Chapter 102

Chapter 102
## Chapter 102: Tournament Regulations for Hope’s List

The guidelines for the competition to secure a position on Hope’s List are straightforward.

Qualifying rounds occur within individual territories through a bracketed system, with the victor from each district moving on to the grand finals held in Seoul.

A participant’s final standing in the championship determines their priority when issuing challenges to current members of Hope’s List. The overall winner of the finals earns the initial right to select their target from the ranked list.

Furthermore, any ranker who is challenged is mandated to accept; they possess no authority to decline the duel. Should the newcomer emerge victorious, they usurp the ranker’s position. If the challenger fails, the existing hierarchy remains undisturbed.

I scanned the contents of the booklet, my face clouding with a mix of emotions.

“There are seventeen separate qualifiers just within South Korea?”

Han Sang-ah provided the clarification I needed.

“Each major administrative district in the country manages its own bracket.”

This encompasses the six metropolitan hubs anchored by Seoul, the province of Jeju Island, and all eight primary provinces.

“This small territory really holds about three hundred million people now?”

That figure is nearly six times the population from my original timeline. Naturally, roughly forty-five percent of that number consists of international refugees who sought sanctuary in Korea to flee the rampage of monsters abroad.

Even a location like Gyeryong City, once famous for being sparsely populated, has ballooned to a residency of 1.68 million.

“So, that implies a minimum of seventeen Korean hunters will be moving into the final bracket.”

Naturally, the domestic qualifiers are overseen by the Korea Hunter Association. Foreign nationals are prohibited from signing up for these specific brackets.

“That is correct.”

Outside of Korea, the entirety of the Eurasian continent only hosts thirty qualifying tournaments in total. To put it simply, this small nation accounts for half of the total preliminaries across all of Eurasia.

“It’s a stroke of luck that the three of us are registered in different districts.”

Han Sang-ah is set for the Seoul qualifiers. I am signed up for Gyeonggi Province, while Jung No-hun is heading to Gangwon Province.

Jung No-hun flashed a wide smile as he chimed in.

“If we had all crowded into the same bracket, only one of us could have moved forward anyway.”

That is the crux of the matter. Only a single hunter from each qualifying region earns the opportunity to vie for a spot on Hope’s List.

“Actually, the final tournament isn’t the most critical part.”

It serves largely as a public display. Every winner from the regional qualifiers is granted the right to challenge Hope’s List regardless—they just lack the privilege of picking their opponent first.

Han Sang-ah applied a layer of moisturizer to her hands while she spoke.

“Usually, the champions of the finals pick a ranker they believe they can actually defeat.”

“Defeat? They are still elite rankers.”

Jung No-hun made a clicking sound with his tongue at my remark.

“True, but aiming for someone around the 100th rank gives you a fighting chance. If your goal is simply to get your name on that list, you win the finals and pick a lower-tier ranker.”

We continued our conversation while organizing our gear. Half an hour later, our preparations were complete.

“I will see you both in Seoul.”

Han Sang-ah didn’t have much to move. Her competition is local to Seoul, where we are currently situated.

“I caught a rumor that several hunters in Gyeonggi withdrew their applications once they learned you were competing.”

I let out a scoffing sound at that news.

“Withdrew? What, do they imagine I’m going to execute them in the arena?”

It is merely a competitive tournament. One might suffer a few fractures, but the rules strictly prevent fatalities.

Engaging with a superior combatant is a priceless learning opportunity. Besides, the chance of actually dying is minimal. Fleeing the competition just because of a fear of losing? It’s pathetic.

“Typically, each qualifier sees about 150 participants, but Gyeonggi only has about forty entrants this year. All because of you.”

Han Sang-ah passed me a newspaper as she dropped that truth. That actually stung a bit.

“I don’t have a defense for that. My gear is ready, so I’m heading to the Gyeonggi venue. I’ll see you later.”

With those words, I traveled directly to Suwon, where the Gyeonggi qualifiers were being held at the Suwon Comprehensive Stadium in Jangan-gu.

—

While there are various methods to claim a new ranking on Hope’s List, the most certain path is successfully navigating the annual qualifying tournaments.

For active hunters, it represents the most consistent bridge to elevating their status.

For the general public, it is the premier entertainment event of the calendar, pulling in massive viewership.

In the months leading up to the start, television networks air dedicated programs.

Digital platforms are inundated with video analysis speculating on the potential of the contenders.

—The primary point of interest in this year’s qualifiers is the trio from Headhunter, who have dominated the news cycle with their recent exploits and media appearances.

The names being discussed by everyone belong to the three individuals representing the Headhunter organization.

—Hunter Yoo Chan-seok has maintained an incredible momentum since his debut: Gyodong Island, the Tsushima incident, the Bratzk fridge operation, and most recently, Jaun Valley.

It is impossible for the public to look elsewhere.

—He is the quintessential elite-track hunter—individuals of his caliber are exceptionally rare.

—Then you have Hunter Han Sang-ah, the heiress of the Geumyang Group, and Jung No-hun, a man whose prowess is undeniable despite his checkered reputation.

—The expectation for Korean hunters is sky-high again this year. Korea remains the cradle and fortress of hunters, after all. It is only to be expected.

Following the segments detailing the history and highlights of the participants, commercials featuring various hunters began to air.

The event itself is brief: seven days for the qualifiers and three days for the finals. It is ten consecutive days of high-stakes combat—a massive yearly festival.

—Admission for the Korean brackets vanished within ten minutes of going on sale.

—Indeed, and for the Gyeonggi bracket featuring Yoo Chan-seok, despite having only a third of the typical roster, tickets were gone in a mere twelve seconds.

—The level of public fascination is staggering.

