, he takes the sword from where he'd hid it in his inventory and carefully arranged it beside his nightstand. His knuckles brush against the detailed, intricate hilt and unscarred sheath.

As his eyes close, he ignores the pang of something hollow in his chest.

 

---

 

In the middle of the night, sleeping in a starfish position, Dokja's eyes fly open.

“Wait a minute… where's my sword?”

Notes:

I have the next 3 chapters planned out (thank g o d) so I'll do my best to update next week!

Let me know what you guys think! And is there anything you want to see me write? (I say as if I don't have like 30 wips lmao)

Chapter 14: Japan's Crisis (2)

Summary:

"Just what is it that you wish to buy from me?”

Notes:

This is a more info dumpy chapter since I gotta set up the next arc in a natural way and not just ZYOOM my way to Japan too fast, the next chapter ~should~ be the last of that until we get to the action we're all waiting for.

Oh, and my pile of wips are growing into astronomical levels and I wanna cryyyyy

So many good ideas, so little time...

[You have completed 'Running: 10km.']

Jinwoo exhaled a breath, comfortably cool in his tracksuit. He eyed the window, surprised to find the current status of his Daily Quest as functional as the other parts of his System. Even getting rid of the master of the Dungeon did nothing to change it, the same as before, and maintaining his physical condition to its absolute peak.

Under the shine of the sun, vitality flowed through him, the 'Black Heart' taking full root within his body like a home. As he ran, deliberately slow, his steps digging light and airy like running on water, a new, unrestrained kind of power flooded his senses. Waking up today, it wasn't possible for him to sit still at home. He had to get and move, to run and burn off the excess energy that built up in his sleep and threatened to tip over.

As he did his daily routine, Jinwoo remembered the self-proclaimed Architect—tarnished and vile and near-atrophied—and its last message to him. He didn't know what it meant or what it entailed, whispering into his dreams with the images of fire and death, and wanted to laugh in its face.

More than that, he was mostly plagued by the numerous unanswered questions he's been left with. The Architect died the way it lived: annoyingly useless and unnecessarily traumatizing. The recorded footage, the War, the Monarchs. They were all pieces of a bigger picture, and Jinwoo didn't know how many more there were left to snap together.

Drinking in the fresh air, he smoothed the dying current of melancholy. There wasn't time for that. For now, it was best to ignore.

“Excuse me! Mister Yoo Jinho!”

Jinwoo raised his head to the cordon of reporters camping outside the building of his Guild office. They were noisy, and ignored the glares of the people walking leisurely. From the center of the storm, Jinho's short hair was visible, the boy surrounded on all sides. Huddled by the ensnaring crowd, he couldn't separate himself free.

“Mister Yoo Jinho, may we ask some questions? Were you aware of the tragedy of the Hunters Guild that happened yesterday?”

“Please provide us with a statement as the Vice Chairman of the Ahjin Guild!”

“Is there a connection with Hunter Sung Jinwoo to the incident?”

“Japan is going through a crisis at the moment, but did Mister Sung Jinwoo express his thoughts on aiding the Japanese?”

Since they couldn't interview him personally, they resorted to cling onto their next best bet. Jinho must've come off as an easier mark for them to be so insistent. His feet scuffed the ground, deciding if he should intervene when the twinkle in Jinho's eyes stopped him from moving. Outside, he appeared distressed, but his senses caught the twitch of his suppressed smile whenever a question was thrown to him.

Jinwoo formed a surprised expression. He didn't know Jinho enjoyed stuff like this. Seems his help wasn't needed, nor necessary. As he wondered what else to do, given Jinho was busy enjoying himself, a car rolled to a stop beside Jinwoo. He turned, curious and apprehensive.

The window rolled down, and his brows rose up at the familiar face.

“Excuse me, are you Sung Jinwoo Hunter-nim?” The man sitting in the car looks him over, his gaze pleasantly surprised expression as he breathes out a reply to his own question. “Indeed, it is you.”

Jinwoo moved back a couple steps as the man stepped out of his vehicle. With his standard beige suit and swept gray hair, the man didn't need an introduction. Jinwoo has seen him multiple times, appearing non-stop in South Korea's financial news segments that he was recognizable from far away.

“I’m Yoo Myunghan from Yujin Construction. It’s a pleasure, Sung Jinwoo Hunter-nim.”

His back was straight as he lightly lowered his head, a greeting neither disrespectful nor lacking in confidence. He was inwardly taken a bit back, his actions both tidy and disciplined, yet unexpected in their different statuses. For a Chairman of such a Corporation to greet him in a such a dignified manner was shocking. Jinwoo returned the greeting.

“I’m Sung Jinwoo. It’s also a pleasure.”

“I apologize for coming to see you without prior communication, but if it’s alright with you, can we speak in private?”

A small suspicion festered. “What can I help you with?”

For the man to seek him out personally, instead of conveniently contacting him through his son, and costing his valuable time, it must've been something he couldn't let Jinho know about. His apologetic expression implied resignation, its tired edges weighed down.

“It is regarding a topic that’s difficult to discuss here.”

Several curious stare landed on the pair, more on Yoo Myunghan as the people couldn't recognize Jinwoo from his current, comfortable track suit with the hood pulled up. There were quite a fair few people around, so he could understand the hesitation to speak here. It was just confusing since Jinwoo had no business with him. He theorized it could involve his own second son, Yoo Jinho, and could be something the boy wasn't aware of if his father was approaching him like this.

There was an urgent spark in the man's expression as more people looked their way. Jinwoo glanced back, caught Jinho's happy, near smug face at the attention from the reporters and swallowed a short laugh. The kid will be preoccupied for the rest of the day then. Since he's taking a break from monopolizing high-ranking Gates in consideration of the other major Guilds, especially the Hunters Guild for their sacrifice, he should be able to spare some time to the old man.

“Let's go, then.”

The man brightened, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you.” He even opened the rear door of the car for him. “Please, get in.”

He climbed aboard first, the Chairman going around to the other end to take the back seat next to him. The car was so big that even with two well-built men sitting on the back seat, there was still plenty of space left.

Before the car started, Jinwoo turned to the man. “Where are we going?”

“We haven’t decided on a destination. Is there a place you’d like to go to, Sung Jinwoo Hunter-nim…?”

With a shake of his head, the Chairman gave a signal and instructions to his chauffeur. Jinwoo leaned against his sea, the coziness of the cushions indescribable. The expensive car glided forward without any noise and eventually, they arrived in their destination.

“We’re here, Hunter-nim.”

The tall skyscraper left him speechless, with a group of six attendants rushing out of the building to surround Yoo Myunghan  after they got out of the car with a respectful bow.

“Welcome back, sir!”

The Chairman gestured to him, “Let's head inside, Hunter-nim.” The man took to the front and lead him through Yujin Construction, his massive empire stamped with its name everywhere the eye could see. Waiting for him to walk closer, the man matched his walking speed. “This way, please.”

As Jinwoo caught the bewildered gazes of the employees when taking off his hood, he gained a bit of an understanding of the Chairman's character from every wholehearted greeting he returned. The air simmered with curiosity, and Jinwoo couldn't blame them for it. The top Hunter and the top businessman of the nation, standing beside each other, both considered experts in their respective field. What reason could have brought them together?

They climbed the executives-only elevator waiting for them. It was silent until they reached to the top floor, where the Chairman's office was located. Chairman Yoo's secretary was waiting for their arrival, giving him a quick nod while going over to his boss to whisper in his ear.

He formed an exasperated, and somewhat troubled expression. “Tell my brother to wait, I'm currently with an important guest.”

The secretary nodded and quickly left. The door leading to his office slid open, Yoo Myunghan settling in his office chair. “Please, have a seat.”

Jinwoo sensed the presence of the secretary returning once again, stationed outside the door as if to guard it. The silence was heavier here than in the elevator, and he patiently waited for whatever topic the man brought him here to discuss.

The man composed himself. “Sung Hunter-nim.”

“Yes?”

A cheque was pulled from his inner pocket, and unlike a regular one, there was no numerical letter denoting the value of money presented by the slip of paper. Pushed forward, Jinwoo raised his head to hear Yoo Myunghan's explanation.

“I am not a fool arrogant enough to believe I can buy everything with money. Especially so, when I'm dealing with an S-rank Hunter such as yourself.” From the way he spoke, there was an underlying importance to this matter that outstripped his own pride. His eyes lit up with a determined light. “That is why… I’d greatly appreciate it if you consider this as nothing more than a small gesture of my sincerity.”

Jinwoo guessed the reason for him to choose here to hold this conversation. And it had nothing to do with him asking to join his Guild. The secrecy of what will be discussed will not leak outside these walls by choosing his own territory. Like this, he could control everything.

“Chairman,” Jinwoo said carefully, “Just what is it that you wish to buy from me?”

“Actually…” the man hesitated. “I have the same illness as your mother.”

It was unexpected, and exactly the thing that would garner such secrecy. “…Does Jinho know?”

“Aside from my personal physician, only three others know of my condition. Myself, my wife, and my secretary.” He looked at him in the eye. “And now, four.”

So that's why he didn't bother to go through his own son to contact him. Yoo Myunghan wanted to hide his illness from the rest of his family. The tight leash he carried on this information had too many consequences on himself and his own company for him to let it loose. At the end of the day, he was a businessman. Failure was not in his vocabulary. Such a man would not jump into anything while carrying significant risk if there was nothing to gain from it.

“I have been scouring the world for a cure, a method, to rid myself of this illness for a while. In the process, I was able to discover that a single patient has gained her freedom from this dastardly illness,” Yoo Myunghan stated, a shade of incredulity lining his mouth. “I don’t think it a coincidence that the sole patient recovering from the illness happens to be your mother, Sung Hunter-nim.”

There it was. The direction Jinwoo knew it would go in.

It wasn't a secret that Jinwoo had incomprehensible abilities in his possession, and by his very nature of being something strange, this would lead to another question. Could he have somehow cured his mother's illness with his strange abilities? Jinwoo didn't even begin to know the various methods and avenues the man used to investigate him to realize that.

Jinwoo said nothing, neither agreeing nor denying the claim.

“What I’d like to earn from you is the truth, Hunter-nim.” He exhaled a deep breath, the jump in his heart too loud for Jinwoo not to detect. “And as your compensation, this is just merely a small part of what I’m willing to provide you with, Sung Hunter-nim.”

A small part. Meaning, he was prepared to hand over something else besides money if that’s what he desired.

“If you help me out on this matter, Hunter-nim, I shall never forget this favor for the rest of my life.” He lowered his head, asking for help from an unlikely source. From his quickened breath and his faint tremble, to his earnestly desperate expression, there was not a hint of a lie in his statement. Jinwoo sympathized with him, how he chose to shoulder burdens that would be shoved onto his children otherwise, but…

He stayed calm, studying the man. He opened his mouth, his deliberation short with his already made decision.

“I’m sorry,” Jinwoo said, lips thinned. “Unfortunately, this is not something I can help you with.”

The faint tremble of his body was more visible after his denial. “Then… how did… your mother become cured, Sung Hunter-nim?”

“Chairman.” His expression pinched, a warning cautiously present. The air was cold. The Chairman shivered, reminded of who he was dealing with. “Hypothetically speaking, if I knew how the illness had been cured and I wanted to get rich from that, why would I have kept my mouth shut until now?”

He mulled over Jinwoo's query, brows drawn and mouth moving without sound to himself before the light of realization hit him.

“….I see.”

He closed his eyes. The dejection as too much for him to bear. “Well, in that case.” He got up, and the Chairman hastily summoned his secretary. The man opened the door, his mouth running dry with a flinch at the atmosphere that dominated the office.

“Sir, have you called for me?”

Chairman Yoo, dragging himself to his feet with puddled upset, did his best to replace the hurt of rejection with his businessman casualty. “Hunter-nim wishes to return. Please take him back to his residence.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Jinwoo tactfully declined the offer. After leaving short goodbyes to the both of them, he climbed onto the elevator all alone. The lift moved at a frightening pace from the penthouse floor right down to the lobby.

Jinwoo leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator. It didn't feel right to reject the Chairman's request. While he was the father of someone he treated like a little brother, this wasn't a deal he could take. The ‘Divine Water of Life’ used to cure his mother was in a limited supply. In the same vein, its otherworldly healing properties would be questioned, as would he. He had no choice but to be vigilant and circumspect their usage. No matter the desirable terms the man offered, Jinwoo wouldn't have changed his mind.

Once the elevator arrived, Jinwoo pulled up his hood and left the lift. Without the Chairman, no one could recognize him. He walked over to the exit, crossing the lobby, and stopped at the sound of a panicked voice.

[This is the latest update coming from Japan!]

His head shifted to the giant TV in the lobby, switched on in the time he was gone. It showed real-time footage of the state of Japan, the breaking news regarding the Dungeon Break and the massive calamity spreading throughout at an alarming rate. He walked closer to it. The glorious city of Japan was destroyed, captured in its all consuming destruction from the TV's station's helicopter.

It was a dreadful thing to watch: the Giant monsters demolishing buildings and sacred parks and homes. Those unfortunate were captured, thrown in the mouths of the ruthless Giants. These scenes were blurred, the screams cut off. What little remained of Japan's armed forces drained their firepower in an effort to combat the horrors of the Dungeon Break. In the end, offset by the overwhelming number of the monsters, it proved to be a useless venture.

Without Hunters, they were impossible to kill. Currently, repeated by the news anchor in near tears, the rough estimate of the death toll was near over a million casualties.

This was, without a doubt, an unspeakable tragedy.

Jinwoo expected the worst learning of what's become of Japan, but watching the chaos unfold exceeded his initial assumption. It reminded him of Jeju. The nightmare of that Dungeon Break had the advantage of occurring on an island, the uniqueness of its landscape sparing Korea of the worst of whatever devastation it could've become. 

But for Japan, it was different story all together, they were too large to simply be dismissed as an island. They were a country, fully developed and leading, and they were facing their own imminent destruction at this rate.

It pissed him off, watching as those Giants stepped on Humanity. A powerful sense of disgust welled from deep inside him. As the TV reviewed the footage for a second time, Jinwoo turned to leave. Slipping out of the wedge of people watching the broadcast with worried expressions, he quietly left the building.

 

---

 

The barest wisp of heat dragged into the underside of his black shirt, warmed by the evening sun. The hospital loomed above his head, pitted in the shine of daylight and cast around a slew of cars. If it was by choice, Dokja would never step foot into another hospital again, but inside, waiting for him, was someone he couldn't ignore. He wanted to check up on Jinwoo's condition today, and maybe get an answer on how much longer he'll have to wait until he wakes up.

