Hold Onto Evasion

Jeong Sangguk. A Floor 32 hunter. Forty-one years old. A former department chief at the Hunter Management Headquarters.

He had climbed into that office at the remarkably young age of thirty-seven, and he had ridden the right connections inside the Headquarters besides. More than a few people had already started calling him the next Headquarters Director in waiting.

Then, as if fortune hadn't already done enough, he awakened.

The requirement for Headquarters Director was simple enough: be a hunter of at least the 40th Floor. Fill that one condition, and the seat was as good as his.

Heaven itself seemed to be lending a hand. It had, at least, until he came face to face with the limits of his own talent. Until the 32nd Floor closed its doors on him.

If I was going to awaken anyway, I could have at least landed a slightly better skill…

He knew better. A skill was talent too. Developing that skill was a matter of one's own ability. Anything else was just a loser's griping.

But even so, this is just too useless!

Jeong Sangguk's awakened skill was Evasion. A skill for dodging attacks, exactly as advertised.

On first hearing, it didn't sound half bad. A precious utility that kept you alive — what was wrong with that?

The problem was that it was an awakened skill. An awakened skill became the core of a hunter's direction and growth. And this one was barely any different from a common skill.

I should have given up sooner. It was too hard…

Jeong Sangguk told himself he had worked harder than anyone. He had gritted his teeth and learned a small army of general skills, then polished them one by one — even though it was as good as having no awakened skill at all.

He really had given it everything. Hard enough that his hairline had started a retreat of its own.

Damn it. I should've started treatment during the golden window. Closed-door training, my ass. What the hell was that old man thinking?

Even so, that kind of method only carried him as far as the 32nd Floor. Now he had run into a wall he truly could not climb.

And as if that weren't enough, he had come into Advance Guild on the Guild Master's line — only to be shoved aside by the Vice Guild Master.

I wanted to become Headquarters Director so I could change people like that.

He ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had wanted to protect this country, which was still limping along because it could not conquer the highest floors. A people who could not climb the Tower had no future. Men like that were exactly the ones eating away at the nation's hunter strength.

But it was time to let it go. And so, on a day when he was quietly preparing to retire…

"Your assigned support team is changing?"

"Yes. Thank you for all your hard work until now."

"I'm sorry — what is that supposed to mean? I don't have many days left here as it is. Why the sudden change…?"

He was being pulled off Support Team 5, a team he had grown attached to. Support Team 3 had been assigned to him instead.

"Team Leader."

"The place they're sending you, Jeong, is going to be Jo Youchan's team. The Guild Master's boy."

"Do you know anything about it?"

"How should I know? Though I have been hearing things."

"Like what?"

"Word is there's a parachute hire on that team."

"Excuse me?"

Jeong Sangguk had pinned on a department chief's title young and had already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠survived his share of ugly infighting at Advance. An ugly premonition slid straight down his spine.

"There's also talk that Jo Youchan going around ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠singing that support team's praises all over town is just them funneling credit his way. Rumor has it the support team whipped up a skill for him out of thin air — which is absurd. If you're going to invent a rumor, at least put a little effort into it."

"Whose faction are they with?"

Surely not the Vice Guild Master's.

"No idea. The Guild Master's or the Vice Guild Master's, one or the other."

The thought that it might be Do Hyeoncheol never even occurred to him. A man who had already fallen from grace and been squeezed out of the political game — what kind of parachute hire would that be? He was on the verge of retirement himself. He wasn't the type to go that far just to drop someone into a team, so the possibility dropped out of Jeong Sangguk's thinking on its own.

His confusion only deepened.

What does a parachute hire have to do with me? Why send me there?

The feeling was bad. He might be about to see something ugly at the end of his career.

He met the man they called the Team 3 leader first. And sure enough, something was off.

"Heh heh heh. You won't regret this, Hunter."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever heard the saying? The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Join the current."

Looking thoroughly pleased with his own line, the man withdrew with a satisfied face.

…What is he playing at?

Jeong Sangguk could only stare, at a loss.

Whoa. How many skills did this guy even learn?

Jeong Sangguk had clearly been grinding like that for years. So why had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he still stalled out on the 32nd Floor with nothing but Evasion? I turned the question over.

