This Is Not a Dream

What in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠world was happening?

At first he thought it was only a dream. But the stench of the battlefield stung his nose with a clarity no dream could counterfeit, and the longer it clung to him, the less sure he became that any of this was illusion.

If it was not a dream, then he was a soldier of the Republic of Korea all over again. Once, as an ordinary man. Once more, after awakening, as a special forces operative. And now, a third time.

Put that way it sounded like madness, but the second enlistment had been something he himself had wanted. This was the age before the Tower rose, and in those days belonging to the military was the surest road to becoming a stronger Awakener.

An Awakener grew in only one way: by increasing mana through mana stones. The dungeons that yielded them in any real quantity, however, were monopolized by the armed forces, and so anyone who meant to grow strong had no choice but to hope for enlistment. You could fairly say that nearly every capable Awakener of the era was a soldier.

Captain Park Gyeongtae, who had just called Shin Haneul's name, was one of them — an ace rated, at this point in time, even higher than Haneul himself. The greatest fighting power the Republic of Korea possessed.

"Second Lieutenant Shin. Why the sudden blank stare? Don't tell me you're getting scared now, of all times."

"Hardly, sir."

"Good, good. Let's bet again today. Who drops more monsters."

The words were light, but Park Gyeongtae's voice was shaking. It could hardly have been otherwise.

A single superior's rampage had annihilated the squad. The two of them were stranded alone in the heart of a large-scale dungeon.

And a wave was about to begin here?

Awakeners of this moment had done nothing more than awaken their mana. By the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠standards of the future they were unfinished things, not even granted a class, and the gap in strength among them was correspondingly small.

However outstanding you were, a swarm of monsters — feeble creatures, and feebler still by the measure of what was to come — was not something you could easily hold. It was only natural that the odds of surviving until reinforcements arrived looked vanishingly thin.

And yet we broke through those odds and made it out.

This time, it would probably be easier still.

It did not matter that Shin Haneul had not so much as a single skill, let alone the power he had wielded in the days when he hunted the Outer Gods. The methods of handling mana that remained in his head, and the feel of them, were answering him as though none of this were a dream.

Even with the same quantity of mana, how you wielded it could open a world of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠difference in a fight. In an age when the Awakeners were weak and the monsters were weak to match, there was, for all practical purposes, nothing here that could threaten his life.

If it was this wave — the one he had somehow endured even back then — there was nothing more to say.

"Captain, just hold the northern door and endure. I'll break through the western door and take the boss."

"Haha. I didn't know you had this kind of bluster in you."

It was not bluster.

If this is a dream, it'll be easy. If it isn't, easier still.

The certainty proved itself at once. He did not stop at holding the western door and enduring, the way his memories of the past had it. Just as he had told Park Gyeongtae, he cut through the monsters and drove forward — severed the joints of the ones that lunged, took the heads off the ones that sprang, and drove the blade down the throat of the one that roared.

It did not take long. He pushed through in a blur, and then he was in the boss monster's chamber.

And that was the end of it.

Graaah—

Whatever tremendous presence the thing had once possessed, the boss that the whole of Korea's finest elite unit had barely managed to bring down was extinguished without ever finishing a single roar.

In this era, people had a saying.

That was how much a mana stone mattered. The reason was simple. At present it was the only means of growing a Hunter's mana, and if one could be had, every Awakener had no choice but to come running with fire in both eyes. It was also why Awakeners scrambled over one another to join the military.

And those who lost that competition? They worked as civilian Awakeners, never mobilized for large operations, stepping only into petty little dungeons. You could already consider any real growth as an Awakener beyond them. Kill what lived in places like that and you might get no mana stone at all — or, if you were lucky, one no bigger than an ant's tear — and so the gap in mana only widened as time went on.

Those who entered the military, by contrast, absorbed mana stones and grew steadily stronger.

Not that it would matter for long. The Tower would appear, classes would be granted, skills would be learned. Until then, the competition among Awakeners was nothing but the measuring of acorns, and increasing one's mana meant nothing more than becoming a slightly larger acorn. Worse, take in too much of this low-purity mana and that became a problem in its own right. It could actually stand in the way of growing stronger.

"Pretty garbage."

The mana stone from the boss Shin Haneul had just cut down was no different. Befitting the boss of a dungeon that was tremendous by present standards, what came out of it was truly enormous — and the energy inside was turbid beyond belief. Absorbing the thing was like drinking seawater because you were thirsty. In the long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠run it would only be poison.

Even so, it isn't as if there's no way at all.

Shin Haneul drew up the mana throughout his body, meaning to strain the impurities out and drink in only what was pure. Ordinarily it was not worth attempting. The amount you could extract was so small that the time felt wasted. Right now, though, the total mana he possessed was itself meager, and something was far better than nothing.

A long breath left him.

How much time had passed? His body was soaked through with sweat, and what remained was a mana stone of turbid energy, little better than dregs — garbage worse than before. There was no need to carry it. Leave it, and the military would recover it. He turned and made his way back, retracing the dungeon at an unhurried pace.

It was a completely different sight from his previous life.

Things have gotten much better than before. If this isn't a dream, that is.

The way it was supposed to go, the reinforcements would have found him on the verge of death, and he would have spent months in a hospital bed. Those injuries would have left him sucking his thumb in the days right after the Tower appeared, his early growth fallen behind, the loss a heavy one.

But now?

He already knew the future, and on top of that he had drawn the high-purity energy out of this enormous stone. He could surge ahead from the very start. His pace would be beyond any comparison with his previous life.

"Captain Park. Are you all right?"

"......Second Lieutenant Shin?"