As he walked the cobblestone artery and hitched into the hospital's path, his thoughts slipped to yesterday. His conversation with Go Gunhee was an interesting piece of fact, and it led him down a rabbit hole of reclaimed footage and a past captured in innumerable forums.

Jeju Island.

Four years ago, an S-rank Gate spawned on the lone island. The systematic coordination at the time was too unaligned, and with weak Hunters left without much unity, Korea failed to close the Gate as it predictably, eventually underwent a Dungeon Break. This resulted in the deaths of thousands of civilians, turning the beautiful island into a wasteland unfit for any human to live on.

The horrific tragedy continued over for the next three years, launching missions up until the death of another S-rank Hunter. In response, they abandoned their efforts to reclaim Jeju and became the topic of malicious criticism in the gap year they left the island alone.

Until Jinwoo.

He decimated the legions of ants and rightfully restored order. Dokja even stumbled upon archives of the saved footage, reuploaded from one end of the internet to the other. It was unbelievably easy to piece the events of that day together, with the occasional gap when the camera was cut off and speculation was at the forefront of his mind.

It was eye opening. How even then, Jinwoo was strong enough to defeat them above everyone else in the raid. The rule, Hunters saddled with the rank they awakened with, clearly didn't apply to him.

As Dokja read through the articles that praised the conjoined solitary of two countries, a sliver of bitterness swelled into his chest. The unsuspecting public were so oblivious, so ignorant to the truth behind the raid Dokja was privy to.

It won't matter too long from now.

If what the Association President said was to be believed, it would take a mere day or two until the truth was for all to judge. As he shoved his black-screened phone into his pocket with unnecessary force, he heard and saw the stream of another press conference currently taking place.

His lips twitched into a sardonic smile.

Japan was a tad unlucky, at the moment.

 

---

 

In the thicket of a wide, crowded precinct, a heavily anticipated press conference was held in the venue of the American Hunter Bureau. Suspended above on the platinum podium, the main spokesman didn't balk away from the repetitive camera flashes. A slew of reporters and television crew could be seen inclosing the space on all sides. The sky was cloudless, a coastal blue that slipped with the wind.

This event was announced only days before, urged by the restlessness of the public. And the cause of excitement was obvious. Every reporter attending had rushed to hear the withheld statement of America's position in the ongoing situation with Japan.

“We are currently gathering Hunters to one location.”

They cried out in elation, faces weary, bodies wound tight. For most of them, this matter didn't concern them one bit. But technicalities didn't matter—no one sane would want the horrific deaths of hundreds of millions of people. And America, an axis beholder of overwhelming military control, could make sure of it. It was only right to be enthusiastic.

The atmosphere rose and shook, the press conference venue clustered like expectation was a physical thing. But there was something else there, a coiling force, the stiff expression on the spokesman worn contritely rueful.

“Let me clarify that, however,” his voice traveled without a waver, “It is not for Japan’s sake.”

There was an audible hush. It tumbled throughout the crowd, wide glances exchanged and their murmurs confused. The reporters, while called to attend, had not received any prior warning of the announcement meant for today. None knew what to expect, and sought out support from each other's reaction.

Before the tidal wave could draw back, the blank giant screen behind the spokesman was turned on. The people gasped, horrified.

“What the hell…”

“Is that…?”

“It can't be!”

The chaos that rippled in the ambiance cooled to a deathly silence, the peoples' stares hunted by the incredulity of the coincidental circumstance. It shouldn't have been possible, and the underlying fact of its existence brought another pull of fear to the surface.

“This is the image of the Gate discovered earlier today in eastern Maryland.”

The lawless disorder of the Gate surrounded the tumbling landscape, and the size of it—while smaller than the one in Japan, was too uncommonly massive in its sheer scale for it to be ignored. It was prepared footage, strapped together somewhat amateurly from the shakiness of the camera, but the impact of seeing it remained the same. 

It was common for the rank of a Gate not to always match up to its size. But this was different. A Gate like this, with an enormous size, could never lead to a low-ranked dungeon, either. 

“According to the measurement taken by our investigative team,” the spokesman continued on, pointedly ignoring the dawning realization that overtook the earlier buzz of commotion, “This Gate, exactly like the one that has appeared in Japan, is also an S-rank. Due to this unprecedented problem, this nation’s top Hunters will focus all their efforts in closing the Gate in Maryland, instead.”

At the Bureau's official announcement, a multitude of emotions ranged within the sea of reporters. They despaired, quietly, disoriented by the abnormal and alarming event of two S-rank Gates closely generated within the same time span.

It was tragic, and an unchangeable case of misfortune. What no one knew, aside from the people behind the conference, was that the United States of America wasn’t worried at all. With all the dozens of S-rank Hunters from all over the globe the country had reeled into her grasp with the promise of power and untold fortunes, it was time for them to step forward and conquer the daunting Gate.

The problem, in this case, was with Japan.

America didn't have the spare manpower to aid Japan.

The piece of news, restlessly awaited by the Japanese, was met with harsh despair. It was heart-wrenching, their cries poured over the web of the internet in hopes of help. The Giant-type monsters were advancing south, houses ruined, and cities all but destroyed. Nothing could withstand them.

People escaped and fled, forced to the edge with families in hand. Japan wasn't sure it would land.

The Giants' path were littered with only the dead.

 

---

 

“Seriously?!”

His groan crumbled with slight annoyance, the momentum of his walk speeding out of the hospital doors once the nurse he flagged down let him know, all too late, that Jinwoo wasn't even here anymore. She was the one in charge of them, and as she gazed at him with confusion, the light of realization sparkled faintly at the sight of him.

“Ah, Sung Jinwoo? The patient was discharged just yesterday.”

Heaving a sigh, Dokja inwardly scoured over the areas of Seoul Jinwoo could have gone to, and comes back with only two viable locations. Either the Association's headquarters, or the Guild office he visited once. He followed his memory with renewed energy, zigzagging through corners until the unassuming building was in his line of sight.

Not wasting time, he went inside. Looking left and right, he dragged his feet deeper with the hope he'd finally catch that handsome face. He didn't, but sitting behind the gray-shaded desk was his second best lead.

“Jinho?”

The light-blond haired boy tipped his head at the call of his name, eyes wide, mouth propped full with chips. “Uhn?”

“Hey, Jinho,” Dokja skipped in front of where he was, Jinho hastily chewing so he can answer him back. “Sorry to bother you, but do you know where Jinwoo is at the moment? Is he here?”

“Nuh,” Jinho swallowed, coughing lightly to unclog the scraps scraping his throat, “I'm not sure. Hyung-nim was only here for a little bit, but he didn't say where he would go after he left. Sorry. I mean, there's a chance he may be at his home now. Do you know where he lives?”

“No,” he denied, “Can you give it to me?”

“Sure!”

Reading over the written address, Dokja slipped it inside his pocket. “Thanks for this. I'll see you later, Jinho.”

“No problem!”

After waving each other goodbye, Dokja stepped out of the building and tracked the address down. As he stood there, disbelief pumping from the same vein as his heart, Dokja gaped. The old, weather-beaten apartment stood on the same street he first realized his old home was on, and he couldn't believe the stroke of chance that's fallen right into his lap.

“No way.” Dokja's fingers skimmed the bumpy, rough wall, white excess staining the pads like worn chalk. “This is where Jinwoo lives?” He had assumed him to live in an upscale neighborhood, his status as a strong Hunter assuring to a well-off residence. It wasn't to say the apartment complex was unlivable, but it has seen better days.

He passed through the entrance, its drab colors less somber than it was wistful. In the best, and worst of times, Kim Dokja this equal tendency to sink down memory lane and wear the coat of nostalgia. It rushed through him, crossing his heart with a twinge of strange pain. Life before the apocalypse seemed so distant and strange now. He didn't necessarily miss it, not when he embraced the novel of his favorite story coming to life with an eagerness he'd be insane to confess to. But it was clear. He didn't thrive then the way he did in the apocalypse, couldn't offer a sense of appreciation for the meaningless life he lived. But still, it didn't mean he couldn't now.

Kim Dokja used the elevator to reach the eighth floor—same as his, somehow, his mind crows—and recalled the number of his apartment. When he stands in front of it, he desperately hopes for Jinwoo to be on the other side, and for him not to immediately kill Dokja if he gives the man a heart attack.

He knocks on the door.

He only has to wait for a minute before the door is unlocked. The footsteps on the other side are soft and unassuming, and he scrunches his brows at that observation. When the door opens, his mouth clicks shut, his spine going ramrod straight.

“Oh!”

Ah fuck.

Dokja awkwardly smiled as Park Kyunghye's eyes roved over his form. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulder, dressed in simple home clothes.

“Hello… Kim Dokja-ssi?”

“Hello, ma'am,” Dokja politely greeted, instinct wired from being an unsociable office worker. “I'm sorry for bothering you, but is Jinwoo home?”

She blinked, watching him, analyzing him the same way she did when they first met after Dokja woke up. It was indescribably uncomfortable, and made him regret coming over. “Unfortunately, he's out right now.”

“I see.” He figured. It was just his luck. “Thank you for your time.”

Just as he turned to leave, a lithe hand took hold of his coat, effectively freezing him on the spot. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder to spot her gentle smile aimed at him.

“Would you like to come inside, Dokja-ssi?”

“Uh… I couldn't da…”

With a slight tug of his coat's hem and those warm eyes, Dokja didn't think it was possible to deny her. Still, he tried.

“I don't think I—“

Suddenly, he stomach growled at him. Belatedly, he realized he hadn't eaten at all today. With an expressionless face, his ears flushed pink all the way to the tips. Hearing Park Kyunghye's short laugh, he wanted to disappear.

“Let me get you something to eat. Come.”

He closed his eyes, defeated.

“…Alright.”

Notes:

What if... Kdj gained another mother figure...? But more on the casual level than what we have with his biological mom and Persephone~ Give kdj all the parents, he deserves it.

No Jindok interaction just yet, but we are getting there no worries!! The thirst will be quenched!!

Chapter 15: Japan's Crisis (3)

Summary:

"This isn't like me."

Notes:

I'M BACKKKK. I'M NOT DEAD EVERYONE! SO SORRY for disappearing like that! I couldn't get any ounce of motivation for this chapter and I've had to start other fics to get myself in the groove again! I swear if I sat on this chapter any longer I would be staring into the void 〒▽〒

Little note: Jinah suffers from survivor's guilt and traumatic stress

Little note (2): Jung Eunwon is the name of a fictional girl for Jinah cause tbh she needs more friends. Idk if Han Songi was ever at the school when the attack happened because a name was never mentioned in either the novel or manhwa so just think that Jinah shares trauma with this Jung Eunwon, kay? Girl needs a bigger support system than just one person

Kim Dokja steps inside with little confidence, shoulders shrinking and eyes darting back and forth. He hides his jolt behind a careful step, sliding his shoes off as he's faintly wrapped in a swift, startling warmth. It rattles him, seeping from the cream-colored walls and settled into his bones. He didn't know how to shake it off. He follows from behind, piecing a picture from the personal trinkets homed into the corners of the apartment. It was wholly domestic, perfect for a family like this.

"Please sit, Hunter-nim."

Kim Dokja obeys her. His discomfort, while irrefutable, wasn't a problem he wanted to burden her with. Ugh, if only Jinwoo was here. He'd have a much better time skedaddling into character with the brat present. He hesitantly seats himself at the dinner table, wondering if he should've offered to help set the table. She comes back quickly, an armful of steaming side dishes placed to the surface, shifted slightly to him as she sat opposite to him. She had her own portion, smaller. Sensitive stomach, maybe?

"Jinwoo comes home a little late, so I usually wait until he's here so we can eat together. It's no problem, please help yourself."

"Thank you," Kim Dokja shifts, awkward, "I will eat well."

He waited until she ate first, ever aware. He picks up his chopsticks, alternating between the seasoned spinach and warm kimchi, the rice wonderfully fluffy. They look delicious. As the food hits his tongue, the spice travels to his stomach. He closes his eyes, savoring the gentle flavor. Its been a while since he's had a nutritious meal prepared with this much thought. Kyunghye's cooking was  remarkable, with taste of toasted sesame and spicy radish mixing and filling his stomach gradually the more bites he took. He couldn't help but compare it to Yoo Joonghyuk's cooking, but he promptly put a stop to it. No one could equal Yoo Joonghyuk, that was a given. Jinwoo's mother's cooking had more of a subdued, home-like essence. He ignored the pang in his heart at the reminder of his mother's old cooking, something he couldn't properly remember anymore.

She sits across from him, eating her bowl of rice and steamed eggplant, throwing glances at him periodically. Kim Dokja isn't a social person, never has been, but he's learned the art of bullshitting his way through the apocalypse to get what he needed. Here, on the other hand, it's as if he's been reduced back to what he was before. A timid, insignificant office worker that never flourished out of his own skin, his stagnant life.

Kim Dokja, unknowingly ducked down, looks up and startles at her smile.

"I wanted to thank you again, Hunter Kim Dokja-nim," she began politely, her delicate hands crossed, "For not only being there for my son, but for saving my daughter as well."

Sung Jinah, the girl with brown hair and eyes as striking as her brother's. He wondered briefly if she was here right now or out of the house like Jinwoo. "I just did what I had to," he replies, "I was close by when the Break occurred and saved as many as I could."

She nods, tidy, black hair pooling into stray strands. "She's been deeply affected by the incident, and I don't want to think about what would've happened if you… you weren't there." There's a line drawn tight over her temple, her knuckles held tightly until the lost their healthy color. "As a mother, all I want is for my children to stay safe."

"Jinwoo protected her too," he deflected, feeling itchy. Mother. Mother. "I'm sure he was rushing to get by her side."

"I believe that too," she agreed softly. "He's a good boy." She adds, even softer. "He takes after his father, like that…"

Ah. He felt really, really uncomfortable right now with this conversation.

The gentle, undercutting silence lasted for enough time for Kim Dokja to eat his fill and fall into the rhythm of a steady conversation away from him and to learn more about this woman. He didn't expect for her to reveal as much as she did, about Jinwoo or herself. Park Hyunghye, he notes, the only human revived from a sleep-like death, and coincidentally the mother of Sung Jinwoo. He hides the curl his lips behind a hand. From how the Hunter is described, Kim Dokja can definitely see Jinwoo as a family man with such values.

His ear pricks at a sound from behind. A door cracks open a smidge, and he sensed the presence of another. It was Jinwoo's sister. So she was home.

"Jinah, did you wake up now?" Kyunghye called, looking over his shoulder to seek her out. "Sweetheart, are you hungry?" 

