Prologue: Thirteen Years, and Then
My career was a long one.
Thirteen years, give or take?
Long enough that I could go anywhere and claim I'd actually done some work as a hunter.
Through all that time, I'd worked for the country. I'd worked for the safety of its citizens.
"A national hunter? Ha. People still do that these days?"
I'd picked up plenty of nicknames along the way. Water Rocket, flash-in-the-pan, has-been... none of them exactly flattering.
"Damn it..."
The blood wouldn't stop. I tried pressing down on the wound, at least to slow the bleeding, but... with only one arm left, even that was easier said than done.
"I told you to run, senior. Why didn't you..."
"My survival doesn't mean much in this situation. If you live, that's a net gain. If we both die, well—we break even."
I gave up on the bleeding and used my one working hand to light a cigarette instead. I dragged the smoke in deep and let it out slowly.
Through the drifting haze, I could see my junior in front of me.
"...What a waste you are, though. If your mentor hadn't been such dead weight, you'd have gone so much further."
"You came all this way because of me... for nothing... I'm so sorry..."
"Sorry for what? Stick with someone ten years and you pick up at least this much."
"..."
Apparently we'd both hit our limit. Our limit was our limit.
Out of nowhere, I remembered the first day I ever took on an assistant.
What a capable kid she'd been.
"Han Seol-ah."
"Yes...?"
"Good work."
And then, just as suddenly, I remembered the day I first became a hunter.
An Initial Awakener. I'd made a name for myself early on, riding that privilege. While everyone else chased their own profit, I went and worked for the state. I earned my honors, and luck smiled on me often enough that I touched real money too.
But none of it lasted.
A hunter with no mana.
Maybe the ending was written from the start.
Zero mana in my body, and no ability to handle ambient mana either. The limitation was absolute—stark as a line drawn in ink.
And so a hunter who'd once fought for a place at the top of the world fell, and fell, and fell, until he'd been dumped into some obscure government agency nobody cared about, reduced to raising his own replacements.
Then came ten years.
A full ten years of scraping by, half-begging for scraps.
A washed-up nobody coasting through life figured he'd groom one promising junior and claw his way back to the top. Ridiculous, really.
"...Was that dream too big after all?"
Hunting... maybe it was never a job suited to this talent of mine in the first place.
As I sat there thinking it, Han Seol-ah spoke.
"But still... we brought it down."
"..."
Yes. We did bring it down.
The corpse I was leaning on right now.
An Aryong, no less. One of the strongest monsters to have crossed through the gates in thirteen years—top of the food chain, hands down. Its level hadn't even registered properly, for whatever reason.
And the two of us had taken it down alone.
"...Well. You did most of the work, to be fair."
"Still... hehe..."
My junior grinned at me. We were both about to die. What in the world was she so happy about?
"Meeting you... is the reason I was able to grow this much."
"How is that my doing? That was all you being brilliant."
"No. The path you led me down was always the right one. That's how I made it to where I am today."
She just kept smiling. With a face like that, what could I possibly say to it? I decided to just nod along, more or less.
"...Ha. You know, having tried it once... I'm thinking maybe, if I got reborn, I'd go coddle a completely different crowd."
"Reborn...?"
"Yeah. Again."
It was meant as a joke. But then a thought crossed my mind, unbidden.
What if I really had?
I should have retired outright back when they started calling me a has-been.
Then I'd never have watched all that ugly garbage go down. I could have lived a decent life.
"...I really should have."
Not that I regretted it, mind you. If I called that time a regret, it would be a slap in the face to every kid I'd poured myself into raising. It was just that—
I was thinking, just a little, about another possibility.
Just a very little.
"...Ha."
Had I really been talking to myself that long?
I came back to myself and realized my junior had gone silent.
Well. At least I hadn't left her behind first. That much, I figured, earned me the title of senior.
And I could feel my own consciousness guttering out, bit by bit.
Slowly.
Slowly.
My vision blurred. My thoughts went hazy.
