Viral Massacre and Necrophilia's Shadow
The thumbnail of the gargoyle video sat proudly at the top of the YouTube Trending list.
News of two high-difficulty gates opening back-to-back in Korea—no, in Seoul of all places—had already spread worldwide like a massive earthquake.
With reports confirming the incident resolved while minimizing civilian casualties, the "Gargoyle Subjugation Site" video easily claimed the number one spot.
Views and likes climbed in real-time.
But the real point of attention was the comments section, surging past 25,000.
Hunter-related videos usually mirrored celebrity content: praise for feats, fan cheers, battle breakdowns, and speculation on future trends.
This one was different.
Shocked comments racked up the most recommendations.
The reason was obvious: the video's content.
- BOOM!
- BOOM!
The uploader, "Swordsman Hunter TV," seemed to have mounted a small camera on his helmet during the fight.
His viewpoint captured the gargoyles exploding in vivid detail.
No hunter on-site had figured out the attack method—and neither had the camera.
Gargoyles exploding in mid-air.
No clue why.
Public sentiment leaned toward confusion and fear.
Naturally, talk emerged of an unregistered hunter supernova suddenly blazing across Korea.
No info on him had surfaced, solidifying that as fact.
Except...
No one bought the Bureau's claim of total ignorance.
Should I be relieved? Or pissed?
Kim Chun-gyu, Team 1 Leader of the Korea Hunter Management Bureau—the bald guy—rubbed his stiff neck repeatedly.
In the end, this mess happened.
He'd hoped the unregistered hunter wouldn't blow up. Not yet, anyway. Not before the Bureau could recruit him.
The world's gonna lose its shit.
What if he skipped the Korean Bureau and went abroad?
That'd be worse. Better an enemy than that.
...Not an enemy, though.
- BOOM!
Yeah. Enemy's the worst-case scenario.
Analysis was done; Kim Chun-gyu knew better than anyone how absurd the unregistered hunter's damage output was.
But seeing it in the video hit different. Raw immersion.
It's not just destructive power. They just... vanish in mid-air. No counterplay.
The Minotaur incident was too chaotic for solid on-site analysis, but now Kim knew.
The guy operated outside common sense.
"Damn it..."
Damn. Damn. Damn.
How reassuring would it be if he were officially registered in Korea right now?
He'd probably be grinning ear-to-ear watching this.
Kim had the perfect line ready.
Behold. This is Korea. America in shock, Japan in panic, China trembling—this is Korea!
Reality? A dumpster fire.
Sponsorships: crickets.
Emails: all marked unread. Frustrating as hell.
Director Baek Moon-seong puffed away on his cigar beside him.
Closing two back-to-back high-difficulty gates—disaster-level stuff—without a hitch was party-worthy.
But the star, "Unregistered," slipped through like a mirage. Teasing them, untouchable.
The two men drummed fingers on the table, monitoring live reactions.
"I'll send the public opinion analysis to your home, sir. Get some rest."
Kim considered the director's age.
"Nah. This is delicate. Media handled?"
"Of course. We've been burned before. Calling a presser soon."
One word for their vigilance: experience.
The birth of a Villain.
They'd seen hunters turn enemy too many times.
How many talents went rogue for stupid reasons?
Personal quirks, ideologies.
Pre-awakening thugs.
Bad influences.
All sorts. But a huge chunk? Public backlash.
Hunter life means accidental civilian damage sometimes. Or missing a monster you could've taken, ballooning casualties.
Then humans blame the hunter, not the monster.
- Is this what I fought for on humanity's side?
He remembered a high-ranker from the early gate days, spitting that amid massive criticism.
Soon after, he led a new villain guild.
Not the only reason, but a solid spark.
Unregistered can't go villain. Solo actor? Maybe survivable. Villain? No.
But things looked dicey now.
The destruction was too overwhelming, too grotesque. Bad vibes.
Even...
Crazy monster sympathizers crawling out.
Especially abroad. Japan and China turning hostile.
Perfect clickbait for attacks.
No resistance, just pop.
"Hoo. Fuck."
Lighting a rare smoke. Tension high.
