Awakener Jeong Jae-ha (3)

Athlete Jeong.

No matter when I heard it, it was a fine thing to be called. The thought that even that Awakened hunter—the one who breathed fire from her mouth—had addressed me that way made it twice as sweet.

"To be frank, this is the first time we've had someone with a record of this caliber, so it's a little unclear what standard we should use when converting it into training points."

"Yes."

"How many medals have you taken, all told? Olympic gold, Asian Games gold...?"

Hong Si-yu let the question rise at the end.

"Gold at the Olympics, the Asian Games, and the World Championships. And several golds from the Fencing World Cup and the Fencing Grand Prix."

"The total?"

"Ten."

"Then your career credit alone is already over thirty points? That's remarkable!"

At my answer, her voice brightened another degree.

"An unrivaled score. You'll be able to take your pick of postings."

Was it too generous a reading to think she looked pleased because she could give that score to me, and not to the rest of them?

"Shit. Where the hell did something like that crawl out from."

Up front, that gang enforcer—Kim Kang-oh, or whatever his name was—shot me a glare. I didn't spare him a thought. A thug, daring to look at me. What mattered far more was finding out exactly what score I was about to receive.

"Hunter. If I may ask, how good is a score of thirty-five?"

I raised my hand and asked it clearly.

"Ah, of course you'd want to know. Well. Since it came up, let me show you this before we move on."

Snap.

Hong Si-yu flicked her fingers at once.

"These are the guilds and institutions currently participating in our Rehabilitation Hunter Service Transition System."

Three categories rose on the slide, in order: public institutions, major corporations, and mid-tier ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠corporations.

"Public institutions cover places like the police, the armed forces, and the Gate Management Bureau."

"The pay is stingy, but the death rate is low, and once your mandatory service ends you're appointed automatically. Oh—and for the record, that service period counts toward your pay grade."

Hmm. Model prisoners or not, the police taking inmates and putting them to work... Awakeners really must have been in short supply. I wasn't the only one thinking it. The model prisoners around me wore strange looks of their own.

"Major-corporation PMCs are mostly facility security or container-ship work."

"This is where most people try to go. The money isn't quite mid-tier corporate, but it's still a lot. The death rate isn't as low as the public sector, but it's low enough. And the business cards look impressive."

The major corporate PMCs were names everyone knew. Samjeong, Hwahan, Mirae, GL... The same firms that had ruled Korea even before the Open Gate Incident were all up there. Just as Hong Si-yu said, everyone wanted in—the sound of dry swallows rose from every corner of the room. The safe line was high as well, ninety points and up.

"Of course, most of you will end up over here."

Hong Si-yu wore a crooked smile.

"The official name is 'State-Recognized Private Military Organization-Type Public Security Cooperation Special Association,' but everyone just calls them guilds. The word shows up in official documents, so guild is all you need to remember."

I could feel the air, buoyant a moment ago, cooling fast.

"This is bullshit."

"Why? I like it. They pay a ton, don't they?"

"They're telling us to go die hunting demonic beasts, aren't they?"

"I'd rather eat solid prison slop in a safe cell than end up in a place like that."

Up front, Kim Kang-oh—third dan in kendo—was shaking hard enough to rattle.

"They pay a great deal. Base salary alone clears ten million won, and if you stack incentives by killing demonic beasts, you could buy an imported car every month."

Even so, I couldn't quite understand the sour reaction. The famous, powerful hunters I'd seen on the news all belonged to guilds like those. Shouldn't the guilds have had the best cutoff of all? The scores said otherwise. Only Saetbyeol—where Chae-ha would be working now—sat a little higher. The rest hovered around fifty, and anything below third place wasn't even listed.

"I'll be honest with you. Last cohort, they tried to hide this and it blew up in their faces. So. Artificial Awakeners who join a guild usually lose about a third of their number in three months, and about half in six."

That answered the question at once. There was, it seemed, a considerable gap between Natural Awakeners, who wielded supernatural powers, and ordinary Awakeners like us, whose only upgrade was physical. Even so—a third dead in three months, half in six. By pre–Open Gate standards, these were black companies beyond belief. Apparently not anymore.

"In exchange, the money really is serious, and the odds of awakening are higher. Even if you never awaken, once you've killed a hundred beasts and kept absorbing mana, people tend to survive just fine. In particular, no one who took down twenty-five or more in the first month has died yet. They've all settled nicely into the industry."

And she was saying all of this outright, under a program run jointly by the state and the Awakened Association.

"Now, if you awaken—meaning a natural awakening, supernatural power on top of your physical ability—and if that's B-rank or higher? The money changes by an order of magnitude. Keep working in that state, and you can live like Senior Ban Hae-jin. Treated as a savior of the nation. Shooting ads for major corporations."

Well. For me, it wasn't entirely bad news. From the sound of it, the public institutions and the major corporations didn't hunt many demonic beasts—and I needed to hunt a great many if I was going to restore my leg.

"Most guilds operate on a regional basis. If you have a home region, I recommend joining a guild active there."

I was starting to get a feel for how this hunter industry worked. It was almost the same as the athletic world I'd come from.

One. Mediocre skill doesn't even put food on the table. In sports, you leave the industry through poverty. In hunting, you leave it by dying.

Two. If you're quite good, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you can work in the public sphere—a city club, the national second division. In the hunter industry, just as in sports, getting hired by a public institution or a major corporation is the highest success an ordinary level of talent can reach.

Three. If you're truly exceptional, you become a star and make a name. Major-corporate ads and luxury sponsorships line up for you, the way they once did for me, when the whole world's spotlight was mine.

I decided where I would apply.

