Who's Educating Whom?
“Then put Yoon Han-gyeol in close combat…… Overall, it fits together pretty cleanly. Not many half-baked kids.”
“They’re not total amateurs anyway—at least semi-pro level. They’ve got a feel for their positions and training.”
Lee Min-seok said.
“Huh? Why’d you put him here?”
“Lee Chang-hyun?”
“I figured you’d slot him into ranged DPS. Isn’t this a mistake?”
Jo Ah-ra replied with a stiff expression to Lee Min-seok’s head-tilted question.
“He handles a variety of weapons anyway…… And more than that, it’s a team game, but his ego’s too strong. Bordering on arrogance…… So I deliberately put him in close combat. His mentor there is Yi Seong-jin the hunter.”
“So you’re saying…… throw this amateur rookie into a mental showdown with a 1st Division pro hunter to break his spirit?”
Lee Min-seok sighed, looking utterly exasperated.
“No…… We have to judge based on the position that suits them best……”
“It’s already been submitted. And this program has an ‘education’ aspect to it, so please think positively.”
Jo Ah-ra recalled Lee Chang-hyun from the document review and interview.
‘Rookies with sky-high ceilings and even higher noses…… need to get knocked down a peg or two.’
That was Jo Ah-ra’s honest sentiment.
Air Anchors, Air Beats, and countless other mana tools. Whether you could wield them like extra limbs was what truly separated hunters from amateurs—no exaggeration.
But as one of the key factors dividing player tiers, it wasn’t easy.
‘There are dozens of mana gear types, and no one can master them all……’
Plus, the right mana gear varied by match and opponent. That led to near-infinite combat variations, and sometimes—even with inferior stats and skills—a gear advantage could turn the tide.
Of course, each piece required its own mastery level, making mana gear a blue ocean for talentless hunters…… and a path of endless toil.
“Hey! You so-called top rookies of Korean hunters gonna flop like this? Get up—now. If you can’t handle an Air Anchor or Air Beat—basic gear—you don’t deserve to be hunters!”
Yi Seong-jin knew this all too well, so he drove the applicants mercilessly. Go easy here, and they’d suffer later.
“3rd Division is a rookie graveyard. Perfect league to shred newbies who can’t even manage basic Air Anchors or Beats. Hey, you slug over there—get up already!”
That’s why Yi Seong-jin amped up the shouting, drilling them harshly.
‘Aigoo…… so damn loud…… noise pollution much.’
To Lee Chang-hyun, it was just annoying noise. For the regressed him, Air Anchors were no obstacle—felt even smoother with his improved body.
So instead of practicing, he observed. Especially his one friend in close combat: Kim Do-jun.
‘Whew……’
The others weren’t much better—zero sense for it.
Air Anchors demanded precise anchor points, rope length control via mana, weight shifting, mid-air flexibility, and core strength. All crucial.
But for newbies just told to try? Brutal.
“Hey, Kim Do-jun! Don’t flail like that—come here.”
“……Why? You not practicing? They’re testing this later……”
“I got mine. You gonna get it that way?”
Kim Do-jun looked soul-drained. Fail after fail, plus brutal facts? Mind-breaking.
“So…… you got a trick?”
“First, mana rope length. Steady mana output—constant intensity. Yours fluctuates, so you can’t balance and collapse. And center of gravity—no ground underfoot, so core it like your center.”
Lee Chang-hyun demoed: anchored mid-air, swung rope-style in a circle, landed smooth.
“Like this. Core-centered makes rolls or pose shifts easy anywhere. Keep output steady. Start there.”
Kim Do-jun tried again—way stabler. Anchor locked firm mid-air, pulled him steadily.
“Oh…… o! See that? Nailed it~ This is talent. Got it?”
Lee Chang-hyun regretted sharing for a sec, but seeing Kim Do-jun’s joy stirred old memories—made him a bit embarrassed.
As Kim Do-jun practiced more under watch, it happened.
“Hey, you! Lounging like it’s a picnic?”
Yi Seong-jin stormed over, bellowing.
“Buncha gear-noobs slacking off.”
His voice boomed—spotlight on them.
“Applicant. Name.”
“Lee Chang-hyun.”
‘Trying to lay down the law, huh. Bad timing. Eh, no biggie.’
Lee Chang-hyun got Yi Seong-jin’s intent but irked at being the target—replied curtly.
Yi Seong-jin flared at the casual name-drop, no honorifics.
“Right, applicant Lee Chang-hyun. Figured you could chill ‘cause you’re hot shit, huh?”
Sudden polite speech—sarcastic.
“Yeah, something like that.”
No backing down. Curious about the test, and by past-life seniority? Juniors got schooled by seniors.
Yi Seong-jin’s brow furrowed deeper—pissed.
“Gave you too much time, apparently. Let’s test now—everyone prep.”
Glares intensified at Lee Chang-hyun—practice time stolen.
“Detach the Air Anchor anchor at 100 meters up. Go. Oh—and if the guy lounging like he knows it all can’t even get close before crashing? No hunter material.”
Obvious ploy. Boot him from Hunters Next Generation via this test.
But steal from me? Match value. Backing off? Not his style.
Dare give the once-top player a dropout quest? Time to counter.
“Fine. But if I snag it—what then?”
“Do whatever in my class. If you snag it.”
Yi Seong-jin smirked meaningfully.
‘Impossible.’
Yi Seong-jin thought so. Anchor at 100 meters—beyond beginners, even mid-level.
Needed dozens chained—each just meters long. Plus, humans feared heights innately.
Even aces weren’t truly flying—just Tarzan-swinging anchors fast.
100m? Shatter common sense.
‘As expected.’
His prediction held. Many shot anchors up—but none broke 10m, let alone dozens.
One caught eyes.
‘Ho……’
Not pure anchor use, but rules said snag it—any way.
‘Flying on his sword…… telekinesis? Or higher……’
Yoon Han-gyeol mixed Air Beats, sped his sword, hopped platforms skyward.
‘No anchor skill, pity—but he might hit 100m……’
No ability bans—fair play.
Then, wondering about cocky Lee Chang-hyun…… opposite side gasped “Ooooh……”
Lee Chang-hyun soared.
‘No way……’
True sky-roaming.
‘How……’
One or two anchors? Sure—Kim Do-jun did it. But this? Master level.
Air Beat jump high, anchor at peak drop, gravity-sling circle back up—10m bursts. Spider-Manning anchors everywhere, up-down loops climbing.
‘No fear of falling?’
Hunters died from big impacts—VR senses real.
But him? Sky playground. Yi Seong-jin agape.
Minutes later: 100m, anchor in hand, overlooking all.
And……
‘He’s dropping……’
Like leaping off a skyscraper. Fearless—enjoying it.
No rookie clumsiness—pure mastery, joy. Veteran freedom, childlike grin.
Final drop: anchor high, speed-circle swings, perfect land.
“Feels refreshing.”