Chapter 53

Chapter 53
## Chapter 53: Dover Clash

Han Sang-ah stepped into the heart of Dover, finding herself face-to-face with the lineage of Dangun as they tore through the port facilities.

“So, you’re that spoiled brat from the Geumyang Group, aren’t you?”

The statement held truth, yet…

“Being a daughter already implies I’m a woman. Adding ‘bitch’ to the end is just redundant.”

She wouldn’t have minded being called the Geumyang Group’s bitch or even their daughter. But combining the two into “daughter bitch”? Where did they even find such a clunky insult?

Han Sang-ah unsheathed her blade. Five opponents stood before her, and none of them appeared to be amateurs. This promised to be a grueling encounter.

At least, that was her internal assessment. To be fair, the descendants of Dangun facing her were operating under the exact same assumption.

“…?”

However, less than half a minute into the engagement, Han Sang-ah felt a strange disconnect. Two of the men lunging at her had already lost their heads, their lifeblood spilling onto the pavement.

There was no way this skirmish should be progressing this effortlessly.

“W-what the hell are you supposed to be?”

The remaining descendants were visibly shaken. They had calculated that this fight would be balanced at best—or perhaps even skewed in their favor.

Instead, they were being systematically dismantled by a lone hunter. And it wasn’t even one of the heavy hitters they had prepared for, like Lee Se-eun or Yoo Chan-seok. It was Han Sang-ah—the woman widely considered overrated once you looked past her status as the Geumyang Group heiress.

“Han Sang-ah.”

She provided her name even though they hadn’t technically requested it, then blurred forward like a bolt of lightning toward the next opening. In that single burst of movement, another descendant’s head was sent spiraling into the sky.

The strike was clinical and precise. She possessed a level of velocity and raw force they couldn’t hope to parry, all while maintaining perfect mana efficiency.

Her grueling practice was bearing fruit. Han Sang-ah felt a flicker of genuine joy now that she had confirmation. Every hour she had sacrificed to training was finally manifesting in the real world.

She finished off the stragglers and paused to regulate her breathing.

“You’re overthinking things. Keep your mind on the blade when you’re in the middle of a scrap.”

Yoo Chan-seok’s voice drifted over from behind her.

“How long have you been lurking there?”

“I just arrived.”

Yoo Chan-seok wore a complicated look on his face.

“What’s that look for? You have a critique for my form?”

“No, you performed exceptionally. Don’t worry about me—I was just momentarily lost in thought. Besides, that’s the barrier over there, right?”

Off the coast of Dover, a shimmering, semi-transparent blue wall surged upward. Yoo Chan-seok observed the structure for a moment before letting out a weary breath.

“Comb-pattern pottery, I see.”

Han Sang-ah threw a bewildered glance his way. Comb-pattern pottery? Where had that come from?

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Looking at the barrier generator in operation, my assessment was simple: it was the magical equivalent of comb-pattern pottery. To put it bluntly, the craftsmanship was primitive.

It wasn’t that the shield lacked power. The issue was the inefficiency; they were compensating for a terrible cost-to-performance ratio by throwing massive amounts of energy at the problem.

And they were only at the clinical trial stage, not even full-scale production? It made my head ache.

Regrettably, high-level magic engineering wasn’t my specialty. To use a scientific analogy, I’m the driver who masters the race car, not the mechanic who designs the engine.

I can evaluate a machine’s output and tell you exactly how to push it to its limits in an instant. But taking it apart to redesign the internal components? That’s a completely different skillset.

“Regardless.”

We had managed to protect the generator. The offensive led by Kim Ji-hyun had effectively collapsed now that she was out of the picture.

The remaining Dangun descendants were in full retreat, pursued by the local Dover hunters and the military.

I chose not to join the chase. For the moment, the chaos was subsiding.

“Oh, you made it?”

