Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 48
Chapter Title: Moving (4)
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When the Awakened first appeared, there was a fierce debate about their true nature.
The initial consensus was outright denial.
They argued that these Awakened—back then called patients of the "occipital lobe hypergrowth receptor syndrome"—were a previously undocumented form of human mutation, extremely dangerous beings that needed to be isolated from the world.
As always, the world runs on money and efficiency, and theories are merely handmaidens to that "smooth flow."
Hunters from our old era had long faced heavy criticism.
Compared to trained soldiers, they weren't all that different, yet they wore the hunter label, drew higher pay, and claimed prime positions.
In rich countries like Korea, which sucked up all the good stuff from their neighbors, hunter intel was top secret, identities hidden tight. But in America, pro hunters openly branded themselves, hunting mutations and monsters in public to boost their fame, fueling psychological resentment among soldiers.
The truth is, being a hunter isn't easy.
Countless hunters died on the front lines.
From the government's view, the high cost wasn't about pay scales—it was the insane loss rates.
Even in my own 13th class, out of 1,200 recruits, only about 300 survived.
I suddenly recalled words from my mentor, a first-gen hunter who insisted on calling me "Professor"—a title way above my pay grade.
"Park Gyu. If there were just a hundred guys like you in this world, we wouldn't have been shoved into the back room."
Then the concept of "new humanity" exploded onto the scene.
And that new humanity? The Awakened.
Led by the media, movements sprang up defending the Awakened everywhere. Before long, they were elevated as superior replacements for us old-era hunters.
The biggest push came from my classmates.
Kang Hanmin and Na Hye-won.
In the depths of a hopeless war, two of them awakened simultaneously.
Their awakenings unfolded with a grandeur like gods descending to save the world themselves.
In that divine coronation, I was a nobody.
Soon, they became the mainstay of the monster front lines, while we old-era hunters, as my mentor said, got pushed to the sidelines, reduced to irrelevant bystanders.
Just look at Baek Seung-hyeon to see the fate of old-school hunters who couldn't save up.
Defender's case is even worse.
He was betrayed by the era itself.
17th class? 18th? Judging by our age gap, it had to be around there.
He enlisted as an old-era hunter right in the transition to the Awakened system, with no clue. Experienced hell in China and North Korea, then returned to Korea—a cursed batch.
"Hoo..."
Even on a downhill slope, sprinting full-tilt while carrying a corpse is no joke.
Especially while staying alert for hidden traps and soldier patrols.
"What do we do, bro?"
Even now, the Defender siblings' voices crackled over the radio.
"Quiet. Let's try that first."
"That?"
"Yeah."
What was he planning?
No way it's a honey trap.
Not my style anyway.
"Even Awakened are just regular humans once you breach their reflex field range."
"Not true."
I cut in.
"They'll have at least one or two defensive grapples."
"SKELTON?"
The siblings asked in unison.
"Wait as long as you can. Don't fight. Stall. I'm on my way."
"SKELTON. Father's body?"
"I'll grab it too. Don't worry."
"No, SKELTON."
Defender's voice grew louder.
He must've pulled the mic close.
His urgent whisper came through clear in my ear.
"Just go. Forget the body."
"Just go?"
"You came for us. That's enough—I'm grateful. You've let us feel some warmth in this godforsaken era. Sorry if I came on strong earlier."
This guy.
Who knew he could be this endearing?
Cuter than his sister, even.
"We'll handle it here. Opponent's an Awakened. Don't want to drag you in."
Then, a voice shouted from afar through the mic.
"Hey, siblings! Don't worry! We won't harm you. We're doves of peace and harmony."
Probably the fanatic who ambushed the Defender siblings.
Manryu Gwijong Cult.
I spent my last days in China wiping out trash like these.
Chinese imagination shines in Journey to the West or Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but even they couldn't dream up humans and monsters swarming the capital together.
Over 100 million fanatics vanished with founder Ma Won-gap, only for new ones to sprout like poisonous mushrooms, preaching death alongside monsters.
Monsters didn't ally with them—they just ignored them. But when humans and monsters hit our lines together, options were slim.
"Stay put."
I said one last time.
"I've got a plan."
"A plan?"
"Yeah. Just buy time."
"I'll try."
Defender's sister replied.
Dajeong, was it?
Her innocent voice came through the mic.
"Hey, our engine broke down~."
Texts to me, sweet talk to fanatics.
While she stalled, I grilled Defender on details.
Enemy weapons, numbers, Awakened intel.
One thing especially bugged me.
"How's the pulse feel?"
"SKELTON. You were a hunter too?"
"Same here. Answer."
"Upward pulse. Like it resonates from above."
"Size?"
"Not huge."
"Means at least level 5."
"Could be holding back."
Awakened powers vary wildly, even among themselves.
Some, like my classmates Kang Hanmin and Na Hye-won, were godlike saviors just by showing up. Others were rookies posturing over the capsule I brought—dime a dozen.
Awakened levels follow strict criteria, unlike our old hunter ranks. Like:
Recognizing otherworldly power.
Touching it.
Using it limitedly.
Using it freely.
Using ample power freely.
They test against benchmarks to assign levels.
"Sisters! Sisters!"
There he was.
The Awakened Defender mentioned.
Blasphemously, dressed as a priest.
Behind him, five men and women stood like a screen, armed with baseball bats and ropes.
No guns.
Not needed, probably.
Their gear screamed capture over kill.
Perfect timing.
"Oh, sisters. Seems like someone else in the truck. Why won't they come out?"
The Awakened gestured, and his followers advanced with bats.
Defender kicked open the door, gun raised.
