Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 0
Chapter Title: Fighter Hunter
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Cassandra couldn't believe her eyes right now.
'He deflected all my armaments?'
Of course, her opponent was bolstered by a Domain Hunter's support, making her stronger than before.
Even so, this shouldn't have been possible.
The clan head of that Domain Hunter family was, to her knowledge, a green C-rank hunter just starting out.
An attack rated at 100 had been dulled to somewhere between 95 and 97—not even 90.
That kind of difference was practically nothing.
Which meant Kwon Sora was defending against her attacks virtually bare-handed?
Crunch.
Clang.
Craaaack.
"G-Great job, Kwon Sora!"
"It's all thanks to Lady Mina's domain."
"Huh? But my domain only slowed them down a little..."
"That's exactly why it's such a help. In battles between real experts like us, those tiny margins decide who wins!"
"...What?"
A battle?
She had come here as the clan head of one of the top ten families to punish these intruders.
What was she supposed to make of Kwon Sora's attitude after blocking just a handful of her attacks?
It was utterly boorish.
Crackle.
"How dare a worm like you pick a fight with me?"
"Whoa, sudden shift to informal..."
"Didn't your whole vibe just change?"
She was pissed. Genuinely pissed.
"If that's what you want, I'll make the power gap crystal clear."
With that, even more armaments than before swarmed around the two women.
"Lady Kwon Mina! Hold the domain as long as you can!"
"Got it!"
Kwon Sora the instructor was somehow parrying movements that pushed past her limits.
Batting away the armaments protruding from every direction with fists and feet—it was infuriating, but impressive.
But...
"You can't win just by defending forever, you know."
She was the clan head of a top ten family.
Her mana reserves were incomparable to those of common-born flatfeet.
In a war of attrition, she had the overwhelming edge. Especially against what looked like a mana-less Fighter Hunter—her natural counter.
'Every hit lands as a critical... but she's useless outside close range. What a flawed bloodline.'
Fighter Hunters were shackled from birth, unable to wield weapons.
They crit on everything, sure—but no ranged options, no item cheese to power-level easily.
Hunter circles called it the 'dirt-spoon bloodline.'
Not even minor clans bred many of them, let alone the top ten.
"Not bad, clawing your way here on that sorry lineage."
"...!"
"I'll give you credit for the effort."
Ah, such a shame.
What a pity.
If only she'd been born into something mainstream like Swordsman or Mage Hunter blood, she could've been an S-rank contender.
But in the hunter world, luck was skill.
So Cassandra gazed down at Kwon Sora—stubbornly blocking, but clearly hitting her limit, drenched in sweat—and decided it was over.
"Giant's Sword."
"Ngh?!"
She summoned a golden blade the height of a ten-story apartment, dropping it on them like a message for the next life.
Craaaack!
"What?!"
Right up until that moment.
Until she saw the dirt-spoon bloodline catch the plummeting sword bare-handed... and rip it in half.
"Who's the one who's pitiful here?!"
"You... blocked that?"
"I'm grateful every damn day that I'm a Fighter Hunter in this world!!"
Hunters were a blessed profession, drawing the world's eyes the moment they awakened.
The launchpad to superhumanity.
The starting line for heroes.
So families who passed down such bloodlines were naturally objects of envy.
Except for one profession.
The hunter job with the highest mortality rate—born only for bare-knuckle brawling.
Fighter Hunter.
"Th-That... You're really going to keep raiding dungeons as a Fighter Hunter?"
"......"
"I know it's rude to say this to a hunter, but most Fighter Hunters get scooped up for construction sites over dungeons..."
Even Hunter Association staff fidgeted, unsure when death might come.
And that was why Fighters thrived more on job sites than in dungeons.
Super-tough bodies outperforming machines, with zero risk of dying on the job.
Plus, the pay was killer!
Yet for a gig where nine out of ten died in dungeons, anyone diving in anyway had one excuse: chasing pipe dreams like an idiot.