Lee Se-eun was perched on a jagged slab of ruined concrete, a pipe held between her fingers. She inhaled deeply, exhaling a plume of smoke. As if timed to her breath, a massive exterior wall segment dangling from a nearby skyscraper finally gave way, crashing to the ground with a thunderous boom.

The area surrounding her was a graveyard of enemies.

“You certainly went all out on the cleanup.”

“If they had provided even a modicum of a challenge, I might have kept my cool.”

I could see her point. But that wasn’t the main issue…

I opened my mouth to continue, then hesitated. Damn. How do I even begin to explain the situation?

If I revealed the full extent of my knowledge, Lee Se-eun and Han Sang-ah would naturally ask the one question I couldn’t easily answer: “How could you possibly know that?” Then I’d be forced to explain the long, agonizing journey I took before returning to this version of Earth.

The explanation itself is simple enough. I could just say it.

‘The truth is, I was transported to another realm, saved it from destruction, and received Earth as a sort of prize. But Earth turned out to be a disaster, I lost my livelihood, and so I took up hunting.’

Who would believe such nonsense? Even if they pretended to listen, they’d probably just recommend me to a psychiatric ward. No sane person would buy it.

I had to think. Back in that other world, the priests used to spout all that cryptic oracle nonsense, right? Maybe I could take that garbage and give it a fresh coat of paint.

“While I was fighting Kim Ji-hyun, I was enveloped by a dark mist and heard a voice speaking to me.”

Lee Se-eun’s interest was piqued instantly.

“A voice? What did it tell you?”

Since I was making this up as I went, I had to scramble to add some flavor.

“Catastrophe is coming. From behind the curtain of shadow, know that we are waiting. He is draped in garments of sulfurous fire, clutching a chalice of black gold brimming with the juice of bitter wormwood…”

I spouted a stream of generic doomsday imagery. The goal was to suggest that there were far more dangerous entities pulling the strings behind the descendants of Dangun.

It seemed to land well enough. Religious frauds have been using this kind of talk to swindle people for centuries—it’s an effective style.

“It sounds like there’s more to those Dangun descendants than we thought.”

“We can’t just treat them like some fringe group of radicals.”

Luckily, Han Sang-ah and Lee Se-eun took the bait. Lee Se-eun went quiet for a moment, contemplating.

“I assumed we could just crush whatever was in front of us and call it a day. But it seems like the hive is tucked away inside the walls, and we’ve only seen a few drones.”

“Is there a plan for how to move forward?”

Lee Se-eun nodded in response to my query.

“The transfer market is opening soon.”

Ah, right—I’d forgotten about that. I nodded back. The hunter transfer window was approaching. But I wasn’t sure why she was bringing it up in this context.

Lee Se-eun looked at me pointedly.

“The transfer market is about more than just hunters changing teams.”

Representatives from the major hunter firms and influential figures all gather at the Association to trade information.

“It means we have a platform to warn people about the Dangun descendants.”

If a high-ranking hunter like Lee Se-eun raised the alarm, the rest of the community couldn’t simply ignore it.

For now, we’d wait and see. However, the thought of the transfer market…

It made me think of my former associates at Taebaek. If Yoon Sung-hyun tried to force my hand now, it would be messy. A quick search of my name would bring up every recent headline.

I’d become somewhat of a celebrity. Aside from the permanent A-listers, I was likely the fastest-growing name in the industry over the last few months.

“They’re probably going to give me a hard time.”

Yoon Sung-hyun’s thinly veiled threat of an invitation was still fresh in my mind. From what I’d gathered, it wasn’t just a personal quirk of his—it was the core of Taebaek’s aggressive corporate culture.

People like that don’t let a prize catch slip through their fingers. It’s bad for the brand.

“The transfer market doesn’t technically require every hunter to show up at the Association, of course. But as for Yoon Sung-hyun…”

Lee Se-eun tapped out her pipe and went on.

“He’s going to fly to England just to track you down.”

“My popularity is becoming a real burden.”

