The Hunter and the Prey
Reality was not as forgiving as a comic book.
The moment he stared down the barrel of a gun, time did not slow down, nor did the world grind to a halt. Naturally, there was no time to calmly calculate who the assailant was or how to react.
A gun.
A threat far more grounded and realistic than magic or demons. The sheer pressure radiating from that familiar symbol of death was overwhelming. Fighting back was out of the question; he could barely even squeeze out a dumbfounded gasp before—
Suddenly, someone shoved him from behind.
—*Bang!*
What just happened?
Before he could even register the split-second turn of events, the gunshot rattled his eardrums. Shoved to the ground, Muzark immediately whipped his head around, desperate to grasp the situation.
He saw Misha and Evan, their faces pale with a shock that mirrored his own. Grayish-white gunpowder smoke drifted from the alleyway. And finally, Yen, collapsing like a doll with its strings cut.
His heart seemed to stop.
"...Yen!"
Muzark scrambled to his feet, screaming her name. As he forced himself to adapt to this chaotic reality, his mind—which had been slipping into a dangerous complacency—flashed hot with rage before freezing into a cold, sharp focus.
His reflexes did not fail him.
A man with a low-drawn hood pressed himself against the side alley wall, aiming his weapon. Muzark mirrored the move, flattening himself against the opposite wall to minimize his exposure.
Then, he yelled urgently.
"Evan! Throw something at him!"
"F-Fuck! Why me?!"
So he isn't mute. Hearing a voice thinner and higher than most women's, Muzark instantly understood why the boy kept his mouth shut. He clearly had a complex about it.
But right now, none of that mattered.
He hadn't actually expected Evan to do anything useful anyway.
Misha was also trembling in terror, utterly paralyzed.
However, Muzark's shout forced the assailant to split his attention between both sides. In the center of the alley, Yen lay motionless, buried under a pile of trash.
Suppressing the urge to check on Yen, Muzark locked his focus on the gunman. The bastard had a choice: retreat, satisfied with his first strike, or finish off the rest of them.
What's it going to be?
The decision was made in an instant.
The assailant leaned his upper body out of the alley. The gun pointed not at the other two, but directly at Muzark. It was a seamless transition from ambush to execution—a chillingly refined display of malice.
Dammit.
Muzark tracked the trajectory of the barrel.
If I can't dodge it anyway...!
He decided it was better to bait the shot. Though he was unarmed after turning in his weapons, he wasn't entirely defenseless. The trump card Muzark had held since his days in the mine remained unchanged.
—If you want to smash something, isn't it easier to have a hammer?
According to Yen's magical theory, Muzark always had a hammer in his hand.
*Clang!*
The iron gauntlet that materialized over the back of his hand effortlessly deflected the bullet. Because Muzark had kept his posture low, the assailant had likely aimed for his head. It was a calculated gamble.
He had bet his life and won an opening.
Just take the gun.
Muzark lunged forward and grabbed the barrel. The metal burned hot against his palm, but he didn't even blink. He was entirely consumed by the fight.
When he yanked with all his might, the assailant surprisingly let go of the gun without much resistance. Instead, the man drew a knife from his coat and lunged. Muzark swung his arm to intercept the incoming blade.
*Screeech!*
The knife scraped harshly against his iron gauntlet.
He grit his teeth against the stinging pain of a shallow graze on his forearm. Before the assailant could recover his stance, Muzark adjusted his grip on the stolen revolver.
He cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger.
There was no hesitation, not even a tremor in his fingertips. He did what had to be done as naturally as breathing. It was proof that Baek Si-woo was rapidly adapting to this perilous world as Muzark Bespard.
Just as he felt the certainty of survival—
"...What?"
A dumbfounded gasp escaped his lips.
Was it out of ammo? No. The gun had fired perfectly, and smoke was rising from the barrel. Yet, the assailant stood completely unharmed despite taking a bullet at point-blank range.
The realization struck him instantly.
A Shield!
It was the supernatural defense he hadn't fully appreciated during his fight with Claude Regan because he had bypassed it so easily. The single most decisive spell that separated mages from **non-mages**.
Shrouded in his Shield, the assailant openly turned his back on Evan and Misha, unlike before. The eyes hidden beneath his hood were locked solely on Muzark.
He looked completely indifferent, as if the other two were mere background noise.
"Aaaagh!"
Evan and Misha lunged at the assailant's back, but to no avail. Neither hammer nor dagger could pierce the barrier. Instead, the sheer rebound force of striking the Shield tore open the palms of their hands.
He couldn't blame them.
