Nam Gyuil's Bold Push for Guild Service Reform
Nam Gyuil had endorsed substituting guild activity time for national hunters' service recognition period. It was a complete deviation from the script.
The president's gaze flicked subtly toward the camera.
'If this were a recorded broadcast, we could cut it midway, but it's live—we can't stop now.'
A headache was brewing. The public viewed Nam Gyuil positively after he had purged the Free People. Boosting approval ratings required cozying up to him. But this? He was directly opposing the president's stance against the substitution.
This was trouble. It could paint the president in a bad light with the people.
Though fury boiled inside, the president masked it with a benevolent smile.
"Hahaha, Sergeant Nam Gyuil."
"Yes, sir."
"So you're saying you're in favor of replacing national hunters' service recognition time with guild activity time? You're not mistaking it for opposition?"
"No, sir. I'm definitely in favor."
Nam Gyuil answered firmly.
The president ground his molars, his nasolabial folds twitching as he forced the smile. He desperately wanted to snap but held back. His chief of staff shot Nam Gyuil a sidelong glance loaded with intent: Stick to the script.
But Nam Gyuil didn't yield. He boldly voiced his convictions, steering the conversation.
"Substituting guild activity for service recognition brings massive benefits. It's time we started properly training our awakeners."
"But it would make responding to national crises harder."
Determined not to let him seize control, the president countered.
Nam Gyuil calmly laid out his thoughts.
"Do you know the odds of a Hunter Agency national hunter discharging with all limbs intact?"
"I believe it's under 37%."
"Yes, exactly. Combat-ready awakeners are dwindling due to injuries and deaths, while gates keep multiplying. At this rate, we'll run out of awakeners to close them someday."
"……."
As the exchange turned against him, the president fell silent.
Nam Gyuil pressed on.
"Awakeners need to learn basic combat skills from guild hunters. The agency's training isn't bad, but guild veterans' know-how is superior—fact."
"I'll grant you that. But what about awakeners gaming the system?"
"What kind of gaming?"
"Joining a guild but never entering gates. Isn't that possible? Rich kids faking gate entries?"
"Audits can catch that."
"Strong guilds boost survival rates, so lobbying for spots in big ones?"
"Government oversight prevents that too."
"How so?"
"There aren't that many awakeners. Checking each one is trivial."
The president cleared his throat awkwardly. He'd tried to hold it in, but dissatisfaction leaked out.
Nam Gyuil didn't let up a word, rebutting logically until the president had nothing left to say.
Desperate to gloss over it, the president tried to pivot.
"Alright, enough dry politics…"
"Mr. President, this is a critical issue."
"……."
"Our national hunters risk life and limb in gates every time. One of my teammates died fighting for our country."
Control of the dialogue had fully shifted to Nam Gyuil. The president was speechless, inwardly lamenting. This banquet was meant to boost his ratings, yet he'd laid the groundwork for Nam Gyuil's agenda.
The public would eat it up. The young man already had a stellar image.
'And in the end, service recognition will be substituted with guild time.'
Bitter taste filled the president's mouth.
Nam Gyuil appealed strongly.
"Mr. President, for the sake of defending our nation, please make the patriotic decision."
"We'll review it positively."
The president dodged with vagueness.
But Nam Gyuil knew. Once this morning banquet aired live, the president would have no choice but to yield.
'He's hypersensitive to ratings. Obvious.'
Rejecting it here would brand him as out of touch—he'd comply, like it or not.
Satisfied, Nam Gyuil picked up his spoon.
The next day, public reaction after the live morning banquet had swung completely one way.
Nam Gyuil's plea had hit home. Online comments overwhelmingly supported substituting guild activity for service recognition.
Even ruling party supporters were on board.
With things like this, the president had no retort. Right after the banquet, he announced a new policy.
News articles spread like wildfire, dominated by Nam Gyuil's successful appeal.
The Hunter Agency swarmed with people eager to meet him, creating a sea of faces.
"Whoa, our Gyuil hyung's a star now."
Lee Chanu muttered while peering outside. Hwang Ilsu chimed in.
"Yeah. Who'd have thought so many would flock just to see him. Feels like he's on another level now."
Hong Shinu nodded.
"He's just that capable, Sergeant Nam. Who knows? Maybe someday we'll brag about serving with the strongest hunter."
Han Kangsu smirked at that. With his superior talent, he'd always be by Nam Gyuil's side. They'd fight together soon enough.
'Heh, when that time comes, I'll lure Sergeant Gyuil into Kangcheol Guild.'
Han Kangsu lost himself in fantasy.
