The Returner
Finally, it's complete.
Cheon Ji-hoo gazed down at the massive magic circle before him.
Filled with intricate geometric patterns and countless formulas, this was the "Dimensional Transfer Magic Circle" he'd perfected after centuries of struggle in that other world—with the dragons' decidedly unwilling cooperation.
Powered by the traveler's own mana, its calculations were already flawless. It would activate without a hitch, draining most of his reserves, but he was confident his mana pool could handle it.
He turned and said, "Well then, I'm off."
"P-Please go safely, sir."
"Yeah."
Toridos, the massive evil dragon who'd been coerced into helping complete the circle under threat from Cheon Ji-hoo, waved his hands frantically in farewell.
As Cheon Ji-hoo stepped onto the circle and channeled his mana, glowing light traced its circuits, and it began to rotate slowly. Now a colossal ring of radiance, it pulsed like something alive.
A wind whipped up—fierce enough to flip back the hood over Cheon Ji-hoo's head, sending his snow-white hair fluttering wildly in all directions.
Watching the scene, Toridos muttered under his breath. "Monster freak..."
He'd supposedly been just an ordinary human once. What the hell did a mere mortal have to consume to become this kind of mage? The ease with which he'd subdued an entity known as the Evil Dragon bordered on the divine.
And later? Beatings galore, all in the name of "instilling manners"—he'd lost count.
"Hey."
Toridos flinched. He'd only whispered it in his mind—had it slipped out? This guy always made him feel like shrinking into a ball.
"Thanks. Let's never cross paths again."
"Th-Thank you, sir."
The unexpected courtesy only made Toridos rub his hands faster. "Just scram already!"
Moments later, the ring erupted in blinding white light, engulfing Toridos's vision and swallowing Cheon Ji-hoo's form whole.
"Here I come, Earth."
The Archmage of Dawn and Descent, Cheon Ji-hoo—this was his return to Earth.
* * *
Right in the heart of Seoul's Hongdae Entrance Station.
What should have been teeming with crowds now held only a scattered group of people. The reason? A colossal rift tearing open the sky above.
"That's insanely huge..." one man muttered.
About a decade ago, these rifts had begun popping up worldwide like weeds, spewing monsters onto Earth—fantasy beasts that had no business existing here. They slaughtered humans, feasting on blood and flesh.
Militaries barely contained the outbreaks, but the death toll from that first wave, dubbed the First Great Rift, exceeded a hundred million.
Yet even as the heavens crumbled, new paths emerged. Alongside the rifts, people awakened to superhuman powers—spewing fire from their hands, blurring with super speed, straight out of novels. These ability users started hunting rift-spawned monsters for profit, reviving the long-forgotten trade of "Hunter."
"We have to stop that thing," another murmured.
Everyone gathered here was A-rank or S-rank—no less. Hunters from across the globe, assembled to seal this single rift.
Their eyes locked on the rift overhead: vast enough to devour skyscrapers. Conventional wisdom held that bigger rifts meant deadlier beasts. Even one half this size had birthed a monster that shredded A-rank hunters like paper.
"Focus, everyone! If we fail, we're all dead!" shouted a Chinese hunter wielding a massive shield. He'd tank the frontal assaults from whatever emerged—he knew it all too well, and fear made his voice boom louder. Translation magic rendered his Chinese into a chorus of languages.
"Aren't we humanity's strongest? With this many elites, let's smash the rift trash quick and grab a drink!"
"Dude, don't jinx it—that's a death flag!"
Meant to boost morale, it just sounded ominous to some. The Chinese S-rank tilted his head at "flag."
"Focus!" echoed an American S-rank with his own enormous shield. He wanted to bolt, but as vanguard, turning tail meant showing his back to comrades.
Scholars warned failure here spelled humanity's doom. A rift half this size had unleashed pure catastrophe. Still, victory seemed assured—most of the world's S-ranks were here, more than enough firepower.
And soon, the rift overhead began to wail.
Groooooaaarrr—
A literal howl, shredding eardrums as the black tear shifted hues, tinting sunset-orange. Size wasn't the only tell; color gauged threat levels too. This pale orange—blood-like—was a first.
"Mages! Ranged hunters! First volley, prepare!" bellowed the command-skill hunter from the rear.
Magic users chanted, drawing mana; ranged ones readied guns and bows.
Then the rift belched horrific light—like dawn breaking—from its orange maw.
"Fire!!"
Spells sliced the air. Bullets and arrows streaked toward the rift, a rainbow of magic and skills slamming into the emerging form.
