211. Just Let Guild Leader Kang Show Off His Specialty.
“Thomas!”
“Yes.”
“Freeze the field!”
“Right now?”
“You think I mean later? Do it now!”
Thomas hesitated. The lava lizards gathering before his eyes numbered nearly a hundred at a glance.
No matter how much of a pack monster they were, this was on the scale of an entire tribe.
Which meant the raid leader wanted Ice Field.
Not just one or two—it was obvious from the talk of the field that he meant the whole lot.
Ice Field was a massive area-of-effect spell that required at least A-rank to unleash its full power.
But Thomas was only C-rank. Normally, even acquiring advanced skills would be a stretch, but his unique trait allowed him one high-rank spell per cycle.
Of course, the penalty for using magic beyond his capacity was brutal.
“This is the third time this week. Twice a week is already pushing it.”
“If you can't cast high-rank AoE spells, why the hell did I bring you into the gate?! If you're pissed, pay up for the skillbooks you swallowed.”
“Hm. That'd be tough.”
“Then cough up the magic you ate.”
Once a skill was acquired, it couldn't be undone.
“Cough it up” meant repay with your life.
And there was no way he could cover the cost of those skillbooks. The New York skill market listing alone was 500 million dollars each—up to a billion depending on the day.
Too much for a lone hunter, let alone a guildless one.
Forcing it down my throat and then this.
If only he were S-rank—no, even A-rank. He'd leverage his rare mage position for freelance gigs on the side.
Hunting outside your guild without permission got legally messy by contract, but mages rarely got booted or restricted for it. If they left, the guild lost out.
But Thomas's situation was different from a typical mage's.
That's just a pipe dream anyway. Ranking up's impossible with this body.
His trait, Mana Companion.
The guild knew it as “Limitless One-Shot Magic”—a quirky trait allowing one spell per cycle, regardless of type or rank.
But the truth was far from what the guild believed.
The problem isn't the trait. It's my illness.
After casting, pain pierced his heart like a spike. Sometimes he'd cough blood, helplessness overtaking his body.
His vision would black out completely, or memory would cut like a snapped film.
The clinic he'd secretly visited suspected alcoholic dementia or Alzheimer's, but Thomas knew it was something else.
Each memory loss stripped away another sliver of his humanity.
Joy, sorrow, love, hate.
How had he once expressed those?
People might call him a sociopath at this rate—emotions dulled to everything.
He even had to fake them to avoid guild suspicion, taking acting lessons from a Hollywood academy. So far, so good.
The guild still chalked it all up to trait backlash.
Even if they suspected, they wouldn't dig deeper.
To them, he was expendable—a tool for one high-rank nuke after which he'd collapse. Nothing more.
“Yes. Following orders.”
As Thomas stepped to the raid's front, fellow hunters parted left and right.
Hardly comrades. Never shared a meal, never invited to a party hunt.
The only respect was for that one devastating spell.
Hoping my memory holds this time.
If it snapped again, who knew what emotion he'd lose next.
Mana...
Thomas extended his hand. Haze rose from the ground. Wind danced pleasantly. Sunlight's heat filled the world.
Only Thomas saw it this way.
He perceived the world not as shapes, but mana. Mana shaped like a tree was a tree; humanoid mana was a hunter.
Magic coalesced at his fingertips, unlike typical hunter casting.
Ice Field
Ground mana, wind mana, sky mana—all turned cold and violent, churning the space.
The springlike weather became a Siberian wasteland of ice.
Lava lizards atop it heated their bodies against the chill, rationing tongue-flicker flames to endure.
But their resistance lasted less than a minute. Lava lizards turned ice lizards, frozen solid, flames extinguished.
“Kuhuk...!”
Thomas clutched his heart and collapsed. Shaking violently, gasping, he flipped his eyes back and passed out from the pain.
A rear hunter checked his neck pulse.
“Dead?”
The raid leader asked; the hunter replied.
“Still breathing. Held up well again, considering the spell.”
“Good. Can't waste the magic we fed him. Drag him back. No potions—last time nearly killed him. What kinda trait penalty is this bullshit? Tsk. Rest of you, harvest lizard hearts and venom glands.”
“Frozen solid—still good?”
“Byproducts'll be fine.”
“True, Thomas controls better than he looks. Keeps the pricey bits intact.”
“He needs every penny to pay off his skillbook debt. Ten percent's his cut—calculate right.”
“'Right' meaning...”
“You know. Skim plenty.”
“Got it. Will.”
Thomas woke three days later.
Familiar ceiling. Curtain-partitioned room. Medical gear lined up, one sensor on his chest.
Then he realized: Ithaca Guild's infirmary.
“Out of the gate. Clear?”
“Yeah. Boss down, cleared.”
The woman entering through the curtain answered. Gray-streaked hair, wrinkled face—an elder doc who'd pass for a hospital director, yet stuck guarding a guild clinic.
