The Scoundrel Returns

F-rank.

Yes, my life had been nothing short of F-rank.

An F-rank awakening. Born with a ceiling I could never break through, no matter how hard I struggled — I would never rise above E-rank.

'What's the point of training when you're F-rank anyway?'

I knew my limits. No — I only thought I knew them.

'Monsters? That's a job for A or S-rank hunters!'

Trapped inside that prejudice, I was too busy running away. After all, I'd believed my life was paved in gold.

Heir to a thriving corporation. I'd thought that petty little status would last forever.

'Do nothing. Just, please, stop causing disasters.'

My father, who sighed every time he looked at me.

'It's shameful that you're my blood brother.'

My younger brother, who treated me worse than a stranger.

'...Hmph.'

My younger sister, who wouldn't even give me the time of day.

'Someday... I believe you'll return to who you once were.'

And even my mother — the one who had let me live this long, despite everything.

I was despised by my own family. No — I only believed I was.

Then came the Ruin-class Gate Break in South Korea. In less than a month, the entire peninsula fell, and every human being on that land was reduced to a handful of ash.

Exactly one person survived.

Everyone but me.

That day, my father — who had taken the blade of a goblin meant for me — said:

'Live. Survive, however you can. I never... truly hated you, Tae-hyun.'

Having fled to America, I scrambled desperately to survive from that day on. Laughably, it was only after losing everything that I finally decided to become strong.

And the result?

I gained power I could hardly believe belonged to an F-rank.

Stats that, at best, put me at the very bottom edge of D-rank. But gaining even this had cost me a great deal.

'Ghhhhk... AAAAAGH!!'

The side effects of reckless elixir consumption. The vision in my right eye had nearly failed, and stabbing, blade-like headaches struck without warning.

'On the bright side, I now know more about elixirs than most PhDs.'

I'd run the experiments on my own body — which combinations worked, and which ones were pure poison. Thanks to that, I'd survived this apocalypse with remarkable stubbornness.

The Ruin-class Gate Break that began on the Korean peninsula. Its boss — the Iron Blood Monarch.

The hundreds of millions of knights under his command were more than even the most elite hunters could stop.

Nations great and small fell one by one. No one could stop the knights' advance.

Not the Gate Masters of Korea's Four Gates. Not hunter-superpower China. Not Britain's Golden Generation, once called the unsinkable fleet. Not the hero who had once held back the first crisis of annihilation.

They all died.

"Haah... haah......"

And in that hopeless situation, the one who had, tragically, survived to the very end —

— Humanity is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so frail.

— was me, again.

From the last survivor of South Korea to the last survivor of humanity. What a damned achievement.

"Ptui."

I spat out the metallic liquid pooling in my mouth. A chunk of flesh came up with the dark blood.

— Your body is a sorry state.

With great effort, I turned my head toward the pitch-black armor before me. A massive frame standing five meters tall. The master of the apocalypse, said to dye everything his feet touched in blood.

The Iron Blood Monarch. The one who had taken everything from me stood there.

— How amusing. Usually, the one who survives to the end possesses tremendous power.

He tilted his head.

— Yet you are weak. Perhaps the weakest in this world.

"...Ha!"

A laugh crept across my lips before I knew it.

"Yeah, weak. A mind made of glass, a body that would shatter at a single touch. Couldn't sleep without booze, and I was crazy about women and food."

That's who I'd been before the apocalypse. And laughably enough, it was the apocalypse that changed me.

Scraaape—

The Monarch murmured, giving the greatsword in his hand a small shake.

— A fascinating specimen. Did you push your limits to the very extreme?

I had no idea what he meant, but if I wanted to land a single blow, now was my chance.

'I can't live much longer anyway.'

Even if I survived, the ground for miles was carpeted with the knights he commanded. My body was already crying out for death.

So then —

"Before I die!!"

I'd land at least one hit!

Kwaak!

I poured magic into the spear shaft I gripped.

A pathetic effect, fitting for E-rank. The chipped spearhead grew slightly sharper.

'And onto that—'

I added my final spear art. A technique I created by tearing apart secret manuals scavenged from the ruins of a fallen Korea and rebuilding them to my own design — a spear art made for me and me alone.

Ghost Spear Ultimate (Ghost Gun: The Ultimate Art of Martial Arts).

A technique that soared far beyond my physical limits. The price of unleashing it, of course, was my life.

Suuuuuu!!

A blade of dark crimson magic gathered at the spear's tip.

— ...!

I gave him no room to dodge.

'Who cares if my legs break.'

I wrenched every last ounce of strength from the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foot planted on the ground and my straining knee —

Thoom!

— and fired myself like a cannonball!

"DIIIIIEEE!!"

My past life, my wasted years, a life drenched in regret — all of it rode on this one charging strike.