I was overlooking something.

A lesson I'd picked up raising Jo Youchan: my ability, Hunter Management, could grant skills that did not actually exist.

Heavenly Exploding Strike and Supreme Heavenly Movement were skills with no counterpart in reality. Both of them were evolutions of Thunder Finger. The real-world Thunder Finger was Jo Youchan's unique skill, and in this world it had no further evolution waiting above it.

Which meant I could awaken original skills out of the game.

Then just making it to Floor 32 with a piece of trash like Evasion was already a hell of a run.

Evasion was a bottom-tier skill. That much was identical in the game and in reality. Back in the early days of Hunter Management, if a hunter rolled Evasion as their awakened skill, the standard play was to scrap them and reroll.

And I was the one who rewrote the training method for that skill.

In Hunter Management, Evasion was a late-bloomer. If a master evolved it properly, it shot up overnight into the tier-one skill Shunpo.

And that wasn't even the end of it. Evolve it once more and you got an endgame-tier utility. It was the same combo I'd slotted into my party when I cleared the 100th Floor in Hunter Management.

I'm taking him. Evasion and all.

Jeong Sangguk and the team exchanged a brief round of greetings. Then I took him straight down to the Special Training Room.

"Oh… Support Team 3's Special Training Room is a completely new model!"

"Hunter Jo Youchan wrecked the last one, you see. We used the expansion as an excuse to get a fat budget."

"And it's enormous. This is almost unfair, isn't it?"

"It's your facility now, Hunter Jeong. Go easy on us."

"Hahaha!"

It was more than wide enough for Jo Youchan to tear around in with Supreme Heavenly Movement.

"Why don't you take it for a test run?"

"Oh — may I?"

His potential might have already been written off. But every man, hunter or not, had a soft spot for good gear.

Hooked, Jeong Sangguk stepped in and started putting the room through its paces, cycling through skill after skill.

I watched in silence. His movement. His status window. And then, at last, the letters ran red.

Now!

Jeong Sangguk was feeling rather pleased with himself.

Now this is a room you can actually train in.

Team 3's facilities were no joke. Maybe that was what you got when a team had both the Guild Master's son and a parachute hire on it.

My movement feels unusually clean today.

Good gear really did make the difference. He was cycling through his skills at a comfortable pace when a voice came over the speakers.

"Why are you only using Evasion so passively?"

"Hm?"

Someone was speaking from the other side of the glass partition.

"And you are…?"

"If you apply the on-dodge speed increase to a charge, you could take a much more aggressive approach to the fight."

Jeong Sangguk's brow furrowed. Backseat coaching someone else's training? Who did this rude stranger think he was?

No. Hold on.

Is this someone good?

The confidence rolling off the voice was enough to plant that illusion. In this day and age, to come in that bluntly, that unapologetically rude — that was the part that felt unnatural.

Technique was everything to a hunter. It was pride. It was identity. Not interfering with another hunter's technique was basic courtesy among people who might, on a bad day, kill each other. Everyone had their own path of growth, and their own pride to go with it.

And besides…

The other support staff in the observation room on the far side of the glass weren't stopping him. If anything, they were watching with open curiosity.

"I appreciate the advice, but I must speak frankly. Using Evasion that way will not let it do its job. I have already sought counsel from a great many seniors and completed my optimization—"

"Yes. Understood."

"…?"

What? He backed off so lightly it was almost bland.

Is he actually any good?

Something about it sat wrong. Jeong Sangguk asked,

"Forgive me, but might I have your name?"

"Do Hyeonseok."

"Do Hyeonseok?"

The name rang a faint bell. Given how familiar it felt, perhaps he really was a hunter of some renown.

"May I ask what floor my senior has cleared?"

"I'm Do Hyeonseok, a staff member of Support Team 3."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I look forward to working with you."

What… was he talking about?

"You're telling me you're a civilian?"

"Yes."

What was this supposed to be?

"What is the meaning of— ah."

That was when Jeong Sangguk understood. The reason he had been dropped here out of nowhere.

…They're pushing me out.

A cheap trick to force a voluntary retirement. The kind of petty maneuver you saw at big corporations all the time: reassign a man to a humiliating post and wait for him to walk out on his own.

