The dungeon gate trembled.
Not violently—not yet—but with the restless hum of something barely contained, like a beast breathing on the other side of glass.
The afternoon air around it shimmered, warping slightly as mana pressure leaked outward in waves too subtle for civilians to notice, but impossible for Hunters to ignore.
One by one, they gathered.
Armor was adjusted.
Weapons were checked.
Quiet conversations filled the space between tension and routine.
For most of them, this was just another job.
Among the Hunters stood a young man who drew no attention at all.
Sung Jin-Woo adjusted the strap of his weapon with calm, practiced movements. His frame was thin, his posture relaxed—almost careless. To anyone watching from the outside, he looked painfully ordinary.
Too ordinary.
The kind of Hunter people expected to see carried out on a stretcher.
A voice broke the low hum of preparation.
"You're still coming with us?"
Jin-Woo glanced up. One of the melee Hunters was looking at him with open disbelief, lips curled in a half-smirk.
"You're weak," the man continued bluntly. "But… whatever. At least you don't complain like the others."
There was no malice in the words.
Just fact.
Jin-Woo didn't respond.
He had learned long ago that defending himself with words changed nothing. In this world, only results mattered—and until recently, he had none worth mentioning.
He returned his attention to his equipment.
He had heard worse.
Much worse.
As the team finished lining up, a sudden commotion erupted beyond the safety barriers.
"Breaking news! Breaking news!"
Multiple voices shouted at once.
Jin-Woo's eyes shifted toward the sound.
A cluster of reporters stood just outside the restricted area, cameras raised, microphones flashing with station logos. Their excitement was raw—unfiltered.
"Korea has produced its first Triple S-Rank Hunter!"
The words cut through the air.
"A historic awakening!"
"A new monster of talent has appeared!"
Hunters paused mid-motion.
Even veterans stiffened.
The reporters nearly shouted over one another now.
"This Hunter belongs to a powerful domestic guild!"
"All confirmed members of that guild are elite-ranked!"
"The profession has not yet been disclosed, but officials promise clarification by this evening!"
A ripple moved through the assembled Hunters.
Triple S.
A rank that shouldn't exist.
Jin-Woo blinked.
"…Triple S?" he murmured.
The term felt distant—almost unreal.
For a moment, genuine surprise crossed his face.
Then—amusement.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"A new profession," he said quietly to himself.
"That's good."
One of his teammates overheard him and scoffed.
"What's good about that?" the man asked. "Someone like that shows up, and the rest of us just become background noise."
Jin-Woo shook his head slightly.
"Korea becoming stronger," he replied.
"That's always good."
The gate flared brighter.
Mana surged.
"Alright!" a raid leader barked. "Move it! We're going in!"
The Hunters formed up.
Jin-Woo stepped forward with them.
And the dungeon swallowed them whole.
📺 Press Conference — Seoul, Evening
Flashbulbs detonated like miniature explosions.
The room was packed wall to wall with reporters, camera crews, and officials. The air buzzed with anticipation thick enough to taste.
At the center table sat Min Byung-Gyu.
Calm.
Composed.
Unshaken.
His hands were folded neatly on the desk in front of him. Beside him sat his Guild Master, leaning back slightly, eyes scanning the room with lazy vigilance.
Hands shot into the air.
"Hunter Min! Where is your brother?"
"Why isn't the Triple S-Rank Hunter present today?"
Byung-Gyu answered without hesitation.
"My brother dislikes attention," he said evenly.
"He has no interest in fame or politics."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Another reporter pressed forward.
"So you're making decisions on his behalf?"
"Yes," Byung-Gyu replied calmly.
"He trusts me. Whatever I decide, he'll accept."
That answer unsettled people more than refusal would have.
A third reporter stood.
"With Triple S potential, isn't it logical to send him to international guilds?"
"He qualifies for national-level Hunter status immediately."
Byung-Gyu shook his head.
"It's too early."
The room quieted.
"He hasn't entered a single dungeon yet," Byung-Gyu continued.
"Power without experience is unstable. We'll begin with proper field exposure."
He paused.
"After that—maybe—I'll let him consider national ranking."
A reporter leaned forward, voice sharp with ambition.
"What if American guilds make offers?"
Byung-Gyu laughed softly.
"Offers?"
"Offers need to be accepted."
The exchange of glances was immediate.
"You're confident he won't leave Korea?"
"I'm certain," Byung-Gyu said.
"He'll stay with me."
A smirk appeared on someone's face.
"What if money tempts him?"
The temperature in the room dropped.
Byung-Gyu smiled—but this time, his eyes hardened.
"If you ask him that to his face," he said lightly,
"you might regret it."
Silence.
"My brother doesn't chase money," he added.
"He became a Hunter for fun."
That sentence exploded across the media within minutes.
🌍 The World Reacts
By nightfall, the headline was everywhere.
KOREA PRODUCES ITS FIRST TRIPLE S-RANK SUPER AWAKENER
Governments noticed.
Guilds recalculated.
Long-standing power equations were quietly rewritten.
Analysts argued.
Strategists panicked.
Recruiters prepared offers that might never be seen.
And yet—
Something else happened.
No one was talking about the weakest Hunter anymore.
No one mentioned the fragile man who barely survived raids.
The narrative shifted.
All of Korea was whispering about the strongest.
A young man who had awakened once—
And broken the ceiling of the world.