Cross Gate
"Cross Gate?"
Even after five years as a hunter, it was a term I'd never heard before.
And no, don't start with the cheap shot that of course a scrub who spent five years stuck at E-rank wouldn't know it. Just don't.
"Cross Gate—also known as the Intermediate Zone," Nam Jinwoo explained.
"Intermediate Zone?"
"Because its entrances are scattered all across the world."
"Doesn't that sound incredibly dangerous?"
This was basically a gate purpose-built for illegal activity. Smuggling would be the least of it. A terrorist could hop continents, sowing darkness and chaos wherever they pleased.
"Ah. Not quite." Nam Jinwoo shook his head. "You can only return to your original world through the same gate you used to enter."
"So terrorism's off the table, then."
Smuggling, though—that they couldn't stop. Well, I wasn't exactly living my life as society's champion of justice, so there was no point getting worked up about it.
Either way, I now understood why the Cross Gate had stayed under wraps in the hunter industry.
"Do the guilds know about it?"
"Only a handful, including the domestic Big Five."
High-level intel, kept strictly off the public record. The only reason they were telling me was almost certainly tied to the Gigant Armor that Meister Han Yohan had pointed out.
"The Cross Gate is an unexplored continent," Nam Jinwoo continued.
Continental in scale. An honest-to-god other world, complete with flora, fauna, and monsters never seen on Earth.
"It's rare, but there have been accounts of people spotting beings from other worlds as well."
"The scale just keeps getting bigger."
"Rumors, for now. There's still far too little confirmed about the Cross Gate."
The potential for abuse was enormous, and the environment inside was so brutal that exploration had barely progressed beyond the survey stage.
"Hunter Park, we'd appreciate your discretion on this."
"You got it."
I wondered if President Baek knew. As an executive-level figure at Chilseong—one of the domestic Big Five—he probably did. I'd have to probe him about it later.
"Does the Cross Gate produce rare minerals or something?"
"How did you know that?"
"Just a hunch. The way you talk about going in wearing that armor yourselves."
"Exactly right. The Gigant Armor is the armament designed to protect blacksmiths in that harsh environment."
Blacksmiths were a non-combat class, but they were hardly lacking in raw power. In pure Strength stats, they didn't fall behind warrior-type hunters at all. It was a class that could level up without killing monsters—experience came with every successful item crafted.
"Then why does my lord's experience never rise?" Isra asked from behind me.
"Don't ask me."
Apparently I was stuck with the tragic hybrid of blacksmith and magic-type. There were downsides, though. Non-combat classes had their stats auto-distributed, and the stat gains per level were lower than combat classes. Being a Necromancer-slash-Blacksmith meant I dodged those penalties, so I supposed I should count myself lucky.
"The Gigant Armor is no mere piece of defensive gear." Pride rang clear in Han Yohan's voice as he ran his hand over the armor again and again. "It scales every ability in proportion to the wearer's Strength, and it comes equipped with an auto-combat function."
"Once the Gigant Armor is complete," Nam Jinwoo added, "our operational range inside the Cross Gate will expand dramatically."
Hold on. Something about that premise felt off.
"Couldn't you just go in under hunter escort?"
"We don't usually go in alone, but the Cross Gate is so treacherous that variables pile up fast."
"Monsters show up mid-excavation all the time." Han Yohan thrust out his forearm. A long scar ran from wrist to elbow. "Took this from a monster that popped out while I was mining mithril."
A gash that deep—it was a miracle the arm hadn't been severed outright.
"The moment Master was injured, we hit him with a potion," Nam Jinwoo said. "Even so, a scar like this remained."
"Sounds like no ordinary monster."
"Which is exactly why we need this thing."
Armament that could give even a non-combat class the power to fight back against monsters.
"I have very high expectations of you," Han Yohan said.
"The core of the Gigant Armor is its mana conversion capability, and Drake bone is ideal for that," Nam Jinwoo explained.
So that was why they'd taken such an interest in my bone-crafting ability. I wasn't just on the receiving end—I actually had something to offer in return. That was a relief.
"Someday I'll lend a hand myself."
"Feels like that day's coming sooner rather than later. You've barely held a hammer three months and you've already mastered the Invisible Hand."
"Mine's pretty visible, actually."
I waggled the temporary bone arm I'd cobbled together. The corner of Han Yohan's mouth twisted.
What. That was terrifying.
Was this pace still not good enough for him?
"My lord." Isra flinched behind me, reacting to a face that looked ready to murder several people.
"Excellent," Han Yohan said.
"I can't remember the last time Master smiled like that," Nam Jinwoo murmured.
Ah. That was a smile?
I'd have believed it was a death threat.
