Chapter 113

Chapter 113
## Chapter 113: The Cheorwon Frontlines

Our vehicle was currently bound for the Cheorwon region.

Following the elimination of the creatures within the residential zone for foreign nationals, my televised declaration had produced a noticeable impact, though it fell short of a total shift in public sentiment.

A fierce debate had erupted online, with countless citizens weighing in on the morality of my stance. Some critics argued that a high-ranking hunter like myself shouldn’t be wandering the streets during such a national crisis, while a nearly equal number of supporters rose to my defense.

Statistically, about 45% of the population seemed to back my current path. The remaining majority was either actively against me or simply didn’t care enough to have an opinion.

“This level of support is more than sufficient,” I noted.

At the very least, I had established enough of a foothold that my detractors couldn’t flatly condemn me for staying in the field.

“The downside is that we have zero margin for error now,” Han Sang-ah remarked from the passenger seat.

“That goes without saying. We’ve been playing a high-stakes game where a single blunder means total ruin since the very beginning.”

That was the price of our sudden rise to fame. You can’t achieve massive influence without placing your life on the line.

“The current power structure—the hunters, the association, and the state—has already solidified into a rigid ecosystem,” I continued.

And that wasn’t even counting the descendants of Dangun. In such a locked-in environment, the only way to operate with any shred of autonomy without being crushed by the establishment is to make these kinds of high-profile, aggressive moves.

“We’re arriving.”

Cheorwon. It stood as one of the most brutal combat zones in South Korea. It was a place defined by an endless tide of monsters, expanding Erosion Zones, and the exhausted hunters tasked with holding the line.

We eventually pulled up to the Cheorwon headquarters of Zanabi LLC.

“I heard this facility used to be a golf course,” I commented.

In the current climate, no one was reckless enough to swing a club in Cheorwon. Zanabi had gutted the luxury grounds and repurposed the entire estate into a fortified military hub.

“The smell is unmistakable,” I muttered.

As the wind whipped past us, I caught the distinct, sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh. From the northern horizon, I could sense the lingering malice of the restless dead.

“The sheer density of them is staggering.”

It was the perfect environment. This landscape would serve as the ideal crucible for Han Sang-ah and Jeong Oh-hoon’s growth—of that, I was certain.

“Hunter Yoo Chan-seok.”

I acknowledged the man walking toward us, flanked by a cohort of other combatants. I didn’t need a formal introduction to recognize him.

This was Kang Hoon, the 1st Team Leader of Zanabi.

“It’s an honor. I’m Yoo Chan-seok.”

“And I am Kang Hoon.”

He carried a massive warhammer across his shoulders. His arms were a roadmap of old scars, and his features were etched with the hardness of someone who had spent years standing in the eye of the storm.

“I caught your recent duel. I imagine that arrogant Choi Yeoreum is fuming right about now.”

She had managed to keep her standing and technically hadn’t “lost” on paper, but for someone like her, the outcome was a total humiliation.

“We’ve prepared ample quarters and gear for you. Stay as long as necessary; we’ll handle the logistics,” Kang Hoon offered.

“I appreciate the hospitality.”

Kang Hoon crossed his massive arms as he responded.

“I’ll be detailing three of our Zanabi strike teams to assist you—five hunters per unit.”

It was a smaller contingent than I’d anticipated, but I hadn’t expected much. The administration had shifted its focus entirely to domestic defense, and after witnessing foreign citizens transform into monsters, the public was fully behind that isolationist policy.

Zanabi likely couldn’t afford to ignore the political climate. Regardless, fifteen elite Zanabi hunters carried significantly more weight than sixty rank-and-file mercenaries.

“Also, all operational coordination will be managed by our local branch’s support staff.”

I offered a thin smile upon hearing that.

“I’m grateful for the tactical support from the operators. However, we won’t be needing your hunters for the field work.”

Kang Hoon let out a dry, short laugh.

“You certainly don’t lack confidence. And I suppose your record justifies the ego.”