Fanatics recoiled in fear, but the Awakened stayed cool before the barrel.
"Well."
He smiled leisurely, invoking his divine right.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
This guy's at least level 5.
Generating monster-like shockwaves called pulses.
"Another lost soul gripped by prejudice."
The pulse overwhelmed the siblings.
"I-is that even human?"
Sister's reaction was the most natural for any normal person.
Awakened powers don't look human.
Fine for her, but why's Defender spooked?
He fought in China—should've handled Awakened.
Unless the rumors were true.
That cursed class got no real training, treated as disposable.
"S-SKELTON."
Defender's voice trembled, uncharacteristic.
"Run. No need for you to die too."
Appreciated.
Truly.
Caring about a worthless guy like me.
But Defender.
That fanatic's pulse...
"..."
Compared to the pulses my dear comrades unleashed, it's pathetic.
"Lower the gun. Bullets don't work on me."
I checked their armament again.
No other weapons on the man.
Same for his unnecessarily kind-eyed followers.
"I've been chosen by God. You might be too—reach my exalted state."
"Defender."
I dropped the stretcher, keyed the radio.
He shut the door, replied.
"Yeah."
"Ever killed an Awakened?"
"Processed one with reflex ammo once."
"Nope. Monsters?"
"Hunter gear and fire support..."
"Good. Get your sister inside."
"L-leave you alone?"
Ping-grrr.
My ever-idle pistol spun on my finger.
"Watch close."
"Huh?"
"Might help."
Hunter grads get call signs—nicknames.
Not self-picked or single-instructor decided.
Instructors deliberate, assigning true names fitting the grad.
My "Professor" was unanimous.
Probably my flawless technique.
Many hunters learned from me, mimicked me.
Awakened era ended my lessons, but now, after ages, I'd teach another young hunter.
"Lower the gun."
I strode up fast, pistol aimed.
His minions stirred, but he stayed calm.
Boom!
Pulse erupted near his heart.
"Warning."
Pistol steady on the Awakened.
Black rift yawned before him as I raised it.
Monster ability.
Reflex field.
Defender shouted.
"SKELTON!"
"Watch."
No look back.
Reflex fields mirror all physical attacks entering their zone.
My battered seniors devised counters.
Bang!
Fired.
Another rift appeared instantly—exit point.
It spat my bullet back at me.
"SKELTON!"
Sister's scream.
Bullet flew true at me.
But grazed past.
Defender muttered.
"I-intimidating?"
Chinese hunters' feint shots—what they called "empty moves."
If it doesn't hit the field, no reflection.
Monsters can't tell feint from real; fields have physical and usage limits, can't spam.
We exploited that, slaying hordes.
Kim Daram—shooting savant—and I butchered hundreds together.
Once killed twenty outside Beijing in a day.
Monsters infinite, but proving their learning capacity was groundbreaking.
Also why Chinese shut up about our slacking.
"B-brother?!"
Distance closed.
One more step, inside min range.
He raised a hand.
Odd currents swirled; faint lines spiderwebbed around me.
I sidestepped lines—flash, blaze erupted.
Ignition, they called it.
Awakened attack psychic.
Not impressive enough.
Pistol up again.
He deployed reflex field.
Eyes wide on my barrel now.
Hates wasting power.
Bang!
Bullet straight at him.
He smirked, field before his face.
Black maw opened, spat another bullet.
It,
Shhiiik—
Just nicked my hair.
Scalping.
Intimidating's extreme.
For learners immune to feints.
Kim Daram and I survived countless such stunts.
Drip—
Felt light blood from grazed scalp, drew axe.
In range.
"B-block him!"
Fanatics rushed,
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Emptied clip,
Crack!!
Axe finished rest.
Left: self-proclaimed chosen one.
Sensing death, he closed eyes, arms raised in prayer.
"...I finally return to the fold."
His serene martyrdom wasn't my goal. Ended cruelly, uncharacteristically.
Smashed knee with audible crack, dropped him. Buttstroke to crown, slammed face to dirt. Then axe to occiput—brains from prior kills splattered.
Crack!
"..."
Yanked axe, wiped bloody edge on corpse's cloth, turned.
Siblings stared wide-eyed.
"Let's go."
Lecture over.
*
The full moon, veiled by clouds all night, now bared itself fully at dawn, as if venting sorrow, not far from the sun's meridian path.
Under sun and moonlight, we sent off one body.
Son faced father.
After 2 years and 5 months.
The killer of countless fathers gazed at the withered face, trembling eyes laced with fear.
"Father."
A beautiful hand—pale, long fingers—stroked the corpse's face.
"...I'm sorry."
Defender bowed.
No sobs, no tears, but he stayed bent, unmoving for long.
Sister, holding matches, glanced at me.
She nodded thanks.
I nodded back, left.
As Defender said, family matter.
Nothing to do with outsiders.
Soon, smoke trailed into dawn breeze.
A combat chopper headed north high in sky.
*
Eventful neighborly tie with Defender siblings, but contact stayed nil awhile.
Radio silent, no community posts.
Old days, his absence would've sparked talk quick. But Failnet invaders popped constantly, and our users preferred Failnet's quality over our quiet board.
No big buzz.
John_nenon.
Was this your play?
Chilling guy...
Defender reached out a week and a day post-reunion.
"Hey. SKELTON! SKELTON! Bro's got something to say."
Sister first.
Thanks, maybe.
Not needed.
Just glad for another friendly neighbor—feels secure.
But I underrated these two.
After long silence, Defender spoke.
"S-SKELTON...!"
"?!"
"Housewarming! SKELTON!"
What?