Heavenly Exploding Strike

A notification window that appeared before my eyes without warning. It looked like Jo Youchan's information, seen through the glass.

This is exactly like the Hunter Management game.

I couldn't make sense of the situation. Was I hallucinating? No — if that were the case, this wouldn't be the umpteenth bizarre notification window. At this point, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had to assume this was my ability.

Had I gotten too into the game? I'd played it so much I'd gone and awakened something that was basically Hunter Management.

But what's the use of this?

Apparently I was being treated as a Hunter Management player — a Master. And Masters don't climb the Tower.

Don't tell me that applies to me too?

Didn't I get any combat skills? Something like that super-powered forehead flick of his. I wanted to climb the Tower too!

TANG—

"Hhk—!"

Another shockwave rattled the room and cut my thoughts short. From where I stood, the power looked incredible — almost too much to believe — but Jo Youchan seemed to be boiling over with frustration, and he let out a raw scream.

"Aaargh! Fuuuuck!"

The howl coming through the mic was thick with bitter grievance. Well, if I'd been treated as a prodigy only to be stuck in the same place for two years, I'd be furious too.

But wasn't he going to cause an accident carrying on like that? The team members in the analysis room stirred, as if they were used to this.

"Oof."

"Here we go again."

"Let's just stay out of his way~"

Apparently this wasn't a one- or two-day thing.

"It's Do Hyeonseok, right? Hyeonseok, don't go out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠your way to talk to Hunter Jo Youchan today."

"Y-yes, sir."

"I'll introduce you next time."

Just as we were about to move on to the next work area, the status window still floating in the air caught my eye.

Hm? Red text?

The words Thunder Finger (Evolving) were red. In Hunter Management, red text corresponded to a hunter character's Hardship state — a problem the Master was supposed to solve with advice.

But this is reality.

I wasn't the Master, the advisor from inside Hunter Management. I was nothing more than a backseat gamer.

Without thinking, I tapped the red letters. Naturally, the way I always had in Hunter Management. And then—

Every piece of advice in Hunter Management was text the game developers had written themselves. Of course I'd memorized all of it.

But I had never seen those lines before. Meaning they weren't passages that appeared in Hunter Management.

And yet, to my number-one-ranked eyes, the correct answer was obvious. I had the context, the properties of Thunder Finger, everything that had come before and after — all of it sitting in my existing knowledge.

I spoke the answer as if possessed.

"Sound is vibrational energy. Stamp your foot, and focus on the flow of sound rising through your body like a rebound. Pack thunder into your fingertips."

"What?"

"Y-you crazy bastard!"

"Huh?"

The frantic shout snapped me back to my senses. While I'd been reading the empty air, I'd somehow switched on the microphone that carried into the training room.

Of course they wouldn't hear me if I just talked, so I'd flipped the mic on without even realizing it. Even I had to admit I was a hopeless backseat gamer. Now what are you going to do, you lunatic.

"...Who is this?"

I'm so fucked.

I looked back, and my senior and the team members had frozen in horror.

What was I supposed to do? Just leave the mic and back away? Then they wouldn't come after me, right? Should I try to fix this now?

"Are you perhaps a senior hunter from the upper floors?"

"Ah, no."

"Are you an acquaintance of my father's?"

"I'm not..."

Jo Youchan, his voice shrinking, seemed to sense something off and furrowed his brow.

"...Then who are you?"

"D-Do Hyeonseok."

I swallowed hard.

"I-I'm the new hire who started today, with the Support Team. P-pleased to work with you..."

Silence swallowed the training room and the analysis room alike.

"...What?"

The calm before the storm. Inside the training room, electricity began to snap and spit.

Someone yanked my shoulder hard from behind.

"You lunatic! What the hell are you doing?!"

My senior hurriedly switched the mic back on.

"H-Hunter Jo, the new guy doesn't know any better—"

"That son of a bitch."

The shout that followed made me think thunder had actually struck.

"Throw him out right now—!"

"Get out! Get out of here, now!"

"M-maybe if I apologize—"

"Aigoo, just go home for today! Clock out, hurry!"

"Yes, sir!"

My senior pleaded so desperately that I hurried out of the building.

"I'm home..."

Fortunately, the house was empty. Nobody around to take one look at me and start asking questions.

I got kicked out.

On my first day of work. Good god.

"Gaaaaah—! Dad told me to keep my head down and just go to work!"

Was I going to get fired like this? These days with employment law and all that, they couldn't just fire you on the spot, right? I'd been unemployed until yesterday, so I had no idea.

No — getting fired wasn't even what bothered me. This was the job Dad had pulled strings to get me, because he was thinking of me. And I'd gone and caused a scene for everyone to see. What was that going to do to his reputation?

He's already on the verge of being forced into retirement...

His standing in the guild definitely wasn't good. And I'd just poured oil on that fire.

I remembered being a kid. Waiting to get chewed out by Dad after I'd done something wrong — a time that had become nothing but a memory now. I'd stand there staring at my toes, eyes welling up.

This was scarier than that. I was sorry, and I was pathetic. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A grown adult, and this was the state I was in. I didn't have it in me to face my father.

"Haa..."

I changed clothes and, out of habit, was about to boot up Hunter Management when I froze. You idiot! This whole mess had happened because of that Hunter Management-like ability, and I thought I could sit down and play the game?

I'll apologize first thing when I go in tomorrow.

He was a hunter, sure. A living weapon who could flick a civilian's head clean off, sure — but he wouldn't actually hit me, would he? He couldn't be that terrifying. I'd apologize properly, with respect.

