Chapter 113

“That place existed a long time ago, long before the Earth was even formed,” Nam Shin-hoo said. “And within the dimensional memories I witnessed, that planet met its utter destruction.”

“Is that so?” Choi Kanghyeon murmured.

Kwon Haeju remained silent. A heavy gravity settled over their features, the briefest of explanations more than enough for them to grasp the chilling context of the situation.

“A similar fate will likely befall Earth,” Shin-hoo continued, drawing a deep, steadying breath. “If you ask me how I know this, or the true extent of my knowledge, I cannot give you the answers you seek. But I am certain that we are next. Therefore… I need you to trust me, and follow my lead from now on.”

He hadn’t offered a single shred of actionable intelligence, burying everything beneath a blind plea for their unwavering faith. He knew it was a shameless request even as the words left his lips, yet the two men simply nodded in unison.

“I assume there is a reason you cannot divulge the details?” Kanghyeon asked.

“Yes.”

“Then that is enough.”

From that brief exchange alone, Kanghyeon seemed to deduce that some form of restriction had been placed upon Shin-hoo.

“On one condition,” Kwon Haeju interjected, breaking his quiet observation. “I will be the one to handle any dangerous tasks without exception.”

“An excellent idea,” Kanghyeon agreed instantly, nodding with such vigorous approval that he looked ready to shove Haeju into the jaws of death this very second. “If there is peril, ensure you step forward.”

Shin-hoo could only stare at them.

A hollow chuckle threatened to escape him despite the gravity of their circumstances. His oldest friend hadn’t changed a bit. Though Kanghyeon’s reddened eyes and sorrow-etched features contrasted sharply with Shin-hoo’s memories of him, the man remained, inherently, the same Kanghyeon he had always known.

“Stop joking around,” Shin-hoo chided gently. “Now, Kanghyeon, could you fill me in on what happened while I was gone?”

He needed to ascertain the shifts in the world, particularly within the Hunter community. From Bale Taylor’s recent movements to the current status of the Epic Guild, the future he once knew had fractured into something entirely different. Kanghyeon proceeded to recount the events of the past four years.

The overarching narrative closely mirrored his recollections. As Haeju had previously mentioned, the Hunter sphere had been fundamentally restructured with South Korea at its epicenter, ushering in a wave of newly awakened Hunters. Several massive dungeon outbreaks had occurred, but they had been cleanly resolved, much like the history he remembered.

There was also cause for celebration. Rapid advancements in artificial intelligence had propelled the technology into commercialization, drastically slashing the mortality rates of Hunters venturing into dungeons.

And yet…

“…South Korea gained three more S-Rank Hunters?” Shin-hoo furrowed his brow. “Aside from Bale Taylor?”

“Yes.”

According to Shin-hoo’s memories, only two new S-Rank Hunters were meant to emerge in Korea during this period: Yoo Da-on and Yoo Yeonho, the twin siblings. Following their debut, the well of new S-Rank awakenings had run completely dry for a considerable time.

He had actively accelerated the growth of the Hunter community after his regression, and most peripheral changes could be attributed to the ripples of his own actions. However, an entirely unpredictable S-Rank awakening pointed to something far more concerning.

Could there be another variable at play? he pondered.

“How are these newly awakened Hunters faring, then?”

“I was just getting to that,” Kanghyeon replied, tapping his phone screen. “One of those new S-Rank Hunters belongs to our very own Saint Guild. I’ll summon him for an introduction later.”

“What?”

“He will be absolutely thrilled to see you.”

The statement made zero sense. Shin-hoo already knew the identities of the twins; they were destined to establish their own independent guild and would never join the Saint Guild. That left only the mysterious third anomaly.

“Wait, is it someone I know?” Shin-hoo demanded.

“Indeed.” Kanghyeon scratched his cheek, his expression unreadable, before dropping a name Shin-hoo never expected to hear. “The S-Rank Hunter who emerged two years ago is Gwan Seungya.”

“What?”

In his previous life, Gwan Seungya had been a B-Rank Hunter who eventually re-awakened into an A-Rank. Nicknamed the ‘Great Thief’ for his unparalleled stealth and dissolution abilities, that very man had somehow defied fate in this timeline, ascending to the rank of S-Rank and cementing himself as a foundational pillar of the Saint Guild.

“He re-awakened in the middle of exploring a dungeon alongside the combat team,” Kanghyeon elaborated. “A double-rank jump upon re-awakening was unprecedented. It caused quite the uproar.”

“…I can imagine.”

From Bale Taylor to Gwan Seungya, Shin-hoo couldn’t even begin to tally the deviations from his past life. Noting the dazed bewilderment on his friend’s face, Kanghyeon gave a sympathetic nod.

“So, what is your plan moving forward?”

“Well…” The shock of Seungya’s impossible leap lingered in his mind, but Shin-hoo forced himself to compartmentalize the confusion, prioritizing the immediate hurdles. “First and foremost, I need to announce my return to the public. I cannot afford to deal with this level of melodrama every time I run into someone. It is better to declare it all at once and integrate back into everyday life.”

He was a man who had already received a proper funeral. His resurrection wouldn’t be a quiet affair, and a storm of obligations awaited him, but he had prepared himself for that inevitability from the start.

Living a peaceful, secluded life had never been his goal. With the future spawning far more variables than anticipated, he needed to gather a more diverse array of hands to play. Mountains of unresolved issues lay waiting for him, four entire years’ worth of backlog.

