At Han Jaeyeong’s words, despair finally settled over people’s faces, and that despair soon began to spread like fire fed with oil, raging out of control. The rookies, who until now had been quietly enduring under Yu Hanul’s guidance, all started firing questions at Han Jaeyeong at once.
“What on earth just happened?”
“Isn’t this a camera malfunction?! There’s no way Hunter Yu Hanul would go down that easily!”
“We didn’t even see how he was taken!”
“Couldn’t the camera be wrong?”
“If something really happened to Hunter Yu Hanul, shouldn’t we go rescue him ourselves—!”
“Shut it, you brats.”
That riot was quickly crushed under Han Jaeyeong’s sheer pressure. The moment they dropped even the playful honorifics they’d been using, all that remained was the cold presence of an S-rank Hunter. After all, even with their stats restricted, the killing intent of an active S-rank Hunter wasn’t something rookie Hunters could brush off lightly.
As the kids who had surged forward were overwhelmed and fell silent in an instant, Han Jaeyeong spoke in a subdued voice. “If a monster with the ability to kidnap an S-rank Hunter that instantly had appeared, the problem wouldn’t just be the people in this building. The capital of South Korea would be destroyed in no time.”
“Th-that can’t be…!”
“But we didn’t see any such monster on the cameras. So the Dungeon Break hasn’t escalated further. It’s just that Yu Hanul alone disappeared.” Han Jaeyeong pointed at the screen where Yu Hanul had vanished. “In cases like this, he may have triggered some unexpected trap inside the dungeon…or, rarely, it’s possible that a dimensional rift formed by chance and he was pulled into it.”
What a lie.
It was true that, on rare occasions, dimensional rifts inside dungeons could expand unexpectedly, but even then, there were always warning signs, especially with a Type 2 Dungeon Break where a dungeon had manifested in reality like this, the system would have issued an alert, and there was no way an S-rank Hunter like Yu Hanul wouldn’t have sensed it. Moreover, just before Yu Hanul vanished from the cameras, I had felt something like a subtle fluctuation of mana.
Mana was like the flow of air. Once magic was used, ripples inevitably spread outward, like waves in water. In other words, the most likely scenario was that Yu Hanul had been forcibly spatially displaced by a teleportation magic circle laid as a trap by an unidentified enemy.
I tapped the cold monitor screen.
Taking Yu Hanul away… was it to drag me out in front of the monster?
Given Yu Hanul’s personality, as long as he was around, there would be no reason for me, a minor who had only recently awakened, to step forward. No matter how I looked at it, from the previous Dungeon Break to this incident, someone highly capable seemed to be targeting me specifically…
Either way, I’ve caught one clue
Magic that forcibly relocates another person is more complex than one might think. If it isn’t cast on the spot but left behind as a trap in the form of a magic circle, that’s even more so.
Magic like that inevitably leaves traces of its caster. If we survived this place, we could use the remaining magic circle as a lead to uncover the enemy’s identity.
Of course, that was only if we survived.
“S-so what do we do now?”
“How do we rescue Hunter Yu Hanul?!”
“There’s nothing we can do from our side. We have to wait for him to get out on his own. And most Hunters prepare for situations like this, so there’s no need to worry about Yu Hanul.”
Despite my own grim suspicions, I didn’t bother contradicting Han Jaeyeong’s words. Han Jaeyeong themself didn’t seem to place much weight on what they were saying, either. They probably had their own thoughts, but had offered a reasonably ‘convincing’ explanation to calm the trainees. In any case, it was true that with our current strength, there was nothing we could do for the missing Yu Hanul.
For a moment, my eyes met Han Jaeyeong’s. They gave a slight shake of their head. It was probably a signal not to say anything, even if I wanted to contradict them.
I had no intention of doing so.
Adding baseless negative speculation about Yu Hanul’s disappearance would only push the rookies here into full panic. And that would just make things more troublesome for me.
“S-so then what should we do?”
“We’ll have to consider Yu Hanul as having fallen behind and finish clearing the dungeon with the rest of us. But since we don’t have the ability to tackle this dungeon on our own right now, in situations like this…”
“In situations like this?”
“Waiting for external support is the most rational choice.”
It was a cold and rational conclusion. At those instructions, it was as if the strength drained from the shoulders of the rookies who had been charging forward just moments ago.
“What is that supposed to mean…?”
“Can’t we take down the shadow ghosts ourselves?”
“Yeah. We just saw Hunter Yu Hanul do it, so we could—”
“You’ll die,” Han Jaeyeong replied in a voice so cold it seemed frost might form. “Don’t think of shadow ghosts as easy monsters. What you saw on the camera just now was an acrobatic feat only Yu Hanul could pull off.”
That was true. Swordsmen didn’t fight using only stamina and raw strength. To cut through objects of a certain toughness, they also needed physical enhancement through the circulation of mana. Yet under those restrictions, Yu Hanul had broken through that situation using nothing but pure strength and his own combat sense. That was truly something only he could do.