He paused to consider, then gave a sharp nod.

“Fine, have it your way. You have full jurisdiction to move as you please. Contact the operations room if you get into trouble. We should catch a meal later.”

—

“The two of you are about to enter a living nightmare,” I warned.

Jeong Oh-hoon let out a low groan at my declaration.

“You’re really talking it up, aren’t you?”

“Talking it up?” With a laugh as bright as sunlight hitting morning dew, I hauled a massive crate from the vehicle and dropped it.

The impact shook the ground with a dull, heavy thud.

“Please, have mercy,” Jeong Oh-hoon pleaded, realizing from the sound alone that the contents of the box were no joke.

“Who exactly are you planning to kill with this?”

Han Sang-ah peered into the crate and gave her immediate assessment.

“I knew when you said you’d prepared special equipment, it would be intense.”

“There’s nothing fancy about it. There are no shortcuts when it comes to true growth,” I replied.

The sweat spilled today is the blood saved tomorrow. It was a fundamental law. Jeong Oh-hoon looked like he’d been betrayed.

“Wait, so this isn’t any different from the drills you, me, and Han Sang-ah have already been doing?”

“What are you talking about? The scale and intensity of this are on a completely different plane.”

It is fundamentally difficult for a person to push themselves to their absolute breaking point alone. You require an external force to bridge that gap.

Even if Han Sang-ah and Jeong Oh-hoon tried to train each other, the moment one became exhausted, they wouldn’t have the mental or physical energy to properly push their partner.

Furthermore, neither of them could accurately gauge their own limits. They would either subconsciously take it easy and stagnate, or overreach and cause permanent physical damage.

“I will personally be opening the gates of hell for you,” I promised.

And if they managed to emerge from the other side, they would be fundamentally altered.

If they broke… then that was the end of the road for them.

“If you can’t survive this, prepare to be cut from the team like a failed reality show contestant. You can cry on your way back home.”

I began unpacking the gear. Jeong Oh-hoon’s jaw dropped.

“Is this a portable gym?”

An endless stream of dumbbells, barbells, heavy plates, and kettlebells emerged. Every single piece was custom-engineered.

“Is simple physical conditioning going to be enough?” Han Sang-ah questioned. “I mean, we’ll obviously use mana to move these weights, but still.”

I shook my head at her skepticism.

“It’s not just about the weight.”

I used the tip of my spear to etch complex, glowing diagrams into the reinforced ground.

“A Talisman Drawing Method?”

“Precisely, but this is a specialized variant.”

This specific array was refined solely for physical cultivation. It was exponentially more intricate and precise than the ones I had used previously. It took me nearly five hours of focused work to complete the talisman.

“When you circulate mana within this circle, the array applies physical pressure that scales proportionally to your mana output,” I explained.

To move these massive weights, you had to use mana. But the moment you used mana, your body became heavier. It created a perfect, punishing feedback loop.

If you tried to lift a 10kg weight using mana, the array would add nearly 9.5kg of phantom pressure.

A flawless chain reaction of resistance.

“Won’t the sheer pressure crush someone?”

“It’s a training tool, so it has internal limiters. If the user’s life signs reach a critical danger point, the array automatically ejects them.”

This was the secret talisman used in the training cloisters of the royal guard back in that world—the elite knights who stood at the sovereign’s side.

I briefly recalled the memories of almost being executed for treason when I first uncovered its secrets.

“You won’t die. You’ll just wish you had.”

“How do you even conceive of these things?” Han Sang-ah asked, genuinely perplexed.

I just smiled.

“I study the nature of mana, analyze its properties, and bend them to my will.”

There was no reason to give her the full history. I simply let her believe I was the architect. Han Sang-ah reached down and gripped a dumbbell labeled 150kg.

Her usually calm expression turned white in a fraction of a second.

“This… this is…”

Her arms shook violently as she fought to bring the weight up.

“It’s brutal, isn’t it?”

“It feels… like I’m being pulverized!”