I looked at that famous guild, Saetbyeol. The first and greatest guild, founded by S-rank Hunter Ban Hae-jin. The only guild whose safe line sat above eighty.

I had to hunt demonic beasts anyway if I wanted to rehabilitate my leg, and if I was going to swing a sword, I belonged on the biggest stage. Become the best hunter in the world's best guild, and I could seize an honor greater than Olympic gold. If I'd been willing to live moderately, I never would have become an athlete.

"All right. Then I'll answer the question Athlete Jeong asked earlier. This is how training scores are calculated at our institute."

Hong Si-yu finished a few more explanations, then answered me.

"And on top of that, there are several ways to earn bonus points. One of them is your pre-awakening career."

I'd waited a long time. It was worth it.

"A dan certificate is one point. A domestic podium is two. An international podium is three. Athlete Jeong, with ten international titles, that comes to thirty points. Does that answer you?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Thirty bonus points. An enormous score. Even if I completely botched one of practical, written, or attitude, I could still make a run at a hundred. Fifty more, and I'd be inside Saetbyeol's safe line. To think the record of those brilliant years—years I'd believed long since washed away—was still being recognized. My chest tightened.

Of course, I had no intention of letting my guard down. One mistake in a lifetime was enough. I would give everything until I had those eighty-five points, and I would not loosen my grip after that either.

"Whoa. That's a total freebie."

"Fuck. I get three points at best, so why does that bastard get thirty?"

"If it burns, go win an Olympic gold yourself."

The moment the scoreboard appeared, a murmur spread. From every side, looks thick with envy and jealousy poured over me. I crossed my legs at my leisure and lifted my chin. I'd been through this plenty of times.

"Hm?"

Then I saw Kim Kang-oh down in front. The one who'd claimed a third dan in kendo was staring straight at me. I stared back, and he was the one who dropped his eyes. Then he ground his teeth as if his fury might split him open. Pathetic.

"...All right. Orientation's over. We'll be moving now."

After that, Hong Si-yu went on about how to use the facilities, the map, the regulations.

"Turn on the phones you were issued and check your number and your schedule. Miss a session and your score gets docked, so you manage your own timetable."

I picked up the issued smartphone and tried to check my number. First I had to open the app and verify my identity... Damn it. I didn't understand a single thing. Chae-ha used to help me with this.

She used to tease me so relentlessly for being hopeless with machines that we fought all the time when we were young. Now I'd take a full day of that teasing if it meant I could see her again.

"Excuse me."

After floundering for a long while, I asked the person in front of me and barely managed to learn my number.

It was the sort of number you'd see on a podium, and it made me smile. Looking a little longer, I got a sense of how the training was structured. Roughly a thousand prospective hunters had been grouped in units of two hundred and set to rotate through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the facilities. While numbers 1 through 200 sat in theory, 201 through 400 learned swordsmanship, and 401 through 600 learned marksmanship. That sort of thing.

I was swordsmanship.

Anti-Monster Swordsmanship was held in a gym several times larger than the auditorium from before. Even with two hundred people inside, the place looked barren.

"Look at these blades. Vicious."

"I heard you can't actually use a greatsword like that in real life."

"They've even got axes. Hey—didn't you kill a guy with an axe?"

The gym's mood was as rough as the auditorium had been before Hong Si-yu walked in.

"Fuck! What's so great about fencing that they hand out thirty points and call it a day? A kids' sport where you poke, poke, poke with no defense—what kind of martial art is that? Am I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wrong?"

That Kim Kang-oh was here too, ringed by his crew, cursing me out.

"Uh... yeah."

Beside them, a pretty-faced guy with dark brown curls offered an awkward agreement. Hm. I knew fencing drew that kind of misunderstanding when people judged it by real combat. Having learned several sword arts besides fencing, I even agreed that modern fencing was short on sword-wrestling technique. But the claim that fencing wasn't a martial art was simply laughable. If a technical system for beating aside an opponent's blade and thrusting into the torso wasn't a martial art, then what was? The moment a blade sank deep into the torso, sword wrestling meant nothing anyway.

"Attention, attention! We're starting!"

Hong Si-yu came down the stairs to the platform with a brown-haired man.

"All right. We'll begin the Anti-Monster Swordsmanship practical. A round of applause for C+ rank Earth Mage Hunter Ji In-hwi, who's helping us today!"

Like Hong Si-yu, the man wore a faint radiance in his eyes.

"A pleasure, everyone. I'm Ji In-hwi."

Ji In-hwi opened his mouth amid the applause.

Creak. Crrrack.

But our eyes were stolen not by his mouth, but by the shadow rising at his back.

"My specialty is golem crafting. I'll do my best so you can learn the traits of various demonic beasts safely, and thoroughly."

A height nearing three meters. A massive head like a Halloween pumpkin. A woody body knitted from pumpkin leaves and thorny vines. Four arms of braided thorn.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The Jack-o'-Lantern we'd learned about earlier stepped up beside Ji In-hwi.

"I've perfectly reproduced that pumpkin thing's physical abilities, but it's a golem, not a real demonic beast, so you can relax. You may take some injuries in training, but nothing life-threatening. Rest assured."

Every mouth hung open as we stared up at that demonic beast—no. At the golem made in a demonic beast's image.

"Ah. If anyone would like to face the Jack-o'-Lantern before I start the lesson, feel free to step forward. Five attitude points."

Ji In-hwi smiled a strange little smile and held up five fingers.

"I believe several people who raised their hands earlier about dan certificates are in this group. Any volunteers? I'll take exactly three."

The moment I saw that smile, I knew.

This was a trap.