Even leaving it alone feels like a heart attack waiting.
Tried pulling the video; "Sword Hunter TV" ghosted them. Solo hunter, figures.
Won't work.
Time for the comment brigade.
"Pull staff now. Immediately."
Call to ops. Response:
- Yes. In 30 minutes.
Thirty minutes, then they move. But...
"?"
Something shifted oddly.
"What the...?"
No orders given yet, but the brigade mobilized.
Checked with ops: still assembling. Deployment in 30.
Not us. Then who?
Real volunteers?
Actual acquaintances?
If so, watch closely.
Live comments perked up.
What? These guys are seriously shaping opinion.
And aggressively.
Almost desperate, even.
Heck, fear in their words.
Like fretting he'd turn villain.
Some even used foreign languages to fend off bad press.
"Who the hell are these guys?"
Like righteous rebels, aligning perfectly without orders.
Their identities clicked soon enough.
"Ah, no way."
Hunters who'd witnessed his power in the gargoyle fight.
Whatever the reason, Kim wasn't alone worrying about villain turn.
No orders, yet group "Unregistered defense mode" activated.
If they handle it themselves, great.
Kim called ops.
"Stand by."
Amateur brigade might dilute it.
Watch a bit more.
Thus, the rebel comment squad slowly flipped opinions to favorable.
Not all, but one by one...
Positive vibes emerging.
Fear had been total; this was CPR at least.
Can't let opinion attack him. Hero worship regardless. Make even wannabe villains back off awkwardly.
Thanks to on-site hunter commenters, YouTube—the hotbed—saw active defense.
"Keep monitoring. Presser time; I'm heading out."
- Yes!
Handing YouTube to ops, Kim bowed to the director and left—
- BAM!
"Open gently! Please! Director's here!"
"Unregistered. Please connect us."
Cheon Seung-hyuk burst in.
He's my biggest worry.
Cheon Seung-hyuk, hailed as a hero worldwide.
His character is pure hero material.
Job: Hero. Combat style even more so.
S-rank awakening, he marched into the Bureau, racking merits in hellholes without care for his body.
Claimed Korean rank 1 in a flash.
Keeping "Bureau holds rank 1 hunter"—not villains or corps—owed big to his integrity.
But...
Simple-minded. Wild card.
Stubborn, battle-obsessed hothead who knows only fights and feats.
A handful to manage and support.
Objectively, not the sharpest outside combat.
Yet unbreakable convictions.
And now...
That immovable face. No talking sense.
Cheon Seung-hyuk's brow twitched.
"Unregistered. Interesting guy. Intrigued."
"Look, we don't know yet... It's classified... Anyway, unknown..."
Kim gave up.
Whatever hooked him, it hooked hard.
"Wanna spar. Meet tomorrow?"
Kim's resolve folded once more.
"Not possible."
"Waiting for contact tomorrow."
Folded twice more. Crumpled.
"Yeah. Tomorrow."
Buy time, persuade later.
"Here for that?"
Director Baek Moon-seong, the white-haired elder, asked wearily.
"No."
Surprisingly, Cheon had real business.
"Why two gates in Seoul, nationwide difficulty spike. Got a lead."
He placed a dark object on the desk.
"!!!"
Baek and Kim shot up.
This had no business in Korea.
"Undead dragon, 'Cartibes's' seal."
"Where from? Speak quick."
"MVP reward from slaying that weapon guy."
"...!!"
Kim clutched his throbbing head.
Baek groaned low.
"Big trouble..."
Cheon continued calmly amid the scene.
"Related villain group will move. Guaranteed."
Then his briefing began.
Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.
People sending gold.
Lots of it.
Shabby one-room. But with this much gold hitting my account, who cares?
I named the shelter Silver Horse Shelter, breathing joyfully in and out.
No vigorous moves—HP risk...
Then,
New sponsorship received.
Another sponsorship. Love this sound—notification stays on.
"How much this time—"
But...
"???"
This one was insanely huge.
"Uh...?"
Weird name.
And...
【Contract Request】 - 【Necrophilia (NecroPhilia)】
A contract request too.
"What is this?"
Bad vibes.