The night had fallen quiet when Jinho, carrying the weight of years of hardship in his tired eyes, handed his son a card filled with borrowed money. His faint smile carried more sorrow than relief. It wasn't hard for Siwoo to understand. His father, a man of stubborn pride who never lowered his head to anyone, had gone against his nature for his sake. To ease his son's burden, he had reached out to old acquaintances, borrowing one and a half million won from Park Samjeong.
Siwoo stood in the stillness of the living room, staring at the cold plastic card in his hand. His chest tightened as the truth hit him—his father had swallowed his dignity because of him. That bitter smile lingered in his mind, impossible to erase. The man who once stood like an unyielding mountain now seemed weathered, worn down by sacrifices that Siwoo never asked for, yet could never repay.
Alone in his room, Siwoo placed the card on the desk, unable to shake the thought. As long as he continued entering dangerous gates, his father would never know peace. A fleeting thought came to him—should he restrict himself to safer gates? Yet the burning image of his late mother shattered that hesitation. From the drawer, he pulled out an old fountain pen, the only relic she had left behind. If she had lived, perhaps they would have known happiness. But reality had stolen her, and the culprit behind it all was still thriving.
On his wall hung a photograph of the towering AR&N headquarters in Seoul, two hundred stories of steel and glass. The very symbol of Kang Myeongjun's empire. To the world, Kang was a brilliant chairman, a man who embodied success. But to Siwoo, he was nothing more than a devil who had crushed his father and driven his mother to death. The sight of that building ignited a storm within him. His fists clenched, bones cracking as rage surged like fire. He had collected every piece of information he could find, and the truth was undeniable—Kang Myeongjun was filth. Leaving such a man unpunished was unthinkable. Even if it meant his father worried, vengeance could not be abandoned.
The next morning, the chill of dawn was met with the sound of clashing swords. Siwoo sparred with his father in the backyard, sweat dripping, steel singing against steel. Though his blade was growing sharper each day, the old man's experience was still a wall he couldn't overcome. They ended with meditation, kneeling face-to-face, calming their breaths until silence blanketed them.
But peace didn't last. Siwoo broke it, his voice firm with resolve. He told his father he could not walk away, that revenge was the path he would see through, no matter the danger. Jinho's heart trembled at his son's defiance, knowing too well the weight of those words. The boy was no longer wavering—he had chosen to carry the curse of their family. Kneeling low, Siwoo bowed deeply, apologizing for defying his father's wishes while vowing to restore their honor and shatter their enemy. Jinho turned away quickly, hiding the tears that burned his eyes. He couldn't let his son see his weakness.
That day, February 17, 2025, marked nearly two weeks since Siwoo's awakening as a Hunter. The frenzy of media and guild recruiters had already vanished. Cameras no longer filled his street, and the shadows sent by Kang Myeongjun to monitor him had thinned. The world's attention moved fast, leaving him space to breathe.
Driving an old diesel SUV through roads now dominated by sleek electric and self-driving cars, Siwoo felt like a relic from a fading era. But nostalgia didn't slow him down. His destination was the Pyeongtaek Gate, a minor portal used mostly by local gathering hunters. Familiar faces greeted him warmly, men who harvested herbs and minerals to scrape by. Among them was Jung Juwon, an older E-rank with a kind heart. They warned him about nosy outsiders snapping photos nearby, members of an online community called the Outsider Café, always hovering and spreading rumors about Hunters. Siwoo brushed it off—he had no time for them.
After changing into his gear at the Hunter office, Siwoo stepped through the shimmering veil of the gate. Mana flooded into his body, harmonizing with his bloodstream, a sensation only awakened Hunters could endure. Today, he wasn't here to harvest herbs or minerals. Hidden in his pack was a precious treasure—a mana stone taken from a Bear Tiger, amplified by Do Minjun's skill until it radiated with terrifying density. Its measured output was between 4,000 and 4,200. If he absorbed it, his total mana pool would soar beyond 5,500, more than enough to push him past the threshold of a C-rank Hunter.
His heart raced as he made his way deep into an isolated corner of the gate, a place no sane hunter would wander—dense woods crawling with foul-smelling insects, shrouded in shadows even during daylight. Perfect for secrecy. Pulling the stone free, its glow flickered in his palm like a captive storm. He pressed it to his hand, activating the absorption technique.
Cold energy rushed into his veins, coursing through him like a raging river. His arm trembled, every muscle searing with pressure as the torrent of mana integrated with his core. Minutes passed, until at last, the stone cracked apart, spent and lifeless. In its place, a new power swelled inside him, vast and overwhelming. His body felt sharper, senses heightened, as if the world itself had grown clearer. He had ascended—he was now truly a C-rank Hunter.
Yet triumph was cut short. The hairs on his neck bristled as a faint electrical pulse rippled through the air. To others it might have been imperceptible, but his newly sharpened senses caught it instantly. Something was nearby. Something unnatural.
His body froze, instincts screaming. This was a P-type third-class planet—supposedly safe, devoid of high-level monsters. But the subtle discharge in the atmosphere told a different story. Eyes narrowing, Siwoo shifted into a stance, his gaze locked on the shadowed trees ahead. Whatever was hiding there had chosen the wrong hunter to stalk.