The Living Fortress

The guild leader of the White Tiger Guild. Han Yura. One of the only three S-class hunters in all of South Korea, and the woman once called the very embodiment of the nation’s hunter power. She first made her name twenty-eight years ago, on the day an A-class dungeon appeared right in the heart of Seoul.

Back then, the White Tiger Guild wasn’t yet known for its intelligence operations and covert maneuvers. To be precise, that identity hadn’t taken root. In those days, the guild was a force that crushed high-difficulty dungeons through the overwhelming martial prowess of a single monstrous hunter named Han Yura. Clearing A-class dungeons. Subjugating disaster-grade monsters. Solo-sealing gates on the verge of collapse. She piled up one impossible record after another, living proof that a single S-class hunter could change a country’s entire standing. That was Han Yura.

And now. Publicly, she was said to have stepped back from the front lines to focus on training the next generation. A legend who had withdrawn one step from active duty to nurture White Tiger’s future hunters. The media packaged it that way, and the public believed it.

But the truth Han Sora had told me was different.

At that time, an unprecedented event had unfolded across the Gangseo District of Seoul. Two A-class dungeons had erupted simultaneously. A single one was a disaster-grade threat capable of paralyzing an entire nation. Two at once? It was serious enough that Japan, China, and Russia all floated the possibility of emergency support.

But accepting help would be the same as admitting defeat. It would mean the White Tiger Guild, responsible for Seoul’s western defense, couldn’t even handle the dungeons that had appeared in its own territory. So the guild leader at the time, Han Yura, made her decision.

She would commit the guild’s entire main force to one of the A-class dungeons. The remaining one she would enter alone.

Solo raid. The term usually referred to a high-ranking hunter entering a dungeon two or more ranks below their own to safely monopolize the rewards. A strong person trampling a weak dungeon. Yet Han Yura had done it against an A-class dungeon classified as a national disaster.

Judging by the results alone, it was a success. The White Tiger Guild closed both A-class dungeons in less than a month. Even the Geumseong Guild, then considered Korea’s strongest, couldn’t hide its admiration. Overseas media lavished praise on the guild’s response speed and Han Yura’s combat ability.

But there was always a price.

Han Yura had been pierced through the waist and pelvis by the dungeon boss’s venomous stinger. A fatal wound that tore through the area around her spine and burrowed deep into her pelvis. Any ordinary professional hunter would have died on the spot, but the healers and hunter-specialized doctors on scene had barely managed to stop the bleeding and close the surface wounds, preserving her life.

The real problem came after that.

The dungeon-born contamination and bacteria coating the stinger had remained trapped inside her body, never properly flushed out. On the outside she looked healed, but inside the infection had been slowly spreading. Into the vertebrae. Into the tissues surrounding the pelvis. And eventually, it formed abscesses around her spine.

In simple terms, the treatment had saved her life but had also sealed the disease inside her body.

And now.

I stood inside the White Tiger Guild’s secret treatment room, facing that very legend.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

In the dim room, faint lighting fell only around the patient bed. Beneath the cold, surgical white glow, a woman lay motionless. Her white hair resembled Sora’s, yet it carried a more mature, overwhelmingly commanding presence. Even with her eyes closed, a strange dignity lingered on her face.

But beneath that dignity, the sight was horrifying.

A central venous catheter ran into her neck. IV lines and medication pumps were attached to her arms. The monitor beside the bed continuously displayed her heart rate, oxygen saturation, and blood pressure. Her lower body was covered with sterile drapes, but even so, I could tell the condition there was dire. The problem lay around her waist and pelvis.

“This person…”

I murmured softly as I looked down at the woman on the bed.

One of only three S-class hunters in Korea. The guild leader of the White Tiger Guild, Han Yura. A name I had seen in elementary school textbooks. The symbol of Korea’s hunter disaster response. The hero who had protected the nation. The person teachers had cited again and again as an example of greatness. A figure who belonged in biographies of great people was now lying before me as if dead.

It felt strange. Not because I was starstruck by a celebrity. The fact that someone once called a legend had been reduced to this state simply didn’t feel real.

But as a doctor, I had no time for sentiment.

