#248. What, It's Not Like We're Searching for Mr. Kim in Seoul.
Kang Moo-hyuk's first order of business after seizing Baekho Guild's secret vault was to arm Joo Se-ah.
Every great hunter needed a weapon worthy of their power.
Her armor was makeshift—crafted from black wyvern leather—but finding a blade fit for an S-rank was no easy task.
Baekho Guild's vault brimmed with gear and treasures, but nothing met his standards. In the end, he had no choice but to hand her the strongest weapon inside as a temporary measure.
The blade he placed in Joo Se-ah's grip: Mac an Luin.
Named after the legendary sword of Finn Mac Cool from Celtic myth, its signature ability was:
Spear Transformation
Click!
The blade split open, another edge springing forth. The divided edges fused back together, blunting into a shaft that swiftly formed a spear.
From sword to spear. From spear to sword.
Chanting the activation phrase let the wielder switch forms at will—that was Mac an Luin.
"Been a while since I used a spear."
Joo Se-ah had wielded swords during her Slayer days and bare-knuckle brawling ever since, but she was no slouch with spears either. Her master was the weapon virtuoso Jang Deok-gu, after all.
The spear tip sliced horizontally through the air ahead. The charging swarm split in half. Heads, torsos, abdomens, wings—all severed, raining down in chunks.
The mana extending from the spear didn't lose momentum, stretching long to sweep up the hornets in the rear ranks. Dozens fell to that single strike, yet the horde still seemed endless.
"Situations like this are the worst for a tank like me."
Against boss-level singles, Joo Se-ah could claim to be Korea's—no, Asia's—top tank, maybe even world-class with a bit of exaggeration. But mobs? She had to pick them off one by one. This was when you desperately needed a mage.
She skewered every hornet that flew her way, but her footing gradually gave ground. As more bugs swarmed toward the passenger plane, she pulled back from her initial defensive line.
"Fighting while protecting people limits my movement. How long are these bastards gonna cling?"
That was when it happened.
Flames erupted across the runway. One side of the passenger plane was walled off by fire. The hornets that had latched onto the opposite flank—avoiding Joo Se-ah—instantly charred to ash.
"Who’s there?"
Joo Se-ah clocked it as magic right away. She scanned for the caster.
"Up top!"
Lifting her gaze, she spotted a figure hovering in the sky.
The mage unleashed spells in every direction. Everything in sight was carnivorous hornets, and this was an empty airport runway—no buildings or people to collateral. Joo Se-ah could focus purely on the bugs without worry.
Once the area was a scorched wasteland with no more fliers, the mage descended slowly.
"You're Joo Se-ah, guild master of Iron Will, right?"
"Yeah. And you?"
"Jonathan Owen, head of the World Hunter Federation's LA branch. We got word Iron Will was sending someone, but I didn't expect the guild master herself."
"Things just kinda worked out that way."
* * *
Joo Se-ah had originally planned to send a civilian guild staffer to the States. It was just delivering meds—wasting a hunter on that seemed pointless.
Then she remembered Kang Moo-hyuk was taking the Federation's test. Knowing the rough details, she figured a helpful hunter would be better.
But sending a half-baked ranker? No way. Better to reinforce with real firepower while she was at it.
Going through her reliable hunters, though, none were free. Lee Jin-joo was busy with expedition prep, training, and shaky Tumen River defenses. Pyo Beom-hee handled guild ops. Yeom Soo-hyung was in a touchy pre-rank-up phase.
Everyone had excuses. Process of elimination left just her.
S-rank hunters rarely hunted monsters themselves. Unless it was something major, lower ranks handled it.
Joo Se-ah's current gig was guild management—which mostly meant rubber-stamping papers within the framework Kang Moo-hyuk had set.
In the end, she steeled herself.
"No choice. I'm super busy, but I gotta go. Haven't even taken vacation... Nah, this ain't a vacation. It's a business trip. Yeah, business trip."
Pyo Beom-hee, watching from the side as Joo Se-ah clenched her fist with grim resolve during a document approval, just shook her head with a tsk.
"Finding all sorts of excuses to slack off."
* * *
"So what brings you here...? Thanks for the assist, anyway."
"Didn't you inquire about Kang Moo-hyuk's status? Where he was, what he was up to, since Iron Will was sending someone. No contact with the captain himself, so we figured we'd secure you first."
"Was gonna surprise him, but we needed to know what he was doing first."
"He specifically begged us not to tip him off. Should've just told him Iron Will was coming."
"Nah. He'd have bolted if he knew I was headed Stateside... Ahem. Guy's too sharp for that."
'Did she just say "bolted"?'
Jonathan blinked, wondering if the Federation's translation artifact had glitched. An S-rank guild master shirking duty to run? Unthinkable.
He made a mental note to file an error report as he replied.
"Anyway, we knew your flight time, so I came to greet you. To protect Iron Will's staff... but looks like that wasn't necessary."
