Chapter 78

Chapter 78
## Chapter 78

### Budget Crunch and Solo Training

—

It has been roughly a fortnight since I began making waves through various media outlets and radio programs.

Han Sang-ah successfully pulled together approximately 45 billion won. On paper, it’s a staggering amount of capital—more than enough to construct several skyscrapers without breaking a sweat. However, once the shares were distributed among the participating hunters, essential combat supplies were purchased, and administrative staff were brought on board to manage the logistics… well, the final tally wasn’t quite as impressive as it looked. We had secured just enough to keep the operation afloat.

“Surprisingly, Mr. Jeong ended up being a significant asset,” Han Sang-ah noted.

“Surprisingly? Hey now, Chan-seok. Don’t do me like that,” Jeong O-hun chimed in.

Beyond the financial backing, intelligence provided by Jeong O-hun added a specific necessity to our inventory: specialized breathing masks crafted from the fibers of sulfur reeds.

“I looked into it, and these sulfur reeds are indigenous to the Erosion Zone located on New Britain Island within Papua New Guinea,” I explained.

The plants are notorious for their sharp, sulfurous odor. If anyone manipulates mana in their vicinity, the floral buds trigger a volatile reaction, exploding and causing localized damage.

“What’s the availability? Can we actually procure them in bulk?” I asked.

Han Sang-ah gave a slight nod in response to my inquiry.

“If we exert enough pressure, yes. However…” She paused, surveying the various maps and data sheets tacked to the wall. “I’d estimate we can secure about 60% of what we need at most. The volume of applicants is just too high.”

This was in reference to the nearly 800 hunters who had registered for the Joun Valley raid and met the necessary qualifications to participate.

“I never anticipated this level of interest,” I remarked.

Jeong O-hun flashed a smirk at my observation. “No need for the false modesty, superstar.”

“Get lost.”

Superstar? Give me a break.

“The news cycle is nothing but you. You’ve got dedicated haters and a massive fan base all at once,” he continued. “Economic analysts on every major network are already calculating the potential financial windfall for Korea if we successfully clear Joun Valley.”

This wasn’t like some rank-1 Erosion Core tucked away in a remote corner of Russia. Changchun is a neighboring region; neutralizing even a single rank-1 core there would have a massive positive ripple effect on the Korean economy.

“Even if this goes well, there is still that other rank-1 core in North Korea to deal with. Plus, the Undying Legion is a major concern,” I added.

The Legion consists of undead entities originating from the Gunsalok region near Beijing. Usually, they remain dormant unless provoked by intruders. However, recent intelligence suggesting sightings near Jilin Province was deeply concerning.

“We have the Talisman Drawing Method at our disposal,” someone suggested.

“That won’t provide full purification. It will only serve to marginally weaken them,” I countered.

There is a staggering amount of data regarding the Gunsalok Undying Legion. In fact, the sheer volume is the problem—it’s nearly impossible to distinguish credible intelligence from baseless rumors.

“Did you consult Owner Sa Seung-hee about this?”

I nodded at Han Sang-ah’s question. “I did, but she didn’t have much to offer.”

The reason was straightforward: no hunter has ever entered Beijing’s Gunsalok and returned to tell the tale. Even professional operators can’t maintain communication links in that zone—some form of interference completely blocks all signals.

“What about the online community boards?”

“Complete fabrications.”

If we wanted genuine intelligence on the Undying Legion, there was only one path: experiencing a confrontation firsthand.

“There is a silver lining, I suppose. Gunsalok is an Erosion Core we will eventually have to confront anyway.”

This upcoming raid would provide a perfect opportunity to indirectly measure the true capabilities of the Undying Legion.

“The talismans, then.”

Drawing just a handful wouldn’t be enough for the small army of hunters descending on Joun Valley. Just the thought of mass-producing dozens of them left me feeling exhausted.

“At least they don’t impact the budget,” Han Sang-ah noted with a hint of irony.

I shot her a weary look. “And what about the cost of my manual labor?”

“That’s excluded from the balance sheet. But couldn’t those same talismans be used to counter the Joun Valley mist?”

I paused to consider the mechanics before answering. “I’m not entirely sure of the exact biological or magical process the mist uses to affect people.” We could scout it out once we arrived, but… “Waiting to start the talismans on-site would be far too late.”

With dozens of seals to prepare, I didn’t have time to sit around. I gripped my spear and addressed Han Sang-ah and Jeong O-hun.

“The paperwork continues, but training takes priority.”

“Training? You mean getting pulverized by you,” Jeong O-hun muttered, though he dutifully grabbed his rifle.

And so, we dedicated our time to rigorous preparation.

“Is it dinner time already?”

After finishing the session, I left Jeong O-hun collapsed on the floor like a ragdoll and checked my watch. Following a quick meal, I retreated to my private quarters within the association facility.

“…”

I summoned the Paradox Flame in my palm, watching the flickering dark fire. While it appears to be a flame, it is far from a typical combustion. This power consumes abstract concepts—it functions like a curse to its targets, yet it is not a curse itself. It doesn’t burn physical matter directly, so it isn’t ‘destruction’ in the traditional sense, but the consequences are catastrophic. Incinerating the abstract inevitably causes the physical reality to warp and collapse.