Her complexion was surprisingly decent. Her heart was beating. Her breathing didn’t seem completely dependent on machines. The real issue was, as expected, the lower half. The waist, pelvis, and nerves.

I slowly approached the side of the bed.

“I’ll examine the wound site.”

The moment I reached out to lift the sterile drape, a hand grabbed my arm.

It was a woman who appeared to be part of the guild’s dedicated medical staff. Her face was openly panicked as she blocked me.

“Wait! You can’t just touch her like that!”

“I need to check before I can make a diagnosis.”

“I know that. But the guild leader’s wound isn’t a normal injury. Even slight stimulation could trigger pain shock, and the infected area might rupture again.”

“And?”

I looked at her.

“Are you telling me you’ve been too scared to open it properly all this time?”

“…”

The medical staff’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expression hardened.

At that moment, Han Sora, who had guided me here, spoke quietly.

“S-Sora-nim…! But—!”

“This person is my guest.”

The tremor that had been in her voice moments ago was gone. The cold gaze befitting an A-class hunter and the next guild leader candidate of the White Tiger Guild swept over the dedicated medical staff.

“…”

The medical staff fell silent at once. It really was different when it came to her own mother. The same person who had clung to me in tears just days ago had, in this moment, become a true executive of the White Tiger Guild.

I took the opportunity to carefully lift the sterile drape.

And then—

“…Holy shit.”

A curse slipped out before I could stop it.

I had expected the condition to be severe. An old contaminated wound that had pierced her waist and pelvis. I had even heard the explanation that the healers had only closed the surface, trapping the infection inside. I had pictured the worst-case scenario in my head multiple times.

But seeing it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in person was something else entirely.

The wound was no longer at a stage that could be described as an “injury.” The tissue around her waist and pelvis had discolored from long-term infection, and parts of it had hardened like stone. On the surface it looked closed, but deep inside, pus had accumulated and was building pressure.

The area around the spine. Specifically, the region running from below the waist into the pelvis. That was the problem.

The abscess is pressing on the nerves.

Medically speaking, it was chronic infectious spondylitis accompanied by a spinal epidural abscess. The contaminated tissue had already burrowed close to the bone and was compressing the nerve roots around the spine. Now I understood why lower-body paralysis and urinary dysfunction had begun.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

There’s necrotic tissue mixed in too. Dead tissue, infected tissue, and living tissue are all tangled together.

An ordinary person would have died long ago. No—they should have died. The fact that her heart was still beating in this state was absurd.

I had thought something similar when I saw the B-class hunter Jang Mihyeon. How is she still alive in that condition? But the body of the S-class hunter lying before me now was on an entirely different level.

A physique that had truly stepped beyond the bounds of humanity. A body that was a miracle because it was alive, and all the more horrifying because it was alive.

“It’s impressive that you’re still alive in this state.”

At my words, Han Sora swallowed a small breath.

I couldn’t deny it. She couldn’t die. But she also couldn’t heal. For eight years, this body ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had endured while rotting away from the inside.

I clenched my teeth.

What needs to be done is clear.

Drain the abscess pooled around the spine. Then remove the contaminated and necrotic tissue and relieve the pressure on the compressed nerves. If necessary, stabilize the weakened pelvis and surrounding vertebrae.

“Hunter-exclusive scalpel.”

A familiar sensation settled at my fingertips. The same scalpel I had used to open the B-class hunter’s thoracic cavity. The feeling of reading the grain of mana-reinforced tissue and slipping into the thinnest gap. I moved my hand over the wound.

I had to open it first. Open it, observe, drain the pus, and excise the rotten tissue.

That was the moment.

“…What?”

My hand stopped. The status window coldly displayed the next line.

I gritted my teeth.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t diagnose her. I could see exactly what needed to be done. Drain the abscess around the spine, remove the necrotic tissue, and relieve the compressed nerves. The problem was that I couldn’t reach it.

The scalpel that had opened a B-class hunter’s body was now trembling faintly atop Han Yura’s skin. It felt less like I was holding a blade and more like I was holding a shard of glass. If I applied even a little more force, it seemed the equipment would shatter before the patient’s body even opened.

If a B-class hunter’s body had felt like steel, then an S-class hunter’s body was a living fortress.