The Price of Forbidden Power
Before the second-half matches began, the Bureau launched an event-style survey.
(* Excluding Mir Guild)
The Bureau had surveyed 100 league experts and officials. Though they’d called it a lighthearted event and asked everyone to treat it as fun, the fact that the Bureau itself conducted the poll gave the results real weight.
Amid everyone’s anticipation, the name that topped the first page was none other than Shinseong Guild.
1st. Shinseong Guild.
: While reinforcing their previously lacking damage dealers around Cross was encouraging, the successful equipment overhaul was the decisive factor. The Shinseong Group’s willingness to open their wallets played a major role…….
Shinseong Guild, which had built a Big 3 of Cross, the Fist King, and Blaster, had made remarkable strides over the past few years from perennial mid-tier status. They were known for consistent performances, yet their ceiling was considered too low for a championship run. That assessment now felt outdated—their reinforcements this season had been extraordinary.
Rumors circulated that President L’s teasing had finally pushed President Shin to open his wallet, but those whispers were now dismissed as tabloid fodder.
Below them came 2nd place Taeyang, 3rd place Kirin, and other expected rankings…… yet two key points stood out.
First: the Sword Derby’s synchronized slump.
9th. Royal Sword Guild.
: In contrast, a guild that had been far too quiet relative to its name value. They made no moves at all. Word was that Guardian was quite disappointed…….
.
.
11th. White Sword Guild.
: Can they overcome the setbacks from the conquest matches and competitive conquest matches? If you ask me, “Hmm, I wonder?” Meanwhile, the Sword Master was spotted in Hawaii again…….
Both White Sword Guild, once a pillar of the upper ranks, and Royal Sword Guild, self-proclaimed gatekeepers of the top tier, received disappointing evaluations. Against the prestige of the Sword Derby name, their grades were clearly failing.
Interestingly, both guilds were struggling with hunter risk. Royal Sword Guild suffered because Guardian wanted as many weapons as the Mountain King, while White Sword Guild was hampered by the ever-free-spirited Sword Master.
Next.
Second: the contrast at the mid-to-lower tier threshold.
6th. Challenger Guild.
: The hope and role model of mid-to-lower guilds. By selling promising talents at high prices, they further solidified their squad centered around “Black Star Gong Ju-in”…….
.
.
19th. Haemu Guild.
: The exact opposite of Challenger. The acquisitions funded by selling precious prospects ended in failure. The problems are too large to reverse in just two weeks…….
Both Challenger Guild and Haemu Guild had been viewed primarily as selling clubs despite their major status. By some twist of fate, they now presented parallel images of hope and despair.
Challenger Guild had soared thanks to the jackpot called “Black Star” finally exploding, while Haemu Guild was plummeting as the true face of Park Jeong-seok—the lottery ticket they’d believed was a winner—gradually came to light.
That was why no one could believe the current situation.
Especially the Haemu Guild, which had become the protagonist of the league in the early second half.
[33Round. Haemu Guild defeats Silla Guild]
[34Round. Haemu VS Solgae. Haemu Guild secures a 3:1 victory]
[36Round. Unwavering strength displayed even in the rivalry matches]
[The man behind three consecutive rivalry wins: Park Jeong-seok]
[The jackpot has finally exploded!……]
……
…
.
* * *
Haemu Guild President’s Office.
Han Jin-chol’s plump cheeks were filled with laughter as he took the call.
“Aigoo, what secret could there be, Reporter Kim? It’s all thanks to our hunters giving their all and the front office working hard. I just sat in my seat pretending to be important. Hahaha!”
“Jeong-seok? Ah, I’ll gladly accept the praise for Jeong-seok. Haha, he may not look it, but he’s a former major-league tank. My eye for tanks isn’t wrong.”
A shower of compliments poured through the receiver.
While Han Jin-chol laughed heartily, his secretary entered and handed him a note.
Reporters from Hankook Ilbo, JS Ilbo, an MBS PD…… Everyone wanted a call with Han Jin-chol.
These were the same people who hadn’t even sent a single message when Haemu Guild languished in the lower ranks. Now that the guild had won three consecutive rivalry matches, they were suddenly changing their tune and rubbing their hands together.