Watching the television, Choi Yeo-reum lifted her hand slightly. A hunter standing behind her immediately deactivated the screen.

“That is the current landscape. What is your take on it?”

Choi Yeo-reum glanced to her side. There sat a man whose massive muscles rippled as he performed repetitions with a heavy weight.

“What? It is only natural for people to be captivated by the powerful.”

To be clear, his “repetitions” were far from standard. He was performing one-armed curls with a barbell—loaded to a staggering 600kg.

Heaving a mass that caused the metal bar to sag under the strain, drenched in perspiration—he looked like a force of nature.

“Mindless muscle.”

Choi Yeo-reum sank back into the cushions of the couch, offering her blunt critique.

“You aren’t just going to be a spectator, are you?”

The man placed the heavy barbell on the floor before answering.

“Am I going to do something reckless? Those with strength deserve to have the standing and the fame that comes with it.”

“That man’s philosophy is a threat. He is a meathead obsessed with power. Since you haven’t clashed with him, you don’t grasp the situation.”

The man wiped away his sweat and began drinking a protein mixture from his container.

“So, what is the point you’re trying to make?”

“The ideal outcome would be to eliminate him during the regional qualifiers, but that is likely an impossibility.”

The man gave a nod of agreement.

“He seems to be operating on a level far above the standard hunter. To take him down in the prelims, we would have to resort to sabotage or drugs.”

That wasn’t a viable path. Choi Yeo-reum rested her jaw on her hand, observing him as he returned to his training.

“So, what are your thoughts on the item the administration provided us with this time?”

The man’s eyes moved to the dark gemstone resting on the surface of the table.

“If it grants me more power, I don’t care about the details.”

Choi Yeo-reum’s expression was one of uncertainty as she toyed with the mouthpiece in her grip.

“I am against using it. We have no idea what it actually is—there is zero verified data.”

Choi Yeo-reum was not one to gamble with her safety.

“It feels like the government views me as a convenient subject for an experiment.”

“You have to endure the test to gain the power.”

Choi Yeo-reum looked at him with a sense of pity as he continued his exertion.

“Inspiring words are usually empty. But people love to believe in them.”

“You speak with a lot of authority for someone who has never truly tested her own boundaries.”

As he lowered the weights again, Choi Yeo-reum made a small motion with her finger. The massive barbell on the floor slid across the room at her silent command.

“You have a point. Just look at me.”

In order to understand your ceiling, you have to push the envelope? It sounds nice, but it’s largely unnecessary. One can attain power without such risks.

“So, what was the word from Taebaek?”

“I am meeting with their spokesperson, Sung Si-hoon, later today.”

The man looked directly at her.

“I’m the one going to see him. He isn’t setting foot in this clubhouse.”

His focus returned to the barbell. Noting the hour, Choi Yeo-reum rose to her feet.

“Fine, I’m leaving. Don’t stop your training.”

With that parting remark, Choi Yeo-reum went to keep her appointment with the CEO of Taebaek, Sung Si-hoon.

“God, I absolutely despise raw fish.”

Sung Si-hoon had booked a table at a sashimi restaurant. Clad in a crimson dress shirt paired with a black necktie, he welcomed her with a practiced, friendly grin.

“I assumed you would appreciate a meal that hadn’t been processed by heat.”

“If you eat the wrong piece, you end up with a stomach illness.”

“Not at an establishment of this caliber.”

“For the same cost, I would rather have something that won’t make me sick.”

As they sat down to talk, the bottle of sake and the glass on the table functioned on their own, pouring her a drink.

“You wanted to discuss Yoo Chan-seok? I’m curious to hear your thoughts.”

Sung Si-hoon maintained his pleasant smile.

The initial encounter between the leader of Wonder Club and Yoo Chan-seok had clearly been a disaster.

“I’ve heard that Taebaek is also on terrible terms with that upstart hunter.”

“Ah, that conceited brat.”

Sung Si-hoon lifted his drink, and Choi Yeo-reum followed suit. Their glasses met with a sharp, melodic ring.

“Taebaek is losing its reputation, isn’t it?”

“Hardly. It isn’t that severe.”

It was exactly that severe. Sung Si-hoon kept smiling, but his gaze was icy as he looked down at the raw fish.

Taebaek had made Yoo Chan-seok a public target. They had a history of never letting a desired talent slip through their fingers.

Until this moment.

“The difference between a perfect record and a single failure is massive. Let’s not play games with each other.”

Choi Yeo-reum spoke the blunt truth, and Sung Si-hoon dismissed it with a heavy breath, playing with his chopsticks.

“Let’s move past the negativity. What is the plan? Yoo Chan-seok currently holds all the fame and the public’s eye.”

He had successfully neutralized two active Grade 1 Erosion Cores by himself.

Given the public’s fascination and his undeniable record, any strike against him required absolute precision, Sung Si-hoon realized.

Because of that, they were biding their time—at least for the moment. More accurately, they were currently powerless to act.

“There is no reason to target Yoo Chan-seok directly. We just need to eliminate his two associates.”

It’s a simple strategy when you break it down. Yoo’s accomplishments weren’t achieved in a vacuum. Without his two supporters, those feats would have been impossible.

“Are we talking about taking off heads or just clipping limbs?”

“Injury is injury, regardless of the scale.”

Sung Si-hoon made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“One is the scion of the Geumyang Group, and the other is a veteran who survived the streets.”

He had weighed those options. Attacking Han Sang-ah and Jung No-hun carried nearly as much risk as targeting Yoo himself.

“But they are both participating in the tournament for Hope’s List. And that arena belongs to us.”

It was the ideal moment to strike at the pair. They continued their discussion for a while longer, eventually parting ways with a sense of mutual satisfaction.