The Cross Gate. The Gigant Armor. And finally, the part Han Yohan expected from me. I'd taken in a lot of information, yet somehow my heart felt lighter. It was as if the quiet sense of debt that had been building while I learned blacksmithing had eased, just a little. The mere knowledge that there was something I could do to help was enough to lift the weight. Strange feeling, honestly.
I burned the unfinished Gigant Armor into my memory and stepped outside.
The landscape had grown dim. On a TV set outside the workshop, the news was playing.
Hah. Things were about to get noisy again.
The Superhuman General Bureau, which had lost face over the Turang incident, had reaped results in less than a month and restored its honor.
"We've saved face, at least," Director-General Ling Shamei said, her words laced with sharp thorns. No one present at the meeting failed to notice the discomfort in the air.
"The investment in Zheng Xiyanhao has paid off."
"All thanks to the Director-General's bold decision."
"The Korean government must be seething over losing Zheng Xiyanhao."
"Hahahaha!"
The Bureau officers heaped praise on Ling Shamei's resolve. Half of it was flattery—but half of it was true. The Superhuman General Bureau had always wielded formidable authority, yet its influence had only grown since she took the director-general's seat. Bold budget allocations. And results that matched them. It was that enormous budget, after all, that had allowed the motherland to claim Jeong Sinho—no, Zheng Xiyanhao—as its own.
"Supervisor Zhang Lin."
"Yes, Director-General."
"Zheng Xiyanhao. Can he be deployed to the Great Rift?"
"It will take approximately three months."
"That's a long time."
"We could force it immediately, but I believe it would be wiser not to proceed that way."
"Is he worth me going to the General Administration of Customs and eating crow?"
"Under the contract, mandatory mobilization is permitted once every six months."
The Superhuman General Bureau was no pushover. It would not sit idle while a superhuman—a hunter—brought home at enormous expense decided to slack off. The contracts contained a clause requiring absolute compliance with Bureau requests. And if the individual refused? No. That wasn't an option. From the moment they signed, every superhuman who chose to defect was bound by a geas—without even knowing it themselves.
"We could bind him with the restriction, but then Zheng Xiyanhao might become aware of it."
An absolute command authority usable once every six months. Weighing the waste of that power against the risk of Zheng Xiyanhao discovering the "restriction" in his contract—the advice was to hold back this time.
"You wretched man."
"My apologies."
"You're making me go beg."
The thorns in Ling Shamei's voice dulled slightly. She didn't like it, but she judged the counsel sound.
"Besides Zheng Xiyanhao, we have other superhumans under management, do we not?"
"Yes. Two A-rank hunters, and five B-rank."
"Every B-rank is to reach A-rank before the year is out."
Results had to match the investment. Raising a superhuman's rank required additional funding—but once results came in, it was fine. That was how the Superhuman General Bureau did business.
"Anyone who fails to reach the mark will be deployed to the Great Rift."
"An appropriate carrot and stick."
Ling Shamei dispatched several other agenda items in rapid succession. Ever since its founding alongside the Great Cataclysm, the Bureau had been a ministry of considerable weight within the Chinese Communist Party. But of late, its influence had expanded to the point that people were calling it the zenith—thanks to Ling Shamei's skill and nerve.
As the meeting drew toward its close, she spoke again.
"Park Minho's growth rate has been extremely steep."
The name of the man who had recently shaken the Bureau's standing dropped into the room like a stone.
"Ahem."
"Mmm."
Every officer present avoided answering. Why else had Director-General Ling Shamei been forced to go to the General Administration of Customs and eat crow? The fallout from failing to secure Park Minho. The Bureau had secretly deployed its trained hunting dogs—Turang, B-rank First Squad—only to be hunted in reverse. To make matters worse, the Korean government's hardline response had forced them to request something akin to a Korean Wave ban as a bargaining chip. But Customs couldn't push too hard either. The Great Rift sat on the old Manchurian soil; if Korean-affiliated hunters pulled out, holding the front line would become difficult. The Party was currently wrapping up the affair by offering the Korean government an appropriate "concession."
Ling Shamei, reduced to the one who had to make the humiliating request, furrowed her brow slightly.
"We cannot allow that man to grow any further."
"We're ready to tear into that insolent bangzi."
"Additional Turang deployments are forbidden."
After everything that had just happened, someone still wanted to throw Turang at him again? At Ling Shamei's ice-edged voice, the officer who had spoken bowed his head deep.
"Supervisor Zhou Yongshuiren."
"Yes, Director-General."
"Can you make contact with the Society?"
At Ling Shamei's words, the temperature in the conference room seemed to drop three degrees. The "Society" she named was something that must never be mentioned officially—proof in itself of how deeply this affair had wounded the Superhuman General Bureau and Director-General Ling Shamei.
"It is possible."
"Arrange a meeting."
"Understood."
If she could not have him, she would break him.
A bleak chill settled over Ling Shamei's eyes.