So as long as Han Jaeyeong currently held command authority, choosing to wait for external support was, from their perspective, the most correct decision. If they threw rookies brimming with nothing but motivation in front of shadow ghosts, maybe one or two might survive if they were lucky. Most would die or be left crippled. There was no way ordinary people without proper combat training could win against monsters of that caliber.
However, to someone else, that efficient and rational judgment sounded like a death sentence.
“Then what about my Ayeong?!”
A scream so piercing it felt like it could blow the roof off echoed through the office.
“What about Ayeong?!”
In truth, they should have covered the screaming staff member’s mouth, if only to avoid provoking the monsters with noise. But no one could bring themselves to do it. Everyone in the room was overwhelmed by the desperation and tragedy in the voice of a mother on the verge of losing her child before her eyes.
In this situation, aside from Yu Hanul, there was only one person here whom a mother could direct such a question at.
With everyone’s gaze on them, Han Jaeyeong let out a sigh. Like calmly enduring a natural disaster they had always known would come, Han Jaeyeong said, “I can’t go.”
“…”
The staff member, who looked on the verge of collapsing from crying, stared at Han Jaeyeong with bloodshot eyes. Even knowing her hostility was irrational, she seemed unable to control herself.
“As I said before, I’m currently unable to use my abilities either. I’m no different from an ordinary person.”
“Still… still, you’re better than a civilian! You’re a Hunter! There’s a duty to rescue civilians, things like that!”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’ll be legal consequences! I’ll sue! I’ll spread it all over the media—that an S-rank Hunter abandoned a child!”
“My mandatory service period ended more than thirty-nine months ago.”
“Aaah, please! Help me! No—then I’ll go myself!”
The restrained staff member struggled violently. The rookies who had been holding her arms at Yu Hanul’s earlier orders cried out in alarm as they pressed her back down.
“W-wait! You can’t! You’ll die if you go!”
“Ma’am! Let’s just wait a little longer together, okay?”
“The rescue team will be here soon!”
“How can I wait?!” the woman wailed as she stared at the screen.
The situation on the screen was far from good. There was a limit to how much two teachers could control all the children. Because the cameras were installed for CCTV, no sound came through, but it was easy enough to tell that the children were panicking, crying in fear or trembling violently.
The children seemed to have fallen into a panic after seeing the monsters’ shadows cast beyond the door. The teachers tried to control them, but no matter how one looked at it, managing children who had become uncontrollable from fear was impossible, especially for two complete civilians. The problem was that, because of the children’s movements, the monsters’ shadows flickering in the corridor were gradually drawing closer to the daycare, as shadow ghosts moved by sensing the vitality of living beings.
The teachers appeared to be piling up items inside the daycare behind the door to form a barricade, but even that response made it clear they were ordinary civilians. If they weren’t rescued quickly, a gruesome scene would likely unfold beyond the camera.
The woman cried out in a voice steeped in despair, “Go save them! Right now!”
Even amid that storm of resentment, Han Jaeyeong remained calm. It didn’t seem like a situation one could ever get used to, yet there was even a hint of weariness in their demeanor. “I’m sorry. Given the current situation, an immediate rescue is impossible.” They delivered the words mechanically, like a machine reciting a learned script.
Thud.
They were truly words like a death sentence.
When Han Jaeyeong declared that, tension filled the office. The woman looked at the rookies holding her with bloodshot eyes.
Knowing what hope was reflected in her gaze, they hesitated and avoided eye contact. Some loosened their grip on her arms, crushed by the pressure, while others recoiled in disgust at her pleas and slowly backed away.
It was only natural. In a situation where no one could even guarantee a successful rescue, true heroes willing to risk their lives for others were rare.
In truth, not only the children on the screen, but even the faces of the rookie Hunters dealing with the woman were still youthful.
“I-I can’t do it. If even S-rank Hunters can’t, how could I?”
“We’re only trainee Hunters… so, um, like Hunter Han Jaeyeong said, waiting for rescue—”
“We’re minors too, you know? We should be the ones being protected by you staff members.”
“…You bastards!” When no one stepped forward despite her desperation, the woman ground her teeth. “Over a hundred and fifty Hunters come in and out of this office every day, and not a single one of them is willing to save a child? Then what good are Hunters, anyway?!”
“I understand how you feel, but—” Han Jaeyeong restrained her by placing a hand on her shoulder, still in a businesslike tone, though their eyes held a trace of sympathy. “Please calm down. The sun will be setting soon.”
“So what?!”
“The monsters will start pushing in this direction. If you don’t keep quiet…”
“What does that have to do with me?!” With bloodshot eyes, the woman glared with hatred at Han Jaeyeong, and then at the rookies standing awkwardly in the office. “If you won’t save my child, then you should all just—”
“Stop.”
When I cut her off and stepped in, everyone’s attention turned to me.
“Stop. I’ll go.”