The girl shuffled behind the door, only a bit of her head poking out as she surveyed the scene. Kim Dokja straightened his back as he looked her over. Her face was shadowed with the darkness of the room, wearing home clothes that were ruffled, her hair unkempt. She must've been sleeping before he came over. She had dark circles under her eyes—it looked like she's been crying too. She almost looked worse than she had on their brief encounter at the hospital when Jinwoo was still comatose.

The whole mood surrounding her was depressive, the girl hunched into herself with a lack of stability and confidence. The trauma she must've suffered from the incident in her school was severe to the point Kim Dokja could clearly see it. This wasn't a trivial thing to overcome in a few days, especially for a teen like her. 

"…No."

Kim Dokja could see the slow heartbreak that creased over Park Kyunghye's face at Jinah's reply. It must've been hard for her as well, feeling powerless to the plight Jinah was quietly going through with no real way to help her beyond motherly support. 

"You haven't eaten since last night, dear," she said, her voice soft and edging on pleading, "Please come eat, even if it's just a bit."

Maybe it was the helpless slant of her mother's brows, or maybe it was the guilt that had her frowning, but Jinah lingered at the door instead of running to hide back inside. The room was eerily silent as she contemplated, and they waited for her decision. At last, she moved. Mustering the courage, she closed the door to her room, her slippered feet padding to the dining room.

"…Rice, please."

Kyunghye got up from her seat with vigor, bustling to the kitchen to bring out a bowl of generous rice for her daughter to eat. She must've been eager guessing from how fast she came back, her apron slightly tilted to the side and more strands falling out of her neat, low ponytail to the front of her face.

Jinah sat next to her mom, still folded tightly into herself as she looked down at the single, steaming bowl of plain rice. Her face was obscured by her bangs, hair tangled and looped into knots. It didn't have to be said to know she didn't have the current mental capacity to care about her appearance, her trauma snapping at her heels and hiding in the dark crows of her foggy eyes. Kim Dokja felt sorry for her.

She picked up her chopsticks, and patted it into the rice. Picking up a single grain of rice, she stared at it. It was difficult for him to pretend and continue eating comfortably with such a pitiful view in front of him. Good thing he was almost done. The mood was so much worse now. He didn't know what to say or even do.

Unexpectedly, her gaze shifted to him, a brief second. Kim Dokja didn't need his Omniscient Skill to guess what she was thinking.

'What are you doing here?'

After all, even if he saved her, he was still a stranger.

"Hunter Kim Dokja-nim was looking for Jinwoo," the mother helpfully added, breaking away some of the silence, "But he left a while ago. Did he mention where he is by chance, Jinah?"

She shook her head, the motion slightly rigged. "No."

"That's fine, I'll find him later," Kim Dokja reassured.

Jinah didn't reply, just took small bites of rice. He smoothed his expression to neutral at the unmistakable relief Kyunghye was feeling from seeing her daughter eat. As limited as it was, it was obviously better than nothing.

"Hunter-nim," she called, smiling as he picked at his food unsurely. "Thank you for all of your help."

This again? Kim Dokja didn't know how to handle such earnest praise from this woman. It's best to just accept it so it isn't dragged out any longer. "You're welcome."

"Jinah, how have you talked to your friend, Han Songi?" It was an effort for conversation, to kill the silence that blanketed them all even with the faint sounds of background TV noise. With so much tension coiled in the air, it was a pretty flimsy way to smother the quiet. "I met with her mother a few days ago, she's been saying how Han Songi wanted to hang out with you."

She shrugged, blinking slowly. "Not much... she wasn't there when the Orcs attacked, only Jung Eunwon was."

"Do you want to hang out with your friends?"

She shook her head, whispering. "I don't want them to see me."

Her mother approached her gently. "They're worried for you."

A strained expression of grief overtook her face, smudged with slashed of anger and hard-to-pin down energy. "I don't want to see anyone! I don't want to remember!" She closed her eyes harshly, her shoulders shaking. Kim Dokja starts to think the duo might've forgotten he was there. As a natural observer, this was both a blessing and a curse.

"Jinah," her mother's lips drew into a faint line, "You're not going to get better by hiding yourself in your room. Leave the house, talk to your friends—let them help you, let me help you."

"You don't understand anything!" She yelled, tears in her eyes. "I keep getting flashbacks, and nightmares, and—and I can't think properly! I don't feel safe if I go outside, I feel like I'll get hurt again! What if Oppa wasn't there to protect me?! I would've..."

Died.

The word lingers in the air without being said, a very possible probability if neither Dokja or Jinwoo had intervened. Hell, some kids did die. And it didn't matter how much time passed, the scars were still there to show the tragedy that occurred at the school, blood still stained the walls. The whole school was a desolate building closed down. Dokja wondered if it'll ever open again.

Neither of them said a word. One because it wasn't his place, and the other, in equal grief hearing her daughter finally say how she was feeling.

She didn't look at him, or her own mother. Her shoulders trembled minutely alongside her voice. She just needed to talk, to explain her fear and thoughts and feelings.

"...A friend of mine died there."

 She didn’t need them to answer her back, so they didn't.

Instead, they listened.

"We weren't close, but she always said hello and was very nice. I ate with her, I talked to her... I liked her. I wanted to get closer to her because we had a lot in common." She choked up. "I never had the chance."

Kim Dokja leaned back, thoughts flying to his own time in school. He didn't have any good memories to revisit, but if there's one thing he can relate to her with, was that sense of a lost chance, lingering regret running muddy.

"The people I knew are gone. How do I just keep living when people I knew died?" She asked, finally ending up crying. "Mom, why do I feel so guilty?"

"Oh, honey..."

She burst into loud, noisy sobbing. The cultivation of her stress and fear had reduced her into a weak, fragile little girl as her mother took her into an embrace. She held her against her chest as Jinah trembled, grappling to run her fingers through her tangled hair. Kim Dokja felt like he would die the longer he was privy to this. This wasn't a sight he was comfortable seeing, it felt like he was a bystander to a private scene too personal for him to intrude on.

In his belated consideration, he turned his head away until she stopped, her crying muffled into sniffles and scratchy hitches in her breath. Kyunghye took her by the shoulders. "Don't hide anymore, Jinah. I'm here for you, so please, come to me when you feel like this."

"I don't want to bother you... it hasn't been that long since you woke up—"

"Nonsense," she stated firmly. "What kind of mother would I be if I let my daughter fend for herself when she's struggling?"

For a few tender seconds, they stayed close, until Kyunghye realized she still had a guest in her home. "Oh," her eyes were wide, her hand to her mouth in shock, "I'm sorry, Kim Hunter-nim, we didn't mean to show you such a scene."

He waved her off, eager to leave. "It's fine. I've already taken too much of your time as it is, I think it would be best for me to go. Thank you so much for the meal. It was delicious." He gets up to take the finished, empty bowls back to the sink, but Kyunghye takes it from him instead, and he thanks her again for the hospitality.

He stands at the door, slipping his shoes back on his feet and kicks them against the floor for them to stay snug. Kim Dokja, as Kyunghye stands a bit to the left, is called by name by Jinwoo's sister.

"Huh?" He said.

"Thank you," she mumbles, eyes red and puffy. She glanced away from him the second he looked back at her.

His lips twitch, a puff of breath leaving him. What a polite girl.

"Sung Jinah."

She twitched. She was listening, that's all he needed to know.

"Living isn't as an easy thing as people like to believe," he explained, "But the most important thing is to find a reason to keep you going. And at the end... you'll be grateful you chose to stay."

Park Kyunghye opened the door for him. Just as he stepped out, he realized he's forgotten something important. That's right, he came here to find his missing sword too. "Ah, Kyunghye-ssi, did Jinwoo have a long, white sword with him by chance?"

She tilted her head. "I'm not sure."

"Can you check?"

She nodded, leaving him for a bit to enter what he assumed was Jinwoo's room. When she came back, his hope deflated as she returned empty handed.

"He didn't have any swords in his room."

"I see." Damn, Jinwoo must've had it on his person then. "Thank you anyways. Goodbye, Kyunghye-ssi."

Kim Dokja leaves the Sung resident with a full stomach, somewhat a heavy heart, and nowhere close to accomplishing his original mission. Straining his neck up, it was already getting slightly late. With no way to find Jinwoo's location, maybe it was best to leave it for tomorrow. He slides his phone out of his pocket, solemnly hoping it would flash open and work. Unfortunately, he sighs as it doesn't do as he wants. It hasn't turned on for the entire day after he stupidly dropped it into the sink with running water by accident in the morning in his own carelessness. He desperately hoped it still worked and only needed to be repaired.

He sets out for a new course, hoping to find a phone repair shop that was open and willing to take him as a costumer.

 

---

 

"Come out, Beru."

Lead with intent, shadows stretched along the perimeter of the Association Gymnasium's floor. It sprawled in an arching surge and meld in the center with a frigid chill most Hunters wouldn't be able to handle up close. Beru, rising into solid matter, lost his vibrant blue color with a dusk amethyst just as every other soldier of his he suspects has. They've upgraded alongside him. His second heart beats a steady rhythm.

More than any necessary exercise, Jinwoo couldn't think through the fracture that spread like a plague into the nerves of his body. Jittery, skittish, the vitality drove in streams. He couldn't predict it, but he could redirect it. Or so he was hoping. Shedding it off him with a drawn-out fight, maybe sweating will do his some good. Having something to focus on may help alleviate some of the darker, and more complicated thoughts haunting his rewired mind.

He could've gotten just as easy to the gym by jogging, but he had a Soldier stationed inside for a faster leeway and his impatience kept him from passing up the convenience. Craning his unspent muscles, he frowned at the lack of noise. It tickled something unpleasant in him. Judging by the extent of the gym, he couldn't go all out like he wanted, but as long as he reached his goal, it didn't matter much to him.

"My Liege…" his sparring partner for the time being knelt and lowered to the floor. In the dignified kneel, Jinwoo could tell he knew it too.

The air tasted of voltage. It was high, the untapped extent of Jinwoo's power colliding and creeping and urging those lesser to surrender. And Beru, who served with pride and allegiance, shivered in reverent worship.

Still. He was the strongest in his infantry, and the only one Jinwoo judged to be capable on withstanding whatever came his way. He had his trust. It wouldn't take much for his other soldiers to be sent regenerating without pause. He rather avoid that for a proper fight.

Seeing Beru obediently lay himself down at his presence… it brought a strange emotion. A helpless one.

"The power my Liege exerts is… greater than before. I offer my unreserved congratulations."

He gripped his hand in an open-closed fist. He could feel it too. It was electrifying, and he basked in it like a second, protective skin. The strong, driving measure of his twin-hearts expands in his momentary glee before it evens out. The magic energy coats him with every squeeze. It felt incredible and strange, and was normally something he would've been all too ecstatic to fixate on.

But his head is foggy with images and clogged with regret, drifting with horrible whispers that pricked. He numbly gestures for Beru to stand, the Ant's body trembling with the weight of his newly acquired might. He didn't summon Beru to brag or boast his growth, so such a thing wasn't appreciated by him.

Heading forward him, Jinwoo ordered him with a single command. "Beru, attack me with everything you have."

The Soldier's eyes widened, a faint tremble of indignation in his voice. "My Liege, how could I ever dare do such a thing?"

"You won't hurt me," he reassured, coating his tone with a smidgen of flattery, "I know you won't. I want to shed some of this energy off of me, and I know no one else besides you will be able to help me with that, Beru."

“Oh, my Liege…" he sounded full with emotion, "I… I am truly honored of your trust….”

Hm… was it just him, or did it sound as if Beru's vocabulary has been increasing these days? He sighed, putting that matter aside for now. Clenching his fists, he issued his earlier order a second time. “Remember, I want you to hit me with everything you have, Beru. Don't hold back.”

“If my Sovereign’s wills it," Beru raised his head as his claws lengthened into sharp digits that could easily harm a regular human, "Then I shall follow without hesitation."

Thankfully, Jinwoo was anything but regular.

Beru reigned himself in, screeching that battle cry to a slightly lesser volume than last time. It rattled the gleaming, repaired lights and shook the gym's interior, that thunderous roar making the blood in Jinwoo's veins pump faster at the thought of combat.

He pounced, stalking forward like a nightmare. Beru used his incredible speed to chase the distance between them, raised his claws, and was promptly slammed into the floor.

Incandescent eyes stared down at him. Jinwoo whispered, "One."

Beru shot himself up into the air, swinging into a tailgate with the buzz of his wings, raining a barrage of attacks that failed to harm a hair on Jinwoo's figure. Jinwoo blurred out of focus, intent and single-minded on dodging the savage speed Beru returned. He didn't use weapons, nor any of his Skills. He wanted to get a point across for himself that he could handle fists and claws, unpredictable violence. He wanted to feel that skip of slighting an attack just barely, making him work to escape—and crush it to nothing.

He never, ever, wanted to feel as powerless as he had in the Carthenon Temple again.

Swinging into Beru's vision, he ignored the slight widen of his eyes and pulled him into his orbit. His fist cracks with the hit of an unrestrained blow and tilted down. Beru is knocked into the floor like a bullet wedged between concrete.

"Two."

He coaxed Beru out. Unresisting, he breaks from the small plate of broken rubble. Jinwoo should be careful now. He jumped to the side, avoiding the glint of sharp, deadly claws, molded into the memory of the grinning Architect. If only he had been faster, stronger. If only he went alone. Kim Dokja wouldn't have had to bear the consequences of his mistakes.

The guilt was searing, like flames licking at the outer-skin of his heart, whistling smoke into his ribcage and making it hard to breathe. His heels push into the waist of Beru, making him lose his balance and flail with the powerful hit to his gut.

"Three."

Maybe it was the effect of the System's interference that made this loss hit Jinwoo harder. Jinwoo wasn't stupid. He knew he wasn't as emotive as before, that his Skills and instincts have sharpened beyond what he previously thought was possible for him to ever have securing influence on that. But he was still human. Even muted, his feelings were there. He just didn't think they'd fall out of control like this. He could barely see straight. It reminded him of what happened to Jinah, when Dokja had unknowingly being there for her, and him so careless he couldn't exchange right away to save her when he realized she was in danger.

But the only thing he felt then was anger, pure anger. He had his Soldiers there to fend the threat odd until he got there, but it wasn’t the same with Kim Dokja. It had been his own recklessness that killed him. He didn't have his buffs and army to lend their strength. Dokja had been right there, he could've protected him, but there was an sensory overload of action, and Jinwoo lost him just like that.

It's been whispering in his head, this tiny, damning phrase since he woke up in the hospital. Jinwoo smashed Beru repeatedly into submission, a darker, colder aura seeping into the room that had even Beru flinching.

"Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. eleve—"

Try as he might, the poor Ant was overwhelmed with the concentration Jinwoo was currently under, fighting demons in his own mind. 