Puk!

A crisp, wet sound rang in my ears.

Tragically, it wasn't mine.

"Kuh... hck......"

Blood poured from my nose and mouth. The Iron Blood Monarch's greatsword had punched through my chest and crushed my heart outright.

My spear had stopped just short of him.

"Haha... so it ends like this......"

So the last resistance of humanity was me. What expression would my father have worn, if he'd seen it? Would he have patted my shoulder and told me I did well? Or scolded me for doing something so reckless?

'I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don't know, Father.'

If I could start over. If I could see my father, my mother, my brother and sister again —

'I'd apologize.'

I would apologize for the pain I'd caused, and set right everything I'd done wrong.

'And then.'

I would prove it.

That limits can be broken.

Clank.

Through my one remaining eye, an amusing sight flickered. A decoration had fallen from the Monarch's helm.

— How...!

Pathetic results for an all-or-nothing strike — but not bad at all.

"Ah......"

My consciousness flickered black. I felt my body going cold from the toes up. My body was so heavy. Before I could feel anything else, my mind sank beyond the darkness.

Reading the dizzying headlines on his monitor, Chairman Lee Jin-sung ran a hand down his wrinkled face.

"Haah..."

His life had known no obstacles. Gates, monsters, hunters — even as the world convulsed, he had pressed forward, eyes fixed ahead, unmoved. The result was Cheonseong Group, ranked first in South Korea and twelfth in the world.

Perhaps because he had ridden a rising tide his entire life, he'd never dreamed he'd be agonizing like this in his twilight years.

"Chairman. No contact again today, sir..."

"Of course there isn't."

Secretary Kim, in his black suit, wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve. The chairman's heavy voice pressed down on the entire room.

"If that boy has any shred of shame left, he's doing his damnedest to stay out of my sight right now."

Eldest of three sons and one daughter. The young master destined to lead the next Cheonseong Group. No — the scoundrel bastard who had been the young master. Lee Tae-hyun.

"The heavens are heartless."

Gazing at the wide blue sky, Lee Jin-sung groaned. He had believed people could change — but apparently that was nonsense, drivel, garbage.

He could understand his son being a layabout who liked to play around, to a degree.

But this —

'You little shit!'

'Ugh! B-blood! My nose!'

'Say that again. Go on! Am I still the idiot who can't measure up to my little brother?!'

'Agh! Aaagh!'

— he'd never dreamed the boy was going around beating people half to death.

He'd buried every incident quietly until now, but the man Tae-hyun had beaten half a year ago turned out to be a star hunter of a famous guild.

Strange that a hunter broke a civilian's nose? People cared far more about the son of Cheonseong Group beating a man bloody.

Public sentiment, naturally, was rock bottom.

'Fine. Even that, I could somehow understand.'

At least no one had died back then.

But what happened three months ago was on an entirely different scale.

A six-person raid party attempting a B-rank gate that had appeared in Asan, South Chungcheong Province — five of them dead, one survivor.

Hunters dying in gates was common enough that, ordinarily, it would have merited a few lines in the papers.

Except —

'HIIIIC! SAVE MEEEE!'

— if Lee Tae-hyun hadn't been there.

"When they told me the boy had awakened as an S-rank, I actually thought his suffering was over. That he'd finally grown up."

One day, Lee Tae-hyun had marched into the chairman's office, chest puffed out, and declared:

'Father! Do you know what I just did? An awakening! An awakening! And it's S-rank! BWAHAHAHA!!'

'I'll repay everything I put you through, a hundred times over!'

To cut to the conclusion: the awakening itself was real. Just not S-rank — F-rank.

He'd forged the documents to fake an S-rank rating, then deliberately entered a high-grade gate. Thinking that if he cleared a top-difficulty gate, maybe his father would look at him differently again.

That was the rotten, idiotic logic behind it all. The result: every member of the raid party wiped out — everyone except Lee Tae-hyun, who had fled at the first sign of trouble.

Since that near-death experience, Lee Tae-hyun had been holed up in his room like a shut-in. Three months had passed that way. Word had even spread that he'd actually died in that gate, and Cheonseong Group was covering it up.

"This can't go on."

Steeling himself, the chairman tapped the table with a finger.

"Drag him out, by force if you have to."

"B-but sir, he still seems to be under severe psychological distress. Lately he's apparently been muttering strange things to himself..."

"And how long am I supposed to keep wiping that damned boy's ass?"

He had endured as long as he could. Son or not, the moment he started cracking the Cheonseong name, it was over.

"Throw him in a psychiatric ward, put him in front of the press, behead him at Gwanghwamun — I don't care which."

The warm father, Lee Jin-sung, was gone. Only the Chairman of Cheonseong Group remained.

"Get him out here. Lee Tae-hyun."