Vice Guild Master, you petty bastard!

He had been a department chief at the Hunter Management Headquarters. Floor 32 was not a level you could just dismiss wherever you went.

To think I would be treated like this…

Shame and humiliation rolled in together. For a moment he was ready to flip the table and simply leave, exactly as they wanted — and then,

"Hm? Youchan?"

"Hello, sir."

Jo Youchan, with whom he had traded the occasional conversation, walked into the training room.

"Sir, want to make a bet with me?"

"A bet? What are you talking about all of a sudden, Youchan?"

"Want me to show you a new skill? If you catch me three times in a row, I'll tell you something good."

"Something good?"

"How I broke through the wall, and how I hit an SS-Rank clear."

"…!"

Jeong Sangguk's eyes flashed open. This was Jo Youchan, the one they had lately started calling a rising star. That was not a sentence you could just let slide.

Least of all for Jeong Sangguk, who wanted it more than anyone.

"…Is there some kind of secret to it?"

"Win and I'll tell you. If you win. For now, let's go."

Jo Youchan pushed the pace before Jeong Sangguk could work up a complaint.

"It's a game of tag. First one to tag the other five times in a row wins, all right?"

"You're going to beat me with speed?"

"Yes."

"Hah."

What were these people playing at, all of them at once?

"I'm sure you don't mean any harm, Youchan… Yes, an SS-Rank clear would put anyone in a good mood. But I am twelve floors above you, and you only have the one attack skill."

It wasn't a contest. In a real fight Jeong Sangguk might lose — but in a race, he would be faster by exactly as many floors as he had on the boy.

"Start!"

And then—

A sharp crackle of lightning. A lightning-fast afterimage flashed in front of his eyes, and Jo Youchan tagged him on the way past.

"…!"

"That's one."

"If you apply the advice I gave you, you'll be able to win."

"What?"

The unpleasant voice made Jeong Sangguk's face twist. What exactly was that man after?

"I don't need it, you arrogant brat!"

However much he wanted to hear Jo Youchan's secret, he would not bow his head to the Vice Guild Master's parachute hire.

Another crackle of lightning.

This time Jo Youchan looped the walls, circling, and the instant he cut his line and came screaming in—

Jeong Sangguk's eyes flew wide, and he slipped the lightning.

Whoosh!

"Wha—!"

"Oh."

Jeong Sangguk snorted.

Tremendous output, but he can't control the speed. Once the direction is set, he can only come in a straight line.

Which meant he could dodge it with Evasion, just like that.

"Youchan. If I win, I'll be expecting that secret — and an apology. I don't know what that man said to put you up to this, but I will not tolerate this disrespect."

"Sorry?"

The microphone cut in again.

"Youchan. When you change direction, use Heavenly Exploding Strike. Think of it as firing off a weak one with the shock of stomping your foot."

"Oh! Yes! Thank you!"

At the rude stranger's advice, Jo Youchan whooped like a kid on Christmas. Lined up against everything else that had happened today, the sight looked grotesque to Jeong Sangguk.

"What on earth is…"

Another crackle.

The lightning afterimage looped the wall again. Jeong Sangguk cut himself off and focused.

He picked up the incoming bolt, reached for Evasion—

BOOM!

"…!"

Jo Youchan had been flying in a straight line. Then his path bent at a right angle, carried on a thunderclap of a shockwave.

And then another boom — he came screaming in along an impossible trajectory through empty air.

"Tag!"

Tap!

The lightning brushed past him. Jeong Sangguk stood there, blank. And Jo Youchan, thrilled by his own growth, tore around the room in a frenzy. With that new technique he was practically flying, painting the air with a dazzling display of movement.

A chain of small thunderclaps rolled through the room. A deep, gathering rumble.

He had grown the skill? In that handful of seconds?

That man's words… he used them exactly as they were given…

If you wanted to develop a technique, you were supposed to spend long years under a great teacher, or throw yourself into research as if you meant to devour the art whole, or wring enlightenment out of bloody real combat. That was how it was supposed to work.

The thunder kept rumbling.

"Yes! Master's the best!"

Jeong Sangguk flinched.

Master?