Even Reporter Kim, who had once harshly criticized the Park Jeong-seok acquisition as an obvious failure and placed all blame on Han Jin-chol, was now apologizing and praising him.
That was why Han Jin-chol felt even more triumphant at the high-and-mighty reporter’s sudden flattery.
“Then I’ll hang up now. Let’s have dinner sometime. I’ll take you somewhere nice.”
But the moment the call ended, his smile vanished.
The cheerful expression from moments ago might as well have been a lie—Han Jin-chol’s face was now etched with exhaustion.
“Secretary’s office, close the blinds. Don’t let anyone in.”
As he set the receiver down, curtains slid across the office windows, sealing them completely.
In the now-silent room, Han Jin-chol heaved his heavy body up, turned on the lights, and sank onto the sofa. Then he addressed the person sitting across from him.
“Did you see that? Just three wins in a row and your evaluation flipped. This industry is that cold.”
“……”
The man seated there was Park Jeong-seok.
His frame had grown noticeably larger—his thighs and torso were unnaturally bulky, making the sofa look small beneath him. Even for an Awakener and hunter, the change in just two weeks was hard to believe.
With a haggard face, he spoke.
“……Your evaluation changed too, sir.”
“Why, does that bother you?”
“It’s unfair. I’m the one putting in the work, but you’re the one pocketing the money.”
“Especially since the skills you’re showing were built through all that ‘suffering’?”
“……”
Han Jin-chol studied Park Jeong-seok’s weary face before continuing.
“Fine, you have every right to complain. But don’t forget—you’re the one who made me like this. I have just as many grievances with you as you do with me.”
No guild had escaped unscathed from the Mir storm, but Haemu Guild had been hit especially hard. Physical distance, their Busan base, their approach to fans, the scale of communication—everything had been compared unfavorably since before the season. Then Mir Guild was promoted to the majors and took flight.
The crushing defeat they’d suffered in the most glamorous opening match in history might have been a preview of Haemu Guild’s future.
A turtle with no presence, trampled beneath the feet of a dragon ascending amid the world’s full attention.
In a way, it was worse than simply having poor results.
Owners and parent companies supported guilds expecting not just profits, but increased corporate recognition, goodwill, and positive side effects. When a guild faded into obscurity, even those expectations became impossible.
With Haemu Guild sitting at a clear 19th on the “Power Reinforcement Report Card,” what reason did the parent company have to keep funding them?
Someone had to take responsibility, and naturally, the first target was President Han Jin-chol. The perfect excuse was Park Jeong-seok.
“Acquiring you became my shackles. My poor judgment ruined the guild. It’s a damn shame—this guild was never going to last long anyway. The only reason it’s held on this long is because of me.”
After everything he’d done for this guild.
Han Jin-chol irritably stuck a cigarette in his mouth.
He knew for certain now—Park Jeong-seok was not major-league material. That damned Lee Shin had dumped him here on purpose.
“I know. I know better than anyone that in this industry, the one who gets fooled is the idiot. I’ve fooled plenty of people myself. So I tried to clean up the mess as best I could. Really, I did everything possible.”
“But how was I supposed to know you were an even bigger fraud than I thought?”
During the breaking season, they had meticulously analyzed the data. To keep the information hidden, they’d even brought in foreign experts and conducted separate evaluations.
The conclusion: Park Jeong-seok’s level made it impossible for him to compete in the majors.
“Those nasty bastards didn’t even badmouth me. Their reason was ridiculous. They’d watched your matches from League 2. They said it was astonishing—that someone could package a person like you so well. Even the ‘packaging experts’ were clapping.”
The problem was that others were starting to notice, little by little.
“At this point, if I admit the acquisition was a failure, my head will definitely roll.”
And.
Han Jin-chol pointed his lit cigarette at Park Jeong-seok.
“Your hunter career will be over too.”
A false commodity strong enough to get a president fired.
If he wanted to continue as a hunter with that label attached, he was dreaming.
“Korea is obviously out. The only possibility is overseas, but foreign teams won’t care about your name value—and they won’t care about your career either. A major guild willing to take on Hunter Park Jeong-seok based purely on skill? I can guarantee there isn’t one.”