Your fault. All your fault.

In a single moment, fury overtook him; the savage glow of his Mana had Beru buckling under the force.

"Fuck," he cursed, gritting his teeth, heart hammering. He just wanted to stop feeling already. The regret and guilt was already tearing at him from the inside, he didn't need any more on his plate. He wasn't an emotional man, so this just made him annoyed.

Beru leapt back to a safe distance, wiggling from underneath the constant, brutal attacks. Jinwoo prepared to launch himself where he stood, red-hazed and blinded before the blanket of a collective brush against his conscious woke him up. His Shadows were worried, antsy and shuffling at how affected he was of this. The strongest was coming from Beru himself. Even while being beat up, the loyal Ant was more concerned towards him.

Jinwoo could suddenly feel the minute sensations of his own body. The slight sweat that was clinging to his hair, the fast rise and fall of his chest that had nothing to do with the fight, the tight skin over his knuckles, the uneven weight of his feet. Jinwoo felt some of the tension in him bleed. He raised his head to see Beru tilting his head this way and that, unsure if they should stop. He made that decision for him.

"After," he swore. The Ant snapping to attention. "We can talk after. For now… let us continue."

Beru nodded, vigor pawning off his vibrating wings. "Yes, my Liege!"

Jinwoo breathed, slow, warming. He pushed the thought of Dokja out of mind for now. He meant it when he said he wanted to sweat today.

"Let's keep going."

 

---

 

"125."

Jinwoo huffed, landing gingerly on his feet as Beru slammed to the floor, laid flat on his back and his arms spread out eagle. Jinwoo may have gone slightly overboard several times, all things considered, as he swept his gaze on the overall destruction of the gym. It wasn't as bad this time. He counted that as a win. Beru groaned out and took a second to come back, and if Jinwoo didn't know any better, he would've thought he'd be sad on losing all 125 times fighting against him. Strangely, the evenness of that number makes his steps fall lighter.

Beru threw everything he had to make their spar engaging and lay Jinwoo's mind at ease, and though he lost, Beru seemed almost chipper through his mental link. The level of his respect and loyalty towards Jinwoo had deepened somehow, and that notion made him slightly flustered.

Jinwoo settled beside the immobile Ant. He slicked his hair out of his face, drenched in sweat and his shirt clinging to his chest, but it was as far as an effect the spar had on him. Beru wasn't able to harm a hair on his body, after all. It was a good place to stop here. Any more, and the gym wouldn't be able to handle them. Not to mention, Jinwoo didn't want to inconvenience Go Gunhee once more.

Beru silently sat up, his back to the dented floor where he was shoved into. "My Liege…"

Jinwoo hummed, listening.

"What plagues you so?"

He picked at his nails, expression carefully neutral. "What do you mean?"

"My Liege has been distracted and in pain," he replied, "A portion of our consciousness and that of the Sovereign's are connected, as you know. Whatever troubles you is transmitted as pain to use, your subjects."

"Allies," he grumbles without thinking, "Not subjects." Jinwoo leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. To be truthful, he didn't want to talk of this matter, but he had promised them. He could feel the tentative strokes of his Shadows trying to console him into speaking, opening up to them (as painful as it was) and maybe… make sense of the mess he couldn't breathe easily through.

“Oh, my Liege…" he hesitated for a brief second when Jinwoo didn't continue, "Is it the matter of that one called Kim Dokja?"

He shivered at the say of that name, haven't had the guts to say it out loud since he woke up. Jinwoo ignored the lump in his throat, not painful, but something close to it. They must've noticed that he hadn't been there since Jinwoo's connection with his Soldiers were properly reconnected days after the raid.

But he really, really didn't want to talk about his failures. Maybe being in denial will help.

"Who's Kim Dokja?"

Okay. Well. That wasn't how it was supposed to be phrased.

"It is futile to act unaware, my Liege," Beru huffed, crossing his arms as he gave Jinwoo a pointed look. "We are here to help."

Jinwoo flinched, chuckling wryly. He felt like a child dropping his head into his folded knees. "I can't hide anything from you guys, can I."

"No," Beru answered haughtily, sounding almost proud, "No, you cannot."

Jinwoo sighed, the light in his eyes dimming somewhat. "I feel like I could've done more to save him. I shouldn't have let Kim Dokja go with me. But at the same time, it felt… nice to work with someone again." He dug his chin into his knee. "I didn't know it could feel so exhilarating to have someone I could call a companion."

Jinwoo felt hollow. He inexplicably missed Dokja in a way he didn't expect to feel. Jinwoo was haunted by his last smile as he faded away. His last words, ironically: trust me. His mood plummeted into his chest, depressed and silent.

Beru, while learning many, may words, found it difficult to console his king the same way a human would. Which is why Jinwoo accepted his strange, formal phrases the way he likely intended for it come out as.

"For most, here are many impossible things that will be hard to overcome, but my Liege is someone who will not let such things hinder the path he wished to walk. Pain and struggle will not linger forever. And most importantly," he stated, voice filled with true conviction, "My Liege will not be alone to overcome them. It may take time, as all things, but there are many that will stay by your side."

Jinwoo's breath shook, and he snapped his mouth shut. He bared through the stinging pain coming from his chest. "What am I doing…" Jinwoo mumbled to himself. "This isn't like me."

He tried to ground himself, remembering the faces of the people he's fought for. The ones that were still here. His sister. His mother. Yoo Jinho. Woo Jinchul. Go Gunhee. Lee Juhee. Choi Jongin. Baek Yunho. Cha Haein. He needed to focus on the present.

But for now, he lets himself breaks, slowly, quietly, and doesn't forget to pick the pieces of himself back up.

"Now all that's left is the issue with Japan…" Jinwoo raised himself from his position. Relatively speaking, he wasn't obligated to aid them, and the baggage between the two countries were something to consider too. But Jinwoo wasn't such a simple person to let something like that stop him. "Beru, what's your opinion? Should I set out to do what I want?"

"Of course," he proclaimed, determined now that Jinwoo seemed in a better mood than before, “The one that does what he wants to. That is what it means to be a king.”

Jinwoo sighed, exasperated. "That stuff again… " he mused jokingly, "Am I really a king?"

"There is no other certainty," he nodded with absolute conviction. "My Liege, you still possess the power to achieve anything you desire. You are, without a doubt, a King."

He put his arm over his face. "Anything I desire…"

His eyes, hidden, gleam a determined hue.

 

---

 

Jinwoo's stagnant, flaky mood perked up once he reached the door to his apartment, the wafting scent of a homecooked meal clustering his senses with its loving touch. Picking off his shoes, he padded into the warmly lit home. Reaching the quiet, lonesome kitchen, he hears the shuffle of feet behind him.

"You're back," Kyunghye beamed, her smile ever graceful, "Welcome home, son."

She hugs him, burrows her way into the side of his chest, and his heart aches a little at how frail she undoubtedly is. So human. Kyunghye caught his face in between her roughened hands and patted his cheeks. He let her do as she pleased, poking and squishing, bit the inner-side of his cheek when she makes a soft noise in confusion at how it wouldn't budge.

"Are you hungry? You left without eating anything earlier."

"Hm." He nodded, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her weak hand. "Yeah, I am. Went to the Association's gymnasium for a warmup." He glanced to the shut door of his sister's room. "What about Jinah? Did she eat?"

"She did eat a little bit when your friend came over, so she likely won't eat anymore for today." She sighs, weary and worried, aged with traced skin and worn taut against an invisible enemy. Though, her eyes did possess a lighter gleam compared to the last few days. "I can try again tomorrow."

He paused, squinting. Friend? Why would Jinho be at his home? Did he perhaps miss a message of the kid mentioning this?

"If you came back from the gym, you should take a shower to wash up." She turned her back to him, missing his stupefied expression.

"Wait, who was—"

"Eomma."

His voice trailed off, both turning to the small wedge of the bathroom door, Jinah popping her head out with a demureness that wasn't there before. His sister has always been loud. Brash. A noisy child that tinkered away laughing and never stopped. It was a feature of her he always loved. He didn't think he'd come to miss the sound this much.

"Can you help me…?"

Kyunghye pivots aside, detangling herself from Jinwoo. The smile of hers is strained as she nodded, "Of course. Jinwoo, make sure to eat and wash the dished after you're done."

The door clicks shut as she scurries inside, leaving Jinwoo standing there. He puts the matter aside. His stomach groans, a demanding beast. "I can ask Jinho later what that was about…"

 

---

 

The world waits with anticipation.

Nearing almost a week since the dreadful Dungeon Break, the media doubled down on South Korea with the expectancy for a statement. Since the US made her announcement, weaving past the possible backlash with an excusable justification in refusing to send any Hunter in her arsenal into the gaping mouth of Japan, the point of contention had shifted to the Korean Association, as predicted.

And today, marking the fifth day of the Giants' terrorizing their neighboring country, was the day they were scheduled to clarify their position in the involvement of Japan's crisis.

Since Japan took center stage of attention for any that traded into the news, those that watched from their own region wondered what would become of them. Would this calamity, after the Giants finished laying waste to such a beautifully rich country, cross the oceans that separated them and bring destruction to them? It was a concerning topic for all of them, watching as Japan's foundation crumbled.

It was painfully obvious what they required. Aid, a comprehensive power to rescue Japan from the monsters that ripped them apart. Footage shows of the Japanese refugees filling the highways and traveling to the east and west to escape tugged at their hearts, the buildings buried, the houses demolished. Unfortunately, the landmass of Japan wasn't infinite. Eventually, there would be nowhere for them to run.

– Honestly! What's South Korea doing?!

– Shouldn't they be helping Japan?

– Do they not know what owing someone means?

Criticisms arose the longer they kept quiet. They didn't quite forget the temporary compromise for the Jeju Raid two months ago, the island infested with a breeding ground for ants that tragically took the lives of over half of the participating S-rank Hunters. For the sake of Korea, no less, so it shouldn't have been a question of whether or not they should've helped. It was as if they were only watching as the disaster unfolded.

The sheer scale of destruction that bled the country dry made the people helplessly watching grow outraged. They grieved the losses and shared their empathy, the deaths climbing every hour no action was taken.

– Come on! Make a move already, South Korea!

– Don't they know of the concept of loyalty?

– Have the Koreans somehow forgotten about Jeju Island?

Yet, as they rallied in their own offence, another thing stuck out to those that paid close attention. Why, in all of this, has Japan not request for South Korea's aid with the subjugation of the monsters? They were… strangely quiet.

As light broke the dawn, the Association President Go Gunhee stepped into the venue, tall and imposing in front of the tightly-packed crowd of reporters. He swept his gaze, careful, with cameras poised and questions to address. "I express my condolences at the tragedy unfolding in Japan. And also, I’d like to reveal the position of South Korea’s own Hunter’s Association.”

A feeling came upon them, struggling and all consuming in its intensity as Go Gunhee continued.

“We will not be getting involved in Japan’s matters.”

Go Gunhee didn't flinch away or move an inch from the ceaseless explosion of brilliants snapshots that filled the space. Every little detail of the Matsumoto Shigeo's deception, he wouldn't skip a single thing that occurred of the plot behind the scenes during the Jeju Island Raid.

With a strong, unquestionable sense of responsibility, Go Gunhee disclosed the truth the Association had been holding onto in these months. The CCTV footage solidified their abject horror, watching as the President of the Japanese Association yelled, confessed to his scheme with a frenzy none wanted to believe.

 They were devastated, tears carving down their faces as the truth of the matter sunk in.

“…..This is everything I wanted to say.”

The atmosphere was too dreadful for a single person to unshackle their mouth and ask a question. The press conference, broadcasted live to the rest of the country, transmitted the horrible silence that descended. Only then did the viewers watching on realize why the Koreans had maintained their silence over the crisis unfolding in Japan.

“However."

The strong stop of Go Gunhee's voice snapped them out of their trance.

“This is the decision of the Hunter’s Association, and ours alone. We won’t stop any individual Hunters from doing what they wish to do.”

The reporters, frozen in shock, exchanged glances to each other.

“There are such people, two powerful Hunters that have decided to go to Japan and get rid of the Giant monsters.”

Who would ever decide to make such a choice?

The bottomed-out atmosphere of the press conference venue began boiling over. Shock and confusion and disbelief whirring single-mindedly around the treacherous strand of hope they were all afraid and eager to grasp. One of the reporters raised a hand. As the President gave him the stage, his voice trembled.

“Who… just who are these Hunters?”

The Chairman's voice boomed over the mic in rippling waves, the lively venue falling into chaos.

“They are Hunter Sung Jinwoo, and the most recent Awakened to enter Korea's ranks, Hunter Kim Dokja."

The flashes of the cameras drowned any shadow that had lingered around.

Notes:

Not my best work, but not every chapter is a winner ╯︿╰

Don't you think its sad, how little we really know about these characters? Jinah is traumatized, we know that., but it never went any deeper than that. She lost her classmates, but maybe she was close to them, maybe she sat with them at lunch, or hung out, or anything. I didn't want to gloss over her situation too much, so I wanted her to grieve. Felt like I owed it to her with how it was sidelined in the novel :(( Also her mom was never paid much attention to either and I DO NOT believe she wouldn't do whatever she can to be involved in helping her daughter overcome her trauma!

Fun fact: in the Novel, Jinwoo beat Beru 127 times, but I chose to even it out at 125 because this boy loves even numbers and would come kill me in my sleep if I played around ✪ ω ✪

I'LL DO MY BEST TO REPLY TO COMMENTS THIS TIME! I got a little overwhelmed, sorry

Chapter 16: A Giant's Calamity (1)

Summary:

“Why would I be dead? I'm right here, aren't I?”

Notes:

You were all right… Jinwoo’s Depression Arc is about to be SMASHED and Kim ‘teehee’ Dokja is the one holding the hammer.

We’ve now entered Japan! YES! This one might be longer than the other ones, but I’ll have to see. Fair warning, Kdj is insufferable in this chapter lolol

Seoul's primary and largest airport, Incheon International Airport homed itself to thousands of a crowd on a regular basis, but today was particularly hectic. The chatter was loud, echoed off the high of President Go Gunhee's recent press conference. It had ended half an hour ago, but was still being replayed onto the wide, flat screens of the airport's stations. The people grouped together to rewatch the footage of Sung Jinwoo's previous feats, stopping to stare in awe, in reverence, as most loitered the shops and inner boutiques beyond their own personal free time.

As minutes ticked by, a gradual wave of professional-suited agents filled the hall, recognizable as members of the esteemed Hunters Association. They were rigid and intimidating, demanding order. The people began to whisper. The air was bright with commotion as they shuffled on their feet and fumbled with their phones. Sung Jinwoo was an impossible man to catch, and they were eager to compare the Hunter to his telltale rumors.

