Nice to Meet You Again
“Ah, what the hell is that old man thinking?”
On the way back to headquarters after the meeting, Hong Ji-hwa, riding in the car driven by Lee Joo-hwan, spat out the words.
Lee Joo-hwan, gripping the steering wheel, glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror and said, “What’s wrong? What didn’t sit right this time?”
“No, honestly, that guy Cheon Ji-hoo… Using him would be the cheapest option, no casualties, and we wouldn’t even have to fight. It’s a perfect three-way match, so why do our guild and HCU have to step up?”
Lee Joo-hwan gave a wry smile at her words. She wasn’t wrong. The might Cheon Ji-hoo had displayed overwhelmed even the S-rank hunters in an instant, so if he took the field, he’d crush an army of monsters with ease. Hell, it’d be far safer to just cling to the hem of his robe than handle it ourselves.
But the association president didn’t want that. She’d brushed it off with some vague talk about “exposing our forces to foreign powers.” Hong Ji-hwa, steeped in the rigid hierarchy of their world, hadn’t pressed further… but even after mulling it over, he couldn’t make sense of it.
“The president must have her reasons.”
“That’s exactly it—does it have to be worth grinding hunters into the dust for?”
As she pouted her lips, Lee Joo-hwan laughed awkwardly. He’d racked his brain while driving, trying to guess the president’s intentions, but all he could come up with was that the higher-ups had their opinions. Was it that years of just following orders had dulled his proactive thinking?
The association president held many secrets. Compared to the information she’d gathered through dealings with hunter associations from various countries, what HCU’s commander Hong Ji-hwa had was just the tip of the iceberg.
Hong Ji-hwa stared out the car window and let out a sigh. The truth about the monster army hadn’t been announced to civilians yet, so people wandered the streets with peaceful expressions. But soon, they’d all start evacuating. Uijeongbu and Seoul, the apparent targets, weren’t far off.
HCU and the guilds would use Uijeongbu as a bulwark, forming a defensive line against the horde.
“Fuck, life really…”
Hong Ji-hwa muttered her favorite curse. Whatever the president was thinking, she had no choice but to follow. From the day she’d been taken in as a child. Always, without fail.
* * *
Waking from sleep, Cheon Ji-hoo blinked and replayed the dream in his mind. This was crucial. Precognitive dreams were highly volatile; if you didn’t etch them into your memory right upon waking, they’d vanish in an instant.
Once gone, they lingered only as a vague sensation—the common feeling of déjà vu.
“…Demons.”
There was no way Demon King worshippers could be on Earth. But dismissing the scene from his dream as mere nonsense felt wrong; the mark etched on the demon’s forehead was too shocking.
The mark of the Demon King. A symbol only those freshly baptized by the Demon King could bear, granting power equivalent to an S-rank hunter or higher by Earth’s standards.
Those vermin, swarming like cockroaches in the other world, had infested Earth too. They’d been such a persistent nuisance that he’d once wiped them all out…
“Looks like some remnants survived.”
Back then, he’d taken down about 30,000 of them. Roughly 130 years had passed since he’d crushed the fools who’d gathered to forcibly awaken the Demon King in repose and overthrow nations. He hadn’t seen one since, so he’d assumed they were all dead.
Apparently, a few had clung to life tenaciously.
“Ha…”
Finding them would be tough. The Demon King’s blessing granted them untraceable, a special divine protection from the demon god. Unless they spilled it themselves, rooting out those hiding rats was nearly impossible. Even that purge had only worked because they’d stupidly gathered in one place to form an army.
How long was the precognitive dream cycle? Dreaming it now meant it would happen within the next week.
Cheon Ji-hoo stretched languidly, got out of bed, and headed to the living room. It was just past noon. With Cheon Ji-yoon at school and nothing else to do, he’d lazed in bed until the dream hit.
He flopped onto the sofa again, pulled out his phone, and made a call. He had no intention of moving until the Demon King worshippers showed themselves, but a warning was in order.
-What is it?
Hong Ji-hwa’s voice, now familiar.
“Monsters are heading your way right now. You know that, right?”
-…How did you know, Cheon Ji-hoo?
“Not your business… There’ll be a guy with a forehead tattoo mixed in with them.”
-How do you…
“Anyway, call me as soon as you spot him.”
Cheon Ji-hoo ended the call after delivering the message succinctly. On the receiving end, Hong Ji-hwa was already losing her mind between the president’s headaches and this bombshell from him.
I’m too nice. Warning them personally like this. How many people in the world were kinder than him?
Lounging on the sofa, he reached into his subspace and rummaged around.
“Nothing good in here.”
All he had was his staff, a few cores, his robe, and some precious magic materials. Leaving his minerals and gold bars in the other world’s bank had been a mistake. Money was meant to be invested, not left to rot—he’d entrusted it to a reliable guy to multiply.
Magic cost money at every turn. Even making scrolls required parchment and mana stone dust; developing magic tools burned through astronomical sums. Why were magic reagents so damn expensive?
Gathering them himself was a hassle too.
Cheon Ji-hoo might be a no-good mage in some ways, but he was a law-abiding citizen who paid up front. He didn’t bully innocents for materials like some thug.
That bastard got the sweet deal…
He was probably living high off my funds by now. If they crossed paths again, he’d strip the guy of everything—his entrusted assets and personal wealth alike.
Tsking, he pulled out cores recovered from rifts: two B-rank, two C-rank. As he pondered their use, a brilliant idea struck.
First, he extracted all the mana from the cores and refined it within his body. To repair his shattered mana circuits, he needed pure mana, not this impure sludge.