Honestly, Muzark hadn't expected them to do anything in the first place. He had assumed Misha would just collapse in tears and Evan would run away to save his own skin.
He didn't know what had driven them to act.
Perhaps they realized that running away wouldn't end well for them either. Or maybe they simply thought a surprise attack from behind would work and threw themselves forward.
Only one thing was certain.
They had done their absolute best.
"Pah!"
Muzark spat out the dust that had gotten into his mouth.
"Son of a bitch. Stop playing around."
He tossed the useless gun far behind him and faced the assailant. Muzark couldn't use a Shield because he had never learned how. But he *could* tear one apart.
In that sense, they were on equal footing.
A clear image rose in his mind: Haran. The man was a terrible role model, to be sure. Muzark had no idea what his story was; he had only ever seen him slaughtering others.
But there was one thing worth emulating.
The sheer power to rip enemies to shreds. A force that could overwhelm even the high-flying mages of the upper regions. To Haran, a third-rate mage of Redline would be less than an insect.
Even if they stood in different places and looked out at different horizons...
Muzark possessed that very same power.
There was no reason he couldn't win, and thus, no reason to be afraid.
It was then.
Muzark caught sight of something unbelievable behind the assailant. But he kept his face completely blank. Keeping his eyes locked on the man, he fell into a stance, looking ready to pounce at any second.
"..."
The assailant's gaze flicked to the back of Muzark's hand. He was clearly on guard. In hindsight, the man's movements had grown cautious the moment Muzark revealed his magic.
He had only ignored Misha and Evan because they lacked the power to break his Shield.
It was the typical mindset of a mage wary of another mage.
It might have been a rational judgment.
But he had made a fatal mistake.
Yen, staggering back to her feet, pointed her index finger at the back of the assailant's head.
*Thwip!*
An invisible bullet pierced the man's skull. It was a thin, sharp bolt of mana designed purely for penetration. With a hole punched clean through his forehead, the assailant stumbled and collapsed face-first onto the ground.
Muzark knew instantly that he was dead.
The man didn't twitch, but Muzark knelt down anyway to check his pulse. Only after confirming the breath had left the body did he let out a sigh of relief.
He looked up.
"Haa... whew..."
Yen was panting heavily. Blood was dripping down, but it wasn't from her head—it was from her hand. Muzark stared at her and asked,
"I thought you got shot in the head."
"I did. I barely managed to block it with my Shield. This blood is because I sliced my own palm. He would've been suspicious if there wasn't any blood, so I tore it open to make it look convincing. Hurting like hell, though."
Yen spat on the corpse.
"He could've fired a few more rounds to make sure I was dead, but I guess he really thought I was just some useless old hag. Wow... haha! What a bastard. I never dreamed I'd be looked down on this much."
The adrenaline seemed to make her more expressive than usual. The way she swept her hair back, her vivid, distorted expression, her familiar voice—Muzark's breath caught.
*Ah, she's alive.*
"L-Leader! *Waaaaah!*"
"There, there. It's okay. You were scared, right?"
"I really—*hic*—thought something terrible happened to you...!"
"The only terrible thing happened to that bastard over there. Shh, it's okay."
Yen patted the back of Misha, who had thrown herself into her arms. She nodded repeatedly at Evan, who looked utterly dazed, reassuring him that she was fine.
Then, she turned to Muzark, a smile playing on her lips.
"By the way, you... you're much more capable than I thought."
It was a distant smile, the kind she wore when she was building a wall between them.
It was a contradictory attitude, considering she had just risked her life to save them.
"Mages are rare in Redline. Mages who use guns and knives are even rarer. Why? Because they think their magic is superior to mundane weapons, so they tend to look down on them. But a mage who uses guns and knives specifically to hunt other mages? That only leaves one possibility."
"Do you know who he is?"
"The bastard I mentioned before. The Mage Hunter."
Yen clicked her tongue in disgust.
"He was trash, but a persistent kind of trash. Guns are surprisingly effective against lower-class mages—specifically, inexperienced ones. You can't keep a Shield up twenty-four hours a day, can you? He targets the gaps in daily life—after work, during meals, while walking down the street. It's an incredibly relentless and cowardly tactic."
A chill ran down Muzark's spine.
The true face of the wasteland. A hidden blade concealed beneath a fragile peace. He had spent all his time worrying about the unpredictable people around him, but the real threat lay elsewhere.
"Regardless of rank, he's a completely different breed from Claude Regan. Claude was twisted, but he was still a traditional mage who viewed magic as both a means and an end. This bastard, on the other hand, learned magic solely to make killing people easier."