“Please make way!”

The agents formed a barricaded line, black suits set out from the crowd, the men imposing a sense of priority that had them restless on their feet. They peeked over each other's shoulders, bumping against one another to glimpse at the Hunter given such an elaborate security measure.

“Wait! Is that him?”

A flash of white, the soft sounds of shoes. Their hearts beat out of sync. They shoved and snarked, a frantic flock curbed by the intimidating men assigned to keep them in check. There were tons of reporters here, lounged by their stations since the conference ended and quickly took to snapping pictures. As the line thinned out, the people around gasped.

“That's not Sung Jinwoo!”

“It's the newest Hunter!”

“No way, it's my first time seeing him!”

“Hunter Kim Dokja-nim!”

There were calls of his name, but Kim Dokja didn't offer them a second of his attention. Dragging his small luggage behind, he glanced to spot Woo Jinchul. The agents were doing a good job keeping him from being squashed by the hands that reached out to touch him. He didn't see what the big deal was. Shouldn't this excitement be reserved for the real heartthrob?

Mutely, Kim Dokja lifted his head over the rim of the crowd and strolled deeper into the airport. He sighed in relief when he found the man waiting for him in question.

“Agent Woo Jinchul,” Kim Dokja greeted, gaining the man's attention as he talked to his earpiece, “Good to see you again.”

“Same here, Hunter Kim Dokja. How was the drive here?” Jinchul turned to him fully.

“It was a little fast,” he replied. “Could've given me a heads-up. Do you have it?”

“I do.” Jinchul brought out a black case and handed it to Kim Dokja. He watched as he opened it and awed at the brand new phone in his hand. “Thank you for letting us know you were having problems with your old phone. It would've been difficult to be in contact with you otherwise.”

“Yeah, I wanted to get it fixed, but I couldn't find a place for it…” Dokja tilted it as it shimmered in the light, somewhat dazed. It was light in his palm, a fragile product and expensive to boot. “Agent Woo, did you purchase the newest phone for me? It's very light. I feel as if it would break if I accidentally dropped it even once.”

“The Association is partnered with a phone company that issues our Hunter-only smartphones, so please be assured that it's durable and definitely won't break even if you drop it. And to answer you, yes,” Woo Jinchul said, “We did get the most expensive one. The President insisted.”

Goo Gunhee insisted, he tells. Kim Dokja ignores the tickle in his chest, uncomfortable and without a name; he accepts the sentiment without another word. Booting it up, he's satisfied when the text file for the novel opened for him like it had in the past on any device he previously owned.

“Hm, alright. What about Jinwoo? Is he close by?”

Woo Jinchul nodded. “He and Hunter Yoo Jinho are on their way. They should be here in another ten minutes depending on the traffic.” The man took out his own phone. “I'll let the President know you've arrived at the airport.”

“What shall I do in the meantime?” He thought out loud, tapping his chin. It wouldn't be wise for him to loiter in plain sight, watched so blatantly by the numerous eyes on him. If he was allowed to, he'd even hide.

“If you'd prefer it, you can wait in the private plane Japan had sent us.”

“Shouldn't I be here once Go Gunhee-nim arrives?”

“If you want, but it won't make much of a difference,” Jinchul explained. “Japan's government is urging us to send the both of you to Nagoya as fast as possible.”

They sure were an impatient bunch. The Association sent a car to his apartment to pick him up almost as soon as Go Gunhee mentioned his name at press conference.  Kim Dokja nodded, fine with the thought of hiding inside the plane until it was time to leave. “Then I'll take your offer for it. Will you wait here?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, nodding to the agent beside him, “Yun Hanuel, assist Hunter Kim Dokja safely to the private plane to the east section.”

“Yes, sir.”

After a quick farewell, Kim Dokja followed after his escort, the both of them given a wide birch of distance from everyone else. Incheon was a big place, with shops and areas of culture for visitors of Seoul to eagerly explore. Even then, they weren't the least bit discreet. Staring still, their whispers drifted from one end to the next.

Although he's never had a reason to come here, having stayed put in one place his whole life and without a motive to fly halfway around the world, there was something interesting in the banality of it.

“Hey,” Kim Dokja cleared his throat, craving something sweet to drink, “Let's stop by Gong Cha for a bit. I'm thirsty.” He swerved on his heel, adhering to the map for directions. His escort leads him to the first terminal on the third floor, patting down his flustered appearance at his sudden request. The mass was less collected on the higher floors, early still at 11 in the morning.

Kim Dokja orders himself a sweet Strawberry Milk Tea, realizing halfway he didn't know any of Sung Jinwoo's own preferences. He didn't linger long. Jinwoo seemed like the type to enjoy coffee, or any drink without sugar. He orders a classic Black Milk Tea, light on the sweetness, paying 5400 won in total and turned back with his escort to leave.

They pass through the main departure hall to the gate, waving passed the security check after a quick exchange of words and coming face to face with the pilot greeting him happily. Sipping his cold, sweet drink, the warm brown tones of the interior struck a soothing feeling. The sunlight was clear, sliding off the inner wall like a trail and dousing the scene gold. The plane was air-conditioned, cool. Kim Dokja settled into one of the pale mocha seats, his back sinking in, comfortable enough to sleep in.

Quiet, instrumental music strummed over the speakers, the Association agent sitting stiffly with his spine upright in a separate seat closer to the exit. He will likely leave after Jinwoo and Jinho make their appearance. Relaxed, he took out his brand new phone and tried to message Jinwoo. Five minutes go by. No response. Kim Dokja rolled his eyes, setting it lightly on the shiny coffee table. Did the idiot ever check his phone?

With no choice but to wait, Kim Dokja closes his eyes.

[Ki m Do kja, re ad?]

Always.

 

---

 

Even from outside, the massive building of the airport was teeming with onlookers fighting out the door. Jinho parked them beside the cars of the Association, packing luggage and escorted by men on both sides of their shoulder. As Jinho clutched the straps of their two suitcases propped full of their gear, Jinwoo watched him transform into a leader, determination oozing off his stony expression.

“Please make way! We're passing through!”

He carved a path from the sea blocking their path, yelling over those that screamed and cried for Sung Jinwoo's attention. Jinwoo followed after his dependable dongsaeng, wordlessly fond. He bulldozed through like an oncoming storm, the people shying away from getting any closer than they should. Since Incheon was one of the busiest places in Seoul, Jinwoo appreciated the help the Association was here to offer. The vibrating, coiling excitement was undeniable, even without watching Go Gunhee's press conference.

He was exasperated, unfortunately, from the continuous, and pervasive flash of the cameras around them. They were annoying, but he's learned to bear it. He didn't want to spoil Yoo Jinho's own excitement for the trip either. At the first mention of a private plane, he wouldn't stop going on and on about it in the car. He wasn't surprised by the pace of their response, more so than how quickly they wavered the entry procedures out of his sight.

“Hunter Sung Jinwoo.”

Sung Jinwoo strolled towards Go Gunhee and Woo Jinchul, waiting till the agents barricaded them from the chaotic atmosphere of the airport to speak. Their senses were highly-attuned. Loud voices weren't necessary to be heard.

Go Gunhee had an unwilling expression, the corners of his mouth downturned into an unsatisfied, but understanding, ruefulness. “Even now, I wish I could change your mind.”

For a situation as dangerous and dire as the one in Japan, it would take extensive consideration for the remaining countries to actively take a stance on sending their home-grown Hunters in the gaping jaws of an S-rank Gate. And the same would be said for South Korea, usually. Go Gunhee's dejection to the idea was allied to that. Sung Jinwoo was the current, strongest force of power they had, and should something unexpected happen in South Korea, they would be at ease knowing Jinwoo was there to protect them. His absence now was a gaping wound that would surely be felt if danger came to rise.

But Sung Jinwoo was nothing if not steadfast. “I'm sorry. Even still, I want to go there.”

“Is that so?” A mild-mannered chuckle escapes him. “Is it because of the monsters there?”

Jinwoo felt his lips twitch, remorseful. “Part of it, yes.”

At first, that would've been the main reason. Now, Jinwoo's motives have broadened a tad bit. He distantly remembers his mother hugging him tightly this morning, promising him that she would take care of herself and Jinah while he was gone, and Jinah, crying while hitting him as he made another promise to her.

“Oppa, can we talk when you get back?"

“Of course.”

“Stay safe… please.”

“I will, Jinah.”

‘I'll protect you even when I'm far away, Jinah.’

He steeled himself, ever unyielding. Go Gunhee shook his head, extending his hand out for Jinwoo to take. The hundreds of cameras and phone flashes erupted around them in a picturesque glory. Jinwoo would likely be in the news again by the looks of it.

“Then there's nothing we can do besides pray that you'll come back safe and sound,” Go Gunhee bade his earnest farewell, fondly exasperated. “Honestly, both you and Hunter Kim Dokja are quite stubborn people.”

It takes a second, barely half.

“…What?”

It's a name that hasn't been spoken aloud in the days after the Double Dungeon, recognizable in its unique placement. Unforgettable. He's never met another person with a name like that. So hearing it, like this, makes the blood in his veins freeze over like hell knocking in. Unknowingly, his lax grip tightens, an amiable handshake shattered with a warble of uncontrolled power. He doesn't understand. Why would the Chairman mention his name?

Jinwoo opens his mouth and picks words he half-knows, finding the thread of a fragmented voice.

“Why would you say that?” He swallowed the creak, hopelessly unsettled, fingers numb at the tip. “Kim Dokja is dead.”

Go Gunhee's visible confusion hurts in a strange way, head tilted, lacking the blurry tint of mournful eyes he hadn't noticed anyone not having. “What do you mean? Hunter Kim Dokja is in the plane right now, waiting for you.”

There's an itchiness in the back of his mouth, closed and tight at the ring of his throat. His ears ring, his heart skipping like a war drum. He feels disturbed, and there's something near violent inside him. The words repeat themselves like a chain, folding into a startling, confusing picture. It's hard to breath right. If it is a lie, it is a cruel one. But Go Gunhee is not a lesser man who lies, has no reason to for such a method. Nothing to gain.

Jinchul, quietly listening in to their conversation, jumps in. “Kim Hunter-nim boarded the plane ten minutes ago with an agent escorting him. Before this, his phone hadn't been working, so we supplied him with a new one. That may be why you haven't heard from him.”

It's a reasonable explanation, toned with casualty and backed from a dependable source. Yet, everything about it was wrong. A dead man being spoken for. There wasn't one prominent emotion taking reign, distorted, muddled together like streaking pigment. He dropped his hand, nodding. He doesn't know what to feel. He could hear them, but nothing was being processed.

Restlessly, the energy in him shifts. He loses his laidback demeanor. He needs to get on that plane now.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, talking on autopilot. “Excuse me.”

He disappears in the blink of an eye, the loud voices of those around him fading away like a glass barrier. His stealth is in full swing, zooming through the airport and reaching the runway, fresh air roaring in his ears. He stops, the one, lone private plane stationed innocently on its wheels. Stepping in front of the ladder, he thinks for one second, one fleeting moment that everything was a lie, a joke.

The second passes, and the Mana he senses is intricately in the same vein as Kim Dokja's. Strong, intoxicating, familiar.

His own Mana quivers, slashing in fractious flares. It couldn't be. Was he really…? This whole time, Jinwoo had thought he was…

The hatch slides open, an Association worker stepping down and acknowledging him with a nod before scurrying out of sight. Another set of steps walk by, the one person who has been mentally tormenting him all this time standing on the platform. A clean, shimmering white coat is draped over his form and appearing, in all existing terms, alive. His vision of the Kim Dokja now overlaps with the Kim Dokja he last saw then. His small, indulgent smile and mysterious eyes, dying all too quickly for Jinwoo to make a difference.

“Jinwoo-yah?”

He shivers, haunted at the sweet note of that voice. His eyes are deep, and dark, and brackish like tidal pools that exist to ensnare you. Jinwoo can't stop staring at him, his wavy, black hair haloed in the high hue of the sunlight. It dyes a golden brown.

They watch each other from across the remaining distance. Kim Dokja on the plane steps, Jinwoo cemented to the bottom floor. The wind blows around them. It's silent, but there's nothing quiet about the upheaved atmosphere.

“Kim Dokja,” Jinwoo's tongue swells with the whisper of that name, his teeth sinking into the consonants. His stare is unabashed, trembling eyes wide like a plea.

“Jinwoo,” that voice breathes, his name cradled with enough softness to break him, slowly. Kim Dokja smiles, an unassuming miracle, “You don't know how hard it was to find you.”

The tension snaps.

Jinwoo speeds up the ladder, towering over Kim Dokja's smaller height, who cranes his neck up and takes a step back in surprise.

Kim Dokja tilts his head, quietly observant. Sung Jinwoo was trembling, slightly, raising a hand to delicately brush against his cheek. There's a meekness to his tone of voice, weak and hurting. “You're here.”

His Mana is telling. It coils and twists with unrestrained pressure, stretched tense and strained with the brunt of waiting violence. Kim Dokja wants to smooth it out, untwist the stress now that he's realized his introspection was correct. Jinwoo didn't know that he was alive. Dokja beats back the shiver down his spine as Jinwoo's palm slides to cup his cheek. The wind was much too cold.

“I never left.” His lips twist into a small smile, but it's tinged with a sorrowful edge to it that feels familiar as he bares the shocked disbelief in Jinwoo's open expression. He's seen this before, in the faces of his companions. Though he never expected Jinwoo to react the same. Did his death affect him that much? While Kim Dokja wasn't under the illusion Jinwoo hated him, they also haven't known each other for all too long. Maybe Jinwoo was a surprisingly emotional person? Dokja feels a little obligated to reassure him, though he's never been good at emotional consolation.

The minutes drag by quick, and the soft, quivering vulnerability in Jinwoo's eyes are replaced with something much easier to deal with. The palm drops. The warmth in his cheek is chased to fade by the cold wind.

“I thought you were dead,” Jinwoo accused, eyes crinkling into a fierce glare. "How are you alive?"

Familiar territory. A wonderful mercy. “Don't be silly, Jinwoo-yah,” Kim Dokja heartily brushed it off, “Why would I be dead? I'm right here, aren't I?”

“Don't dismiss this,” he was quick to say, sharp and cutting, that initial surprise melting into a barking order. “You'll explain to me what happened.”

“I told you back then, didn't I, Jinwoo?” Kim Dokja's words had the weight of a hammer blow, airy and mild, and devastating. “To trust me.” He smiled, the wielder, and fuck what a smile it was. Infuriating and provoking on a pretty face so punchable.

“Exactly how was I supposed to know that trusting you meant you coming back alive?”

