Ruins of District 4 — 11:49 AM
The wind carried the scent of ash.
Two men stood amidst the wreckage—one in a tattered civil defense uniform, the other in a grey coat stained with dirt and soot. Behind them, buildings had been cleaved in half, steel beams bent like twisted paper. Cars lay overturned, glass shattered across the concrete like frozen rain. Not a single soul stirred.
Just smoke. Silence. And the faint, lingering heat of something that should not have existed.
The man in the coat exhaled slowly, his voice quiet.
"Still think this was a gate collapse?"
The soldier shook his head. "No. This wasn't a dungeon overflow. This… was different."
He crouched and picked up a chunk of the broken road. The underside was melted—not cracked, not blasted—melted, like magma had crawled underneath it.
"It wasn't a monster horde either," the soldier continued. "Something big came through. Big and fast."
"Magical beast?"
The coat-wearing man didn't respond immediately. He turned, gaze drifting across the ruins. "That's what they're saying. Something beyond classification. Something we haven't cataloged yet."
A long pause.
Then, quietly: "It killed everyone here."
The soldier straightened, his face pale under the dirt. "Thank God for the hunters," he muttered. "If they hadn't responded—if even one had been on site—maybe this place wouldn't look like hell."
The other man nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe it would've just died with a hunter in it."
————
Hunter Association Headquarters
The conference room was cold and clinical, wrapped in polished metal and soft white light. At the far end, a long table stretched across the room, surrounded by high-backed chairs. The walls bore holographic displays of recent reports—flashing red alerts, death counts, floor clearances, gate rankings.
A few murmurs echoed through the space, but most of the board officials were silent. Faces grim. Tired. Nervous.
Chairman Bae Sang-Wook finally broke the silence.
"We can't spin this anymore," he said, voice low, firm. "The numbers speak for themselves. Multiple hunter deaths. Escalated gate activity. And now this last site—Eleven C-Rank hunters killed within minutes. No survivors. No signs of mana dispersion like a normal gate collapse. This was something else."
A woman to his right leaned forward. "Then we're saying it out loud now?"
"Yes," Bae said. "The real threat isn't rogue gates or dungeon bosses anymore."
He tapped the table once.
"It's magical beasts."
A ripple of unease spread through the room. Some leaned back. Others looked at one another, exchanging silent glances.
"Are our hunters ready for that?" someone asked from the left side of the table. "Because I can tell you right now, most aren't. We've had dozens of D through B-rank casualties just this month. And if three B-Ranks couldn't handle one magical beast, what do we expect from anyone below?"
A sharp voice from the corner: "How many confirmed sightings do we even have? Five? Six?"
"Ten," someone corrected. "That we know of."
"Then how many have we stopped?"
Silence.
Then, suddenly—from the very back row, where no one had noticed anyone sitting—came a cold voice. Smooth. Detached. Effortless.
"Magical beasts this, magical beasts that."
Every head turned.
"You keep repeating the same excuse," the voice continued. "Like scared bureaucrats trying to make sense of a mistake."
A man stepped out from the shadows at the far end of the room.
Formal black suit. Collar slightly loose. Hands in his pockets like he had nowhere urgent to be. His hair fell lazily over one eye. He didn't look like he'd lost sleep, though his eyes carried a permanent tiredness—as if the world simply bored him.
"You're not even sure what you're blaming," he said, voice almost lazy. "Just assigning names to death to make yourselves feel better. 'Magical beast.' As if that makes the bodies less real."
One of the board members stood abruptly. "Who are you to interrupt a classified hearing?"
Another barked, "How the hell did you even get in here—"
"Enough," Bae Sang-Wook said, raising a hand.
The room fell quiet again.
He turned toward the young man at the back.
"That," Bae said clearly, "is Nam Hyunsik. Older brother of Nam Ara—the B-Rank hunter killed last week in District 7 with couple of AMCC workers and it was confirmed it was a magical beast by the survivor."
