Chapter 98

The cosmos unfurled infinitely around the long-haired man, Nuckelavee. A pitch-black whale drifted gracefully through the sprawling cosmic abyss.

—The merciless darkness that awoke from its slumber and wandered the celestial bodies is now marching to devour you all, bearing my name. Little time remains.

Having delivered his final prophecy, Nuckelavee’s physical form began to fracture and blur.

—I summoned you today to entrust you with my final legacy. I shall grant you the absolute last shard that has preserved my sanity until now. Please, carry out my final request.

“Wait a minute,” Shin-hoo demanded urgently. “Does that mean you are the one who orchestrated my regression? Why on earth did you choose me—!”

—Accept it, child. I wish we could speak longer, but time has run out. My fleeting moment equates to human eternity…

A brilliant, concentrated mass of light erupted from Nuckelavee, surging forward and violently embedding itself into Shin-hoo’s chest.

A profound, structural mutation triggered within him.

Simultaneously, a cataclysmic agony struck his entire body. It felt as though his physical form was being ripped apart from the heart outward, his internal organs skewered by the raw, invading cosmic power.

Clutching his chest desperately, Shin-hoo curled into a tight ball.

“Urgh…!”

—From this moment onward, I shall devolve into a mindless, emotionless void—a foolish entity driven solely by a ravenous hunger for power. O child who resembles me most… I entrust my final shard to your care.

Nuckelavee’s silhouette dissolved completely into the void. However, paralyzed and hunched over in agonizing pain, Shin-hoo was entirely unable to witness the god’s final departure.

The excruciating torment ravaging Shin-hoo mirrored the catastrophic system penalty he had suffered when violating causality. Unable to endure the suffocating, brutal sensory overload a second longer, Shin-hoo finally lost consciousness and collapsed.

When his eyes snapped open again, he found himself adrift, entirely alone in the center of a boundless ocean.

***

It was a pitch-black void where the boundary between the sky and the sea had completely dissolved. Had the stars and moon not shone with such breathtaking clarity in the night sky, he wouldn’t have even recognized this desolate expanse as Earth.

“…”

With every violent swell of the waves, seawater flooded his mouth, stinging his tongue with its bitter, overwhelming salinity. Spitting out the abrasive saltwater, Shin-hoo frantically assessed his physical condition.

He was alive.

The familiar atmospheric pressure and ambient mana currents definitively proved he had returned to Earth. Soaked to the bone, Shin-hoo forced his freezing body into motion.

Regardless of his current coordinates, if he had successfully survived and returned to Earth, he needed to make it back to civilization immediately. The agonizing anxiety regarding Kwon Haeju’s fate after his forced extraction was practically burning a hole in his chest.

Lifting a trembling, strengthless arm, Shin-hoo realized his limbs felt like lead, utterly drained of vitality. In the suffocating darkness of the night sea, he couldn’t detect a single trace of land to swim toward.

‘If it was going to send me back, it could have at least dropped me somewhere decent,’ he grumbled internally.

Just as the cynical thought crossed his mind, a brilliant cluster of lights pierced the distant gloom. It was a fishing vessel operating under the cover of night. Instantly pivoting, Shin-hoo swam fiercely toward the boat. Slicing through the freezing waves with explosive speed, he completely belied his supposedly exhausted state.

As he closed the distance, the bold Korean lettering painted across the vessel’s lower hull came into sharp focus: ‘Daeyang Fisheries.’ Fortunately, he had materialized within Korean territorial waters.

“…Huh?”

A fisherman leaning over the railing finally spotted the anomaly in the water, his eyes bulging as if they might pop out of his skull.

“T-that’s not a net! What the hell is that? Grab a life tube! Right now!”

The deck erupted into chaotic motion. Hauling the utterly drenched, salt-crusted hunter out of the freezing waves, the frantic crew immediately doused him with bottled freshwater and bundled him tightly in thick thermal blankets.

“Thank you. You saved my life,” Shin-hoo offered sincerely.

“No, no, of course we had to pull you out!” the captain fussed. “My goodness, did the boat you were on capsize or something?”

“…I encountered some unexpected circumstances.”

