Chapter 193
Chapter 193
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 193
Chapter Title: 89. Forbidden Record (3)
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When I had no choice but to leave the battlefield, the greatest regret wasn't a stable future, a position others admired, or popular fame.
Ever since I lost my family to monsters, my life's purpose had been singular.
To eradicate monsters from this world.
Nothing else held any meaning.
The world had changed.
We, who had once staked our lives on the front lines, had devolved into backroom old-timers killing time in the rear, and government support had been slashed dramatically.
My seniors, juniors, and peers traded their disheveled combat gear for crisp suits, swapping the stench of corpses and gunpowder on the front lines for air-conditioned luxury offices.
In that situation, stubbornly clinging to the war changed nothing.
I tried everything to get back to the battlefield, but all that came back were offers for instructor roles or public office—paths I didn't want. If I couldn't stand on the battlefield, I'd rather go into seclusion.
If I couldn't kill monsters, dying to one at the end wouldn't be so bad.
With those thoughts, I recalled the path of the doomsayer and began preparing for retirement.
More than seven years passed like that.
The past, and the me from back then, had changed so much that others wouldn't recognize us—and I felt the change myself. But one thing hadn't changed.
My hatred for monsters.
Standing in the ruined battlefield, any feelings or disappointment toward Kim Daram became irrelevant. She was a fine tool.
"There's a Handman type inside that factory apartment. The vanguard group has cleared out most of the minions."
No, the finest tool.
"Cover me from here."
"Copy."
"Wish we had a backup sniper."
I glanced at Kim Daram's eyepatch.
Kim Daram stared at me steadily with her remaining eye.
"I don't miss."
"I believe you."
Click-
Gripping the domestically-made 12-gauge automatic shotgun, I charged into the abandoned factory.
Traces of battle were scattered everywhere.
The Legion faction hunters had done the groundwork before we arrived.
Someone must have died recently—fresh bloodstains, not yet turned black, splattered the floor.
Groundwork meant clearing the minions guarding a monster's lair, reshaping the terrain to favor humans, and waiting for the executioners to finish off the main monster.
Rookies or inexperienced hunters usually handled groundwork; soldiers stepped in if no hunters were available.
Just because you weren't facing the main monster didn't make it less dangerous.
Like the time I entered the ruins next to Sejong City with the King—groundwork could be riskier than fighting the monster itself, and it happened often.
Thud- Thud- Thud-
Shockwaves pulsed from beyond the wall.
The monster had detected the intrusion into its territory and the slaughter of its minions, entering combat mode against the hostile force.
No angles to shoot from here.
We had to round the corner. Our target, the small-type Handman, had few in number but deadly minions.
They were spindle-shaped flyers with garish colors, like human drones, that dive-bombed and self-destructed.
Clocking 60 km/h, not bullet-fast, but up close, you'd take hits inevitably.
The blood on the floor was probably from that.
"Can you take out the wall?"
"Should be some C4 left."
"Still got C4, huh."
"The munitions factory in Gyeongnam ran until a year ago. It's overrun now, though."
An nameless hunter approached and handed me a hefty plastic explosive.
I shook my head and pointed at the wall.
"Leg's bothering me. Mind sticking it on?"
Without a word, he dashed 20 meters, planted the C4, and hustled back.
"Detonate."
The instant I signaled, a deafening roar and blast obliterated the wall between us and the monster.
BOOM-
Through the choking dust, a stark black-and-white flash like lightning revealed the monster—a hulking, human-like figure with a limp, severed-looking head standing motionless.
This was the Handman type.
A quasi-divine species discovered relatively recently among small-types.
True to the "Professor's Law"—the newer the monster, the trickier—it was a real pain.
"Distance about 80 meters. Moving in."
I signaled over the comms and limped slowly toward it.
Its dangling head shook, jaws gaping wide. The moment crimson light gleamed inside...
BANG!
A heavy gunshot echoed from behind.
Thud!
The monster pulsed a shockwave, deploying its reflection field.
Bullets ricocheting sounded from the rear.
"Kim Daram."
I checked on my junior.
Normally, I'd say nothing, but she'd lost an eye.
This shot could reflect back fatally—I needed to confirm she was alive.
"Not dead."
"Good."
Kim Daram, through and through.
Perfect intimidation even with one eye. The monster's field had diverted the energy for its killing beam, snuffing the red glow in its maw.
Limping steadily toward it.
Handman's reflection field minimum range: 12 meters.
Far to go, but no need to rush.
Slow and cautious was textbook against Handmen.
Sure enough, from the ruins, garish spindle-flyers erupted like startled pigeons into the air.
"Need support fire?"
Kim Daram asked.
"No, watch the main body."
Click-
Not her sniper rifle, but my shotgun chambered with a satisfying heft as I advanced slowly.
Here they came.
Diving at me like hawks.
I fired.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
My gun roared more like a cannon, spraying a radial barrage. Minions fell like autumn leaves within it.
That's why I chose the shotgun.
BOOM!
Click-
Firing and reloading, my limping steps never faltered.
My gaze refixed on the monster amid the chaos.
Its maw glowed red again.
No need to call it.
BANG!
A gust whistled past my ear.
The monster shockwaved another field.
The red light faded once more.
Distance now about 40 meters.
Getting dicey, but I quickened my pace.
