Everyone's Fine—Except One
The telekinesis testing room.
Walls of mana-suppressing alloy. Ceiling bristling with ultra-high-density detection cameras. And in the center?
A precision orbital zone sealed behind transparent reinforced glass—the crystallized pinnacle of technology into which the Association had poured hundreds of billions.
Of course, a sizable chunk of that budget had been quietly siphoned off by Association President Go Changsik, leaving more than a few shoddy corners.
“The method is similar to a roller coaster,” the chief examiner explained. “Think of it as generating telekinetic force with mana to pilot the sphere.”
A luminous virtual maze bloomed in midair—thousands of pathways and hairpin turns twisted into a three-dimensional track.
“Complete the route and return the sphere precisely to its starting point.”
Kang Hanul stepped up to the track. The examiners tensed as one.
A mental-type ability user shouldn’t possess telekinesis at all. Yet if he had been merely a mental-type, the machines wouldn’t have been reduced to scrap during the physical exam. Kang Hanul, this returnee, was anything but normal.
Which was why every pair of eyes silently prayed: Please, just this once, don’t destroy the equipment.
“Begin.”
At Hanul’s word the examiner activated the apparatus. With a soft whoosh, the metal sphere rose into the air—exactly what one might have expected from a mental-type, yet still somehow shocking.
Then the sphere moved. No—it glided. Most hunters broke into cold sweat simply maintaining levitation. Hanul’s sphere, however, drifted through the still air with serene composure.
Shuuuuk!
At the first corner it accelerated to near-sonic speed. Even through right-angle turns the velocity never dropped. Perfect inertial control. The sphere allowed not a single millimeter of error against the maze walls.
“Didn’t they say he was a mental-type?”
“That’s insane!”
“I’ve watched Triple-A telekinetics work, and none of them had control like that!”
Thousands of routes were cleared in mere seconds. The moment the sphere reached the end of the track, Hanul flicked a finger with casual indifference.
Whoosh—
The sphere traced an elegant arc and reversed course. Nothing exploded. No shrapnel flew.
“…!”
Relief washed over the examiners’ faces. One man actually patted his chest.
“Oh, thank god.”
“It didn’t blow up this time. Seriously, thank god.”
They looked like survivors clawing their way out of hell, eyes glistening at the miracle of intact equipment.
The relief lasted only a heartbeat. The sphere, which had seemed ready to stop right in front of them, suddenly veered.
Direction: vertical. Straight for the ceiling.
“Wha—hey! Where’s it going?!”
The examiners screamed as the sphere rocketed upward at terrifying speed.
“I-it’s fine! The ceiling won’t break.”
“Right. We reinforced it specifically for control mistakes.”
The telekinesis testing room’s ceiling was the most carefully engineered section of all—a special zone designed for the inevitable blunders of novice hunters. Even the sphere and ceiling materials had been given mutually repulsive properties.
“Built insanely tough, and there’s an energy field wrapping the whole thing.”
“Exactly. The field will bounce it before the repulsive materials even touch. It’ll never punch through.”
The examiner muttered with absolute confidence. Just before the sphere struck, a blue repulsive mana barrier bloomed—an impregnable defense meant to nullify any physical impact at the source.
In that instant Hanul’s eyes flickered violet. Repulsive materials? Energy fields? Before the will of the Demon God they were thinner excuses than paper.
KWAANG—!
The ceiling that could never be breached?
KWA-RURURUNG—
A massive hole tore open. The energy field evaporated without a trace. The repulsive alloy crumpled like a tin can and erupted into the floor above. The sphere punched clean through the ceiling and vanished into the Association’s upper levels.
“….”
The examiners could no longer even scream.
KWAANG—!
The sphere did not stop. It kept rising, smashing through ceiling after ceiling.
Kwang!
The sound receded, yet every impact still rang out with crystalline clarity.
Kwang! Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang! Kwaang!
A chain of rupturing booms. The sphere was systematically demolishing floor after floor on its way up. The vibrations traveled straight through the soles of their shoes.
One examiner finally recovered enough to shout.
“H-hey! What’s on the floors above?!”
The others snapped back to reality one by one.
“The administrative offices! Ordinary staff work up there!”
“If this turns into a mass casualty event we’re finished…!”
Dozens of floors stacked atop one another, filled with countless administrative personnel. If the sphere’s trajectory tore through them, catastrophe was inevitable.
Yet Hanul merely smiled.
“Don’t worry. There will be no casualties.”
“W-what do you mean by that?”
“It’s currently punching straight through the entire building…!”
The chief examiner clutched his head. This was far beyond the realm of writing up an incident report.
Hanul’s voice, however, remained calm—chillingly low, in fact.
“Everyone will be perfectly fine. Except one.”
“…Excuse me?”
The examiner gaped. Instead of answering, Hanul lightly flicked his finger again.
Top floor. Association President’s office.
In a hidden wall safe, President Go Changsik was currently opening the door.
“Keh-heh-heh… this is the only reason I keep living.”
He cradled a thick gold bar in each hand. Far more bars glittered inside the safe.
“Keh-heh, nothing beats this feeling.”
He greedily licked one of the bars. At that moment a frantic report crackled through the internal phone.
“P-President! Emergency report!”
“Damn it, what now?!”
“Kang Hanul has completely wrecked the mana measurement devices and now the physical examination equipment as well!”