She managed one shaky repetition before dropping the weight with a heavy clang, gasping for air.

She wasn’t one for hyperbole. If she said it felt like dying, it meant her body was screaming under the strain.

I handed a notebook to each of them.

“What’s this for?”

“Your morning itineraries.”

The instructions were customized for each of them, tailored to their specific thresholds and weaknesses.

“And what will you be doing?”

“I’ll be out in the field, neutralizing Erosion Zones and shattering Erosion Cores.”

I never intended to delegate the core destruction to them anyway. That was my responsibility.

“The mornings are for the field work, but what about our afternoons?”

“We’ll eat, let your mana reserves recover, and then you’ll spend the rest of the day sparring with me.”

Jeong Oh-hoon let out a long, weary sigh.

“You sound far too happy about that.”

“Seeing your enthusiasm warms my heart. Now, get to work.”

I left them to their torment and walked toward the tactical operations center inside the main building.

“Hunter Yoo Chan-seok?”

An operator stood up immediately as I entered.

“Correct. Yoo Chan-seok.”

“Ah, yes! Welcome. I’m Ha Tae-hyun, the Lead Operator for the Zanabi Cheorwon Branch.”

The team leader himself. I skipped the pleasantries and got straight to the data.

“What is the current count of confirmed Erosion Cores?”

“We have fifteen active sites, including the Hoe-yang and Pyeonggang sectors, and the Imnam Reservoir area.”

Fifteen? I was genuinely taken aback by the number.

“That’s significantly higher than I expected.”

“That count excludes Grade 3s and minor anomalies. The only good news is that we have no Grade 1s active at the moment.”

I clicked my tongue. Fifteen Grade 2 cores was still a nightmare scenario.

“Six of those emerged in just the last eight months, bringing the total to fifteen. The monsters tied to the Grade 2 zones are difficult enough, but the real issue has been the spillover from Jaurim Valley and the Samhyeol Cave.”

Creatures from Grade 1 zones often migrated through lower-tier Erosion Zones to reach the front. However, we had already neutralized Jaurim Valley.

“So the primary threat now is the Samhyeol Cave migration.”

And that particular core was likely flooding the region with undead under the dark influence of Gonzalok.

I had a nagging suspicion I knew exactly which Grade 1 core Sa Seung-hee would be sending us to next.

“Jaurim Valley was home to ghosts—powerful, individual entities. But the Samhyeol Cave denizens are a different breed of trouble; they’re much harder to contain.”

The Samhyeol undead weren’t individually at a Grade 1 power level. Instead, they constructed specialized totems and structures that provided massive buffs to other undead.

It was essentially a mobile fortress of augmentations. Furthermore, they possessed the ability to reassemble and resurrect undead that had been completely vaporized.

That explained the stalemate on the front line. Between the constant buffs and the endless revivals, the army was stuck in a war of attrition they couldn’t win.

“We’ve identified approximately three hundred Samhyeol-origin monsters currently active in our immediate sector.”

Even so, the situation had stabilized recently.

“We were barely clinging to our positions before, but if Hunter Lee Se-eun were still stationed here, we would have likely pushed the line back to Gosan-gun by now.”

I’d just have to fill that void myself.

“Understood. I’ll be relying on your team for real-time data.”

Once I had the tactical data synced to my phone, I gathered my gear.

“I don’t operate like the hunters you’re used to.”

A Grade 1 core required a coordinated raid team. But for Grade 2s? I could tear through them solo without breaking a sweat.

“I’ll head to the core, burn it down, and wait for the collapse. Simple.”

The complex gimmicks of Grade 2 zones didn’t bother me. I could bypass the mechanics, incinerate the heart of the zone, and move on.

From that day forward, Han Sang-ah and Jeong Oh-hoon labored through the morning schedules I had designed, followed by grueling sparring sessions with me in the heat of the afternoon.

As for me, I spent my mornings prowling the Erosion Zones, systematically obliterating every core and monster that crossed my path.