He stepped into the room where they had held their briefing and found Park Gyeongtae slumped there, the man who had held the northern door, covered in blood. As expected. Haneul was not the only one whose situation had changed. The captain was badly wounded, but a future in which he ought to have been at death's door had shifted.

"I'm glad you're safe."

Even so, it would not make much difference. The span in which Park Gyeongtae could shine was nearly at its end. An ability unsuited to climbing the Tower. Before long he would strike the wall of reality and have no choice but to prepare for retirement.

But that was no problem. His true talent did not lie in the field. Second director of the Awakener Management Bureau — and the twenty-sixth president of the Republic of Korea besides. No ordinary political operator.

Of course, a little of that was thanks to me.

Shin Haneul would become a powerful Hunter and stand as his backing, and Park Gyeongtae would furnish the best possible conditions for holding off the end of the world. They had been decent enough partners.

In the last life, that is.

"...Why? Why are you perfectly fine?"

"Sir?"

"I'm sure I had the edge in skill, if only by a little..."

A twisted face. It was plainly not the monsters' wounds alone. The man who had managed a smile even while half-dead was wearing a look like this now, when he was comparatively intact. Almost funny.

But Shin Haneul did not dwell on it. His head was full of the thought of meeting his son, and if he reckoned the timing, he could see his parents as well.

Once he was back at base, he set everything else aside and ran for home. An hour or two at most — so why did it feel so far? By the time he arrived, his heart seemed ready to climb out of his throat. Even when he had fought the Outer Gods with his life on the line, he had not trembled like this.

"Haneul!"

Sure enough, his parents were home, exactly as he remembered them.

"Father! Mother!"

Just the sight of them brought tears to his eyes.

Had the voices reached him? From inside the room a tiny silhouette peeked out — cheeks as soft and round as dumplings, eyes bright and glittering. The moment Shin Haneul saw the child, he was certain.

This was not a dream. That adorable little figure was something his impoverished imagination could never have conjured.

"Daaad—!"

The little angel threw himself bodily forward, small feet pattering across the floor, without the slightest thought that Shin Haneul might refuse the embrace. A canvas of pure white.

And later, I made a child like this flinch whenever I so much as raised a hand.

His arms tightened of their own accord as he gathered the boy up.

"I'm sorry. Dad is so sorry......"

"...?"

An apology with no context at all. It would have been fair for the boy to scold him and demand to know what he was talking about. Instead his son carefully stroked Haneul's cheek with a small, soft hand.

"Why are you crying, Dad? Minwoo's right here. It's okay, Dad. Don't cry."

That pure comfort undid Shin Haneul all the more. Why had there been so little room in him, in that other life? However strongly he had believed the boy needed to be raised, he could still have held him warm. Harshness had never been the only way to make a child strong.

I was a madman. I really was.

Self-reproach washed over him. But it was different now.

Rifts? The Tower? The Outer Gods?

He knew now that not one of those damned things was the slightest threat. In this life he would not torment this child under the excuse of preparing for disasters that would never even come. He would only let the boy live, and enjoy it.

Shin Haneul held his son tight against his chest and swore it, and swore it again.

A few days later, an envelope of documents arrived for Shin Haneul. A military mark was stamped on the outside, and beneath it was written:

"Read it."

The colonel seated across from him said it. Kim Yongun. A man Shin Haneul had served as a direct subordinate for three years — and, had things gone as they were meant to, would have kept serving for more than ten years after that. He was also the man who would have become the first director of the Awakener Management Bureau of the Republic of Korea.

The one who had always called Shin Haneul the pride of the Republic of Korea, and treated him with the highest regard, now wore an utterly unfamiliar face.

"I think I can tell the result from your expression alone."

"......"

"Do you truly believe Captain Park Gyeongtae's claim? That I forced a reckless operation, annihilated the squad, and put Captain Park in danger."

"...It doesn't add up. But listen, Second Lieutenant Shin. That isn't the important part."

"Then what is?"

"That you don't have the power to overturn this result. That is what matters."

No power. A rather fresh evaluation, that. For a considerable span of time he had been called a savior by countless people, and had lived as an object of fear to the Outer Gods.

"Why did you have to fall out of Captain Park Gyeongtae's good graces? Skill and backing both — you know perfectly well he isn't someone you can compare yourself to."

"......"

"A real pity. If you had only kept receiving a steady supply of mana stones, you would have become a truly dependable asset."

Park Gyeongtae had denied that Shin Haneul killed the boss in the dungeon. He had even laid the squad's annihilation, which came before that, at Haneul's feet as his crime — and he had done it while knowing himself that it made no sense.

Why on earth?

Shin Haneul did not know. He did not want to know. He simply had not taken any extraordinary action to stop it. There was nothing in it for him to regret, and he was angry.

What he had done, instead, was respond in the ordinary way, and that had not been for his own sake. It had been to give a chance to the man in front of him — Colonel Kim Yongun, who in the previous life had spared no support for him, material or otherwise.

The other man had kicked that chance aside.

Haneul tore the envelope open. His eyes swept the keywords on the page.

Unanimous, even.

Besides Colonel Kim Yongun, the military had been full of people who, in his previous life, would have licked the soles of his feet if they could. And this was the result.

A laugh nearly escaped him. It was betrayal.

However many things he had thrown away to protect the world, he had never thrown this country away. The struggle had been for his son, and yet, in the end, he had made the Republic of Korea the greatest Hunter nation in the world. Along the way he had grown deeply attached — to this country, and to the people who had given him boundless trust and devotion.

He had never imagined that trust and devotion could collapse so easily, from nothing more than a slight shift in timing.

His hand closed hard. In a single instant, his feelings toward them were settled.