Han Sang-ah, who had been listening in, couldn’t help but retort.

“Hunter Yoon Sung-hyun is a married man. To a woman, no less.”

I put on a look of mock devastation at her comment.

“You’re kidding. I was head over heels for him the moment we met!”

Han Sang-ah looked toward Lee Se-eun, who gave a small, affirming nod. Han Sang-ah let out a soft sigh. She realized she’d been tricked again.

“It’s alright. Besides, you aren’t the type to actually con people.”

Han Sang-ah’s posture slumped even further at Lee Se-eun’s attempt at “reassurance.” It wasn’t exactly comforting.

“You’re not the sort of person who gets taken advantage of wherever they go.”

Han Sang-ah wasn’t naive or easily manipulated.

If someone came to her with a sob story, begging her to co-sign a loan? She’d calmly walk them through the legal steps of filing for bankruptcy. If someone tried to recruit her into a pyramid scheme? She’d tear their business model apart and send them packing.

Me? I’d just tell them to get lost.

“Yoon Sung-hyun won’t be traveling solo. And having Zanabi start a feud with Taebaek doesn’t help anyone right now.”

This was a conflict I had to manage on my own. I responded to Lee Se-eun’s cautionary words.

“Don’t worry about it. This is my cross to bear.”

Han Sang-ah spoke up.

“If things get truly bad, we could always have the Geumyang Group put some pressure on them.”

I let out a short laugh at the suggestion.

“Look, does the Geumyang Group not rely on the cooperation of hunters?”

Even the central government of Korea has to tread carefully around the big three hunter firms: Zanabi, Taebaek, and Mugunghwa.

No matter how powerful Geumyang was as a conglomerate, they weren’t going to pick a fight with a titan like Taebaek. Not even for a relative of the owner like Han Sang-ah.

“I’ll take care of it. Just keep your focus on the other objectives.”

Them getting involved in my beef with Taebaek offered no benefits. Demanding favors based on “friendship” alone? That’s just being a bully.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Inside a chamber heavy with crimson drapes, the scent of thick incense cloyed the air. A man wearing a vivid red shirt and black trousers set down the violin he had been playing.

“Yoon Sung-hyun. I believe you have something to tell me.”

“…I am deeply sorry.”

The man carefully placed the instrument into its velvet-lined case, then made a slight flicking motion with his finger toward the bowing Yoon Sung-hyun.

A sharp, strangled gasp erupted from Yoon Sung-hyun as his massive body was lifted off the ground by an unseen force.

“I didn’t bring you here to listen to apologies.”

His voice remained gentle, though his actions were anything but.

“Forgive me… but the target became much more prominent than we anticipated.”

A sickening crack echoed through the room as Yoon Sung-hyun’s thigh buckled as if struck by a hidden spike. His eyes bulged with pain, though he managed to suppress a scream.

“I never asked for your excuses.”

You made a promise? You keep it. He had failed to do so.

“Sung-hyun. If you can’t manage a simple task like this, what does that say about Taebaek? What does it say about me, the man who owns Taebaek?”

The man withdrew his power. Yoon Sung-hyun collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

“I’m done with the excuses. Bring me a result. If he refuses to join Taebaek willingly, then ensure he joins us by force.”

That was the end of the conversation. With a casual wave of his hand, Yoon Sung-hyun was hurled toward the exit like a discarded doll. The door swung open on its own; he tumbled through the threshold and skidded across the hallway floor.

A resounding thud followed as the door slammed shut.

“Are you… okay?”

The hunter stationed outside as a guard asked the question, but Yoon Sung-hyun only offered a low grunt as he pushed himself up.

“Get lost.”

Spatting out the command, he dragged his numb, unresponsive leg behind him and walked away. The head of Taebaek—the true owner—was beyond furious. If he failed again, it wouldn’t just end with a lecture.

“That absolute bastard.”

He had to secure Yoo Chan-seok in England during the upcoming transfer season. There was no other option.