Chapter 126

“To be precise, it’s impossible. Cryptographic data from the Eastern factions is incredibly rare,” Bale Taylor sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

The encryption methods utilized by nations that had aggressively closed their borders—specifically China and the broader Southeast Asian block—were practically inaccessible to outsiders. There simply weren’t enough raw samples to crack their base algorithms.

Gwan Seungya let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh of his own. “Just how obsessively paranoid is this syndicate? It’s ridiculous how hard it is to dig up even a shred of intel on them.”

Seungya and Bale were currently executing a high-stakes infiltration mission to track down a specific syndicate. Their target was ‘The Cradle of Genesis’. In their desperate hunt for an organization that possessed zero public footprint, they had systematically breached and investigated every location the black market whispered was ‘classified’.

It was a joint operation between two S-Rank Hunters: Gwan Seungya, whose abilities were custom-built for perfect stealth and infiltration, and Bale Taylor, whose expertise lay in permanently sealing the lips of those involved and forcibly extracting secrets. However, the mission was proving exponentially more difficult than anticipated.

Bale scratched his chin thoughtfully. “How on earth did Hunter Nam Shin-hoo even know an organization like this existed in the first place?”

While the Saint Guild was officially spearheading this investigation, the initial directive to hunt down this specific syndicate had come directly from Shin-hoo. It was utterly baffling. Shin-hoo possessed highly classified intelligence that no one else could possibly know, and he even had a terrifying grasp of the shadowy benefactors operating behind the scenes—secrets that not even the United States’ intelligence network had managed to uncover.

“Hehe. Our Guild Master is pretty incredible, right?” Seungya beamed. Utterly oblivious to the terrifying geopolitical implications of Shin-hoo’s knowledge, Seungya merely offered a goofy, idolizing smile, praising his Guild Master with blind devotion. “I really hope this intel actually helps. I have a massive debt of gratitude I need to repay him, you know.”

They had already hit three dead ends prior to this. It was inevitable; the preliminary intelligence they had been given was agonizingly scarce.

They only knew three facts: The Cradle of Genesis was primarily composed of individuals of Chinese descent; they were currently expanding their operations into Europe; and they were actively abducting or imprisoning Hunters without making any financial ransom demands. That was the entirety of their dossier.

They had trailed and investigated multiple suspicious groups engaged in illicit activities, only to discover they were entirely unrelated criminal factions. Only now, after weeks of exhaustive searching, had they finally managed to grab the tail of an organization matching the profile.

“Let’s see. We won’t know if this is actually useful until we translate it properly,” Bale muttered, his eyes glued to the terminal screen.

The fragments of text his software managed to decrypt were frustratingly disjointed. Infiltration… Standby… Crisis… The decoded words read like a generic script from a cheap spy thriller.

“It’s obvious a faction of these bastards has infiltrated somewhere and is orchestrating some kind of operation, but…”

Bale groaned in frustration, viciously tearing at his own hair. He had been hailed as a brilliant asset, operating as one of America’s premier strategic minds, yet he hadn’t managed to accomplish a single noteworthy feat since arriving in Korea. He desperately needed to leverage his skills here and prove his worth to that cockroach-like S-Rank Hunter couple.

“Huh?”

Rapidly scrolling through the scanned documents, Bale’s fingers abruptly froze. Buried amidst a sea of unfamiliar aliases and foreign coordinates, he spotted an incredibly familiar term. Bale’s eyes widened, his pupils trembling. Slowly tracing the sentence with a shaking finger, he read it aloud, his voice strained.

“Mobilize the Crow that has remained dormant for so long. The target is…”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Seungya asked, noticing his panic.

“Fuck! Contact your Guild Master right now! Tell him this is an absolute, code-red emergency!”

Kicking his chair back, Bale sprang to his feet. Grabbing the bewildered Seungya by the collar, he dragged him out of the darkened room, sprinting frantically toward the exit.

***

“So, I lunged forward and landed the final strike, right? And the moment the sandstorm cleared, this incredible, blinding light poured down from the sky. It was absolutely mesmerizing!”