Oh. I'm actually dying.
So.
What was I doing again?
"Look here. So—what exactly are you proposing to do with me, right now?"
"..."
"Can you not pull yourself together? The whole world's calling you a has-been and worse! Me covering for you only works up to a point. If this is the level you're going to stay at, there's nothing I can do for you!"
A middle-aged man was bellowing in front of my face.
Ah, right. This guy was completely bald, once upon a time.
These days his hairline was holding the line, at least to some degree.
"...Chairman, are you taking hair loss medication these days?"
"What the hell did you just say?"
"..."
Huh. So it really is the Chairman.
What is this? Why is this guy standing in front of me right now?
Don't tell me the near-death highlights reel is made of memories this crappy, and of bald old codgers like him. Wait—no, he's not bald yet.
"Chairman."
"You're not going to ask what I just said to you?"
"Couldn't matter less. What's today's date?"
"What? 'Couldn't matter less'? Is my head a matter of nothing to you?"
"It's still presentable, so please just answer the question."
"Hoo... it's July 3rd. July the 3rd!"
July 3rd.
The Chairman had cursed me out more days than I could count, so I couldn't pinpoint the exact date—but sometime around June, the talk of my dismissal had started circulating.
So if the year really was 2025 too...
"And the year?"
"What exactly are you playing at with me?"
"The year."
"'25, of course!"
Huh.
Really... if this isn't some death's-door highlight reel or whatever... then this is really...?
"And just why on earth do you need to know all this?"
"Just checking whether the dementia is finally setting in."
"What?"
Steam began rising off the thoroughly overheated Chairman's body.
Ah. I probably shouldn't poke him any further.
"..."
I fell silent for a moment to take stock of the situation. Apparently my demeanor differed enough from the usual that the Chairman gave me a strange, searching look. But I paid it no mind.
In this one moment, I had exactly one thing to sort out: what on earth had just happened to me.
And after a very short while, only one conclusion remained.
Have I... gone back to the past?
Why? No—before that, was this even possible?
Did some anomaly occur because the mana concentration exceeded limits...?
But could killing a single Aryong really vent out enough mana to cause a phenomenon this insane? Over one Aryong?
An Aryong...
A dragon...?
Don't tell me... the reason its level couldn't be measured... was that it was a real dragon...?
If so, the possibility existed. The things called dragons were, by nature, beings that walked straight past the boundaries of common sense.
And... as it fell at the very end... I thought it might have said something.
─■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■ ■■■■■
"..."
The memory was hazy. My junior had died, and then my own consciousness had cut out right after—but I was certain.
Certain that I'd heard something.
But there was no time to turn the memory over and over.
"What are you brooding about so hard? Pull yourself together!"
The Chairman in front of me had started scolding me all over again.
Energetic as ever, this one.
"..."
I took a short, deep breath.
A reckless decision. But I, who knew what came after this, would never regret making it now.
So, steadying myself for just a moment, I opened my mouth.
"I resign."
"...What?"
"I'll clear out my desk by tomorrow. See that my severance is generous."
The Chairman's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Wh-what?! What on earth is this all of a sudden?!"
"Are you putting on the formal speech now, too? I told you ages ago to drop it—just because you look old doesn't mean you have to sound it. Well, regardless. I'm retiring. Retiring."
I'd repeated it three times for emphasis, so surely the message had landed.
Feeling rather pleased with myself, I unhooked the ID badge from around my neck and tossed it to the Chairman. He caught it on pure instinct, though he clearly looked rattled by his subordinate's sudden letter of resignation.
My, what an exquisite expression.
And then my eyes drifted to the badge in his hand.
At the top, the name of the organization: Korean Hunter Association. Below it, a photo ID of a face that didn't look even slightly motivated. And at the very bottom, just two simple words—the name and the title.
Korean Hunter Association
―Lee Jun―
―Vice Chairman―
Yes.
Starting today, I was a free man.
To Be Continued?