“I will not be able to shoulder the Saint Guild’s affairs immediately,” Shin-hoo admitted. “I need time to grasp the current landscape.”

“Do not concern yourself with that,” Kanghyeon dismissed effortlessly.

“I’ll be counting on you. Also…” Shin-hoo shifted his attention toward Haeju, who had been observing their exchange in absolute silence, his unblinking gaze pinned to Shin-hoo the entire time. Meeting his eyes, Shin-hoo made a decision. “I believe I will be staying at Haeju’s residence for the time being.”

“Understood.”

“Pardon?” Shin-hoo blinked, taken aback.

“We have kept your belongings safely stored. Just compile a list of what you need, and I will have them delivered to you.”

Kanghyeon handled the arrangement with such practiced ease that one might think he had rehearsed this exact scenario. It left Shin-hoo momentarily speechless.

Why was this going so smoothly? The Guild Master, returning from the abyss after four agonizing years, was essentially abandoning his own guild to shack up with his greatest rival. Especially when that rival was Kwon Haeju.

Catching the sheer bafflement in Shin-hoo’s eyes, Kanghyeon cast a fleeting, complex glance toward Haeju.

“I still do not approve of him. However…” Kanghyeon trailed off.

During those bleak years when Shin-hoo was gone, when every single person had abandoned hope for his survival, Kwon Haeju had been the only one to wait in silent, unyielding faith. Kanghyeon had initially written it off as a desperate delusion born from unbearable guilt, but today, that delusional hope had materialized into reality. For that alone, Kanghyeon had decided to offer the man a fraction of respect.

“He is the one who maintained absolute faith in your return, even when I had forsaken it,” Kanghyeon confessed softly. “With that level of conviction, I suppose I can entrust you to his care.”

“You need not trouble yourself with our matters,” Haeju stated, stepping forward. He hooked a hand over Shin-hoo’s arm, deliberately pulling him away from Kanghyeon’s proximity.

“Protect him properly this time,” Kanghyeon warned, his voice sharpening with genuine steel. “There will be no second chances. If you lose him again, prepare to face the consequences.”

“That will not matter. If that happens, I will no longer be of this world, either.” Checking his wristwatch, Haeju seamlessly shifted his tone to a gentle murmur. “We have lingered here quite a while. Should we head back?”

“I… suppose so.”

Something has fundamentally shifted between these two, Shin-hoo realized, studying their changed dynamic before bidding Kanghyeon a final farewell.

Still sporting bloodshot eyes, Kanghyeon masked his emotions behind a stoic facade as he stepped in to pull Shin-hoo into a tight embrace. After the brief hug, he turned on his heel, citing pending paperwork. As Shin-hoo watched his friend walk away, he reached up to brush his own shoulder. The fabric beneath his fingertips felt noticeably damp.

A wealth of hidden truths lay buried beneath Kanghyeon’s concise briefing. The fact that Gwan Seungya—a Hunter historically deemed unsuited for frontline combat—had been deployed into dungeons alongside the assault teams indicated a severe manpower crisis ravaging the Saint Guild.

Furthermore…

It leaves a bitter taste, Shin-hoo thought grimly. Gwan Seungya’s miraculous leap from an A-Rank future to an S-Rank present meant that the man must have hungered for strength with a profound, desperate agony.

***

The press conference held a few days later ignited an explosive reaction.

Returning to his duties at the Saint Guild, Choi Kanghyeon stood alongside the Hunter Association President to host the event, allowing Nam Shin-hoo to step into the blinding flashes of the cameras and personally declare his survival to the world. The roaring crowds buzzed with sheer hysteria, jokingly demanding that the date be immortalized as a national holiday.

The return of the strongest Hunter who had once carried South Korea on his shoulders was a seismic shockwave that rocked the nation.

Beaming with unrestrained joy, the Association President orchestrated a lavish banquet, inviting a constellation of state dignitaries and high-society elites. This perfectly aligned with Shin-hoo’s own designs; he needed a dazzlingly flamboyant comeback to firmly re-establish his sphere of influence.

The reason was simple.

“Wow, did you see that? Hunter Kwon Haeju is right next to him.”

“Good heavens, it has been an eternity since he last showed his face in public. He remains as dashing as ever.”

The Hunter ecosystem had mutated significantly during their absence. While it was undeniably beneficial that South Korea had fortified its military might, the corresponding consequence was the severe erosion of both Kwon Haeju and Nam Shin-hoo’s absolute authority.

Shin-hoo’s waning influence was an unavoidable byproduct of his four-year disappearance, but Haeju’s voluntary seclusion had dealt a similarly catastrophic blow to his own reputation. Because Haeju had isolated himself, executing solo raids armed only with Jinmu, many of the newer Hunters barely recognized him, treating him like a complete stranger. Consequently, the public’s fleeting attention had drifted toward entirely frivolous spectacles.

Spectacles exactly like the one unfolding across the ballroom.

“Hahaha! Are you asking about the moment of my re-awakening? Oh, it was utterly magnificent!”

Gwan Seungya was currently holding court, chattering away with exuberant delight. Beneath the cascading crystals of the chandelier, the heavy gold rings adorning his fingers caught the light, glinting obnoxiously. Draped head-to-toe in a borderline offensive amount of jewels—no, mana stones—Seungya soaked in the rapt attention of the crowd and bellowed his tales.