Beast Hunt - Raid
In online games, raids are a staple endgame content that ignites players' competitive spirits—a grueling task. Typically, the goal is for multiple players to pool their strength and wits to defeat a powerful boss, earning special rewards in return. Here, a boss refers to exceptional monsters among their kind, trials imposed on players, prepared to evoke despair and triumph.
Raid. In the post-Gate world, a raid means mobilizing national forces to hunt special monsters. If needed, it even deploys armored or air units, which are rarely used due to scarce resources. It could be called a fight for national survival... but naturally, raids vary in scale. This "Tiger Raid" was declared a raid not because the target was an ordinary monster, but industry evaluations deemed its direct threat level low by raid standards.
Raids are generally triggered against formidable, terrifying boss-grade monsters—that's the norm. But a monster's strength doesn't always equate to danger to humanity. Long-term research has shown many powerful beasts live quietly in remote mountains or ocean depths. From humanity's perspective as Earth's former rulers, all must eventually be exterminated, but that's impossible in our current state. Assessing threat levels and prioritizing is only natural.
Thus, raids are determined not by a monster's "strength," but its "threat level." Take the "Corpse Licker," for example. It sparked a plague that ravaged the continent's south, yet the creature itself merely licked corpses—a peculiar beast that neither hunted nor harmed humans. It licked bodies but didn't turn people into them, an odd monster that birthed a historic catastrophe. Nations now panic at the mere "C" in its name. Korea has run two "Corpse Licker" raids in the past. But that's an outlier; most raids target humanity-threatening behemoths.
This "Tiger Raid" felt off in many ways. Bounties usually precede raids, claimed by hunters before escalation. This skipped that entirely. Sure, it devoured a few hunting teams, including one with an A-rank, but was that raid-worthy? Heads tilted. Frankly, for a single awakened tiger, commissioning a major guild would be more socially and cost-effective.
Yet few dwelled on such doubts. Most saw it as a rare raid—blatantly low-tier, safe—to fulfill national service quotas and pad resumes. That lax vibe among participants was sealed by an event.
The apex predators, ultimate weapons: S-rank hunters declaring participation. Not one, but two. The raid was already a success. That complacency flowed among the raiders.
Monsters generally don't fear humans. They fear only overwhelming mana. No reason to clash unless intruders invade their turf—they fight without hesitation. When hungry and prey scarce, humans become a bothersome yet viable hunt. That's humanity's place to monsters.
Thus, "tracking" isn't vital for hunting monsters. In game terms, nearly all are aggro mobs. Wander, and they come; hunters dispatch them. Unless repelling to show dominance, hunting is less "hunting" and more "being hunted"—by stronger prey.
Tracking traces and footprints is alien to hunters. Hence, Earth-native awakened beasts—knowing human fear and might—became tricky foes. Despite power, they know humans can overpower them anytime. Retreating despite strength makes awakened beasts far more tenacious and dangerous than peers.
That's the official reason for massive manpower in this "Tiger Raid."
'Ghost' Park Eun-hyeon calmed his excitement listening to the TV's bright voice. The anchor's precise diction pierced his ears, searing into his mind.
Ecstasy, no matter how often heard. He loved news. Broadcasters spew info without care who uses it—they're just fodder-chompers.
"Makes life easy for guys like me."
Surface-level intel sufficed.
"Perfect."
He smacked his lips at the screen. A mosaic-free couple: the man irrelevant; only the woman mattered. Her deep hunger stirred him eternally—golden sun-kissed glow, supreme bitch body screaming perfection, icy face begging ruin.
"Yeah..."
A year ago, first sight kept him hard, wrecking tools. Instinct screamed: perfect match. She was light, he darkness—devouring, repelling, incomplete without each other. Ultimate synergy.
That pesky tagalong blocked chances: some cousin-sister, mere A-rank. Crushable, but her ability mirrored her sibling's—tricky solo. Killing Ha Yeon-ah? No, never his goal.
Then, the bitch detached. Patience pays, they say. Heaven still favored him.
Another obstacle: new S-rank. So what? Not Jeong Beom-ho. Outdated physical enhancer—S or not, no threat. E-to-S hack with zero real hunts, a cripple. Monster scraps don't prep for human fights. Brute strength doesn't make true S-rank; that's arrogance, pitiful skill.
Waste to worry.
"Huuuah."
Deep satisfaction shuddered through him. Topple that sun, dye it his black. Black sun—viscous light, beauty unseen. What bliss?
This raid's method was straightforward: overwhelm with massive manpower and top hunters for flawless success. Echoing old herd hunts.
Earth-awakened, not otherworld—riskier, but Earth methods work. Too tough for teams/guilds? At raid scale, those factors flip positive.
Vast encirclement: beasts could tear through, but instinct dodges human waves over smashing. Proven herding viable.
Herded prey meets prepared doom in the worst spot. Casualties inevitable—but not this time.
No A-rank teams at the end. Waiting: humanity's spear and shield, monster in human skin. S-rank hunters.