“Good morning, Doctor Marie.”
“Good night, punk.”
“Night now?”
“3 a.m.”
“Woke at a crap time. Hate rushing to work.”
“Don't talk like you just woke refreshed. You'd be dead if unlucky.”
“Survived at least. Memory intact, no changes—relief.”
“Told you stick to the cycle. Three AoEs in a week? Low-rank's fine hourly, but high-rank needs a week. Push it, your heart gives out soon. Might stretch to two weeks later. Eventually, no magic at all.”
Doctor Marie warned gravely. She alone in the guild knew his illness—and cared.
His frequent faints piqued her curiosity; investigating brought them close.
Thomas shrugged it off as routine, changing topics.
“On duty again? You'll burn out.”
“Grateful they hired a malpractice survivor. And I volunteered today.”
“Lost rent on gambling again?”
“For pocket change? Knew you'd wake today—vitals normalized.”
“Ah, for me. Thanks.”
“Ugh, that face. Don't thank me looking weird. Not some B-horror. That's why med team's scared of you.”
“Trying my best. What face for thanks?”
“Dunno. Few I like. Most enemies. Especially my kid.”
“Didn't know you had kids.”
“Might as well not... Stop derailing. Night shifts kill at my age. Deliver your message, then sleep.”
“Message?”
“This first.”
Thomas checked the tablet Doctor Marie handed.
Science journal board. Title a jargon slog, but one word jumped out.
“Mana Addiction? This can't be...”
“Right. Same as you. Only treatment case in 20 years.”
Go Eul-ji ignored the muted TV news, bustling until thrusting both hands up.
“Perfect! Packing dooone!”
She'd crammed and zipped the bursting trunk bag.
Her sole friend Kim Nari shook her head, clicking her tongue.
“Emigrating?”
“Pfft, emigration needs more than this.”
“This much?”
Kim Nari eyed the pile behind Go Eul-ji.
Five massive trunks.
“How're you hauling all that?”
“On my head. Wait—no, got my hunter license now. Float 'em.”
“License or not, head-stacking screams hunter. You'd outshine BTA ops.”
“Nah. Bros are the sun. I'm a firefly? Too cocky. Cigarette glow, yeah. How's that compare to the sun?”
“So you. Anyway, too flashy.”
“Hunters using powers is daily life. What's the biggie?”
“Not that. Five trunks for 2 nights 3 days? Looks like a peddler.”
“But gotta. Pom-poms for cheering, room display merch, per-song custom tees, venue banner—still short.”
“I'm crazy, but you're next level.”
“Obviously. My love for ops is cosmic.”
Kim Nari was going to the US concert with Go Eul-ji.
Tough mid-semester skip sans finals, but “US study abroad interview” got parental okay.
Unlike Go Eul-ji, top student from wealth; new US policy allowed anytime college entry.
Idol concert as study abroad excuse? Crazy, but fair.
Go Eul-ji matched it fully.
Kim Nari, knowing her situation, worried.
“School thinks you're hiding hunter status. Revealing for a concert? Really okay?”
“Ah, Leader Kang hooked me up. Guild master's aggro tank—Japan kids won't notice small fry like me. Even without, I'd reveal. Anyway, days left?”
“Three. Finally seeing them?”
“Took forever. Damn monsters useless. Catch 'em all quick or cancel concerts/signings on every incident.”
“No flying monsters is lucky. Else no flight, no US.”
“Why I hunted that Garuda full throttle. Feared missing US.”
“Garuda?”
“Yeah. Stupid fast. Nauseous chasing it.”
Go Eul-ji spilled Garuda raid backstory to Kim Nari—unknown even to Kang Moo-hyuk.
“Anyway, LA shows: all three days via our guild ticket boss. Let's rage.”
Kang Moo-hyuk invited World Hunter Federation's Aila to North Pocheon.
Alex and Raven tagged along.
Aila arrived covertly via special off-road vehicle for restricted zones, exclusive elevator, even floors cleared considering her elf heritage.
In the leader's office, Aila greeted warmly.
“Long time.”
“Tough journey here.”
“Nah. Rider Wolf collab's good for us too.”
“Hm, collab wouldn't need you personally. Other business?”
“You owe me from last time.”
“Owe...”
“Used Federation name to pressure China. Not thinking I did it free, right?”
“Not a request, but can't deny the debt.”
“So I came with one.”
“Think I know.”
“What?”
“Upu Mangbau aftermath—the paused test?”
“Yes.”
“Can I refuse?”
“Contract. See? Rider Wolf collab, Iron Will C Warehouse tech tie-up—much at stake.”
“Refuse and I lose big.”
“Threats aren't my monopoly.”
“That test was too risky. Hesitant.”
“No risk this time. No monsters.”
“Not a raid?”
“Yes. US site. One month. Just let Guild Leader Kang show off his specialty here.”