“……So I did exactly what you said! I handed my body over to those damn bastards!”
“You did. And I’m grateful for that.”
In the end, the root of everything was Park Jeong-seok’s lack of ability.
So if that problem could be solved, both Han Jin-chol’s presidency and Park Jeong-seok’s hunter career could be salvaged.
There was no normal way out of this situation.
That left only “abnormal” methods.
That day, Han Jin-chol had called Japan. He had played his final hidden card.
Forbidden arts.
Taboo sorcery.
“Japan has always been obsessed with strength. They crossed lines with techniques like reverse-ghost arts and black sorcery, chasing power. What was done to you was a transplant—literally grafting a monster’s core into your mana hole.”
Park Jeong-seok, implanted with the core of an 8th-level Ogre Boss, had been granted tireless stamina and strength. His activity level rivaling the Hwarang and his previously unimaginable power all stemmed from this.
“Naturally, a higher grade would make you even stronger. I heard that someone implanted with an abyssal worm—a creature from the demon realm—gained combat power close to a ranker’s.”
“In exchange, their lifespan would shorten, right?”
“Watch your mouth, you brat. Speak properly! Did I lie to you? Or did I hold a knife to your throat and threaten you? I clearly told you your lifespan would decrease.”
“……”
“This is power you could never obtain even if you died and came back to life. At this price, isn’t it cheap?”
What good was being healthy when you were old? You had to enjoy reality while you could.
“This is advice from a ‘senior’ who went ahead of you.”
Park Jeong-seok stared at Han Jin-chol with wide eyes. Instead of elaborating, Han Jin-chol simply offered him a cigarette.
After a moment’s hesitation, Park Jeong-seok put it in his mouth.
“Anyway, we’re in the same boat now.”
Han Jin-chol would protect his career as president.
Park Jeong-seok would protect his career as a hunter.
“If you protect me, I’ll protect you to the end.”
Han Jin-chol lit Park Jeong-seok’s cigarette and said,
“Let’s do well by each other. Got it?”
* * *
A short while later, after Park Jeong-seok left, Han Jin-chol sat alone in the smoke-filled president’s office, puffing on his cigarette.
Click.
The door locked.
Click.
The lights went out.
Whirr.
Mana sealed the surroundings.
The room became a perfect dark chamber.
Only the glow of the cigarette ember remained. Even in this sudden situation, Han Jin-chol showed no sign of panic—he simply continued smoking as if accustomed to it.
Then, a voice emerged from the darkness.
“You’re still as loose-lipped as ever.”
Han Jin-chol snorted at the slightly awkward Korean.
“I didn’t lie, did I?”
“You didn’t tell the truth either.”
The voice was right.
Han Jin-chol had hidden the truth from Park Jeong-seok.
It was true that he was a senior who had used forbidden arts. But there were countless forbidden arts, each as grotesque as its power. The one Han Jin-chol had used carried relatively low risk.
“Low risk, my ass. I still can’t control my emotions sometimes. Thanks to that, I became this chain-smoker.”
Moreover, to elevate Park Jeong-seok’s lacking abilities all the way to major-league level, a far more powerful forbidden art had been necessary.
Naturally, the lifespan sacrificed in return was nothing like the casual dismissal Han Jin-chol had given.
“That’s because the brat tried to deceive me. I did nothing wrong.”
At the mention of being “in the same boat,” the voice also let out a scoff.
Wasn’t Han Jin-chol’s specialty using forbidden arts to disguise mediocre resources and sell them to other countries?
“You’re a funny one. While doing that kind of work, you lot take a 30% cut. At the very least, you shouldn’t be saying that to me. Don’t you agree, ‘Packaging Expert’?”
Han Jin-chol flicked his cigarette. It spun through the air.
At that moment, a sharp whistling sound—like a whip—cut through the darkness, and the cigarette vanished. When it reappeared, a flame had been lit.
In the glow, milky-white eyes were revealed.
“Let’s just talk business.”
And around those eyes, something writhed.
Blue veins. Blue veins pulsing like worms.