The Handshake
"You can take it easy now. It's over."
The intense beams of light continued to hammer the Siamese Frog. Flattened and lifeless, it kept taking the hits.
There was nothing it could do to resist.
"There was a Gift called Protection of the Outer God?"
Postech, who had been fidgeting with his hair the whole time, asked.
"I don't think that's the official name."
"Then what is it?"
"But that's what most people call it. Some call it other things."
"There should be an official designation."
"There isn't."
"……?"
"There isn't?"
"By convention, a person gets one Gift. Never more than that. You can pick up all kinds of abilities, but you only ever get a single Gift. That said, every now and then you run into someone with a hidden Gift. That thing over there is the textbook example."
"A hidden Gift, then……"
"Exactly what it sounds like — something concealed. So even the owner doesn't know they have it. It doesn't show up in your information like a regular Gift does. It won't appear at the Coin Exchange either. You only find out once you actually awaken the hidden part."
"So until it awakens, even they don't know?"
"Right. The awakening condition is usually death, so most people die without ever finding out."
"Ah……"
"Neoguri doesn't know much about it either. All he knows is that some existence out there refuses to let him die. When his life's on the line, that unknown being shows up, heals his wounds, and dishes out attacks like you saw. Simple, right?"
"Then that being means he can't die?"
"You think so? If he could use that thing infinitely, do you really believe he'd be sitting around running a shop back at the Shelter? The cooldown is damn long."
"So it's like an ultimate move."
"Yeah. An ultimate-move Gift."
At that, Won-goo let out a faint snort.
"Everyone's wondering what that thing actually is, aren't they? I've been mulling over the same possibility, honestly."
"Oh, I definitely thought about it."
"I told you, didn't I? The awakening condition is dying. If you feel like gambling with your life, there's no harm in trying. Just no guarantee you'll turn out like that guy over there."
"They're not all like that?"
"The universe is full of different species, and there are countless beings worshipped as gods. What powers they wield, what they bestow — it's all different."
"That's the part where calling him a golden-spoon kid isn't an insult, Gong So-jang. By every measure, the man really was born rich."
"True enough. That Gift of his is inherited."
"Inherited?"
"Yeah. Gifts like that are sometimes granted to individuals, but they usually pass down through bloodlines. To sum it up: one of that guy's ancestors was favored by that outer god, and the blessing's been handed down ever since."
By the time the explanation was over, the attack had already ended.
The Siamese Frog lay motionless, and Neoguri was trudging out with his face twisted in disgust.
Wiping the blood off his dagger as he came.
"Good work out there."
"Not my kind of job. I need at least a year of bed rest."
"About that, hyeong—"
Won-goo couldn't finish the sentence.
The group he'd been dreading came spilling out from behind.
Everyone's expressions hardened the moment they saw them.
A variable had just been introduced into the original plan.
The objective had always been simple: finish the hunt and slip away while the Fishers were busy fighting.
But the Fishers had shown up far sooner than expected.
Won-goo's eyebrows twitched.
"Fishers. And quite a lot of them?"
Fresh hurried over.
"Looks like it. Not the crew that operates out of our Shelter, either."
"So…… they won?"
Won-goo's people had come in force as well — fifty teams gathered, well over a hundred heads all told. But the other side looked to number at least two hundred.
"They've clearly been through a battle already. What's the call?"
Fresh walked up and asked.
"We talk first. That's the plan."
"And if it comes to blood?"
"We've got no contract with them. Besides — this is the Field."
"Haah…… and here I thought this would be simple."
"What can you do? Pass it along."
"Okay."
The Fishers and the survivors stood off at a careful distance from each other. Then Won-goo stepped forward, and a representative came out from the Fisher side as well.
A man built roughly the same as Won-goo, though older, with eyes so narrow it was nearly impossible to read his expression.
"Kim Yang-cheon, representative of the Yangcheon Fishing Ground."
"Gong Won-goo, representative of Won-goo's Services."
They exchanged introductions at a suitably close distance.
Then, without slowing their pace, both men kept walking toward the center.
"I take it the Siamese Frog has already been taken?"
"As you can see."
"Damn it all. We got properly played."
"Business is like that. Leave anything uncertain, and it turns messy — that's just how it goes."
Kim Yang-cheon scowled and clicked his tongue.
"Nothing for it, then. I'll consider the discipline of my ranks enough and head home. The lateness was our failing."
"If that's how you see it, we'll part on good terms. Kim Yang-cheon, was it? I'll remember the name and the face. There'll be a day I return the favor."
"Then let's shake hands and be done."
Kim Yang-cheon advanced with his hand outstretched. But Gong Won-goo did not seize it.
"We have a policy against unnecessary contact until a job is finished."
"We always shake hands when we part on good terms. How disappointing."
"If we don't shake, you won't leave?"
"We'll leave. Just without fond memories. Not that this was shaping up to be one anyway."
"Then let me ask one thing. What became of the Fisher team led by that Wang-ko fellow?"
"There was a mutiny. We suppressed it. Anything beyond that is internal business I can't share."
"That's enough. I'd rather not know more."
Kim Yang-cheon nodded slowly at that.
"This failure cost us dearly, though…… you couldn't throw in some consolation money, could you?"
Won-goo's expression didn't change at the offer. But he'd been expecting it.
This was big-money work, after all.
For Fishers — men who lived off hauling in enormous scores — a failed hunt meant a serious blow to their livelihood.
Even so, none of their circumstances obliged Won-goo to grant a thing. If they'd intended to run their operation properly, they should never have let a schism form in the first place.
Who had led the split, and who was responsible — none of that mattered. The very fact that the group had fractured like this meant the head had failed at managing his people's grievances. Simple as that.
"How many?"
"One per head would be deeply appreciated."
