The time had finally come. Lee Seong-jun stood firm, his mind and body aligned, preparing to unleash a technique once belonging to the Blood Cult. He summoned the art of accelerated blood flow—a martial method considered simple among his old brethren. On its own, it was hardly special, doing little more than heightening one's senses. Yet in his hands, even the smallest technique carried the weight of a storm.
This was not about sharper senses. Seong-jun used the art differently, forcing the flow of blood to sweep away the impurities that modern life had piled within his body. For twenty-six years, toxins and waste had hardened inside him like stone. Now, he would break them apart.
The strain was immense. His meridians trembled, his vessels swelled to their limit. The sound of his heartbeat echoed like thunder in his ears, and at any moment it seemed his body might rupture. But he was not a common novice struggling with shallow qi. He was once the Blood Demon God, sovereign of the cult. For him, mastery over blood and internal energy was as natural as breathing.
Then it happened. With a deafening crack, the stagnant barriers shattered. Blood rushed freely, invigorating every vein. His body glowed from within, flooded by clarity and power.
A message from the system confirmed the breakthrough: his S-rank skill, Blood Shadow Asura, had advanced to two stars, and his Blood stat surged by five points. Waste was expelled, efficiency of his energy doubled, and the stagnant chains binding him fell away.
Exhaustion struck at once. He collapsed onto the ground, drenched in sweat that poured like rain, his chest heaving with painful gasps. Yet his lips curled into a smile. The suffering was proof of growth, and the elation within him was indescribable. Yellow toxins oozed from his pores, staining his clothes with foul stench. Disgusting, yet cleansing. This was rebirth.
He returned home, bathed away the filth, and forced himself to calm. Evening soon came, and with it, the one time of day he cherished most—dinner with his family. Though he had returned to Earth, reality left little room for shared hours. To him, these meals were priceless, for they carried warmth far beyond any cultivation gain.
The next morning, after another fleeting moment of happiness, Seong-jun sat in the quiet house, waiting. In his hand was the smartphone his parents had bought him. His eyes, however, were fixed not on the device but on what it promised—news of his awaited Returnee Registration Card, the document that would allow him to officially hunt and change his family's fate.
At last, the doorbell rang. Expectation stirred within him, but the man at the door was no simple courier. He wore a black suit embroidered with the emblem of the Korean Hunter Association, his movements sharp, his aura disciplined. This was no deliveryman. This was a hunter of skill.
The man introduced himself as a representative of the Returnee Management Team, here to deliver the certificate personally. It was unusual—too unusual. The Hunter Association was known for strict rules and slow procedures, never for expedited favors. And yet, the card was here, sooner than expected, brought by a man who radiated strength.
The truth became clear. The Association had already marked him. His earlier display of defeating a D-class troll in a single strike had not gone unnoticed. Though he was still only F-rank by the system's measure, the organization was investing in his potential, treating him as a seed that could one day bloom into national strength.
Seong-jun accepted the card, relief washing over him. With this, he could finally enter the field, earn money, and ease the burden on his family.
The representative, however, was not finished. He expressed intent to accompany Seong-jun on his first hunt, not for profit, but to witness his power firsthand. It was not difficult to guess his true purpose: to measure the depth of Seong-jun's potential with his own eyes.
There was no reason to refuse. Seong-jun intended to reveal his strength openly. In a world where status meant survival, hiding was weakness. He would rise quickly, no matter who watched.
The age of hesitation was over. The world had never known a true god among hunters. And soon, it would.