Discharge and the New Recruit
Nam Gyuil, freshly discharged from the hospital, slung his bag over his shoulder and arrived at the housing provided by the Hunter Agency. At around 430 square feet, it was more than enough for a single guy. The furnishings were minimal: a gleaming white washer in the built-in kitchen, a two-seater sofa in the living room, and two bedrooms. Nothing out of the ordinary.
First things first, unpack. Nam Gyuil carried his bag into the larger bedroom. He sorted his clothes into the wardrobe, then pulled out a thermos containing a low-grade elixir and drank it down. Settling onto the sofa, he began his mana cultivation exercise. Once the elixir's effects were fully absorbed, he glanced at the clock. It was 8 a.m.—early for work, but he headed out anyway, making for the Hunter Agency.
He started with reporting his return. The colonel offered a quick "Stay healthy and discharge honorably," and that was that. Afterward, Nam Gyuil made his way to the training grounds.
Time to loosen up.
He rode the elevator down to the basement and pushed open the door to the empty training hall. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the musty scent that hit him for the first time in a week—a sure sign he was back at the Hunter Agency. He tested his strengthened body and purer mana.
Straight punch. Spinning back kick. Knee strike. He flowed through various movements. And as he did, he could feel it.
Muscles packed tight like coiled springs. Every motion carries real weight. Speed and power have shot up—big time!
Dramatically so.
Next stage. Nam Gyuil drew in a deep breath, finely controlling the mana within him. If the first step had been condensing high-purity mana...
The second is control!
This was about concentrating mana in one spot and wielding it precisely. He gathered it into his fist. The rest of his body lost some speed and power, but the punch's destructive force surged. He swung.
Pang.
The whoosh of air—something he'd never heard before—drew an exclamation from his lips. Next, he focused mana into his legs and knees.
Whoosh.
His movement speed spiked. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Concentrating mana in specific body parts demanded intense focus.
But the results are incredible.
Powerful strikes exactly where needed. Faster dodges. And minimal mana drain. Perfect for close-quarters combat.
Maximum speed and destruction with minimal mana!
This was Arnia's mana body reinforcement technique.
Exactly what I need right now. He loved it.
After a while, his muscles started to ache with that sharp, electric twinge—like the onset of a cramp. Time to call it.
Heading up.
Nam Gyuil took the elevator to the second floor and entered the 01 Team office.
Prrrng!
A massive fanfare blared out of nowhere.
"Congratulations!!"
"Welcome back!!"
The team swarmed him with cheers. A cake appeared next. Nam Gyuil grinned sheepishly, glancing around awkwardly.
"What’s with all this?"
His embarrassed grumble only made the team burst into laughter.
"Come on, you love it!"
"Say a few words for your discharge party."
"Yeah, we won't let you leave without a speech!"
Nam Gyuil chuckled.
"Alright, you lot! Thanks for the welcome."
They divvied up the cake and dug in amiably. But one unfamiliar face hovered awkwardly among them. Nam Gyuil leaned toward Hwang Ilsu beside him.
"Who's the kid? The emergency replacement rookie?"
"Yes, that's her."
"Got it."
A new face filling Kim Dongseon's spot. It made his death feel real all over again. It hurt, but this wasn't his first loss—and with hellish gates waiting today and tomorrow, wallowing wasn't an option. Unity was key. Nam Gyuil eyed the newbie. She seemed fresh, shoulders hunched timidly.
Probably struggling to adjust, no friends yet.
Plus, with the team leader just back from the hospital, she was clearly gauging the vibe.
Nam Gyuil called her over.
"You, the new private."
"Private Hong Shinu, sir!"
"Hm?!"
The cake stuck in Nam Gyuil's throat. He coughed violently until Hwang Ilsu handed him some orange juice. He chugged it and stared at her.
"Private? Second-class?"
"Private Hong Shinu, sir!"
Nam Gyuil blinked blankly. The Hunter Agency was for post-military service. Under the Ministry of National Defense, it used the same ranks. You entered as sergeant after discharge, left as master sergeant—or in a box. Rookies were always sergeants. And with the times being what they were, even women were conscripted, finishing service before arriving here—all as sergeants.
He studied her face closely. She looked young, baby-faced.
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen, sir."
"What?!"
Thinking he'd misheard, Nam Gyuil leaned in. Hong Shinu raised her voice, assuming he hadn't caught it.
"Seventeen, sir!!"
Still dazed, Nam Gyuil shot a look at Lee Chanu across from him. Chanu pursed his lips, eyes downcast in resignation.
Nam Gyuil was floored. He grilled Chanu.
"Chanu, what's a high schooler doing here?"
"Law changed last week. Awakeners are conscripted at 17—minimal training, straight to assignment."