“Didn't you have any faith in me?” Kim Dokja sulked, bottom lip pushed out. His tone bordered on chiding. “And don't look at me like that! You were a hard man to pin down, you know? I swear I did everything, but something always came up.”

"Hyung,” Jinwoo gaped, confusion whirring with rage and indignation, but the flutter of being able to call Kim Dokja without the rasp of sticky remorse was a thrill he reveled in, “Did everyone know you were alive? Aside from me?”

“I thought you knew,” Kim Dokja implied, contemplation halting in the light crease of his thin eyebrows. “Didn't you think to ask, Jinwoo?”

The audacity of this man. “I watched you die,” he emphasized heavily, stubborn and feeling like he was going insane. His hiss drooped fast and low, “You can imagine that the mere thought never crossed my mind.”

“Still. I'm alive. I'm here now,” Dokja quipped happily, dismissing the topic as he turned his back to Jinwoo and waved him inside, “We can ignore the misunderstanding.”

“Like the hell I can." Jinwoo growled. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Looking for you!” Dokja stressed over his shoulder, hearing Jinwoo's snappy footfalls nipping close to his heels.

“Then why have I never know about this?”

“I don't know!” Dokja groaned, holding the bridge of his nose. "We kept missing each other—also,” Dokja raised his finger to his face, those eyes going cross-eyed, “I'd like to have my sword back please.”

“I mourned you,” Jinwoo deadpanned. “I felt like shit for days, Dokja.”

“Listen,” Kim Dokja sat down with a sigh, snagging his half-finished drink, “I don't now what you want me to say.”

“Are you dumb??” Jinwoo stared at him again, mouth dropped open. “I want you to never. Do. That. Again.”

Dokja didn’t smother his frown. That was impossible request to obey. His plush lip hit the straw. “That's not something I can promise.”

“Why. Not?”

'Because it's kind of what I do.' “Because the future is unpredictable, Jinwoo-yah,” Dokja consoled gently, giving him the middle finger mentally in the safety of his head, “It wouldn't be fair to promise that to you when there's no guarantee.”

Kim Dokja didn't outwardly react to the crack in Jinwoo's strict expression, pieces of its sifting awareness snagging at the heartstrings of his heart. Jinwoo shouldn't have been so affected. But maybe it was Kim Dokja's own lack of foresight that had him confused with Yoo Joonghyuk. Not everyone could be as expertly capable of concealing his emotions behind a lock as the protagonist. It was normal to expect Sung Jinwoo to be more emotional. Yet his distraught caught him off guard. It made Kim Dokja feel… obscurely guilty.

“Um, here,” Kim Dokja raised his offering, a white, full cup with black marbles inside, paired with the awkward expression on his face and the silence of an empty plane, “Have some Boba and take it easy.”

Jinwoo, incredulous, faintly scandalized, stared at the cup of Black Milk Tea and didn't say a word. Was it something he said? Kim Dokja jolted with a flurry of blinks when Jinwoo ignored the cup and seized the one that was his.

“Hey!”

The half finished Strawberry Milk Tea was quickly sucked dry. “I prefer sweet things.” Jinwoo crushed the cup to nothing, his grip wringing the plastic to death like a person was pictured there instead, and threw it away. Was strangling another habit they had? It was hard not to compare them when Jinwoo made it so easy.

His assumption had been wrong too. “I give up.” He dropped deeper into his seat, taking the untouched drink he had generously bought for Jinwoo. They hear the sound of someone running up the side of the plane, recognizing the wailing voice instantly.

“Don't leave me~!” It was Jinho. He blubbers his way into the plane with the giant suitcases, setting down and gasping for breath. He guilts Jinwoo with a heartbroken expression. “Hyung-nim, don't do that! I thought you were gonna leave without me!”

“Sorry, Jinho. I had to… confirm something.”

The stare burns a hole into the back of his head, but he ignores it with dignity. Yoo Jinho shoved the suitcases into the compartments above their seats, grunting in strained effort when it failed to close on the first try. Dokja was quite content with his singular, small luggage. Wouldn't it be suspicious if he didn't bring anything at all?

Jinwoo slid to sit next to him. A beat of silence passed, in which Jinwoo's murky, dark gaze rested over the fringe of Dokja's hair, his face stiff and carefully passive. His shoulders were held rigidly, hard muscles jumping against skin. Kim Dokja found his presence demanding, skimming over the arm of the seat that separated them when he shifted closer, leaning down. His gravelly voice ran dark.

“We're not done talking, hyung.”

He really hadn't trained for this. “We are now,” Dokja decided. He wouldn't be able to run away from talking for long, but he'll take what he can get.

Jinwoo clicked his tongue, unsatisfied, but backed down. A beat of quiet overtook them, making the atmosphere waver with something he couldn't explain. Dokja mindlessly chewed on the straw of the forgotten bubble tea, too full to keep drinking, but not thinking to put it down.

Jinwoo sighed softly. “Give it.”

Dokja glanced to him, eyes lidded. “I thought you didn't like it?”

“You've had enough.” Dokja doesn't stop him from taking it from him, the tapioca pearls still inside rumbling around. Jinwoo slips the straw between his teeth and sucks the milk out, his cool expression warping as he took in the noticeable lack of sweetness. Dokja laughed.

“I didn't know you had a sweet tooth.”

He hums, “Not a lot of people do.”

Yoo Jinho plopped down on the opposite end of them, giving them his signiture big, wide smile they helplessly returned with smaller ones. The pilot comes to greet the both of them, letting them know that the flight to Japan would be starting any minute now. They nodded in return, getting comfortable in their seats.

They take off, the plane stabilizing quickly in the air as they set off for Japan's war-torn shores. Staring out of the small window, the scenery shrinks into a pea, the blue sky striped with thick clouds. He's startled out of his momentary distraction by a faint touch to his hand. He sneaks a glimpse to Jinwoo, hyperaware of the breeching distance as he bushed their sides together. Dokja gradually relaxed the terseness of his body, pretending not to notice how Jinwoo's thumb rubbed on the knuckle of his hand.

Kim Dokja thinks he understands. Jinwoo was trembling, slightly. This uncharacteristic move was likely due to Jinwoo wanting to reaffirm that Dokja really was alive and well. It was a little embarrassing, but… this was partly his fault. The guilt he feels reminds him of the times he's done this to his companions as well, dying off somewhere, thinking he was gone for good while Dokja quietly prepared a thought-out plan into motion.

[Your understanding of the Anomaly, ‘Sung Jinwoo’ has increased.]

[Your understanding of the Anomaly, ‘Sung Jinwoo’ has increased.]

He decides to let Jinwoo do whatever he wants, as long as was within boundary. Jinwoo, likely sensing his blatant overpass to the contact, scooches closer, their knees touching, his pinkie loosely curled around his own—and even when every unexpected touch and brush of skin leaves Kim Dokja biting the lining of his cheek and fighting to keep his cool, he resigns to indulge the protagonist's surprising clingy side. But only because he found it cute, and that Yoo Joonghyuk would never let him should the places be switched.

[Your understanding of the Anomaly, ‘Sung Jinwoo’ has increased.]

Wait a minute…

Kim Dokja frowned, brows scrunched as he listlessly watched the fluffy clouds pass them by. Why did Kim Dokja keep referring Jinwoo as a protagonist? Sure, in this world, the main character was no doubt Sung Jinwoo, but still, in the grand scheme of Ways of Survival, Jinwoo was but a nameless, one-off minor character. It didn't make sense for Dokja to keep unconsciously thinking of him as someone on the same level as Yoo Joonghyuk.

No one could reach Yoo Joonghyuk. That was a fact.

It was also best for him not to get attached—not that he will, Kim Dokja had enough on his plate for him to open the gates of his heart for another.

 

---

 

Japan was a gaping crater of devastation.

The sky was tainted in a permanent shade of bloody apricot, the crumbling dusty infrastructure of Japan's edifices sloped in the shattered earth. There was an unnatural heat the Giants brought with them, fire sparked and trailing into unbearable black smoke that was cause for another round of human deaths. The ground was hot enough to burn, and the air was impure with ash. The dead already gone decorated Japan in gory detail, bodies blackened, cut, ripped, destroyed beyond recognition. There were too many to count.

“What are they saying?!” A person yelled, holding the hands of a loved one.

The radio cracked, voices overlapped on top of each other with barely any clear sentences fully understood.

“Come on, come on…”

“Please! Get it to work!” A woman pleaded.

A boy twisting the nobs of the radio hulked over it, an ear pressed to the side. He swiftly turned with a shout.

“They said that the S-rank Hunter, Sung Jinwoo, has arrived at Japan!”

“Oh, thank god!”

“We're saved!”

The cheers were drowned by the howl of distant Giants, a melancholic chorus that had every average Japanese citizen fearing for their lives. The red sky seemed darker all of a sudden, smoke gathered and an icy wind making the people clutch themselves to ward off goosebumps.

In another part of Japan, were the soldier of the JSDF party tasked to evacuate the remaining citizens trapped in vulnerable and unstable areas.

A soldier shook, his rifle hefted in a sweaty set of palms. It was a hopeless endeavor. These types of weapons couldn't hold a candle to the monsters of other worlds. The remaining civilians huddled behind the scared soldiers, praying to be saved, for a miracle. The hail of bullets deplete, the armor of the Giant unmarked, and the soldier's expression pales in horror.

“No, please! I want… I want to live!”

The Giant leaped, and a wave of violent air blasted in the soldier's face as a massive Naga slammed into it. He gasped, crumbling to his knees as the strangely shaded monster took down the Giant, the buildings still standing razed to the ground by its unimaginable weight.

“Are you alright?”

The soldier jumped, two men suddenly appearing in front of him as a wave of darkness faded into their shadows. The one in white offered a hand, and the soldier hastily took it. He shuffled on uneasy legs, jaw hung open.

“W—who…?”

Kim Dokja grinned. “Your saviors.”

“You should leave with the civilians now. This is too dangerous for all of you.” Jinwoo stated, but the soldier stared at him in confusion. He heard a middle-aged couple scream, turning to find Yoo Jinho protecting them just in time from the stream of falling debris.

“Hyung-nim, I'll stand by to help these people get evacuated,” Yoo Jinho declared, the rest of the squadron of soldiers shuffling back as the Naga monster gave a fierce, inhuman roar. It pierced the chest of the red-glaring Giant, its spear-like weapon sending a shockwave through the area as the Giant lost its balance once more.

“Time for us to get to work,” Kim Dokja hummed, his dark gaze darting to the wide, horrific display of a beatdown, the buzz of an irrational, pensive mind recognized through the expression on his face.

“That's right,” he agreed, calling two shadows in his army to slip into Kim Dokja's silhouette. The action did not escape the man's notice.

“Jinwoo,” he gawked, the tendrils of his power merging with his shadow, “…Did you just put another shadow on me?”

“I did,” Jinwoo confirmed, unblinking.

“Take it out,” he demanded.

“No.”

Jinwoo smirked for the first time that day, sharp and merciless, heart swollen with dark energy and a terrible, awful urge to keep the other chained to his side. He snagged his slippery companion by the arm before he snuck away to steal a piece at the Giant. “This is what you get, hyung. This is your punishment. I'm not as nice as you might think I am.”

“Jinwoo!” Kim Dokja complained.

“Let's go.”

He left Kim Dokja behind, amused by his loud cursing.

The future was indeed unpredictable, as he mentioned. But Jinwoo was the one who ruled. He made his own rules. 

Sung Jinwoo was no longer the weak, pitiful E-rank Hunter he used to be.

He was a Monarch, and he intended to grow into that title.

Notes:

Kdj: I feel a little guilty I should reassure jinwoo
Kdj: *proceeds to not do that*

Also, 2 indirect kisses… these are some filthy boys (*/ω＼*)

Oh yeah! I completely forgot to tell you guys about my Twitter so if you want to talk to me just hit me up there, I'm a lot more active ^^! Gentle reminder that if you do want to follow me, you need to be over 18 bec I am, unfortunately, a horknee degenerate（︶^︶）

Chapter 17: A Giant's Calamity (2)

Summary:

"Do your best, Jinwoo-yah~"

Notes:

Update time! Not a lot of action because that would have killed me and I'd be waving my flag from the afterlife. We get some bonding between our protags, and I think jinho is catching on ψ(｀∇´)ψ

Please enjoy <3

The asphalt split beneath his feet, leaving behind the ominous thunder of deep cracks zigzagging their way through Japan's chipped thin surface. He dove and shot himself into the air, wisps of heat curling around him like a warning he took pleasure ignoring. Explosions shook the barren neighborhood. The Giant, tangled with Jima, fought furiously. His new soldier cried out, struggling.

The Giants were powerful beings, he could admit. But Jinwoo had a dislike on passively watching his soldiers get bullied right in front of him. Summoning his ‘Demon King's Shortsword’, he extended his free hand with a command, the invisible force of 'Ruler's Authority' tugging the Giant with the impulse of violence. The distance grew short. The monster darted to him with a curious lucidity, thrashing, belting Jima across his face in a frenzy to escape the unbreakable hold.

‘Violent Slash’ activated, leaving a series of damaging lacerations that slit the Giant's face. It clutched his eyes, blood pouring in streams, howling from the agony of pain. Jinwoo was unyielding. He hacked at the Giant, ‘Quicksilver’ casting an argent glow. The Giant clamored loudly, blind, yet instinctively lead by the aptitude of a monster.

His aura draped along the monster's back as it swung itself uncontrollably, unable to flee, stuck in place to die. Jinwoo was efficient. Swinging his shortsword down to split the monster in half. It tipped backwards with a withering cry, taken down.

Landing lightly on his feet, he marveled at his win. His body pushed forward with a hit to his shoulder. He smiled at the unamused frown of his annoyed companion.

“What a show off,” Kim Dokja scoffed, “You didn't even give me a chance.”

Jinwoo placated him in friendly mockery. “You'll get the next one, hyung.”

Kim Dokja is good at spotting an insult as he glares at him. He drops the provocation and glances over his shoulder. “What's up with your Naga?”

Jima was a sad sight to see: shoulders slumped and tail droopy. Its aura radiated dejection.

‘Jima,’ he called, the soldier dragging itself to him. ‘What's wrong?’

Jima made a despairing noise, head bowed. Could it be he's depressed he lost a fight against the Giant?

“I think it wants to be comforted by you, Mr. Monarch,” Dokja teased, finding humor in such an action.

The Naga Shadow Soldiers were relatively new to the Shadow Army, and as a result, their levels fell quite behind that of his other soldiers. Through fighting the Giants, he planned to raise them effectively in the process. Though, the Giants proved to be a lot tougher for the new recruits to deal with by themselves.