The hunters prayed it'd end there.
But no.
"What the hell are you idiots?"
A voice echoed from the rift. A man in a white hood descended from the sky.
The hunters could only stare, frozen the instant their eyes caught his form.
Mantle billowing, he landed leisurely, brushing dust from his robes. Snapped from terror, the commander roared again.
"Second volley—fire!!"
Spells and skills rained down anew—aimed solely at the newcomer.
He looked human, but tanked the barrage unscathed. No S-rank assault could fell a naked human. Had to be a monster in human guise.
"...What the actual fuck? This isn't Earth?"
Yet he waved off the lethal barrage effortlessly. Spells vanished; projectiles shattered against barriers, exploding harmlessly.
Ranged attacks useless. The commander activated ally buffs and yelled, "Vanguard, charge! Pin its feet!"
Melee hunters surged forward.
"We're dying today!"
"Wooooaaahhh—!!"
The American led with his shield, drawing aggro; others followed.
But the charge halted instantly.
"Gravity Amplification."
The man flicked his fingers downward. Crushing gravity slammed them flat—none could budge an inch, enhancements or not.
"Insane! What is this?!"
Death without a fight? The American's mind raced as the man approached slowly.
From the hood peeked snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes—inhumanly beautiful.
Close enough to touch, he peered down and asked, "Are you American?"
Clunky English. Had the monster already picked up Earth's tongues? The hunter gritted his teeth and nodded.
"I'm Korean. Cheon Ji-hoo. Do you know kimchi?"
"Korean?"
"Yes, Korean. Where am I?"
"He's really Korean?"
"Yes, yes. I'm like Korea hamburger. Starria, Baekdonald. I love celebrities... Ah, shit, that's Korean. English has been a while—doesn't roll off the tongue."
"What the fuck is this guy?"
The American couldn't parse it. Korean mutterings he couldn't understand—translation skills failed.
Communicating? The watching hunters wore baffled looks, straining against gravity.
"Then dispel the magic and drop your weapons."
"Unlock... magic? Okay. Okay. No attack. Please."
He released the spell as casually as he'd cast it. Pressure lifted; some lunged, but the American blocked them.
"Why stop us?! Kill the monster!"
"Hold up. He might not be an enemy. Korean! Call a Korean hunter!"
"Argh, what now..."
Battle halted. Rear hunters stayed vigilant—non-aggression didn't prove friend.
Soon, S-rank Baek Sung-jun stepped forward. The gentle armored man bowed awkwardly to the rift-emergent, Cheon Ji-hoo.
"Uh, hi?"
"Oh! A Korean at last. Hello. Nice to meet you."
"So... your name?"
"Cheon Ji-hoo. And you?"
"Baek Sung-jun."
"Got it. This is Korea, right? Why so many foreigners? Oh, Hongdae—touristy spot?"
Baek Sung-jun couldn't say you were the reason. No sense provoking that hellish gravity again.
"We gathered 'cause a monster was due. But it was you instead."
"Yeah, I've been called a monster. So, crisis over?"
"...Doubt it. They'll probably detain you till we ID you."
Awkward chat dragged. Dragged out for being Korean, Baek Sung-jun was dying inside.
Cheon Ji-hoo offered his wrists readily. "Guess I get arrested then. Hate the hassle..."
"F-For real...?"
"Yep. Proud Korean here. Republic of Korea's finest. No way the state's killing me."
"Hey, Baek. What the hell's he saying?"
"Says arrest him if we want. Claims he's Korean..."
"What bullshit..."
"Wait, did he just call that guy 'fucking' or something? Me?"
"N-No! No! Uh, show us you won't attack first."
"Don't worry. Anyway, soon..."
Cheon Ji-hoo trailed off, swayed, then collapsed face-first—out cold.
Even he couldn't shrug off dimensional travel's backlash. Mental fortitude had held him till now; "Sleep it off if needed." Protective spells would keep him safe.
As he fainted, hotheads saw their chance and raised weapons—but the American and Baek blocked them.
"Why block?! Perfect shot at the monster!"
"Seems like one of ours..."
"Chill, buddy. Doesn't look hostile. Check the sky."
"What crap—rift's still wide open... Huh?"
The hunter gawked upward. The rift was gone.
Rifts lingered till their monster died. Yet it vanished—with him alive.
Verification needed; execution postponed by consensus. Hunter Association would handle the rest.
Thus, one archmage returned, and humanity endured.