Yen's eyes gleamed with a dagger-like sharpness.
"He should have been a tough opponent for a greenhorn."
It was neither praise nor admiration. It was a cold rejection, a warning directed at a wild card who might one day slip beyond her control—someone who was neither ally nor enemy. Facing Yen's sudden shift in attitude, Muzark made a decision.
*I can't let things stay like this.*
He would have to tear down her walls.
Late that night, an uninvited guest visited Shadia's home.
"Excuse the intrusion, Chief."
"I've told you repeatedly, I prefer you don't visit at night."
"If I came during the day, I'd be a burglar. The owner wouldn't be home."
"Think about how I feel, having to look at my subordinate's face even in my own home."
"Oh, please. You were just going to stare at paperwork until you fell asleep anyway."
Shadia greeted the brazen Yen with a wry smile. Like most talented mages, Yen had never been one for manners, even back when they were in Yellowline.
Their personalities were polar opposites, which, ironically, made them compatible.
Yet, they shared no true empathy. Having known each other for so long, Yen knew of Shadia's obsession, and Shadia knew of Yen's, but neither could truly understand the other.
They got along well enough under normal circumstances, but the moment one became an obstacle to the other's goals, they would turn on each other without hesitation. It was a relationship that fell far short of friendship.
Shadia lowered her gaze and asked,
"Are you going on a trip?"
She gestured to the large suitcase Yen had dragged in. The question was a joke, but it was never surprising when a mage exiled to Redline suddenly vanished.
"No, but I did send someone else on a very long trip."
Following her cryptic reply, Yen pushed the suitcase forward.
She pulled the zipper all the way down, and the contents spilled out.
It was a human corpse, stuffed tightly inside.
Far from being startled, Shadia knelt down to examine the body. It was a man, seemingly in his mid-thirties. His face was unfamiliar, not matching any records the Security Bureau had painstakingly gathered over the years.
"Who is he? Surely not a civilian."
"The Mage Hunter who's been causing a stir lately."
"This man?"
"Most likely. He was waiting in ambush on our way back from work."
Shadia looked up at Yen. Cast in the shadows of the entryway light, it was hard to tell at first, but Yen's complexion was noticeably pale. It was clear proof that she had been forced to use magic.
"That must have been rough. How are your team members?"
"Well, Muzark sustained a minor injury to his arm, but there are no casualties or serious injuries."
"That's surprising."
Shadia studied the corpse for a moment before speaking.
"A single, clean puncture through the back of the skull, instant death. No other wounds. I can picture the scene. While another team member drew his attention, you took him from behind. But why wasn't he wary of you?"
"I got shot first. I thought he'd fire another round or two to make sure, but he completely ignored me after that. I suppose that was enough to finish off the other mages he killed."
"Or perhaps you weren't his primary target."
Yen frowned at the casual hypothesis.
"...I hadn't thought of it that way."
Yen slowly retraced the events of the fight in her mind and nodded.
"Now that you mention it, it did feel like he was targeting Muzark."
"It would make sense if his goal was to weed out a rookie mage before he could grow."
"But we never made his status public. How would he know?"
"There are still plenty of people who view the Security Bureau as an eyesore. Both outside and within."
The possibility that someone within the Bureau was leaking internal information, or even that they had some connection to the Mage Hunter, could not be ruled out.
"We'll know more once we identify this man."
The Security Bureau was going through growing pains. It had been years since they had placed a leash on the lawless scoundrels of Redline, so it was about time for the backlash to boil over.
Still, neutralizing the Mage Hunter was excellent news. There were already four cases suspected to be his doing, including the recent murder of a Lower 3rd Class mage who had been working as a fixer in the city.
The case had been solved before they could even find a lead on the culprit. Furthermore, the most encouraging takeaway was that Muzark had survived an encounter with the Mage Hunter.
*It seems our rookie isn't a pushover.*
Shadia glanced at Yen, who wore a deeply contemplative expression.
*I wonder what she'll do now.*
Would she continue to protect Muzark as she had before?
Or would she try to seize Harmensales before the boy could grow any stronger?
For Shadia, the former was the preferred outcome.
Both Yen and Muzark were talents she couldn't afford to lose.
But that was merely a personal hope.
*If she were the type to listen to reason, she wouldn't have been demoted to Redline in the first place.*
Shadia might not understand Yen, but she knew how she operated. Before long, Yen would cast aside her mask of a guardian and show her true colors.
Assuming Muzark did nothing, that is.
*Though, he didn't strike me as the type to sit quietly.*