And that was my mom.
"Awesome! Tonkatsu tonight! You love pork cutlet, right, Sora?"
"...Yeah."
Of course I did.
Tonkatsu.
Two foods every girl had to love: spicy pork stir-fry and pork cutlet.
I leaned toward tonkatsu.
Mom knew my tastes, so every other night, she'd whip up a massive one for dinner.
All while slurping cheap soybean soup herself, claiming she was broke.
"Oh, and Mom's got a pork allergy, remember? So eat it all up, Sora!"
"...Yeah."
Lies.
How does someone 'allergic' to pork glue their eyes to the pork belly samples at the grocery store?
Our hunter 'clan' was the Kwon family of Seoul.
But naturally, a late-stage E-rank-only lineage like ours had no fancy clan cred.
Because that was Fighter Hunter blood for you.
Poor as dirt, obviously.
Mom juggling convenience store gigs and scraps beyond that to keep our single-parent home afloat? Yeah, par for the course.
Born into that? No way it was a good deal.
"Hey, Kwon Sora! You're a hunter now—your levels won't match ours if you hang out!"
"But she's a Fighter Hunter, so maybe it's fine?"
"Uh... yeah?"
Way too vague a role for a hunter.
While everyone else decked out in cool gear and flashy skills, drawing gasps from civilians, all we had was...
"Hya! Hya!"
Swish. Swish.
Just punches and kicks a notch above a normal human's.
I'd probably get it as an adult—mom's deal.
Why she bucked the trend of other Fighters and scraped dungeon cash at death's door.
Through elementary, middle, high school...
I tried to wrap my head around her relentless positivity.
But when I hit adulthood and awakened as a hunter myself...
"Quit this crap already!"
"Huh?"
The only thing I understood was that Mom was an idiot.
Wrinkle-faced at not even fifty, deluded into thinking she could hit S-rank.
"Mom! Please quit hunting! You're gonna die any day now!"
"......"
"Come work construction with me instead! You know how much I pull in monthly? Triple what you slave for in dungeons!"
Now our table had tonkatsu for two.
Hot water even in winter; we'd ditched the semi-basement for a proper apartment complex.
All my doing.
Pure my talent—no help from her useless ass.
So yeah, I strutted around thinking I was hot shit.
But even then...
"Sorry, sweetie."
Mom just grinned like a fool and apologized.
"But I still wanna keep hunting."
Scraping by, stuffing me full while she starved.
So one day, I asked.
"Why?"
"Huh?"
"Why cling to hunting so hard?"
Her answer came like it was obvious.
"Because that's what I promised your dad—the first time we met in a dungeon."
She grinned.
"Whichever one of us goes first, the survivor becomes the best hunter there is."
I couldn't grasp it back then.
Not even when Mom came home months later as a cold corpse, laid to rest beside Dad's grave—disguised as a civilian.
Why chase a dream.
For someone already dead.
Couldn't make sense of it.
But now...
"Instructor Kwon Sora."
"Yes, Yongchan?"
"I believe in you."
"...!!"
I get it.
No—I've always gotten it.
Why Mom risked everything to honor that promise with Dad.
Even knowing the dream was impossible, she charged into dungeons with the exact same fire burning in her now.
"Limiter... release."
"Wh-What...!"
"One hundred percent."
In the world of women mad for men, there's this saying.
Interest gets a woman's mood going.
Friendship keeps her will strong.
And love... transforms her into something beyond.
Just like right now.
"K-Kwon... Sora...?"
Her body, surging past limits, began radiating a golden, otherworldly aura.
As if transcending her very race.
"What in the world... are you?"
Cassandra, the clan head, stared down at the lowly Fighter Hunter who'd seized every one of her attacks.
The answer came as naturally as breathing.
"I'm Kwon Sora."
Crack.
"The strongest Fighter Hunter, born to a male hunter father and an E-rank hunter mother."