“Wow, that’s amazing! It must have looked so cool.”

“But do you know what happened after that? Oh my god, the boss literally spoke to us! Like an actual person! And its voice was completely different from before…”

The Saint Guild’s headquarters was experiencing a rare moment of noisy chaos. Massaging his temples, Shin-hoo watched the two Hunters—Yoo Da-on and Chae Yeonjeong—chatter animatedly across the desk from him.

“So, Unni, do you have any interest in running a dungeon with me sometime?” Da-on asked brightly.

“Hm?”

Ever since their joint raid, Da-on had manufactured every conceivable excuse to visit Shin-hoo. In the process, she had apparently grown quite close to Hunter Chae Yeonjeong, frequently bumping into her around the guild.

“My guild is severely lacking in high-level Healers,” Da-on wheedled. “Seriously. I’ll make sure you’re treated incredibly well.”

“Well, I would need to get official permission for that…” Yeonjeong replied hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about that! I’ll get the permission for you.”

Yeonjeong nervously darted a glance at Shin-hoo. It was an entirely unexpected combination, but the two women surprisingly meshed well. It was glaringly obvious that if Shin-hoo gave the green light, Yeonjeong would immediately grab Da-on’s hand and skip off to a dungeon like it was an amusement park.

Dungeons aren’t exactly playgrounds… Shin-hoo sighed internally.

Listening to them, one would think they were planning a casual weekend picnic. Then again, a party consisting of a lethal S-Rank Combat Hunter and a highly skilled A-Rank Healer could treat the vast majority of standard dungeons like a leisurely stroll.

“Just make sure you submit a formal request for cooperative support through the proper channels,” Shin-hoo finally conceded.

“Yes! Score!” Da-on cheered, pumping her fist in the air.

Visibly thrilled, she immediately began rattling off a list of dungeons owned by her guild, vividly describing their unique characteristics to Yeonjeong to see which one sounded the most “fun.” She was being so alarmingly transparent that Shin-hoo briefly wondered if it was truly safe for her to be leaking internal guild intelligence so casually.

“By the way,” Shin-hoo interjected, drawing the excited Da-on’s attention. “Has there been any change regarding the Sand Cactus Dungeon?”

“No. It’s still completely unresponsive.”

Shortly after they had defeated the Sand King, a bizarre anomaly had occurred at the dungeon’s entrance. The gate, which had been perfectly stable when the three of them exited, had slowly begun to fade before vanishing entirely.

“It looks like it completely ceased to exist… But is it even possible for a dungeon to just disappear like that?” Da-on asked, furrowing her brow.

“I’m not sure.”

Considerable time had passed, yet the dungeon entrance had not regenerated, nor had any new spatial cracks appeared in the vicinity. It was a flawless, absolute obliteration, as if the dungeon had never existed there in the first place.

“Wow, there’s actually something Shin-hoo-oppa doesn’t know,” Da-on teased lightly.

“I hardly claim to be omniscient.”

It was a common phenomenon for a dungeon’s overall difficulty to degrade or for its rewards to significantly diminish as its clear count increased. However, a dungeon undergoing complete, spontaneous localized annihilation was an extraordinarily rare occurrence—so rare that Shin-hoo could barely recall it happening across both of his lifetimes.

Actually, there had only been two instances.

The EX-Rank dungeon in the United States, and now the Sand Cactus Dungeon. And the terrifying common denominator was that both dungeons had permanently vanished immediately after Nam Shin-hoo had entered them.

Is it because I directly encountered the Masters of those dungeons? He had already briefed Seon Chan-jae on the Sand King anomaly and tasked him with investigating the phenomenon, but he had yet to receive a conclusive report.

“Oh, right! Shin-hoo-oppa, I have another question for you today,” Da-on announced, her eyes practically sparkling.

No matter how many times she used it, he still hadn’t gotten used to hearing her call him that.

