Twenty years ago, a shocking event took place. A rapidly rising tech corporation was completely burned to ashes overnight.
Morgan, the young chairman of the board at the time, suddenly sold off all his assets and vanished as if he had disappeared from the face of the earth.
The police launched an investigation, yet strangely, every piece of evidence pointed to Morgan as the culprit. The revelation threw the public into chaos.
No casualties were reported. Essentially, Morgan was the only one who suffered any real loss—before his disappearance, he had arranged compensation for all related parties.
And so, everything became even more bizarre. No one understood what Morgan had intended back then.
…
Five years later, a new face stormed into the Global Hunter Tournament like an unstoppable dark horse, climbing the ranks at a furious pace.
His performance in every single hunt shook the entire scene.
Those who remembered the corporation scandal recognized him immediately—the young businessman who had vanished without a trace.
That year, Morgan became the champion.
And in that moment, he announced to the world: Morgan had returned!
…
In the next fifteen years, Morgan's achievements had resounded across the globe.
His life had turned into an immortal legend.
Through all those years, not once did he fail to defend his championship title.
The world gave him countless titles: The Greatest Hunter, The Predator of All Beings, The Perfect Man…
He was even the first man of the century to be hailed by the masses as The Man of the Century.
…
Now, at the celebration of his fifteenth victory, Morgan invited people from all over to gather.
Fans screamed, reporters fired off their cameras, and flashing lights burst around him like fireworks.
Surrounded by the crowd, Morgan's heart remained unshaken.
He stood composed at the bow of the yacht, hand resting on the cold rail, the setting sun casting its glow, making his muscles stand out like stone carved with meticulous precision.
A sheet of paper fluttered toward him, grazing his chin before nearly tearing in half.
Morgan tilted his head, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
The men stared at him with eyes full of both admiration and envy, while fans knelt like vassals before a god.
The corner of Morgan's lips lifted—his smile faint, elusive.
In that instant, he felt the whole world bending toward him. He was the very center of the universe.
'Who in this world could ever challenge me?'
He sighed inwardly, yet outwardly he maintained his lofty, untouchable poise.
Behind him, cameras kept flashing, and whistles echoed without pause. Morgan stood there, unmoving amidst the storm of attention, untouchable.
[We have discovered that you are an excellent candidate to become a Dimensional Hunter. Would you be willing to accept?]
Morgan raised a brow—surprise flickered across his face, but it vanished in an instant. His calm expression, with that faint, effortless smile, did not change.
"I am the champion now, and it's boring as hell. If you can bring me entertainment, then I'll gladly accept." His voice rang within his own mind.
[No problem. The task of a Dimensional Hunter is to hunt new dimensions. You will be sent to the core planet of a dimension. By hunting it, you can claim lordship over that dimension and earn an eternal medal of honor.]
Morgan's eyes narrowed, a spark of interest flashing in his sharp gaze.
'What am I even hesitating for? I am Morgan. Nothing is impossible.'
"Fine, I agree. But tell me clearly. What does it take to hunt a planet?"
He doubted conquering a dimension was the same as hunting a mere beast.
[I will provide you with a support system for leveling up, similar to a role-playing game. Your task is to grow stronger and either defeat the most powerful beings or make them submit to your greatness.]
Morgan's lips curved upward. Simple and fast—exactly his style.
"Good. Very good. When can I leave?"
[Anytime you wish. The moment you decide, you may depart.]
Morgan had spent over half his life in this world. Before leaving, he had to create a moment that would be remembered forever.
He tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips as his eyes swept over the fans behind him.
A few trembled, clutching their chests, nearly collapsing before the perfection of their idol.
"My journey in this world ends here… Farewell."
Whoosh!
Morgan vanished. No sound, no signal, only emptiness left at the bow of the yacht.
The crowd froze, as if time itself had stopped.
"H-He disappeared?"
"Was that magic?"
"Idiot! Does that look like a magic trick to you?"
As the arguments broke out in disbelief, a loyal fan raised his trembling voice, yet it carried unshakable conviction:
"So that's it… Lord Morgan isn't human. No mortal could ever be so perfect!"
The words hit the crowd like a stone cast into a still lake, sending ripples into waves.
Frenzied fans leapt, screamed, clapped, their throats hoarse from shouting:
"My idol is a god!"
"Amazing! I knew I wasn't worshipping the wrong man!"
"The number one man in the world… is Morgan!"
Reporters buried themselves in their notes, cameras clicked in a frenzy, and videographers desperately captured every gesture, every moment.
The chaos was deafening, but it all revolved around one name—Morgan.
…
Morgan frowned, his eyes scanning the numbers. Pathetic stats but he only smirked.
He sifted through some of the memories in his head and realized he had taken over the body of a young man also named Morgan.
The boy's image appeared in his mind—awkward, clumsy, utterly unimpressive. A skinny frame, defeated posture, the perfect picture of a loser.
In this world, hunters were rare; only one in a thousand awakened. Even at rank F, Morgan still stood above most ordinary people.
Yet somehow, this boy's life was even more miserable than those who weren't hunters at all.
Once, while gathering crystals in a dungeon, he got into an accident. With no money for the hospital and no insurance, he lay dying until Morgan seized his body.
"What a loser. But lucky for you, kid—Mr. Morgan will take this body to the top."
He lifted his shirt. His entire torso was wrapped in blood-soaked bandages.
No pain, no groans. As he stripped away the layers, his body emerged flawless, without a single scratch.
"Not bad. The one who sent me here did good work. After all, I couldn't be a hunter with a body that was already half-dead."
Morgan's eyes swept the room. On the rack lay nothing but rusted pickaxes, a few crystal-mining tools, and filthy monster dissection kits.
He curled his lips, ran a hand along the handle of a pickaxe, tested its weight, then discarded it.
"They call this hunter? Not a single decent weapon… Whatever, I'll borrow one once I get there."
After a quick wash, he changed clothes. Staring into the mirror, his appearance already carried a sharper edge.
Slinging a tool bag over his shoulder, he set out for the new job he had found.
Finding work was simple enough. With dungeons everywhere, part-time jobs like mining crystals or harvesting monster corpses were endless. As long as one dared to step inside, there was always work.
...
Not long after, he arrived before an F-rank dungeon. A gate of pure energy, unreal and otherworldly, stood in front of him.
In this world, dungeons were divided into seven tiers, from F to S. Normally, hunters of matching rank would be dispatched for missions.
Of course, there was no restriction. An SS-rank could enter an F-rank dungeon without issue.
As he stepped closer, Morgan crossed paths with a few F-rank hunters. Memories rushed back.
'Tch… these bastards were partly responsible for killing this kid. Should I thank them or beat them down?'
One of them, a blond with a sneer and the look of a hyena sniffing for trouble, strutted forward with his lackeys in tow.
"Well, well, look who it is. Isn't this our weakest little hunter? Can't believe you're still breathing." His tone dripped with mockery, every gesture a provocation.
Morgan stood there, hands clasped behind his back, eyes cold, lips curled in a mocking smile.
Pathetic trash. Even without a weapon, he could hang them up and beat them bloody.