"We're not Fishers. As you can see, we survived in considerable numbers. A Siamese Frog barely yields enough to go around as it is — I can't manage one per head."
"Then half that?"
"Half of your half. Let's say that."
Fifty gold coins.
A sizable expense, but not one he couldn't stomach.
Closing out a major battle for that price still carried real value.
And it wasn't as though they were backing down because they were outnumbered, or because the Fishers frightened them.
Truthfully, if it came to a fight, Won-goo was confident.
Fishers specialized in hunting Large Species — giant monsters, and nothing else.
Survivors, on the other hand, had vastly more experience fighting other human beings.
In a proper clash, the advantage lay squarely with the survivors.
The Fishers knew that too. That was exactly why they were negotiating.
Or so Won-goo believed.
Right up until Kim Yang-cheon reluctantly nodded at fifty coins and offered his hand once more.
"Deal. Let's do it. Payment will come immediately?"
"It will. But we write up a contract."
"Of course — that's the sure way. Agreed."
To draft the contract, the two men stepped even closer together.
And Kim Yang-cheon held out his hand again.
Won-goo took it without thinking.
The instant their palms met, murderous intent blazed in Kim Yang-cheon's eyes.
And his manner of speech changed completely.
"You fucking sons of bitches — poaching someone else's kill, and what, fifty coins?"
Won-goo's face hardened in an instant.
CRACK!
The fingers of Won-goo's gripping hand were crushed.
Kim Yang-cheon hauled him in, hoisted him high, and slammed him into the ground.
Hands still clasped together.
Monstrous strength. Swinging a reinforced survivor around that casually was beyond any ordinary enhancement-type.
BOOM!
A thunderous crash sounded, and without any signal the Fishers and survivors alike burst into motion.
"You motherf— hit them, now!"
"Hyeong-nim!"
Won-goo's crew surged forward, and Lee Hyun-sung was the fastest to react.
In the meantime, Kim Yang-cheon lifted Won-goo yet again, preparing to bring him down once more.
"Huh?"
Catching a handshake and hammering the man into paste without letting go was Kim Yang-cheon's signature move.
There were almost no cases of anyone slipping out of the handshake.
He was well-versed in every trick for making an opponent take his hand in the first place.
Anyone ignorant of that could only watch helplessly as it happened.
What's more, not once in his life had Kim Yang-cheon ever let go of a man he'd shaken hands with. A few bone-shattering slams with that grip and monstrous strength, and most targets simply passed out or died on the spot.
But this time was different. The Fishers and survivors came charging in, his attention flicked toward them for just a moment — and in that sliver of time, Won-goo vanished.
The amusing part was that he was still shaking hands with his opponent.
Won-goo had drawn the dagger at his waist and severed his own arm.
He'd realized instantly that he couldn't match Kim Yang-cheon in raw strength, and this was the judgment that followed — fast, and without hesitation.
Cutting through the elbow without a flinch, Won-goo tore himself free.
"Ho…… you got out of that, just like that? In that instant?"
Kim Yang-cheon sensed something off.
Even after landing a clean first blow, he'd felt uneasy.
And sure enough—
A single Trailer was hurtling toward him at a ferocious speed.
"That's what you were counting on? You don't know the first thing about me."
Kim Yang-cheon was a Fisher who wielded no weapons.
That was tied directly to his Gift — a peculiar ability classified as a Penalty Gift.
To use the Gift in full, he could not touch a weapon.
In exchange, Kim Yang-cheon had gained strength worthy of the word superhuman.
Measured in pure power alone, he was a step above even Ralph.
So even watching the Trailer bear down on him, he didn't budge an inch.
He only needed to throw one punch at the exact moment of impact. So he thought.
The interesting part was that Won-goo knew all of this too.
He had mountains of data and a knack for instant judgment.
The reason he'd gone as far as cutting off his own arm to escape was the certainty that hesitating even a second longer would mean taking the beating full-force.
The Trailer came charging in at well over a hundred kilometers per hour.
Timing the collision, Kim Yang-cheon gallantly drew back his fist to strike.
But the charging Trailer slammed on the brakes and began to swerve.
Kim Yang-cheon's timing — calibrated for a head-on approach — fell beautifully apart.
Like a dinosaur sweeping its tail, the Trailer's flank smashed into him with brutal force.
He was flung far away and went rolling across the dirt.
"Durability's decent."
Won-goo came to his senses and was already analyzing with a cold head. Beside him, Jo Mu-sa was rapidly dressing the stump of his severed arm.
"Pass the word anyway — nobody closes in to engage. His strength looks untouchable."
"Your arm's all right, Gong So-jang?"
"Nothing worth raising a fuss over, so hurry up and spread it. If we take needless casualties it's a pain in the ass."
"Got it."
"Especially Ah-bal. Make sure it reaches Ah-bal. Better she goes berserk than careful."
"I'll tell her word for word."
Fresh slipped away among the other survivors.
"So what's the play here?"
"What play? We mark Kim Yang-cheon, that little bastard. Mark him alone, and the rest will handle themselves. Hyun-sung."
"Yes, Hyeong-nim."
"Get up front. Defensive stance."
"Yes, Sojang-nim."
"Don't bring out Dullahan yet. You haven't forgotten the signal from before, have you?"
"No, sir."
"Hold it right there until you hear that signal."
With that, Gong Won-goo pushed himself upright.
The moment he stood, a wave of dizziness set him staggering.
That was how hard Kim Yang-cheon's attack had hit.
But Won-goo recovered at once and began to move.
In step with him, Kim Yang-cheon — thrown clear by the Trailer — was shaking off the impact, his blood boiling.
Kim Yang-cheon looked at Won-goo. Won-goo looked back at Kim Yang-cheon.
Without either of them conceding the first step, they set out toward each other.
Just as they had at their first meeting.