He filtered the core mana like straining through a sieve, using the pure portion to mend his circuits and shoving the impurities back into the cores.
“Seeing that weirdo sparked the idea.”
It had come from the S-rank villain summoner pulling monsters from subspace. He couldn’t always tag along with Ji-yoon, and sometimes going out was a drag. Time to blend the trendy “auto-hunt” craze from TV into magic.
He rose from the sofa and levitated the cores. Now filled with impure mana after filtering, the B-ranks had degraded to D-rank level, the C-ranks to E-rank. Worthless for sale.
But in an archmage’s hands, they’d gain immense value.
With a swipe of his hand, one D-rank and one E-rank core positioned themselves one above the other. They’d serve as power sources—the hearts driving the bodies he’d craft.
He manipulated his mana with precision, weaving it like threads to bind the cores in a figure-eight. This would circulate and amplify mana through resonance, drawing from golem creation theory in the summoning school: core resonance.
Then came the feast of magic circles.
Golems came in two types: autonomous and controlled. The hands he’d made to slay the summoner’s monsters were controlled; what he was building now was autonomous for auto-duty.
Autonomous golems required embedding countless formulas for independent thought, but he had no plans for something that advanced. He simply copied and pasted the formulas from the other world’s guard-type autonomous golem in his mind, tweaking a few bits.
Now for the bodies—nothing fancy needed. Simple, agile forms would suit these two.
“Shadow Implant.”
Shadows from the ground welled up around the cores. Yeong-sik: implanting shadows. The writhing darkness enveloped the cores, taking shape.
The right one became a knight in armor wielding a sword; the left, a raven with broad wings.
It looks a bit like that guy’s summons…
Irked by the resemblance, he sharpened the feathers and smoothed the beak.
The finished golems stood motionless, awaiting orders.
Final touch: infuse mana. His vivid mana coursed through them, awakening the cores—like hitting the power button.
Blue light gleamed in their eyes. The shadow knight drew its sword, swung once, and sheathed it; the raven spread and folded its wings.
Perfect operation.
“You, take this and hide in Ji-yoon’s shadow. You, fly around and scout the area. Report any weirdos to me.”
He handed the knight a white suit of armor from subspace. It accepted and melted into the shadows; the raven spread its wings and flew out the window—shadows passing through glass effortlessly. Smart choice. No air resistance or tall buildings to hinder it; superior mobility.
Maybe later he could drop Ji-yoon’s armor from the sky like in those old movies… Iron Man or whatever.
Satisfied with his golem creation, he collapsed back onto the sofa.
Now, just wait for the bastard to show. The dream suggested they didn’t know he was here.
Perfect chance. Time to uproot the Demon King worshippers once and for all.
* * *
Two days passed.
HCU and guild hunters gathered in Uijeongbu, fortifying a defensive line at the monsters’ approach route. At least fifteen A-rank core monsters. Regular monsters numbered 600 to 800—they’d swept up every one along the path.
“They’ll arrive soon.”
The association president, on-site at the rear, murmured.
A man’s voice came from beside her. “Good day, Madam President.”
“Hunter Baek Sung-jun, isn’t it?”
“I had a question before the defense begins.”
“Ask away.”
S-rank hunter Baek Sung-jun peered into the president’s face. Composed, inscrutable—the face of a seasoned veteran hiding something.
Best to be direct, then.
He glanced around and whispered so only she could hear. “Madam President, is Cheon Ji-hoo not stepping up?”
“Cheon Ji-hoo isn’t an HCU agent or guild hunter. He’s a civilian, not even a hunter to begin with.”
“Can’t we at least ask?”
“…Enough. Are you suggesting we entrust the nation’s safety to one individual? When we can handle it ourselves, why delegate?”
“Handing off what one person could manage to hundreds feels off too.”
Baek Sung-jun shared Hong Ji-hwa’s view. Knowing Cheon Ji-hoo’s power, why burden so many when he could end it simply?
The president sighed deeply at his sharp words.
Hong Ji-hwa had backed off tactfully, but Baek Sung-jun, a grizzled S-rank of eight years, wouldn’t yield easily.
“…Fine. As an S-rank, you’ll learn soon enough. It’s about the returners.”
She exhaled again, as if emptying her lungs.
“Some returners have died.”
“Failed to adapt to reality?”
“No. Hunted by other returners. Ones living normally suddenly snapped—B-ranks surging to S-rank power, hunting fellow returners and even hunters.”
Baek Sung-jun’s eyes wavered at her words. Classified info between associations, not yet public to hunters.
“And the villains sided with them. That’s why we can’t push Cheon Ji-hoo forward. What if he’s one of the corrupted? What if he’s hiding his fangs?”
“…The moment those fangs turn on us, we’re wiped out.”
“Exactly. No sure way to stop him, but we must minimize exposure. If normal returners turn like that, someone’s intervening. We can’t let them know he exists.”
“Doubt he’d fall for such tricks.”
“Who knows? We haven’t grasped his full power. We suspect he killed the summoner, but traces of corrupted returners and villains fighting have been found elsewhere…”
She sighed again. How many times now?
“If he handles this wave, exposure to civilians is inevitable. Reporters will dig it up no matter what. Then we lose control—good or bad.”
Even now, a reporter who’d gotten wind of the wave info was filming. HCU agents had turned him away, but clickbait scum earned their name.
The president declared firmly. “So, Cheon Ji-hoo is off-limits. Some abroad already accuse him of being the culprit. Activity ramped up after his return.”