"Not at all. Huge help. Protecting people while stuck to the plane made hunting a nightmare."
"The honor's mine. Fighting alongside an S-rank."
Jonathan's cheeks flushed faintly. Rare for any hunter to share a hunt with an S-rank in their lifetime.
In hero-worshipping North America, S-ranks were near-gods.
The thrill faded as a question hit him.
"How'd you get a U.S. entry visa, though?"
There was a reason for asking about something so trivial.
S-ranks were strategic weapons of their nations.
No country lets nukes wander their turf unchecked.
S-rank visas factored in political, economic, social fallout—not just hunter affairs.
Korea's passport power waived visas in many places, but S-ranks were exceptions.
"Dunno. Asked through Korea's Guild Cooperation Office, and it got approved in hours. Braced for a hassle, but it was too quick—I was shocked."
"Hours? For an S-rank entry? ...Ah, I get it now."
"Get what?"
"U.S. government's getting greedy."
"Greedy?"
"It's an S-rank. They wanna poach you. Nationality change."
"No way."
"Precedents exist."
"Precedents... Oh, that Super S guy?"
"Same play as with Bertrand Lefebvre—turn you American. Easier to recruit on their soil than in Korea."
Bertrand Lefebvre was originally French.
Strictly speaking: French dad, Algerian mom, Dutch grandpa, Moroccan grandma—messy nationality history for an S-rank.
His final choice rocked Europe and Africa.
He picked the U.S., sparking Franco-American diplomatic friction. Old news, but relations stayed frosty.
"Ah, so that's why Cha Gil-ju warned me off it. Whatever. Not interested in becoming American."
"U.S. gov's persistent with S-ranks. Watch your back."
Jonathan's advice was earnest—befitting an S-rank.
He moved to escort her to the LA branch.
"Hold up. Four hundred people on that plane. Can't just ditch 'em."
"Got it. We'll handle it. Federation buses incoming. Protecting them at the branch till LA's safe."
"Appreciate it."
The decision went down smooth, but it wasn't simple for Jonathan.
Sheltering hundreds in a crisis meant diverting major forces.
With branch defense as priority, this was a big bleed.
Without S-rank respect, it'd be a flat no.
With things settled, Joo Se-ah sighed in relief and muttered:
"What, it's not like we're searching for Mr. Kim in Seoul. Finding the captain in this mess of an LA's gonna be tougher than I thought."
* * *
Lindon smashed the chopper's cockpit door and crawled out. Karl, the scout among the six waiting operatives, offered a hand. Lindon grabbed it and hauled himself free.
"Ow, fuck! Ribs. Feels like my spine's out too."
"Potion it."
"Potions don't fix bones."
"Set 'em first, then potion."
"Heartless bastard."
"You're fine."
"A B+ getting cracked ribs like this? I'd be dead."
"Baker should be dead then."
"That guy's B-."
"Even B- don't snap like that."
Baker scowled at their banter.
"Hey, assholes. Fun watching me hurt? Think it's the crash? Fucking hornets swarmed me."
"Why'd you bail mid-drop? Stay buckled in till touchdown."
"Instincts, man! Fell from a height as a kid. Even post-awakening, drops freak me out."
"Lindon, what's that phobia called? Not acrophobia."
"Fear of crashing?"
"Yeah, that."
"Wrong, dickheads. It's trauma."
"Eyes front! Cut the chatter and form up!"
At Captain Lucas's command, the seven operatives grouped.
"As you see, looks like a hive formed in LA. Quiet till now means underground somewhere. Karl, ID on these?"
"Checked the codex database. Carnivorous hornets—worst of the bunch."
"Traits?"
Instead of answering, Karl pulled a rugged tablet from the chopper gear and shoved it forward.
Lucas skimmed the screen's hornet profile, passing it around.
Carnivorous Hornet
◈ Hyper-Evolution Type: Rapid adaptation and growth.
◈ Swarm Tactics: Overwhelms via numbers; ignores ranks.
◈ Acid Venom: Corrodes armor/flesh on contact.
◈ Hive Queen: Spawns endlessly underground.
"Self-explanatory, but these fuckers are nightmares. Hyper-evo type. Leave 'em, and it's not just LA—the whole West Coast's toast."
"Captain, this is beyond our paygrade."
"Baker's right. Not our mission. Focus on what we can: rescue Director Alexander Hamilton, scout intel, report up. They'll call big guilds or Super S. Their call."
"I know where Hamilton's holed up."
The sudden voice startled the team.
"Who's that?!"
"Where?!"
Lucas drew his blade as the operatives fanned out with weapons.
"Over here."
The voice echoed from midair again. They looked up. Two figures floated above: one woman, one man.
"Put the weapons away if you don't wanna get hurt."
Another voice came from right beside them.
Cold sweat beaded on Lucas and the team. No one had sensed the approach.
'High-rank hunters.'