“What kind of circumstances… Ah, never mind. I suppose things like that happen in life. Whatever the reason, it’s a blessing we spotted you. Just call me Captain Lee.”

Kneeling to ignite a portable heater beside him, Captain Lee tactfully refrained from probing further. He had clearly deduced Shin-hoo harbored a complicated, painful reason for ending up adrift in the open ocean and gracefully offered his silence. Profoundly grateful for the unassuming compassion, Shin-hoo quietly observed the older man.

“The only spare clothes we have on board are our work jumpsuits,” Captain Lee apologized, holding out a bundle of fabric. “Will this do? We bought it recently, so it’s perfectly clean.”

The garment Captain Lee handed over was a dark navy, one-piece heavy-duty jumpsuit. True to his word, it still carried the crisp, glossy sheen of brand-new synthetic fabric.

While Shin-hoo could effortlessly evaporate the moisture from his body using mana, the abrasive salt caked onto his skin was a severely irritating nuisance. After a brief hesitation, he accepted the clothes.

“I am grateful for anything. Once we reach the mainland, I will absolutely compensate you for your kindness.”

“Oh, hush now. There’s no need to worry about any of that,” Captain Lee waved him off warmly. “You’ve been through hell. Just focus on getting back home safely.”

The crew’s reaction felt incredibly jarring to Shin-hoo. Being treated with such pure, unassuming human empathy and genuine concern was an experience he hadn’t encountered in a very long time. More importantly, it implied something fascinating.

‘They have absolutely no idea who I am?’

In Korea, encountering someone who didn’t recognize Nam Shin-hoo was a statistical anomaly. Aside from isolated elderly citizens who completely ignored the news or hermits meditating deep in the mountains, his face was universally recognized across the entire nation.

Captain Lee and his crew appeared to be men in their forties and fifties—an age demographic that was actively engaged with society and absolutely should have recognized the country’s most prominent S-Rank hunter.

Was it because he looked so wretchedly uncharacteristic, soaked and shivering in a fisherman’s jumpsuit? Or did the obscuring darkness of the night mask his features?

Nursing a distinct sense of cognitive dissonance, Shin-hoo accepted the steaming cup of instant coffee they offered.

“Judging by your accent, you sound like you’re from up north,” Captain Lee noted gently. “Do you mind if I ask where your home is?”

“My residence is in Seoul.”

“Oh my, you’ve come an awful long way… No, no. Where you live isn’t important at all. What matters is living well, right? Sometimes a man just needs to travel far to clear his head. That’s right.”

It was unmistakably the cautious, gentle demeanor one would use when handling a suicidal jumper. Encountering this specific brand of pity for the very first time, Shin-hoo offered a bitter, amused smile.

“Excuse me, Captain, but could you tell me our approximate coordinates? My memory is a bit hazy…”

At the inquiry, the pity swimming in Captain Lee’s eyes deepened profoundly.

“We’re in the East Sea. We’re too far from the mainland to give you a specific regional coordinate, but this vessel departed from Pohang.”

“Ah…”

The East Sea—a notoriously deep expanse completely devoid of even the smallest rocky islets. Had he not miraculously intercepted this specific fishing boat, it would have been the perfect geographical location to drown from sheer exhaustion. Returning from the abyss would have been entirely meaningless.

“By the way… I’ve been thinking about this since we pulled you up.” Captain Lee trailed off cautiously. He had been stealing covert, sideways glances at Shin-hoo for a while, and having finally mustered his courage, he voiced his nagging suspicion. “Are you, by any chance… one of those hunters?”

“I am.”

“Well, you bear a striking resemblance to a hunter who used to be quite active… a fellow named Nam Shin-hoo?”

“…Excuse me?”

“Hmm?”

Shin-hoo froze, the paper cup halting halfway to his lips. He slowly scanned the other fishermen bustling around the deck. They were entirely unbothered, treating the captain’s question as a passing, trivial curiosity. They genuinely, fundamentally did not believe the man sitting before them was Nam Shin-hoo. Even while actively acknowledging the uncanny physical resemblance…

“Ah, so you were a hunter too,” Captain Lee nodded sagely. “I suppose you encountered some terrible misfortune during a dungeon raid, then. Lord, I thought something much worse had happened.”