The man at the center, Nam Gyuil, glanced at his teammates clustered by the window from his chair.
"What're you idiots doing in front of me? On purpose?"
Lee Chanu rubbed his hands and sidled up, kneading Nam Gyuil's shoulders.
"Hyung, even if you get famous, don't forget me."
"Get off before I knuckle you."
"Yes, sir!"
Lee Chanu yanked his hands away. Nam Gyuil clasped his hands behind his head, lost in thought.
'Now I can finally form a guild.'
He could build his power base and move freely. The first step was done, but more work lay ahead.
Forming a guild required massive capital. A building first. Training facilities for hunters. Top-tier weapons.
'Money's the issue, as always.'
Nam Gyuil sighed deeply. Earning cash wasn't easy in this world, but he had lucrative means.
'Learn weapon forging from the Akashic Records.'
Weapons usable inside gates fetched premium prices. If he could mass-produce them in a factory?
'Akashic knowledge makes it feasible.'
Plus, he had a gem: the amulet from slaying the necromancer that summoned kobolds.
'Kobolds excel at handling ores. Summon them and put 'em to work.'
They'd revolutionize weapon production. Free labor, essentially.
Nam Gyuil checked his watch. The hour hand hit six—quitting time.
He stood, approached the window, and eyed the crowd gathered to see him.
'Heading home's gonna be a nightmare today.'
Back home, Nam Gyuil was drained. He'd shaken off reporters craving interviews and fans screaming his name.
'They won't follow me home, right?'
Just commuting felt like storming a gate.
He locked windows and doors securely.
In his room, he fetched the amulet and summoned kobolds.
"Guard the house. No visitors."
The kobolds nodded, understanding, and stationed themselves at windows and doors.
Finally, Nam Gyuil shed his outer clothes and flopped onto the bed.
'Time to access the Akashic Records.'
His vision blurred, consciousness fading. When he came to, he was there.
"Let's get moving."
Only three hours daily. Every minute counted. He dove into weapon forging texts.
Arnia's Iron and Understanding
Mana and Iron Structures
History of Legendary Swords
He focused on these three.
Arnia vs. Earth tech. Earth's metallurgy outclassed Arnia's medieval-level forging.
But the key difference: mana.
Arnia weapons were mana-infused during forging. Uniquely.
'Spirits? Need a fire spirit to make mana-infused weapons usable in gates…'
Earth knew nothing of spirit arts, hence no gate-compatible weapons.
Spirit contracts were essential. And fire spirits' flames were permanent until the summoner's death.
Downsides too.
'High spirit affinity required for upper spirits? Otherwise, only low-grade.'
Not trainable—innate. Spirit mages contracted one only. No multiples.
Exceptions: peak affinity allowed all four elements, even kings.
'Still requires insane talent, not effort.'
A question struck Nam Gyuil.
'Gate weapons all fire-spirit forged?'
He read on. Besides fire spirits, dark mages contracted demons for curse flames. But became eternal slaves, souls bound, offering live sacrifices forever.
'Horrific.'
Explained Arnia's disgust for demon pacts.
He finished the books. His body glowed white—three hours up.
He dissolved into light.
"Hoo."
Real-world Nam Gyuil opened his eyes. He immediately drew a summoning circle on the floor.
Base circle. Sun and moon inside. Cryptic runes.
Final step: spirit attribute.
Simple. He placed a candle in the center—for fire.
"Kobolds!"
Ten scampered in.
"Infuse mana into the circle. Contract the spirit."
They obeyed. Ore-handling experts would make fine smiths post-contract—if monsters could even do it.
Nam Gyuil was curious.
Whoosh.
Fire spirit responded: low-grade salamander. Tiny lizard-like, vibrant red-spiked skin, flame-wrapped tail captivating.
It blinked at the kobold, then became a spark and merged inside.
Whoosh.
The kobold conjured flame in its palm. Success.
Nam Gyuil unsummoned, then resummoned to check—same kobold, same flame.
Perfect. All per plan.
"Excellent smiths forged."
Now, just funding and factory setup. He had an investor in mind.
'Defense Acquisition Program Administration address? Gwacheon, right?'
They'd pour in big money. Time to hustle.
He unsummoned the kobolds. Heading out, the circle caught his eye.
Curiosity: his own spirit affinity?
He infused mana.
The candle blazed sky-high, scorching the ceiling—unlike the salamander summon.
A bird-like spirit emerged, body aflame, flapping fiery wings with regal poise.
"……."
Nam Gyuil blinked at his summon.
He had more talent than expected.