Jinwoo sighed lightly and patted his moody shadow on the snout. “You fought well regardless, Jima. Get some rest.” Jima's mood brightened a tad bit with the encouragement and quietly returned to his shadow, absorbed below Jinwoo’s feet.

“How sweet,” Kim Dokja snickered.

Jinwoo felt inexplicably flushed, but didn't let it show. “They're a little… clingy, at times.”

“Hey, hey, wait!”

Rustling, shoving, yelling. The Japanese survivors were trying to cross and approach the territory, but were effectively held back by Yoo Jinho and the rest of the JSDF.

“No! You can't come here!”

The young soldier stared incredulously at the dead monster's mountainous corpse. The old couple clung to each other behind the line of soldiers, and they convey their gratitude through their stark relief. It was unfortunate, but he couldn’t take the time to speak to them with the amount of Giants loosely roaming to the locations they haven't been to yet. Their rampage was an infestation he had to stop if he wanted to finish the Dungeon Boss and free Japan.

He gazed at the dead Giant. Extending his hand, he murmured, soft with trembling power.

“Arise.”

A black, deeply violet shadow with blurry edges and Mana rises from the Giant's corpse, twisting into itself to reveal his newest summon. His smile widened. He hoped to get more and more during his stay in Japan. The new soldier kneels as a system message pops up, asking to be named.

Kim Dokja, behind him, pops his head to the side. The monster that terrorized humans a moment ago was now kneeling in respect to its master. He hummed. "Are you gonna name it?"

“Not right now, it's too…”

 Jinwoo paused.

“How did you know I needed to name them?”

Kim Dokja jutted his chin to the deep blue system window asking for Jinwoo to name his summon. “Says there.”

It took a second to process what Kim Dokja said. “You can see my system??” It wasn't possible. How could he see it? Jinwoo was baffled. He never even hinted that he could before.

“Just recently,” he informed. “It's the reward I got from the Temple.”

“Why can't I see yours?”

Kim Dokja settled for a dismissive glance. “Different systems yield different rewards.”

Jinwoo didn't know how to describe Kim Dokja besides him being so fascinatingly unusual. He comes from a different world, and is now residing in his to specifically assist him in an upcoming war. Yet there was so much unsaid that he couldn't begin to guess. The curiosity burned inside him to pick Kim Dokja apart, bit by bit and unravel him. Although, he hasn't spilled on his own system. Such a valuable exchange would have to wait. They were both preoccupied with their current mission.

“Jinho, take this man and wrap up the evacuation.”

“Yes, hyung-nim!”

As Yoo Jinho moved the people to a safer destination, the JSDF lingering near the back to keep the crowd from falling into another bout of disarray, Jinwoo checked in with his separated legions of soldiers. Along with their commanders. Beru was the first to respond, appointed to lead his ant army in the outskirts of Nagoya. Igris was the closest, near another set of buildings to oversee Iron's progress before they both branched out into separate cities. Iron's roar was loud, excited for his recent promotion.

“Where to next?” Kim Dokja asked.

Some of his other shadows mentally insisted to come out as well. When Igris was done, he ordered him to go to Nakatsugawa. Multiple other shadows underneath his feet bolted out in his command, aimed to go to the cities they were specifically tasked to protect.

“While my shadows are busy, we should be taking out the heart, but…”

Kim Dokja nodded, sighing. Subsequently, because of the S-rank Dungeon and the chaos it brought, a disproportionate number of Dungeon Breaks have been occurring all over Japan. Before they could reach Tokyo, they had to deal with everything else first before it lead to more destruction.

“Looks like we’re not gonna be getting much sleep,” Kim Dokja mused, but didn’t seem all too annoyed at that.

“It won’t be too bad,” he assuaged.

Kim Dokja’s neutral expression jolted, a small gasp leaving his lips. He turned to Jinwoo with a glare. Did he do something…?

Before Jinwoo could even ask, Dokja marched up to him and dig a finger into his chest. “Sword.”

“Hm?” He hummed, looking down at him.

“My sword,” he repeated, firm. “Give it back.”

So he did remember that Jinwoo never supplied it back to him. Jinwoo hid his snicker, opening his inventory now that no else was around them for him to be careful. Dokja’s eyes darted to the window. It felt strange to him that Kim Dokja could now see it too. No one but him knew about his system. They really did have a lot to talk about. The question was: who would break first?

“Was it this sword?” He questioned, finding Kim Dokja so cute as he beamed up to his sword. But just as he reached out to it, Jinwoo held it back from him. The face Kim Dokja made was incredibly humorous. He tried again, but Jinwoo lifted it over his head.

“Jinwoo.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ll give it back,” he said, slyly, and a little indignantly, “If you tell me how you survived the Cartenon Temple after I saw you die.”

Kim Dokja groaned. “Jinwoo, we don’t have time for this. Shouldn’t we be going to our next location?”

“Not until Jinho comes back.” He stated firmly. It won’t be long until he does, but Jinwoo was feeling a little petty at the moment. He hadn’t had a good moment to fully process Kim Dokja being back. He still felt like he was suspended in disbelief. Somewhat like being trapped in a dream.

Kim Dokja jumped to try and grab the sword, but Jinwoo was tall. He had never been as grateful as he was now that he could use his height to his advantage like this. Kim Dokja was getting annoyed too, grabbing the fabric of his black shirt and using it to bring him down. Jinwoo didn’t move an inch, kept his body rooted like a statue.

Kim Dokja huffed. Using his other hand, he practically climbed onto Jinwoo like he was a tree. He grabbed Jinwoo’s wrist, and looked down on him. Kim Dokja bent down, his hair brushing against Jinwoo’s cheek. Ah. They were close.

“Don’t make me use my Skills on you,” he warned, his breath coming out short and stilted in Jinwoo’s ear. He fought back the shiver that crept down his spine at the low, threatening voice.

“Same here,” Jinwoo murmured back, low and as equally intimidating.

“Let it go.”

Jinwoo smirked a savoring snide. “Make me.”

And for a moment, it seemed like Dokja really would. But then, a nervous voice interrupted them.

“…What are you two doing?”

Kim Dokja stiffened. Jinwoo noticed the likely spectacle they unintentionally displayed. Kim Dokja was half climbed onto his body, a leg thrown over his back, hand wrapped onto his wrist while Jinwoo held a white sword over him like a petulant child. Dokja jumped and took the sword out of his hand, smacking the back of his head in the process and dropping down. Kim Dokja didn’t answer Jinho’s question and scurried off into the jeep they were using to get around Japan.

“Hyung-nim?”

Jinwoo shook his head, warmth tingling over the places that touched. “I was teasing him a little.”

Jinho had no choice but to accept that answer, ducking in inclination as Jinwoo followed after Dokja into the jeep. Jinho watched him go, suspicious. He held his chin, eyes squinted like a apprehensive detective. “Could it be…?”

Then, his frown widened to a delighted grin. “Hoho! I see it now!” So it wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Then, that only meant one thing…

“Jinho! Are you coming?” jinwoo called out from the front seat. “We need to go.”

“Coming!” He yelled, skipping to the driver’s seat. His thoughts were whirring into a chivalrous plan. “Hehe~”

 

---

 

“Hanekawa-san, any news on the Hunters we've asked to be employed?”

Their surroundings faded in color, like the skin peeled off of an orange. The woman, Hanekawa, tapped tirelessly at her screen. “Not yet. It's taking a bit of time to convince our government of the benefits on asking for assistance from the rest of the world, even with the presence of Hunter Sung Jinwoo. Not only that, but I got a report on those in our own Guild not too long ago. Hunter Kanae Tawata is complaining about a lack of back-up. They're struggling to push back the Giants in Takayama as is.”

The previous Vice Master, Reiji Sugimoto, closed his eyes. The weight of responsibility was heavy on his back. As the new Guild Master, promoted into the seat that first belonged to Goto Ryuji, he had the duty to lead his Guild. Or, hah, whatever was left of it. He's made tough decisions, sacrificed, and taken the brunt of the Japanese's verbal abuse to protect their standing, but what was the point when nothing was going as planned?

Their Guild cut ties with the former Association President, refusing the Association Hunters Fund they previously relied on as their trust in unity broke off. The man begged them, spat at them, before he was mercilessly stripped of his power and left a pathetic husk of his former decorum. Reiji, in his attempt to hash a plan for Japan's crisis, agreed to the excessive deal of a 10 million USD fee he made with the Russian S-rank Hunter Yuri Orloff, which pitifully failed in the first hour of the Dungeon Break.

Now, his Guild members were exhausted and rightfully provoked. The surviving members of Draw Sword were in the face of the Dungeon Break as it happened, tasked with stalling for time so the first line of Hunters could prepare and attack. The fight had drawn long and insufferable. They barely survived since then.

The military itself was of no help. Their firearms were modern, and completely useless on any existing monster. They acted as cannon fodder, just like them. The military were the first to die.

“They know the crisis we're in, yet they can't come to a consensus?” Reiji muttered, bitter. Tilting his head to the sky, blackened like old blood, he mourned for his country's descent into ruin. The Gate could be seen, even from this distance.

“No, they can't. Not after…” she trailed off, hesitant.

He knew what she was referring to. Dealing with the aftermath of their downfall was a humiliating consequence that haunted their every step back onto Japanese soil, but Matsumoto Shigeo's shamelessness nearly made them wreck the Association in retaliation. There's always been some point of tension between them, but that was with Goto Ryuji's noble foresight to guide them into a symbolic alliance. Without him, salvaging their relationship was beyond them now.

The harsh critiques directed to them wasn't the only element of contention they've had to deal with. Since the news got out, the other Guilds of Japan have been battling like dogs to clutch a fraction of their prior power. With no escape and too much to rebuild, Draw Sword was pushed out of position as a top competitor.

The Association themselves were struggling to control them.

“The other countries are reluctant,” she said, tentatively moderate, “Since Hunter Yuri Orloff was killed just like that. And from the three overseas Hunters that came along, two have been reported dead after they went missing days ago in the confusion.”

Reiji rubbed his temples. Their grave had been dug, cursed by Matsumoto's underhanded schemes and their own foolish greed.

“Update me when they make some progress," he waved her off. “I need to go to Takayama now that Kanae-san alerted me of their troubles. How much are left in Fukuoka?”

“There are only a few small Gates left and most of the A-ranks are dealing with them.”

“That means we're practically done here,” he breathed. His neglected phone rang, and he fought back the return of his pulsing headache at the sound of Minoru screaming into the receiver.

“Reiji! Where the hell are you?! We need help over here!”

“I'm on my way, don't worry.”

“Then hurry up, we're being destroyed!”

“Hanekawa-san, get the helicopter ready,” he ordered.

“Yes, Guild Master,” she replied, leaving him to work.

Reiji instinctively drew his body to the direction of his friends' location. From the plumes of smoke and the grotesque melancholy, it was impossible without the skies' usual blue. “Minoru, have you heard from Atsushi?”

Minoru clicked his tongue, spitting curses under his breath like venom wormed its way into his system. “That goddamn coward hasn't picked up any of my calls. You better punch some sense into him before I do the next time you see him.”

Atsushi Kumamoto. Currently stationed in the Chugoku region to relieve the minor Dungeon Breaks. The skittish Hunter had begged to be sent somewhere without the deplorable Giants. To fail to hear from him, they're communications must've been cut off—Reiji is cautious not to think any other possible reasons. “I'll take your advice into consideration.”

“Damnit all… these Giants are strange.”

“How so?” He quipped, curious by what he meant by those words.

“Fighting against them. I don't know. They almost don't feel real. Like they're… machines being controlled. Like specialized weapons just… inhabiting biological bodies.”

“Robots?”

“I don't know. Maybe. I can't explain it.”

They did have a strange pattern of movement. Observing them for long, these Giants were scarily in sync with each other that came out of the Gate. At intervals, they stopped moving at the exact same time. Unlike regular monsters, these ones didn't feel natural. When Hanekawa comes back, she lets him know their ride was ready.

“Even if they are, we need to get rid of them. That's our top priority. I'm leaving for Takayama right now. I should get there in twenty minutes or more. Will you and Kanae hold up?”

“Duh. Who the hell do you take us for? We're still S-rank Hunters. Don't forget that.”

He relented. He didn't know how much he needed to hear those words from that cocky mouth. “You're right. I'll see you.”

They board the helicopter, the door kept open for an easier exit. A series of loud, muffling crackles erupts from his phone, and along with it, are the pained screams of Hoshino.

“Hoshino? Hoshino!”

“Shit! Damn it, they're pushing us back—!”

There's another, more feminine scream, spiked among the inhuman roars of a monster. It was Kanae. They didn't know what was happening, but it was bad. The Hunters were sluggish on their feet for defending Japan for nearly a whole week, and yet they persisted without questions. Reiji didn't know if that iron will would last.

“We can't—holding them off like this—achkkk!”

“Hoshino!” He yelled, gripping the metal, his Mana worryingly out of sync with panic. He turned at the pilot, his demand glaring in the clefts of his tone. “Fly faster!”

The pilot obeyed, maneuvering around the delipidated buildings and dodging the stray projectiles. The raining debris hit against the metal exterior of the helicopter, arching cracks in the glass. The pilot couldn't fly any higher, if they did, it could a risk to them.

Reiji held the receiver close. “Just hold on! What's going on?!”

“Hit—I'm, uaghh, hit! Damn this Giant bastard—“ The Hunter spat out, a touch fatigued. His breaths came out wheezy. “Our men are getting obliterated. I can use my speed to round 'em up, but even then, I don't know how much longer—“

Minoru Hoshino was a competent Hunter, one of the best in their Guild. He rarely lost his composure. The situation must be severely grave for him to bark out orders. Reiji slicked his blond hair in an agitated manner. They were almost to the site, he had to preserve his patience so Hanekawa didn't start panicking too.

“What a mess,” Reiji laughed, the bleakness absurd. Shifting to the outside, his face was a stony, distraught comprehension as the remnants of his glorious Japan weakened to nothing. He wondered if this was karma. It certainly felt like it. It would take years to rebuild Japan to what it once was should Sung Jinwoo fulfill his promise to clear the Dungeon.

As the clouds thickened and the debris and ash rained down, Reiji could see something strange at the bottom. He squinted, trying to get a closer look. "What is that?”

“What the—?! No way…”

Hearing Hoshino gasp of astonishment, Reiji turned his attention back to the call. “What? Did something happen?”

“Uh… I knew Hunter Sung Jinwoo had a lot of summons, but this is…” Reiji could barely hear the sound of a screech, from a monster-like being. “Oh god, it's the Ant King…”

“The one from Jeju?” Without permission, his heart gave a solitary thump, harsh in its distant fear. He remembered. In fact, he might never forget that raid and the pain it brought him for the rest of his short life. “It's there?”