“I encountered a Slime-type monster the other day,” she began. “Standard physical attacks are practically useless against them, right? How am I supposed to handle that kind of enemy?”

Da-on constantly peppered Shin-hoo with questions during her frequent visits. From dungeon mechanics to specific monster anatomies, she unleashed a torrent of inquiries, eagerly quenching the desperate thirst for knowledge she had harbored for so long.

“Standard physical attacks are ineffective, yes. Normally.”

There was a specific reason she brought questions to Shin-hoo that could technically be answered by consulting standard Hunter textbooks. Da-on was an S-Rank Hunter; her fundamental existence and capabilities were entirely different from the standard baseline.

“However, an attack fueled by your level of kinetic output will naturally generate massive secondary shockwaves and concussive vibrations,” Shin-hoo explained. “If you learn to properly harness and direct that residual force, you can replicate the area-of-effect damage of a B-Rank Magic Hunter. It will be even more devastating if you manipulate the surrounding environment to your advantage.”

“Hmm…” Da-on nodded slowly, absorbing the tactical advice.

This was precisely why Shin-hoo tolerated her constant visits, despite finding them slightly bothersome.

S-Rank Hunters inherently possessed the instinctual ability to wield their raw power. However, maximizing the efficiency and lethality of that power required deep, accumulated experience. Shin-hoo was currently acting as the mentor she had never had, passing down the tactical knowledge he had forged through decades of brutal survival.

“Of course,” Shin-hoo added, “to execute that effectively, you will need a weapon capable of withstanding and amplifying your specific combat output.”

“And that’s my biggest problem right now,” Da-on sighed heavily.

Unfortunately, Shin-hoo had no idea where Da-on’s unique weapon had originated. In his past life, she had simply shown up with it one day, wielding the slender, devastating rapier and aggressively challenging him to a duel. That was his only memory regarding her armament.

“Keep searching diligently. I’m certain you will find it soon enough.”

Assuming the timeline remained consistent, she was destined to acquire it in roughly three to four years. Considering some Hunters lived their entire lives without ever finding a weapon that perfectly resonated with their souls, it wasn’t a terribly long wait.

“Come to think of it, Shin-hoo-oppa, your unique weapon has a really strange name, doesn’t it?” Da-on asked.

“Luin Vuada?”

“No, not that one! You called it something else when we were inside the dungeon. Roing-y? Booing-y…?”

“…Luin.”

Knowing perfectly well how incredibly sensitive the weapon was regarding its chosen moniker, Shin-hoo swiftly corrected her. Da-on clapped her hands together in realization before tilting her head.

“I always thought that was a completely unfitting name for such an intimidating weapon.”

“I had no choice in the matter. It was the weapon’s absolute condition for our contract.”

Luin Vuada had been discovered and made known to the public long before Shin-hoo awakened. Consequently, it had also remained masterless for a painfully long time.

The Hunter who initially discovered Luin Vuada had desperately tried to sell the unique weapon to the highest bidder, but eventually gave up. Instead, they monetized it by allowing anyone to attempt to claim the weapon for a nominal entry fee.

Radiating a brilliant, five-colored luminescence, the towering tree housed within that specific dungeon became a massive tourist attraction, receiving countless hopeful Hunters. Yet, despite being approached by thousands of individuals, Luin Vuada never reacted to a single one of them.

It simply stood there in silent vigil, resembling a radiant, petrified ancient tree.

Shortly after his awakening, the S-Rank Hunter Nam Shin-hoo visited the dungeon while searching for his own destined weapon. The very second Shin-hoo locked eyes with Luin Vuada, the ancient branches unfurled massively, shattering its long silence as if its years of dormancy had been nothing but a lie.

There was no grueling trial imposed by the weapon, nor was there a grand moment where Shin-hoo had to prove his worth.

A single system window simply materialized before his eyes.

[Please bestow a name upon this Ego.]

However, for Nam Shin-hoo, that simple request was exponentially more difficult than any physical trial. He would have vastly preferred having to subjugate it by force or prove his mettle in combat.