Utterly Doomed Like Dogs
Cheon Ji-hoo's press conference sent shockwaves through society.
He'd revealed that magic, long dismissed as mere hunter skills, truly existed—and that he himself was an SS-rank hunter unbound by the System.
When he demonstrated his magic right there, every reporter in the room clutched their heads in mental agony. He casually explained that it wasn't a skill at all, but a spell called Hallucination that disrupted the auditory organs.
Viewers watching the live broadcast worldwide froze in stunned silence.
News of the SS-rank hunter Cheon Ji-hoo spread not just across Korea, but the entire globe.
S-rank hunters who caught wind of it could only mutter under their breath, "It's finally here."
They'd sensed it from the moment they first laid eyes on him in Korea—that something like this was inevitable.
The only ones badmouthing him were hunters who'd skipped that massive rift raid in Korea and clueless outsiders.
Korean media, drunk on national pride, flooded the airwaves with praise for their new SS-rank hero. But plenty of voices argued he didn't quite fit the bill.
The prevailing view had always been that only those awakened by the System counted as hunters—so Cheon Ji-hoo was an outlier.
The Hunter Association fired back officially: they'd recognized him as SS-rank, verified his power multiple times, and that was that.
And so, Cheon Ji-hoo became the real deal—an official SS-rank hunter.
Which brought the headache now plaguing him: guild recruitment offers.
Snag him, and your guild's stock would skyrocket. You'd even eye untapped rifts and those hot-button black rifts.
But Cheon Ji-hoo ignored every love letter from guilds domestic and abroad.
"Whoa, oppa, another letter. From Guild Paradise. Wait, isn't this one of the top five in Korea?"
"Toss it. No plans to join a guild."
"Why not? Wouldn't it be awesome? All the perks and stuff."
"Too much hassle. Contracts, obligations—way more crap to deal with."
Cheon Ji-hoo had zero interest in distractions.
Offers poured in from overseas too, worth billions of won, but none tempted him.
Staying a freelancer suited him just fine.
He flipped over on the sofa, cradling his head in his hands, and continued, "I'd sooner start my own guild."
"You'd make a guild, oppa?"
"That'd make more sense."
He knew he wasn't the type to serve under anyone.
The guy who'd flipped off an empire's emperor? A guild wouldn't change that.
The current government was smart enough not to piss him off—thanks to the Hunter Association's stern warnings to keep hands off.
"Ah, phone's ringing."
Cheon Ji-yoon snatched up her cell and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, unnie!"
"Is Cheon Ji-hoo hunter nearby? Could you pass the phone? I'd appreciate it."
"Sure~"
Hong Ji-hwa had stopped calling his number altogether, going straight to Cheon Ji-yoon instead.
Cheon Ji-hoo took the phone. "What is it?"
"Hello. Calling about a rift subjugation request for Cheon Ji-hoo hunter."
"What rift?"
"The target is Yeongheungdo, now inaccessible due to a rift break. Multiple C- and B-rank rifts erupted simultaneously back then—total chaos, impossible to contain."
"But with your help, Cheon Ji-hoo hunter, we believe we can reclaim it."
"Fine. Payment? Not cash—something else."
"Like what?"
"First dibs on any black rifts found in Korea."
"Can't help it if a private guild spots one first, but if the Hunter Association or HCU finds it? Absolutely doable. We promise full effort on black rift searches."
"Good. Set a date then."
"Thank you."
Hong Ji-hwa inwardly cheered at how readily he'd agreed. Honestly, this beat cash every time.
Korea's Hunter Association and HCU weren't prioritizing black rifts anyway.
With what Cheon Ji-hoo had shared about demons and Demon Kings—plus his warning that no mere human could handle the Demon Kings inside— they'd planned to hand them off to private guilds or just contain them if found.
They scheduled to meet in two days outside HCU headquarters, then hung up.
Cheon Ji-hoo handed the phone back to Cheon Ji-yoon and stood.
"Where you off to, oppa?"
"Gotta prep real quick. Wanna come?"
"Yeah."
"Alright..."
He nodded and snapped his fingers.
A rift tore open before him—the same one where he'd first met Nok.
Cheon Ji-hoo stepped in, Cheon Ji-yoon following with a hint of surprise.