“The heirs of Dangun are apparently desperate for this,” I mused.

They don’t truly comprehend the nature of this power; they simply covet the results. But they aren’t the only ones. Fools everywhere salivate over any display of overwhelming strength. And those same idiots would lose their minds if they saw this.

A terrifying harbinger of the end was coiling in my hand. It was the very reason I had used it to seal the doom of another world before making my way back to Earth.

“If I lose my grip on it…”

It would tear through the fabric of time and space, consume the seven fundamental emotions and six human desires, and reduce both logic and feeling to cinders. In a reality where concepts are burned away, nothing is left behind. Among all the variations of the apocalypse, this is the most absolute.

The Paradox Flame in my hand began to surge violently. I pushed the energy to its absolute threshold—simultaneously feeding its power and forcing it into a tight, controlled shape. Once compressed to the size of a small bead, the black fire seethed with a chaotic, destructive energy. Maintaining this level of concentration was grueling; sweat dripped from my chin, and the capillaries in my eyes began to surface.

I moved the tiny spark toward my desk. Immediately, the object lost its definition—like a watercolor painting dissolving in a splash of water, the desk’s form bled into the air around it, becoming a blurred, unrecognizable shape. The desk technically still existed; I had incinerated its *concept of form*, not its physical existence. However, no one would be able to recognize it as a piece of furniture ever again.

“My head is throbbing.”

I extinguished the Paradox Flame and pressed my palms to my temples. A nosebleed started, which I quickly plugged with tissues. My mind felt as dry as a wasteland. While ‘form-burning’ was possible in theory, I wasn’t nearly efficient enough to use it in the heat of battle. Even ‘mind-burning’ was too unreliable for active combat. I stood up, noted the time, and made my way toward the training hall.

The room was draped in shadow, the lights left off.

“Let’s get to work.”

My daylight hours were consumed by training Jeong O-hun and Han Sang-ah—there was barely a moment for my own growth. I filled eight glasses with water and placed them in a perfect octagon on the floor, taking my place at the center.

“Hoo.”

Clutching my spear, I began to move with slow, deliberate precision. Faint blue streaks of energy followed the path of the spearhead through the air. As the trails carved through the space, my movements accelerated. The resulting shockwaves caused the water in the glasses to churn violently. Despite the turbulence, the glasses remained perfectly still, and not a single drop crossed the rims.

I drove the spear downward—the water surged upward in response. The spear and its energy trails created a symphony of overlapping shockwaves. The water began to dance in the air, caught on the invisible waves of force. Dozens of droplets were flung across the circle, landing perfectly inside different glasses from where they started.

Not a single drop touched the floor.

Using mana would have made this trivial—even Han Sang-ah could have managed it. But I only utilized mana for the energy trails. Everything else was the result of pure physical technique and kinetic force. Very few individuals could replicate this without heavy mana reinforcement.

“Keep pushing.”

There was still a long path ahead and distant milestones to reach. I placed a large basin of water on the floor and slowly lowered the tip of my spear into it. As the blade made contact, the water began to boil with incredible intensity. I watched it for a long moment before withdrawing the weapon.

“Damn it. Not quite there.”

But the objective wasn’t simply to boil the water. My goal was to vibrate the basin with such precise mana that the water would instantly atomize into a fine mist—much like an ultrasonic device. At the moment, I was only producing bubbles. It was useless for my purposes.

“I’ll get it eventually.”

I returned to the grind. With a sharp stomp, the water erupted upward. Through a series of swings and trails, the water snaked through the air, dividing and reuniting in a continuous, fluid motion.

“I managed thirty minutes last time. I have to break that record now.”

The task was to keep the floating water suspended and controlled for over half an hour without a spill.

“…”

My senses were locked onto the swirling streams as I manipulated the spear. I couldn’t afford a single lapse in focus. I constantly drill the others on mastering their instincts—it would be a disgrace if I couldn’t hold myself to the same standard.

Time passed, measured only by the steady flow of my internal mana.

“Ugh… hhh…”

The moment I stopped, the water lost its support and splashed everywhere.

I started again.

The mental strain of tracking every droplet was exhausting, and my muscles were beginning to protest the constant, micro-adjustments. Finally, my body locked up; I dropped the spear and slumped to the floor. The spilled water mixed with the heavy sweat coating my skin.

“Pfft.”

I spat out a mouthful of water and ignited the Paradox Flame once more, using its unique properties to burn away my physical fatigue and lingering lethargy.

“How is it 5 a.m. already?”

Time seemed to crawl during the group sessions, yet it vanished during my solo practice.

The world I had saved previously was fundamentally different from Earth. There, a single, overwhelming entity represented the start and end of the threat—it was something that could be handled alone. Earth was a different story. One would have to systematically clear every Erosion Core across the entire planet.

“I can’t do this by myself.”

I burned away the last of my exhaustion. I headed back to the dorms for a single hour of sleep—the residual mental fatigue would clear up by the time I woke.