Lv39 Guardian, Kim Hancheol (Part 2)

These were the terms the Association had negotiated with Kim Hancheol beforehand. Since he had already agreed to every single condition, there wasn't much left to say on the matter.

"I believe it's an entirely fair proposal," Kim Hancheol said, his voice firm with resolve despite his hollowed, haggard appearance. "I have a conscience. I couldn't possibly accept something like this for free."

Even so, one question still lingered in my mind.

"If the treatment succeeds, do you truly wish to join the Dinosaur Guild? Or will you return to America...?"

"If you will have me, I would like to join the Dinosaur Guild."

"You spent years with your former teammates, so you must share deep bonds. Are you certain you're fine with this? Please don't misunderstand—this is not an ultimatum. We have no intention of forcing anyone into our guild."

"Force? Not at all. Far from it." Kim Hancheol's expression turned serious. "Even confined to a hospital bed, I still have eyes and ears. I've heard plenty about the Dinosaur Guild. Haven't you two been the talk of the entire nation? Between you, Han Hye, and the Dragon Knight... what you've achieved is nothing short of incredible."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm the one who should be glad. When the Association first proposed this, my only thought was, Can someone like me really be granted such an opportunity? If I make my return, I'll be standing alongside people destined to join the Pioneer tier before long."

Hearing such praise from someone who, just a few years ago, was hailed as the undisputed vanguard of the global elite brought a strange wave of emotion over me. Back then, I wasn't even an Awakened porter. I was just an ordinary kid running around Uncle's samgyeopsal restaurant, daydreaming about what it might feel like to become a hunter.

"Besides, I've already spoken with my former teammates about what would happen if my curse were ever lifted." A bittersweet smile tugged at Kim Hancheol's rugged face.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I met with them right before returning to Korea recently." His expression softened into something even more rueful as he continued. "In truth, our levels have drifted too far apart for us to raid together anymore, haven't they? And they found a new vanguard to take my place long ago."

He was right. While the current American Vanguard was pushing Level 60, Kim Hancheol was still stuck at Level 39. A difference of twenty levels might not sound insurmountable on paper, but considering how steeply the required experience curves rose at higher tiers, it was a massive chasm.

"Even so, my old teammates cheered me on. They told me they didn't care where I fought, as long as I got back on my feet and hurried up to catch up to them."

I couldn't truly grasp the depth of emotion shared between Kim ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hancheol and the comrades who had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him through hell and back. What I could tell, however, was that the hunters of the American Vanguard were good people. And so was Kim Hancheol, who had earned their unwavering respect.

"They're wonderful friends, and the memories we made are precious, but the time has come for me to walk a different path."

Sentimental reflections aside, this was extraordinary news for our guild. It meant that once his curse was broken, Kim Hancheol would officially join our ranks. Quite apart from relieving our anxieties over protecting our rearguard, we had just secured a premier shieldbearer who had once stood at the pinnacle of the world.

"And above all else, I want to regain my health and fight again. There are still things I have left to do."

As he spoke with steely conviction, Kim Hancheol's eyes drifted down toward his left wrist. Resting against that gaunt, skeletal wrist was a frayed, colorful bracelet—the kind a little girl might weave and wear with pride. I recalled hearing that his younger sister had died during the initial Gate Disaster. This was almost certainly a keepsake from her.

"Of course," he added, looking back up, "all of this assumes the Elixir you brought can actually cure me."

The look in Kim Hancheol's eyes was complex, a delicate fray of desperate hope and lingering dread. Not knowing that the Elixir was guaranteed to work, his anxiety was completely natural.

"It will work," I said reassuringly. "The item description explicitly states that it can purge any curse that devours the physical body."

"I pray that you're right."

Perhaps even speaking sapped his depleted stamina; though only a few minutes had passed, Kim Hancheol looked visibly more worn down than when we first arrived. "Ah, and in the event the treatment fails, the cost of the Elixir will be covered by my former teammates—"

"There's no need to discuss that. It will work."

Though interrupting him was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠somewhat abrupt, Kim Hancheol blinked in mild surprise before slowly nodding. I hoped the absolute certainty in my voice had reached him.