"Seventeen?! A minor..."
His words tumbled out in shock. This was insane. Forcing kids into service?
Chanu gave a wry smile.
"National hunter shortage. Emergency law."
"Even new laws don't kick in for years, right?"
"Immediate effect."
"The Defense Ministry... those bastards."
Massive pressure from the minister, no doubt. Chanu added,
"We did basic training first, no gates. She's doing Hunter Agency duty then army."
"Hunter Agency support?"
"Gates in the army too."
Nam Gyuil rubbed his temple. Survival odds at the agency: 37%. Army service stretched to two years? That's five years in gates total. The ministry's game was clear: throw every awakener at gates, age be damned. Proof of how dire the crisis was.
"What a shitshow."
He clicked his tongue. Cursing the ministry felt hollow—this was desperation.
Nam Gyuil looked at Hong Shinu with pity for the kid. She was rigid with tension. To ease her in, he cracked a grin.
"So, Shinu. Agency life tough? Anyone bullying you?"
"N-no, sir!"
Her eyes flickered—she was too wound up to catch the joke. Pure rookie. Lee Chanu, mid-bite, threw his head back dramatically.
"Hey, hyung! We've been taking great care of her. Rude!"
"Just kidding, kidding."
Nam Gyuil laughed heartily. No hazing here. Pull that crap, and you'd end up a corpse. In gates, you trust your back to teammates. Bully someone, and they might "slip" in combat—you're the one who dies. No one was that stupid.
He patted Hong Shinu's shoulder.
"Everyone here's solid—no need to tiptoe. You'll fit right in soon."
"Thank you, sir."
Her lips twitched into a small smile, tension easing.
Then—
Beep beep beep.
The gate alert blared from the wall speaker. They dropped their cake, grabbed weapons, and piled into the military bus. Destination: Gangbuk.
The bus was dead silent. Party chatter gone. Gates always did this. No one comforted the visibly shaking Hong Shinu. What could they say? "You'll be fine"? Irresponsible when even vets could drop. Outbound to gates felt like a march to hell. Faces stiffened with Will I survive this one? Heavy silence reigned—until Nam Gyuil broke it.
"Hey, rookie. You good?"
All eyes turned. Hong Shinu, trembling like a leaf, blurted,
"Are the monsters... really scary?"
"Hell yeah. Facing those goblin-quick bastards chills the blood."
"..."
Her face paled. Nam Gyuil slapped her back with a shout.
"Don't sweat it. They're just monsters. Follow orders, and we crush 'em."
"Really?"
"Four months to discharge—I guarantee it."
"But what if something goes wrong?"
"Then..."
He paused, then ruffled her hair playfully.
"Call me. I'll come running."
He laughed. The team snickered.
"Hyung, what about us? Don't just save the rookie!"
"Fresh from the hospital and talking big."
Nam Gyuil crossed his arms with a relaxed smile.
"Haha, call if you're in trouble. Big bro's got you all."
Silly banter, but the ice broke. Faint smiles spread.
Hwang Ilsu spoke up.
"Hyung."
"Yeah?"
"You've changed a bit."
"Have I?"
"Even on deployment, you're so chill. First time anyone's said that here."
Nam Gyuil smiled faintly. True—he had changed. Power and knowledge bred confidence, shifting his focus from survival to leading.
Strength changes a man.
He scanned the team. Fear gone from their eyes. Perfect.
Screech.
The bus halted. Gate site reached.
Thud.
Nam Gyuil and the team disembarked. Soldiers and tanks ringed the area, rifles ready. Civilians long evacuated.
Soldiers spotted the national hunters and approached.
"From the Hunter Agency?"
"Yes."
"This way."
They led to a narrow alley too tight for vehicles. A blood-red gate pulsed there. The soldier briefed Nam Gyuil.
"Day six. Highly dangerous. 07 Team entered but failed to close it. Less than half survived."
"Break tomorrow, then."
"Yes."
"Guilds must be tapped out..."
"Other gates tying them up."
Nam Gyuil frowned. Guilds were elite—survivors of the agency's 37% odds. Tough, greedy. Post-discharge, they dove back into gates for profit, confident in survival. No bandwidth? Bull. Obvious reason.
Monsters here don't pay. Lizardmen.
Typical guild bullshit.
The soldier continued.
"07 Team survivors reported Lizardmen."
Nam Gyuil nodded. Monster corpses fueled industry—but Lizardmen? Useless trash. Pack hunters, tricky. His lip curled.
These bastards hospitalized me. Perfect—they're mine. Won't be like last time. I'll smash 'em flat!!
He turned to 01 Team.
"Entering the gate. Eyes sharp, follow my lead!!"
"Yes, sir!"
Nam Gyuil led them in.