Even after explicitly confirming his profession, they entirely failed to connect the dots between him and the legendary S-Rank hunter. Treading incredibly carefully, Shin-hoo probed the waters.

“Pardon me, but… are you well-acquainted with Hunter Nam Shin-hoo?”

“Of course I am,” the captain chuckled. “Is there a single soul in Korea who doesn’t know Hunter Nam Shin-hoo? A young man like yourself should know his achievements far better than an old timer like me.”

“Ah…”

“Oh, right. You said your memory was hazy. Tsk, tsk.” Shaking his head mournfully, Captain Lee crossed his arms, his weathered face clouded with genuine sorrow. “He was a truly magnificent figure. I never imagined he would leave us like that…”

“Pardon?”

“He went to America as Korea’s representative and died on foreign soil. Those American bastards are nothing but trouble. Why did they have to drag a perfectly fine young man all the way over there… Tsk. Well, at least Hunter Kwon Haeju went absolutely wild afterward, ensuring those American thugs would never dare look down on Korea again. But still, whenever I think about it, it’s a devastating loss.”

Captain Lee stared out into the pitch-black horizon of the ocean.

“But I suppose that’s ancient history now. Hunter Nam Shin-hoo’s fourth death anniversary is coming up soon.”

During the brief, fleeting minutes Shin-hoo had spent conversing with Nuckelavee in the void, four entire years had evaporated on Earth.

***

As the mainland finally crested the horizon, the crew busied themselves transferring the freshly caught fish and meticulously inspecting their nets. Even in the frigid, pre-dawn twilight, the port was heavily populated, bustling with activity under the hazy glow of sodium streetlamps.

‘It’s been a long time.’

Hailing from a dilapidated, significantly smaller coastal village himself, Shin-hoo gazed at the bustling port with profound nostalgia. Faint memories of his childhood—of playfully tumbling over stacked fishing nets only to be viciously scolded by the village elders—surfaced in his mind.

“Thank you for everything,” Shin-hoo bowed slightly. “Could you at least give me your bank account number?”

“What do you need that for? Just go on home,” Captain Lee scolded warmly, slapping Shin-hoo solidly on the back. The heavy, affectionate strike carried enough physical force to genuinely tilt Shin-hoo’s body. The gruff, rough-around-the-edges, yet undeniably warm cadence was identical to the elders from his hometown.

Squinting at the rapidly approaching docks, Captain Lee frowned.

“Come to think of it, there are awfully few boats moored at the port today. Everyone else should have returned by now…”

“Hey! They’re here! A boat is back!”

The exact millisecond the vessel bumped against the pier, a frantic crowd swarmed the docks. One of the men, his face completely drained of blood, desperately seized Captain Lee’s calloused hands.

“Thank god. Captain Lee, it looks like your boat managed to avoid the disaster.”

“Huh? Did something happen out there?”

“A crack just ruptured in a nearby dungeon, and the monsters that poured out dove straight into the ocean! They headed right toward the main fishing routes, so everyone is out of their minds with worry!”

“Oh my god.”

Struck by the horrifying report, Captain Lee stared back at the churning, ink-black sea in absolute devastation. No wonder the port felt so terrifyingly empty; a catastrophic slaughter had erupted in the open waters.

“We took a different navigational route today because we decided to return to port a little early,” Captain Lee murmured, his voice trembling violently.

“Thank heavens. It was pure, divine luck,” the man gasped. “All the other fishing vessels have gone completely dark. It’s absolute chaos out there.”

The Daeyang Fisheries boat had intentionally cut its operation short and altered its course exclusively to return the stranded Shin-hoo to the mainland. That singular act of compassion had miraculously shielded them from the monster swarm.

Stepping off the boat, Shin-hoo immediately approached the two panicking fishermen.

“What is the tactical response from the guild managing this regional dungeon?” Shin-hoo demanded sharply.

“Huh? I’ve never seen your face before, who are you—”

“Please, I need an answer.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden, suffocating intensity radiating from Shin-hoo’s command, the fisherman numbly shook his head.