Chapter 112

Chapter 112
Chapter: 112

Chapter Title: Northward Bound

—

The reason I had been willing to invest my energy into this pointless farce from the beginning was specifically for the crown currently held in the Association’s vaults.

—I apologize, but that artifact is strictly governed by the existing protocols.

It felt as though they were itching to tell me that without the proper credentials, the item was off-limits.

“I’m the one making concessions here. You’re fully aware of that, yet you’re playing these games—it’s starting to irritate me, considering I’m the one losing out.”

If I pushed to officially take the third-place rank, the crown would legally become mine under the terms of the contract, exactly as the Association President had loudly proclaimed earlier.

However, I was making a conscious choice to let Choi Yeo-reum retain her status while proposing that I simply take the crown and walk away.

“Should I just keep parading around, insisting that the third rank belongs to me until the end?”

—No, that is the last thing we want. We simply require a bit of time.

I had other gear I hadn’t collected yet regardless.

“Define ‘a bit of time’ exactly.”

—Approximately fourteen to twenty-one days.

That was a manageable wait. Two or three weeks. It was more than enough time to stay productive in the interval.

“The Northern offensive.”

Following the successful reclamation of Jaun Valley, a significant contingent of hunters had established a base of operations in Harbin, using it as a hub for their missions.

Concurrently, the defensive lines positioned against the monsters along the armistice border were slowly pushing north in preparation for future strikes.

Lee Se-eun’s primary theater of operation was Cheorwon, a frontier district that shared a direct border with the monster-infested territories.

“Zanabi LLC provided us with a fair amount of support.”

This was an ideal opening to link up with Zanabi and settle some of the favors I owed. Even a mere two or three weeks provided a window to accomplish a great deal.

During my return trip, I informed Lee Se-eun of my plans.

—Well, about 그게…

Lee Se-eun’s tone carried a noticeable note of uncertainty.

“Is there a problem?”

—It appears the authorities intend to prioritize domestic security more heavily, following the incident involving the monster mutations in the residential district for foreigners.

They were drafting new regulations to mandate that a specific quota of high-ranking hunters remain within Korea at all times to ensure a rapid response to crises.

Furthermore, they were implementing rigorous surveillance of current international residents and exhaustive background checks for any new arrivals.

I wasn’t surprised; I had anticipated they would pivot in that direction.

“That doesn’t matter.”

I replied while observing Choi Yeo-reum’s wall of fire slowly dissipate in the distance.

I had no desire to fight against the government’s attempt to sway public sentiment.

“We just have to secure a waiver.”

Increasing the number of powerful hunters stationed on home soil? Let them. In the practical world, there is an exception for every rule.

And I intended to be one of those exceptions. It wasn’t an impossible task.

As the wall of flames vanished, news helicopters from various networks appeared on the horizon. Law enforcement, military units, and medical teams began flooding the access roads.

“Yoo Chan-seok Hun…”

The onlookers started to say something when they caught sight of me, but the words died in their throats as they processed the scene.

I remained seated atop the mountain of carcasses, looking down at them.

My features were likely set in a grim mask right now. And frankly, they should be. Once I climbed down from the heap of slain beasts, I went directly to the lead journalist.

“Fifteen hundred individuals were forcibly transformed into monsters. And those creatures slaughtered a horrific number of innocent people against their will.”

The reporter let out a nervous gulp at my statement. Even the officers, soldiers, and paramedics stood rooted to the spot, staring at me and momentarily neglecting their duties.

“You all are working as hard as ever. But you didn’t come here just to gawk at me, did you? Get back to work, please.”

I directed the command at them. They jolted back to life and returned to their assignments. Only the media crew remained standing before me.

“Damn it, they’re all gone.”

Words unfit for a live broadcast escaped my lips.

“The creatures I piled up here in this district? This is nothing. Several times this many people have perished—enough to create mounds of bodies far larger than this one.”

What frustrated me more were the mindless fools who instigated these tragedies for the sake of profit, then sat back to calculate their gains.

I was intimately acquainted with death. No one can foresee their end. It arrives abruptly, like a debt collector demanding payment, snapping a life away without a second thought.

Not every death carries significance. Meaningless ends are far more common. What bothered me wasn’t just the lack of meaning in these deaths.

It was the Association, the administration, the other hunters…

Not a single one of them truly spared a thought for those who had died here. They didn’t even need to feel deep sorrow—they just needed to acknowledge it.

Even I, who had spent thirty-five years surrounded by the dying, was at least reflecting on those who had fallen here.

“Korea is no longer a sanctuary.”

To this point, my rhetoric matched the government’s objectives perfectly. Korea was unsafe. It required more hunters for its defense.

“Why do you believe we’ve reached this point? How did this nation, once famous for its safety from the monsters, find itself in jeopardy again?”

But the following words were not what the authorities wanted to hear.

“Why do you think these people died? Bodies are scattered everywhere. This is a scene of pure horror.”

I looked directly into the camera lens.