“Master, look!”

Below them were a striking horde of summons, all running to the same direction as them. Takayama was now in sight and they flew down to get a better view. Sung Jinwoo's summons were all concentrated to the Giant Kanae and Hoshino were dealing with, taking damage from them even as they were killed. It was futile for the Giant. They saw as the summons were spawned endlessly from the shadows, hacking and overwhelming the monster enough for the Hunters around to take it down.

The helicopter took a dive somewhere safe to drop the two of them off. Reiji made sure the translator stayed behind him so she didn't get caught up in the crossfire. He didn't have doubts for her abilities since she was still an A-rank, but they've lost so much already. She was a very valuable member to them.

It was only until the Giant fell to its knees with a low, dying cry that he approached. Kanae was slumped against the corpse of the monster, no longer weary as it didn't move an inch. She was a wreck, panted harshly and groaning as she clutched her side. There was blood pouring from her lower abdomen.

“Where are the Healers?” He questioned, looking around. The area was ruined, like everywhere else. Some of the remaining Hunters were several feet away, taking care of their own wounds.

“Last one,” she inhaled deeply, coughing, “Died.”

He sighed. “We'll send for more.”

Holding Kanae up with one arm, he heard Hoshino yell his name from across the distance. Hoshino raised his phone, speaking into the speaker with low, bland chuckle. He was as tired as the rest of them.

“Hey, uh. Reiji. Looks like… we might have to beg for Hunter Sung Jinwoo's forgiveness after all.”

The ants around the Giant's corpse screeched, scuttling and reviving in packs. Kanae didn't outwardly react to Hoshino's statement, only spitting out a sigh. Reiji closed his eyes.

It appears they really would have to swallow their pride this time.

 

---

 

They make it somewhat into a game.

The Giants are a limited supply that pose a tantalizing pursuit during their drive around Japan and it's Sung Jinwoo who appeals the challenge to Kim Dokja. The man lights up with an offered set rule. Jinwoo wasn't allowed to use his shadows, and Kim Dokja wouldn't use any of the stronger Skills in his arsenal. Until they got to the Mega-Giant protecting the Gate, they had to fight using their raw strength. Weapons allowed, they both decided.

At the mention of Kim Dokja's 'stronger Skills', a deep, nagging curiosity had him in a clutch. Despite it, Jinwoo forced himself to focus. There were about thirty Giants, and whoever can grab the highest kill-count by the end of the week will have to listen to a request of the winner. No exceptions.

Kim Dokja, roused by the dangling treat he would be a fool to turn down, taunted him, a faint smirk curling at his soft lips. His sing-song voice perfectly enticed his blood pressure to rise.

“Do your best, Jinwoo-yah~“

Kim Dokja was a talented man, capable of vexing someone with only the tilt of his smile and his sweeping tenacity. Inexplicably, the urge to crush something came to mind.

The two of them split up in the city of Yamanashi, a great number of Giants patrolling the area. Jinwoo struggled to keep his leap of excitement hidden, his finger tapping the meat of his thigh. He wanted to beat Dokja. Wanted to prove his strength and give his taunts back to him.

Jinwoo jumped onto the first Giant he sees, frenzy for grit and blood and sweat, for victory. He destroyed it with exhilaration, leaping to the next two like a hound hunting through a maze, fueled by competition he rarely got to break out of composure for. They wither into a deadened shell, Grade A Dungeon bosses slaughtered without mercy.

The next set of Giants are for Kim Dokja to kill. They're behemoths that rise above skyscrapers and are a testament to humanity's meager weight. A part of him panics. Kim Dokja's death is still a fresh wound and if he can prevent something, he will. But when Kim Dokja flies into the air with irreparable confidence and wears his wings into cutting voltage, the sword gleamed with a barbaric sense of harmony. The Giants fall, one by one. Broken from the inside.

Savage swordsmanship aside, Kim Dokja's work was sufficient. Taking them down must've been nothing for him. Jinwoo felt it again; that motive to improve, refine his strengths and have Kim Dokja as his capable equal.

There was one Giant left, slightly smaller than its counterparts. Kim Dokja glanced at him.

He darted to reach it first, both aiming to win the night. Jinwoo starts to wonder if he should've added 'no flying' to the restrictions as Kim Dokja lands the finishing blow. His petulance is a little childish when Kim Dokja swiftly comes back down, smiling wide as the Giant crashed to the gravel-upheaved floor. The winner is obvious.

“How was that?” He beamed, as if wanting praise, but Jinwoo is learning the intricacies of his enigmatic comrade. The horns make him more into a devil than Jinwoo ever needed.

Ignoring him, Jinwoo's voice flows like a beguiling chime. “Arise.”

Four Giants kneel, recently deceased and waiting for their first order. Jinwoo's expression is pensive. It's another set of system messages, all asking for the same thing.

Kim Dokja, not bothered by his deliberate disregard, skips up to analyze the newest members of Jinwoo's infantry. “You sure don't waste time.”

“Of course,” he replied, “The time of death is crucial for every resurrection.”

Kim Dokja listened, attentive. Sung Jinwoo, for no reason, felt dissected. Maybe it was him.

“Hey, I've been meaning to mention it,” he started, “But your Mana feels different.”

“Does it?”

He snorted. “As if you don't know.”

Jinwoo's lips quirked up, falling into casual conversation. “You're right, it did change. It's been like this since I got the Black Heart in the Temple.” The term must've be confusing for him. They haven't talked much in the plane, and Jinwoo's finicky temper evened out steadily only since the start of their nation-wide expedition. They really did have a lot to talk about.

Kim Dokja, unperturbed, nodded along. “That makes sense.”

There was no way for it to ‘make sense’. They've gotten back into contact for a single day. He's never once mentioned his second heart. “Do you know about the Black Heart?”

Kim Dokja simply gave him a mysterious smile.

How infuriating.

He felt annoyingly glad to be able to see it again.

“How?” He demanded. Kim Dokja was dead at the time, there was no other way around it. But if he asked, would he say anything?

“If you want to know, you have to win our competition.”

That was that. To have his answers, the conditions will have to be met. He sighed in annoyance, ignoring the other's amused snicker. In an effort to wave away his displeasure, he went back to the Giants waiting to be named. Jinwoo never knew what to pick. His mind drew a blank every time and he decided to follow the method he's been using this whole time. Snapping his fingers, he picks the first thing he thinks of.

“Alright, you guys will be called number one, number 2, number thr—“

“What?” Rudely, Kim Dokja interrupted him. “You're gonna name them by numbers? Can't you think of something better?”

Sung Jinwoo frowned, thinking it over. It was a little degrading to only be referred to as a number, but he didn't know what else to name them.

Dokja sighed. “It doesn't have to be hard.” Kim Dokja pointed to the one he was standing closest to. “This one's Titan,” he shifted to the one beside it, “That one is Giga. Now you think of the last two.”

Repeating them in his mind, he liked it. He tried again. “Gundam, and…” he said slowly, turning to the smallest Giant, “Hulk.”

“That's so—“ Kim Dokja cackled obnoxiously, “You named one of them an American comic character?”

“I never said I had a talent for this,” he snarked, but that made Kim Dokja laugh louder.

He pulls his newest soldiers into his shadows, tuning out Kim Dokja's targeted amusement. Yoo Jinho waved at the from afar enthusiastically, running back with something in his arms.

“Hyung-nim, should we camp here tonight?”

It was the tent they had in the trunk of their vehicle. Noticing the dusk casting shadows that linger, it seems the day as coming to an end. Physically, Jinwoo wasn't tired. He used the stamina recovery potions he had from the Store in use when he was fighting, but it was different for him metal fatigue. And most of it was concentrated to one singular person as the root cause.

“It's good if we take a break,” Kim Dokja, the cause of most of distress, lightly said. “We can make dinner and rest.”

They set up camp together and heated up the food they were supplied with from the Japanese Association in their excavation whenever they got hungry. The heat cooled off and the breeze of the encroaching evening was chilly, pleasant. Winter was just around the corner, ready to steal autumn away.

As Jinwoo ate, he heard the voice of Beru coming in.

‘My Liege. We have killed off yet another enemy.’

Due to Beru's army possessing the highest marching speed and the largest number of soldiers, the experience points that came in originated from him the most. Even though Beru didn't need to, he reported to Jinwoo every time he killed their enemies.

Jinwoo, sensing Beru wanting praise, congratulated him.  ‘Nicely done. You all did well.’

‘I thank thee, oh my Liege.’

Ending  their communication, he used ‘Sensory Detection’ to check up on the status of each of his three armies. Although it wasn’t to the extent of the ant army led by Beru, the army of High Orcs led by Fangs and the army of elite soldiers led by Igris were also unhindered in their excellent progress as well.

His lips quirked up, feeling pleased by the continuously climbing levels of his wonderfully hard-working soldiers.

“Hyung-nim.”

“Yeah?”

“I'll be going to sleep first,” he said, but he didn't move as if waiting for Jinwoo's approval. Jinwoo didn't think about it. Jinho had eyebags and has been yawning every two minutes, so he nodded and let him zip up his sleeping bag. It took no time for Jinho to start snoring, falling asleep instantly. Stretching his back, Jinwoo made eye contact with Kim Dokja. It was quiet, without the sounds of any monsters near them now that they've been wiped by two of the strongest Hunters in Japan. There was something electric in Kim Dokja's gaze that made him never want to look away. His lips twisted into a smile, and for some reason, his heart began to pound faster.

Kim Dokja's head tilted slightly to the open tent, and Jinwoo got the message. He got up with him and left Jinho to sleep peacefully. They look for a place to chat, Jinwoo choosing a skyscraper that hadn't been destroyed yet by the Giants, miraculously. Neither of them cared for the height, and sat at the edge. Kim Dokja's legs dangled, looking down curiously as they could now see the full extent of damage Japan has been suffering from.

The quiet bridge of connection he had with his shadows sparked. Kaisel. His wyvern concedes a restless sort of energy, staggering in impatience. It doesn't take long for him to realize why. The being of his excitement was none other than Kim Dokja.

‘You want to meet Kim Dokja?' He questioned, then added slightly sly. ‘Did you finish, Kaisel?’

Kaisel whined through the connection and he huffed a small laugh. Seems his soldier cannot lie to him.

‘Next time then.’

Kaisel takes the rejection in stride, likely anticipating the next time they meet. As his mind goes quiet, the smoke clears up, whittling away for the stars in the sky to shine through. They were little dots, sparse across the horizon. Not all of them were visible.

Jinwoo's phone vibrates in his pocket. He reads the caller ID and makes a noise of confusion. Now why would he be calling?

“Guild Master Choi Jongin.” He accepts the call. “I wasn't expecting to hear from you.”

“I hope I'm not interrupting,” he surmises, clearing his throat, “It won't take long. I assure you.”

They were taking a break right now, so it wasn't a problem. He nods, “That's fine, I understand.”

“Is Hunter Kim Dokja-ssi there?”

Jinwoo paused. “He is,” he admitted, glancing to Kim Dokja evidently eavesdropping on the conversation. “Any reason as to why?”

“Can I speak with him?” Choi Jongin toned hopefully, and something flares in defense, stirring in pinning resistance. But Jongin's innocent question didn't deserve the suspicion he couldn't name. he took in a breath, thinking logically. It could have to do with the aftermath of the Double Dungeon. He was unconscious for three days, his information on that time period were lacking.

“…I'll put him on the line.” Jinwoo offered the phone to the other. “Hyung, Hunter Choi Jongin wishes to speak with you.”

“Hello?” He greeted, listening to the man on the other side. “Oh. It's been a while, Jongin-ssi.”

They knew each other…?

“Any reason to call?” He questioned. Kim Dokja's mouth opened up slightly, a small huff of laughter slipping out. “I see. I recently got a new phone from the Association. I'll text you the number.” Kim Dokja nodded. “Let's keep in touch. Alright, goodbye.”

Jinwoo silently took the phone back. There was a prickle on his skin, faint and bothersome. “Why did he call you?”

“We didn't get a chance to exchange contacts after I fell unconscious outside the Double Dungeon,” he explained. “He was also busy with the funeral proceeding for the twenty Hunters that died that day. I guess it slipped my mind until now.”

For some reason, it didn't cross his mind that Kim Dokja would converse with other Hunters. It was natural to build connections, wasn't it? It wasn't as if Kim Dokja would only know Jinwoo. The thought didn't registered as seamlessly as it should, build from an addled, occupied judgement. He must be more tired than he thought for something that small to annoy him.

“Can you at least answer one question I have?” Jinwoo asked, a little exasperated.

“Depends on what it is,” Dokja quipped.

There were many things, pushing to the forefront, deprived and wanting. He settled for the most pressing one. In the future, he'll get the information he's missing when he wins. “How did you survive?”

“I have a Skill,” he said slowly, “By using it correctly, I survived. Because of it, I got to have the rewards from my Scenario too.”

“Resurrection?”

“Not at all. It copies, it creates an Avatar out of the user.”

“Then… you really did die.”

When Kim Dokja smiles, he can't decipher the emotions behind it. “But I lived.”

Those words felt like madness.

“Why does it feel as if you purposefully got yourself killed?” He thinks aloud, gripping the fragile metal under his hands. They groan, scraped by blunt fingers.

“When you say it like that, it just sounds bad,” Kim Dokja pouted, and once again, Jinwoo had to resist the urge to choke this ridiculous, suicidal man. Jinwoo has never met a person like this before. He was losing his mind.

It must've shown on his face, because he raised his arms and shook his head.

“Don’t look at me like that, I'll me more careful from now on. So please take your soldier out of my shadows?”

“No.”

He grumbled but relented, throwing his head back and stretching his arms above.

“You don't seem too offended that I'm not giving you privacy,” Jinwoo mentioned lightly. He knew that was something a lot of people took seriously. He was prepared to fight him on this.

“I guess you can say… I'm not really used to having privacy.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and hid his concern. He didn't press for more. He didn't think Kim Dokja would appreciate him digging into his words. As he watched him out of the corner of his eye, he realized that it might be harder to keep an eye on him once they get back. They've held off for now, but Korea's Guilds may try to recruit Kim Dokja into their ranks.

That thought didn't settle well with him.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

He gazed at him seriously. “What do you think about joining my Guild?”

Kim Dokja's mouth fell open at the request.

Jinwoo loved the stars, but the ones in those gray eyes were much prettier. 

Notes:

Don't look at me, even I struggled to name those Giants okay?? I just didn't want them to be numbered... jinwoo you're so rude how can you name them that? (¬_¬ )(¬_¬ )

Notes:

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