"Ugh..."

It was lunchtime. Instead of the Advance Guild cafeteria food that was famous on social media, I put a pot of ramen on the stove and spent the time reflecting.

The Support Team Leader's door slammed open.

BANG!

"Aigoo, I'm losing my mind here!"

"Hey, hey, I'm still the team leader. You gotta knock, man. What's going on?"

"I can't take responsibility for that parachute hire!"

"I asked what's going on. It's not even past lunch and you're already like this."

He laid out what Hyeonseok had done.

"He... gave him advice?"

"Because of that kid, that mad dog is going berserk right now!"

"Hyeonseok really did that?"

"Yes! First, Team Leader, please do something about Jo Youchan!"

"Tsk..."

The Support Team Leader ran a hand over his thinning hair.

"What even is that kid? Wasn't he a hunter? Why'd he suddenly come in as a regular employee?"

"There are things you're not supposed to know, man. Didn't seem like an ordinary parachute hire."

"Yes, a jumbo-sized dump of a parachute hire, more like. I don't know what you're thinking, but that guy's just a dimwit!"

"That can't be right..."

At first, the team leader had figured there was something to him. But causing a childish incident on his very first day? Giving unsolicited advice, of all things.

I looked him up briefly, and he's not even registered as a hunter.

So he either hadn't entered the Tower yet, or he was on an extremely low floor. Why would a complete amateur be handing out coaching advice?

There was no way an unregistered nobody was at a level to coach a twentieth-floor hunter. Legendary bloodline or not.

Don't tell me Hyeonseok is the same kind of mad dog as Jo Youchan?

The exhausting type, drunk on pride at having inherited the abilities of the legend Do Hyeoncheol? But that didn't fit — he'd been an extremely well-mannered young man.

And I can't exactly go ask the legend about it either...

How do you look someone in the face and ask, so what kind of person is this parachute hire you planted? Even if he was a has-been, he was still a hunter — a living weapon.

Don't tell me... he really didn't inherit the ability?

Just an utterly unremarkable ordinary hunter? Then why join the Support Team? And why hide the fact that he was a hunter? No matter how he looked at it, the only conclusion was that there was something there.

"There must have been some kind of misunderstanding."

"Aigoo, Team Leader!"

"Just bear with it a little longer! There's something off about that kid. My gut is telling me, okay? You know how many hunters I've watched from this position."

"...How long am I supposed to wait."

Even the team leader couldn't answer that with confidence. Truth was, a little suspicion toward Hyeonseok had started to sprout in him as well.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. I'll set up a chance for the two of them to make up, too."

Let's watch a little longer.

Jo Youchan stayed at the building late into the night. He finished his rest and put his hair in order, sweeping his bangs back neat and clean, the way he always did. Then he headed for the Special Training Room.

The same routine, two years running. And two years running, not a single step of progress.

Thud. Thud.

"Hoo..."

He paused in front ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the training room. Every time Jo Youchan entered the Special Training Room, he steadied his breathing and stepped in with his right foot first — a routine to pull his focus up fast, and at the same time, a little superstition of his own, for the sake of a breakthrough.

But today, he stepped in with his left foot. Because that guy from earlier was still on his mind.

"Tsk, hoo..."

He tried to settle the anger welling up in him.

This is on me. I'm the one who's lacking.

Look at him, fuming all day over one slip of the tongue from a newbie. Seems he'd gotten more high-strung than he needed to be lately.

But where did he get the nerve to do that?

Was he really just some weirdo, nothing more? Weirdos would've been filtered out at hiring.

And whatever he'd picked up from wherever, what he'd said had been strangely plausible. Same with that tone of absolute certainty. For a second Jo Youchan had even gone formal, thinking the man was some impossibly high-floor hunter.

Heavenly Exploding Strike, was it. A strike packed with the booming roar of thunder... no.

He shook his head at the thought that kept surfacing. He had no mind to spare on useless things. He stepped the rest of the way into the training room, his stride especially rough thanks to his irritation.

Thud. Thud.

...

The sound of his footsteps resonated through his body. A thread-thin flash of inspiration brushed past.

Stop. Stop.

Jo Youchan, plagued by OCD and perfectionism. The very fact that he'd been shaken all day by a civilian's nonsense scraped his pride raw.

He stood before the steel plate and settled into his stance. The same stance as always. Both feet planted wide in a splayed figure-eight, both knees bent.

...Footsteps. Sound.

Fine. If he just tried it once, he could forget about it for good. Jo Youchan succeeded in finding a sufficiently convincing piece of self-justification.

He changed his stance. Not the sideways splayed posture, but one for driving forward. He took a step and stamped the ground with heavy force.

THOOM.

"...!"

The instant he felt it, inspiration erupted like a lightning strike. It was like magic.

The vibration of sound climbing from his feet. He expanded it into the image of thunder.

He drew it up through his waist, straight into his fingertips. Packed with thunder, he flicked his fingers. And then—

The steel plate, which originally would have only been punctured with a hole, tore completely into shrapnel and sprayed in every direction.

Jo Youchan couldn't move from the spot. He just stood there, mouth hanging open.

"Ah, ah......"

He couldn't collect himself through the tingling, electric rush of euphoria. A long while later—

Th-the Support Team!

He burst out of the training room at a run, then faltered at the sight of the darkened lobby. It was already the hour when everyone would have gone home.

What was his name?

A contact number? The Support Team would have a profile, something, anything, right? Jo Youchan broke into a run once more.

Ding!

"Huh?"

Another new message had appeared.