Wuuung—

The moment I reached into my subspace to retrieve the potion, Kim Hancheol suddenly opened his mouth once more.

"Ah, would it be alright if I added one small condition?"

"What kind of condition?"

"If I become a member of the Dinosaur Guild... will I be allowed to eat all the samgyeopsal grilled over dragon flames for free?"

"...Excuse me?"

Is he serious right now?

With his very life hanging in the balance, he was bringing up pork belly? The sheer absurdity of the timing caught me completely off guard.

I mean, sure, Yongyong Samgyeopsal was delicious. It was extraordinarily delicious, in fact. But now? Of all moments, he was asking about that right now?

As if reading the utter bewilderment on my face, Kim Hancheol let out a faint, sheepish chuckle.

"I saw it on the news while I was bedridden in the States. I made a promise to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠myself that I had to try it at least once before I died. Though, back then, I could never manage to snag a reservation."

Ah. Well, if that was his reason...

"Of course," I replied with a grin. "Whenever you want. In fact, we're opening a dragon charcoal-grilled beef restaurant soon, so you'll have to come to that as well."

"Beef?"

"Sounds good, right?"

"Beef is my absolute favorite."

"Then let's go eat some together."

With a chuckle, I handed him the Elixir. The moment Kim Hancheol took hold of the S-rank vial, his eyes widened into saucers. He had evidently read its system description.

"Drink it."

"Yes."

Tipping the vial back, he gulped the shimmering liquid down in heavy swallows. Barely two seconds had passed before pure, unadulterated shock washed over his features.

"Th-The curse...!"

"Is it gone?"

"It vanished! It's completely gone!"

Chunbae had been right all along. The Collapsing Mana curse had been utterly eradicated. Even I couldn't help but stare in amazement.

Right before my eyes, in real time, a healthy, vibrant flush flooded back into Kim Hancheol's ashen, sunken cheeks.

"WROOOOOAAARGH!"

Out of nowhere, Kim Hancheol unleashed a deafening roar. Through my spatial awareness, I could feel the people waiting outside the hospital room jump in startled panic.

I was equally flabbergasted.

Granted, it was a roar of pure, unbridled jubilation, but after the somber, heavy atmosphere we had shared just moments prior, the sudden outburst gave me intense whiplash.

Come to think of it, back when Kim Hancheol was making headlines in the American Vanguard, his public persona had been that of an unapologetic musclehead. He had become an international sensation precisely because he shattered every Western stereotype about Asian hunters.

"The stats I lost to the curse... the system says they'll recover over time...!"

Still roaring with joy, Kim Hancheol sprang up from the hospital bed, his fists clenched tight with triumphant force. Regaining my composure, I pointed toward the wall.

"Why don't you take a look in the mirror first?"

"...!"

Turning toward the glass, Kim Hancheol froze, his jaw dropping.

"Your color has returned."

"RAAAAGH! Power is overflowing through my body!"

Letting out yet another boisterous shout, he spun around and thrust his hand out toward me.

Yeah... why do I get the feeling we just recruited another lovable idiot into the guild?

Still, when I took his hand, an astonishing, rugged strength pressed firmly against my palm. The man hadn't been hailed as one of the world's finest for nothing.

"I look forward to working with you," he said.

Having finally gotten the hollering out of his system, Kim Hancheol seemed to snap back to reality, bowing his head in deep, solemn respect.

"Likewise."

"I mean this with all my heart. If someone could cure my curse, I was prepared to give them everything I had."

After taking a moment to consider how to respond, I offered a faint, reassuring smile. "There's no need to give me everything. Just keep our rearguard safe."

"That happens to be what I do best."

Thanks to the Elixir, we had gained a truly magnificent tank as our newest comrade. He was a man whose skill required no testing whatsoever. He had served as the frontline pillar for the United States, one of the world's foremost hunter superpowers. Moreover, his burning drive to conquer gates and grow stronger was built on the exact same bedrock as mine: avenging his family.

Of course, full physical rehabilitation would take some time. Even if his healthy complexion had returned, his body had been withering away in a hospital bed for years.

"First, focus on recovering your strength."

"I will get myself into fighting shape as quickly as possible."