“Dangers are festering everywhere beyond our borders. Everyone is aware of this. And this carnage is what happens when the remnants of those dangers bleed into Korea.”

So, to ensure this never repeats, what is the solution?

“Simply guarding Korea isn’t enough to end this permanently. This country has done everything possible to protect its people from Erosion Cores and the monsters.”

Let them try to deny it. To contradict me now would be to admit the government has failed in its duties.

“And yet, this tragedy still occurred. In short.”

I paused for a moment, then slammed my fist into the nearby wall and let out a raw, raspy growl.

“Just killing yourselves on defense isn’t enough, you idiots… How many times do I have to repeat it? How many more cities have to be ruined, how many more have to die before the lesson sinks in?”

The tremor in my voice was calculated. A timely piece of theater is often the best way to make a point land.

If you have the time to protect one person, use it to kill one monster.

Throughout my thirty-five years, I had attempted every strategy, and this philosophy always produced the most significant impact. I held onto that belief.

I had once saved the world by following that rule. And it only grew more relevant as the scale increased.

If you have the time to hold a line here, use it to destroy one more Erosion Core.

“While other capable hunters buy us time by shielding Korea…”

That was just a polite formality. My true message followed.

“Headhunter and I will not stop moving. We will wipe out the teeming Erosion Zones and the monsters that are eating away at us like parasites.”

We would persevere. The government’s policies could shift however they liked.

“Until the day we can all truly exist without the fear of monsters.”

Having said my piece, I walked away. I had no intention of being a stationary sentry. Plenty of hunters were desperate for those stable roles—let them have them.

“That concludes it. For the next two to three weeks, the members of Headhunter, myself included, are moving to Cheorwon.”

I gave a brief nod to the cameras.

“Victory cannot be won through defense alone. I ask for the full support of any fellow hunters who believe in our mission.”

This provided the necessary cover for Zanabi to collaborate with us. Cheorwon was Zanabi territory—working together there would naturally link us to them.

“Excuse me… what about the competition with Choi Yeo-reum Hunter?”

I offered a small smile to the person who asked.

“The contest is currently on hold due to these events. I did not defeat Choi Yeo-reum Hunter. Her ranking should remain unchanged, as is only right.”

Nothing was lost by letting her keep the third spot. I might as well announce it graciously since I was the one granting the favor.

I departed after the final answer. My next stop was the Association headquarters in Seoul.

“Honestly, you two should have just rented a room. What were you doing in the gym to end up sweating like that? It’s a bit much.”

When I arrived, I was told Han Sang-ah and Jeong O-hun were in the combat room, so I headed there. I found the pair soaked in perspiration, breathing heavily.

Jeong O-hun, gasping for air, gave me a middle finger in response.

“Can’t even take a joke anymore, I see.”

He stood up, his legs shaking, as I spoke.

“You put up a good fight. It made me worry that I’d end up being the one holding the team back.”

“Is that why you’re pushing yourself this hard?”

Han Sang-ah leaned on her blade to push herself upright.

“Tools or people that lose their utility are usually thrown away.”

That was a hard truth. But there was no need for that kind of anxiety. Or for this level of unguided grinding.

I already had a specific training regimen prepared for them. I had no desire for dead weight to slow me down either.

“Training on your own won’t allow you to improve quickly enough.”

“It may be slow, but it isn’t pointless.”

I couldn’t argue that it was pointless. I had reached my current level working alone—how could I say otherwise?

In reality, the training I had planned wasn’t fundamentally different from what they were already doing.

“Since you’ve been stuck in here, you missed the news.”

Han Sang-ah and Jeong O-hun gave a nod. It was time to fill them in.

“Tomorrow morning, we leave for Cheorwon.”

“That’s fairly sudden.”

I nodded back at Han Sang-ah. It was indeed sudden.

I had finalized the arrangement with the Association regarding the crown. I needed a couple of weeks for them to release it.

Furthermore, I needed to wait for the weapon I had commissioned from Choi Seung-gi to be completed.

“There’s nothing for us to do in Seoul for the next two or three weeks anyway.”

We would go to Cheorwon, clear out Erosion Zones, annihilate the Cores, and I would sharpen their skills along the way.

“Are we hunting for elixirs to give as gifts or something?”

I clicked my tongue at Jeong O-hun’s question.

“Do you have the funds? If you want them, buy them yourself.”

Did they not understand the concept of paying one’s own way? I ended the conversation quickly, then held my nose as I looked at them.

“Good grief, you smell like rancid oil. Go clean up, get your gear ready, and get some rest. We start early tomorrow.”

I sent them back to their rooms and let out a yawn. I didn’t plan on staying in Cheorwon for long.

Once the timing was right, I would gather intelligence from Sa Seung-hee and move against the next Rank-1 Erosion Core. I watched the door they had just walked through.

“Let’s see if the two of you can show some growth by then.”

If there were no results, there would be no team. This wasn’t a social gathering.

I couldn’t bring them along just for old times’ sake or out of friendship if they couldn’t perform.

They likely understood that. And if they didn’t, that was their problem.