Chairman Bae continued "He is the only the hunter who has mastered the art of an assassin to perfection, cleared over 8 Red Gates alone and even recognized by the International Guilds wanting to recruit him."
Murmurs.
Eyes drifted between Chairman Bae and the young man in the shadows, still not fully believing he was really there. The ever-elusive Nam Hyunsik, rarely seen, never summoned. And now—just standing in their midst like he'd always belonged there.
Chairman Bae finally broke the tension.
"And what are you doing here, Hyunsik?"
Hyunsik's gaze was fixed, cold, not blinking. His voice came like frost slipping beneath a door.
"I came to see the only one who survived… when my sister died."
That brought movement. A few board members stiffened. One turned toward the Chairman, eyes wide.
Bae's expression barely shifted. "You're talking about Lin… Lin Wei, the cleaner?"
"If that's his name," Hyunsik said coolly. "Then yes."
Bae leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished surface of the board table. "He has no need for you. Why come here for him?"
Hyunsik stepped into the light, hands still tucked lazily in his pockets. "So, every other B-Rank hunter with her died. Ara died. And somehow, the one who lived was the weakest among them?"
More murmurs from the side seats now. Tension crawled through the chamber like smoke from a slow fire.
"I read the report," Hyunsik continued, his tone empty of inflection. "The official record calls it a magical beast attack. A phenomenon you still can't define. But conveniently, the only survivor… was a cleaner."
Bae didn't flinch. "That cleaner," he said, "confirmed that your sister gave her life protecting him. His testimony was consistent, and even under emotional duress, he spoke clearly. He said Nam Ara should be honored for what she did."
"Honored, huh?" Hyunsik's voice turned sharper, just slightly.
He let the words hang in the air a beat too long.
"You know, my sister's only dream was to be like me. To be a hunter. I watched her train for years. Every day. Obsessive. Disciplined. She clawed her way to B-Rank in months. One of your best, right? That's what you called her, Chairman Bae."
There was no response.
"And then one day," Hyunsik said, voice now quiet and jagged, "she's dead. Dream gone. Life gone. All in a mission that wasn't even supposed to go red. You give me 'magical beast' as an answer?"
A board member—an older man with silver-rimmed glasses and a rust-colored tie—spoke suddenly.
"Are you implying," he asked, "that it wasn't a magical beast? That it was this… Lin?"
A ripple moved through the room. Chairs shifted. A cough somewhere in the back. Murmurs now rose with heat.
Hyunsik lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "I'm not implying anything. Yet. But it's not like we haven't seen false rankers before, is it President Bae?"
His eyes flicked to Chairman Bae.
"Hunters pretending to be weak, suppressing their mana signatures. Waiting for the right mission to slaughter their own."
Bae's face turned stone.
"Lin's record is clean," he said flatly.
"We'll see," Hyunsik replied, gaze hardening. "After I meet him."
For a long moment, no one moved. Then, from near the edge of the table, a quiet voice emerged.
Cho Geon-Woo, who had been silent until now, leaned closer to the Chairman and whispered something low and sharp in his ear.
Bae's face darkened.
"What?" someone asked.
Geon-Woo straightened, but it was Bae who answered.
"Lin Wei," he said slowly, voice flat as slate, "has been reported missing. According to his guardian, Soo-Ah, he hasn't been seen in over a week. A police report was filed three days ago. Still no sign of him."
A chill passed through the room like a crack forming in glass.
The implications hit like thunder. The one surviving witness, now gone. Untraceable. Vanished without warning.
Hyunsik smiled. Not kindly.
"That so?" he murmured. "And you still think he's not a false ranker, President Bae?"
He took a step back, then another, retreating toward the shadows once more.
"You lost my sister," he said quietly. "You don't get to lose her killer too."
Then he turned, vanishing back into the corridor as silently as he had come—leaving behind only silence, questions, and the mounting pressure of a truth no one wanted to face.