Go Changsik’s eyebrow twitched.
“What?”
“During Kang Hanul’s tests the measurement equipment was smashed to pieces…”
“Then tell that bastard to pay for the equipment!”
“Well… according to regulations, equipment destroyed during measurement is the Hunter Association’s responsibility. If the hunter had been injured we would even have to pay compensation…”
“What kind of ridiculous rule is th—”
He was mid-shout when he suddenly froze. A smile spread across his lips.
“No, wait. Actually, this is perfect. I’m a genius.”
“Sir?”
“Listen carefully.”
Go Changsik carefully returned the gold bars to the safe as he continued.
“Equipment’s wrecked, so we have to buy new ones, right?”
“Yes, that’s true, but…”
“Then while we’re buying new equipment we can skim a nice little rebate. With the gear destroyed, the Dungeon Management Department can’t reject the budget request, and the National Assembly is already in my pocket.”
“…Remarkable, sir. To think of that even now.”
“What? Were you just being sarcastic?”
“Not at all! I meant it with genuine respect!”
Go Changsik chuckled, already savoring the fantasy. On any other day he would have chewed the secretary out further, but today he let it slide.
“While we’re at it, why not replace everything with the latest models and divert a little extra budget?”
“….”
“Keh-heh-heh! Even that little bitch Kang Eunha has her uses—filling my pockets like this!”
He gazed at the glittering mountain of gold bars with pure satisfaction. Desire-soaked laughter filled the office—
when a eardrum-shattering explosion erupted from beneath his feet. The floor shuddered violently; the entire office shook.
“Wh-what the hell?! An earthquake? Did that bastard break more equipment?”
“It appears so. From the telekinesis testing room, it seems.”
Go Changsik grabbed the sofa and snapped irritably.
“Tch, fine if he breaks things, but does he have to shake the whole building so much—”
He never finished the sentence.
KWAAAAANG!
With a thunderous roar the floor split open. Through the hole rocketed the sphere.
“Huk?!”
It stopped dead right in front of Go Changsik’s nose, spinning in midair with a metallic whiiiiir.
“W-why is this here? This is from the telekinesis testing room…”
His eyes flooded with horror. The telekinesis testing sphere—here? That meant it had punched through dozens of floors. Before the thought could finish, Go Changsik snapped into a defensive stance.
Hooooosh—
Mana erupted from his entire body. Yet the pressure radiating from the sphere was beyond imagination.
If that hits me, I die.
Cold sweat poured down him like rain. His heart hammered as if it would burst.
The next instant, however, the sphere did not strike him. Instead it began circling him at ferocious speed.
Whiiiiiiiiir—
Like a snare tightening around prey. As the sphere’s orbit narrowed, the air itself screamed.
Then violet smoke billowed from the sphere and coiled around Go Changsik’s entire body. An unknown, overwhelming gravitational force flung him about like a rag doll.
“Kueeek!”
No time to resist. Go Changsik floated helplessly into the air. The violet smoke became merciless chains. The sphere yanked him downward through the very hole it had torn in the floor.
“KRAAAAAAH!”
Every time he passed through another floor’s hole, his scream stretched and warped like a Doppler effect—rough, merciless, downward, ever downward. And at the end of it all—
KWAANG—!
A cloud of dust exploded as a heavy body slammed into the floor. The telekinesis testing room on the lower level—now a ruin of scrap metal that had once been equipment worth hundreds of billions.
“Cough, kuhk…”
Go Changsik crawled on all fours like a dog, spitting blood-flecked saliva.
“Ghhh…”
Through the agony of every bone out of place he barely managed to lift his head. Black dress shoes filled his vision—standing with casual yet crushing weight. Hanul looked down and spoke.
“You seemed too lazy to come down yourself, so I called you.”
Go Changsik’s face went deathly white with terror.
Th-this man…?!
A pitiful wreck of fear and panic.
“Hmm. Is this really all you’ve got?”
Hanul’s voice was dry as he regarded the man for a moment.
“Right?! Master, I could kill that human with just my pinky finger!”
“Hah. Korea really has declined. For the Association President to be this weak…”
Baek Hayan calmly added context to Hanul’s murmur.
“Due to talent drain, the Association’s upper echelons are nowhere near their former level. That man in particular is famous for buying his position with money rather than ability.”
Seo Jihun pushed up his glasses and chimed in.
“A man who uses a bought seat solely to multiply his wealth. Rumors that Association budgets flow straight into his personal vault are everywhere.”
Even reduced to this state, he was still nominally the Association President. For Baek Hayan and Seo Jihun to expose his dirty laundry so openly to his face suggested long-accumulated grievances against the Association.
“Y-you bastards…!”
Go Changsik ground his teeth and glared at Baek Hayan—how dare a mere guild leader insult him? Baek Hayan met the glare without so much as a blink.
Then—
“Hey. Are you seriously trying to threaten my subordinate right in front of me?”
Hanul’s quiet voice froze the testing room solid. In that instant Go Changsik felt his heart stop. His breath locked with a choked gak. Unable even to scream, he slammed his forehead into the floor.
“Ke-kehk…”
As a hunter his ability was unworthy of the Association President’s seat. The two skills that had gotten him the job were simple: siphoning money and paying bribes… and knowing exactly when to crawl.
That instinct now whispered: Look away here, and you’re fucked.
F-fuck! What the hell is this guy? What did I just poke?!