When I stepped out into the hospital corridor, Kim Hancheol's family was waiting, their faces taut with anxious anticipation. They had stepped away to give us privacy, but after his second roar about being overflowing with power, there was no way they hadn't heard.

I offered a gentle nod to the middle-aged woman who appeared to be his mother. Her eyes flared wide with shock, and she immediately sprinted toward the room.

"Hancheol!"

"Mother! I'm completely cured!"

Tearful cries of overwhelmed relief spilled into the hallway. I turned toward Seo Woong and the rest of our guild members waiting down the corridor, breaking into a grin.

"He's cured. And he said he's joining us."

Guardian Kim Hancheol's return was, naturally, an explosive international sensation. We hadn't sought his recruitment for nothing. After all, this was the man who had stood as the unyielding vanguard anchor for the Vanguard elite in the United States, one of the world's preeminent hunter superpowers.

Naturally, public curiosity regarding Kim Hancheol's next steps was feverish. The moment news of his recovery spread, inquiries flooded in from governments and top syndicates across the globe. Among them was the United States, where he had lived until just days ago and spent the entirety of his hunter career.

Of course, all wild speculation died down the moment Kim Hancheol issued an official press release. Seo Woong told me that while the American side was deeply disappointed to lose him, they immediately backed off upon learning the circumstances. After all, it was only natural to throw one's allegiance behind the benefactor who had cured an affliction that had baffled the world's greatest healers for years.

The domestic internet, meanwhile, caught fire.

Beyond the news of Kim Hancheol's recruitment, other critical reports began surfacing on community forums.

Following the chaos of the catastrophic 3rd Gate Disaster, the wildly volatile atmospheric mana density had finally settled into a steady state. While the baseline concentration remained undeniably higher than before, the chaotic, violent spikes were no longer fluctuating out of control.

Because of that elevated concentration, entry-type gates were proliferating and their internal difficulty had ticked up, but it wasn't an unprecedented catastrophe. A similar phenomenon had unfolded in the wake of the 2nd Gate Disaster, so the hunter community had largely anticipated the shift.

Whenever the Guild Conference was mentioned, speculation regarding Liu Zhen and myself inevitably dominated the chatter. Given the heated barbs exchanged between us in the media, it was practically a foregone conclusion. If we crossed paths in Beijing, sparks were bound to fly.

Even though an official exhibition would be a sparring match rather than a fight to the death, judging by that guy's prickly, prideful temperament, it wouldn't be a gentle exchange of martial pleasantries. He might try to pull something lethal under the guise of an "accident," so I had to remain sharp.

Accidents during high-level spars happen far more often than people think.

In fact, during an infamous past spar between Divine Spear and China's S-rank Spearman, the Chinese hunter had repeatedly unleashed lethal, forbidden strikes without warning. Granted, Shin Chang had thoroughly beaten him half to death with pure martial dominance, but the precedent was there.

I couldn't afford to be complacent. Even with the Necklace of Protection around my throat, absolute safety was never guaranteed. A protective talisman was not an infallible shield; its threshold was bound by the tier of its defensive barrier.

Besides, he's a wielder of S-rank swordsmanship.

Deciding I needed clear answers, I immediately called Seo Seung-yeon.

"They're saying the Guild Conference countdown has started. How much time do we actually have?"

"That's later than I thought."

Three months. With that much time, I found it hard to believe I would fall behind, no matter how desperately Liu Zhen trained.

What I had told the press before was genuine. At an equal level, I had zero intention of losing to him.

According to reports, Liu Zhen was currently Level 41. No matter how steeply the experience requirements scaled at higher tiers, three months would be more than enough time for me to close the gap and match his level.

There's no way he beats me in raw stats.

Between my S+ rank class, the dragon blood baptism, the magic tower incident, and all the passive growth bonuses I possessed, my baseline parameters were absurdly inflated. While there was still a substantial gap between the ranks of our respective sword techniques, the Guild Conference wasn't merely a formal contest of aesthetic swordsmanship anyway.

In fact, I found myself genuinely anticipating the clash.

If I thoroughly dismantle him in a public spar, what kind of face will he make?

I made a mental note to contact the journalists well in advance. I wanted to make sure their cameras were rolling from the very first strike.