Intimidation wears off after the third try.
Closing in, dozens more minions burst from the floor. I spoke into comms.
"You did groundwork, right?"
Kim Daram sighed over the line.
"More or less."
More or less, huh.
Old-school hunters had been declining for nearly a decade.
No proper pay or maintenance in this field—talent doesn't stick around.
Checked my shotgun mag.
Not many rounds left.
Probably short by the time I reached it.
Suppressing ammo-conservation OCD, I carefully aimed at the incoming colorful deaths.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Another barrage.
Always the same—facing swarm minions, that mounting pressure as shells dwindle.
Two left.
BOOM!
One.
"Minion behind you!"
A third voice over comms—the C4 guy.
I knew.
Knew there was just one.
Wasted a precious shotgun shell on a single minion? No thanks.
"......"
Drew my axe.
Shing-
Hurled it at the charging flyer.
Crack!
It smashed into the floor, disintegrating into particles.
"What the—?!"
The man's exclamation, ignored.
The monster's maw flickered again.
Short into comms:
"My turn this time."
Swapped shotgun for pistol, aimed just beside its head.
Full auto.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
It held out until the fourth—then shockwave and field.
A dimensional rift cracked open before me, a chill whisper grazing my ear.
Whoosh-
My bullet grazed my hair.
"Nice shot."
Kim Daram's dry praise as I stepped forward.
No more minions.
We stared each other down.
It swung its long arms—that was it.
I had guns; it had no defenses left.
A fish on the slab.
A perverse thrill from its futile swings as I aimed my shotgun.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Fired until it crumpled, shattered, pulverized.
Thud!
Finally down.
Writhing like a bug, then still—particles reforming. Processed.
Silent comms erupted with other hunters.
"Insane. Groundwork or not, two people taking a Handman?"
"Kim Team Leader's crazy, but that guy? Limps 80 meters and kills it?"
"Saw him take over when her intimidation failed?"
"......Not human."
Mostly worthless chatter, but one line I agreed with.
What we do can't be done with a human heart.
Only a heart seething with hate could pull this madness.
"Good work."
Kim Daram offered a towel and drink.
I wiped my face lightly and drank.
"Where to next?"
"I'll brief en route."
Boarding the armored vehicle, gazes had shifted.
Most admiration and awe, some challenging glares—especially from the unimpressive types.
The troublemakers Kim Daram mentioned?
Settled in comfortably, relaxing muscles, listening to the next briefing.
"Necromancer type this time. Few zombies, luckily, but mutation nests around it."
"What kind."
"Crested Honey Buzzards."
"Haven't seen those even in China."
"Put sharpshooters on mutation duty. We just focus on the Necromancer."
"Got it."
The vehicle halted.
A traditional market unfolded before us, arcade collapsed.
Not a tough hunt.
Kim Daram covers, I cover her cover, close in and execute.
The outdated, weak Necromancer fell in under eight minutes.
Thud!
I gazed indifferently at it dissolving into particles on the ground.
Easy.
Simple.
But solo? Not so much.
Every time the monster tried to exclude me, Kim Daram forced its field, and I slipped in for the kill.
Basic tactic, but few could execute it.
Countless hunters ate their own bullets from reflections or got mangled up close.
No one matched our score in these scripted fights.
"Good work."
Kim Daram with towel and drink.
"The buzzards?"
"Who knows. Out hunting maybe."
"Move out."
No need for much talk between us.
We both knew.
Our synergy hadn't changed much from the past.
This battlefield was a yawn compared to China.
Nearly 80 support hunters doing groundwork everywhere—no zealots or rebels. Just show up and kill monsters.
Crack!
Another one.
BOOM!
One more.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-BANG!
Another.
"......"
This wasn't even combat.
Hunting—loose safari-style.
"Good work."
Every kill, Kim Daram with towel and water.
Partly consideration, but tradition from pre-mutation factor ID days—preventing issues from monster dust on skin.
Some dismiss it as superstition now, but we proud academy hunters uphold our school's traditions.
In that, Kim Daram and I were still academy students, academy hunters.
"Where next?"
Carefully wiping my sullied axe on soft cloth, I asked Kim Daram. She replied with a weary expression.
"Can we rest a bit?"
"Rest in the vehicle. What, stamina dropping?"
"Age catches up."
"I'm older than you."
"Ten minutes."
"Five."
For a split second, my old Professor chill slipped out.
Kim Daram's one eye widened at me.
"Senior......"
"Something to say?"
"Senior hasn't changed a bit."
"......Me?"
I glared coldly; she looked away.
Guilt from her betrayal, or muscle memory from obeying her tool self? Didn't matter.
Either way, it was fine.
I got my thrill killing monsters.
My reason to live.
Crack-
Another met my axe, folding like a dead tree in its end.
Beyond particles, an ordinary face gawked unsteadily.
Awe, reverence, even fear.
"M-Monster."
"Twelve a day? Not Awakened—an old-school Ordinary doing that?"
"That the guy? The one Kim Pilseong swore to catch?"
"Professor."
And murmurs.
Ignoring the familiar tune rippling around, approached Kim Daram.
"Good work."
She handed towel and water.
I soaked the towel, wiped my face.
Glanced back.
The monster scattered into gleaming particles.
Watching that beauty, I was certain.
"......"
Yes.
I still longed for the battlefield.