Inside, the view flipped: from apartment living room to a forest thick with towering trees.
Broken traces everywhere, but still, undeniably beautiful.
He summoned Nok, let it roam free, then turned to Cheon Ji-yoon. "I've got experiments here. Since you're in, time for your homework."
"Homework?"
"Yeah. Hmm... this'll do."
He placed a hand on a nearby tree—decently thick and massive, by his standards.
"Cut the tree with your sword."
"With a sword? Piece of cake, right?"
Cheon Ji-yoon puffed up confidently. After all her training, a tree like this? Easy.
But Cheon Ji-hoo chuckled softly and pulled a wooden practice sword from his subspace.
"With this."
"..."
She blinked at the bokken, then at him, wondering if she'd heard right. Cut a tree... with this?
"For real? No joke? This is legit?"
"Dead serious. Swordmasters in my world sliced boulders with twigs. With a proper blade? Mountains."
He didn't hate gear advantages—acquiring good tools was skill in itself.
But Cheon Ji-yoon needed basics in her inner foundation.
Sure, her sword spirit helped, but without solid groundwork, she'd hit a wall someday.
A true swordmaster wielded the sword, not the other way around.
And that started with controlling mana in her body.
These forest trees brimmed with mana, tougher than most steel. Without mana control, even scratching one would be tough.
"I'll be over there. Nok, watch your little sis, yeah?"
"Got it! Got it! Love Ji-yoon!"
Nok bounded over with cheerful steps, rubbing its face against her.
Short time together, but they got along like old pals.
Cheon Ji-hoo smiled warmly and walked off.
Grass whispered softly underfoot, cradling his bare soles.
He loved that sensation—the earth's living pulse, raw and direct.
Soon, he reached a massive crater.
Left by some demon whose name he couldn't even recall anymore.
"Gotta restore this forest later," he muttered, plopping down in the center.
He lay back, eyes closed, checking his mana circuits.
Patchwork fixes had yielded real progress.
Last Demon King fight had strained his output, leaving a pleasant fatigue—no big deal.
Body check done, he exhaled, rose, and spread his arms wide.
Countless magic circles bloomed in the air, overlapping runes and equations.
This was one of his new spells in development.
Facing the Silence Demon King, he'd taken a hit.
Without his barriers, ribs would've shattered two or three times over.
Not a swordsman, he hadn't tempered his body.
No mana? He'd be as fragile as any civilian.
Hence, researching spells to wield magic despite such vulnerabilities.
Situations where I can't cast could hit anytime.
Mana frozen, formulas forgotten—anything possible.
To counter, he'd started this new magic.
"Flow here's the issue, as expected."
His current project: store spells subconsciously, trigger them anytime.
Like against the Silence Demon King—complete and release from within. But that limited scale and stability for big spells.
So, store pre-made spells with mana in the subconscious, pull as needed.
He named it Preservation of the Unconscious.
He tweaked circles and formulas nonstop.
Based on spirit school's teachings for embedding deep in the subconscious, surfacing via trigger.
Framed with instant-cast basics from Everything About Magic Circles, trigger set to "spell name."
Solid so far.
Problem: stocking magic circles and mana subconsciously—they wouldn't settle right.
Like a finished file refusing to save to the hard drive.
He racked his brain here.
So close, yet no fix came.
Then—Don't store in the subconscious.
He reworked formulas on the spot, shifting storage from "unconscious" to "object."
Abstract "mind storage" glitched the circles; something concrete instead.
Perfect object? Rift core from his subspace.
A B-rank core. He infused mana, shattering it into ten small orbs.
One orb in hand—he overlaid Preservation of the Unconscious.
"...Done."
A pristine white magic circle settled on the orb, sucking in mana.
Now, "throwing" it would trigger the embedded Flame Wall.
Test: Tossed to a spot nearby. Orb glowed, circle flared—blazing wall erupted.
Not powerhouse, but enough to stall foes when magic was off-limits.
One-use limit's a drag, but...
Who cared? Cores were dime a dozen.
Grinning, he sat and engraved all remaining orbs.
Work wrapped, curiosity about Cheon Ji-yoon piqued. He stowed the orbs and headed back.
At the tree he'd assigned? It was gouged a third deep.