The Difference of a Huntsman. (1)

The moment I walked back into the lodging, the front-desk clerk who'd been sitting on the lobby sofa stood up and came over.

"Excuse me — just a moment. Are you Jang Sajeong?"

"Yes, that's me. Why?"

Wondering what this was about, I stepped closer, and the clerk bowed with careful politeness before speaking.

"First, we sincerely apologize for the unfortunate incident that occurred between guests at our shelter."

Hmm. So what those kids had pulled had finally made it all the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way here.

Nureongi and Poppi had treated the whole thing as nothing more than a couple of pests making a nuisance of themselves, so I'd written it off. Apologizing over something this small?

"Ah, it's fine. We're just treating it as a little incident."

I waved it off lightly, but the clerk looked troubled and bowed again.

"Well… we're truly grateful that you feel that way, but the situation has grown in a somewhat different direction. The team members in question formally filed a complaint with us first, and…"

I nearly burst out laughing. They weren't just kids — they were genuine idiots. They'd been throwing their weight around like they were some kind of big shots, and it looked like they'd walked straight into their own trap.

"So what happened to those Hunters?"

"Per our regulations, they were evicted immediately, and we've notified them that they are banned from all of our affiliated facilities within Nonsan City. This is just in case they attempt any retaliation or other harassment — if anything like this happens again, please be sure to contact us."

I simply smiled and nodded. Seeing my expression, the clerk finally seemed to relax, answering with a gentle smile of their own.

Still, that was one hell of a way to burn off bad luck. A lottery ticket that luckily missed, plus those idiots picking a fight. At this rate, I'd already used up every scrap of misfortune that might have been waiting for tomorrow's hunt.

I actually felt at ease. Tomorrow's hunt was going to wrap up easier — and far more uneventfully — than I'd expected.

Leaving the front desk behind and riding the elevator up to the room, I let myself look forward to the morning.

The next morning, before dawn. Leaving Nureongi and Poppi still lost in dreamland, I slipped out of the lodging.

Cutting through the cold dawn air, I stopped by Nonsan Police Station to collect my firearm, then headed straight for today's destination: the entrance to Mount Gyeryong.

I'd thought I was moving pretty quickly. Apparently not. Most of the huntsmen I'd seen at yesterday's briefing were already there, geared up in hunting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clothes and fully armed, holding their positions. In the gloom before sunrise they smoked in silence, or ran last checks on their equipment, quietly passing the time.

People who moved like clockwork when it came to the real thing. It was such a perfect display of what we huntsmen were like that I couldn't help smiling. I joined their ranks just like that.

Around the time the sky began to pale, officials in work uniforms stepped forward, apparently satisfied that everyone had arrived, and began the briefing for today's hunt.

They'd sealed off every hiking trail in the area days ago, and a final check had confirmed that all civilians had been evacuated. Only one job remained. We huntsmen would go in and hunt the animals that had, through sheer bad luck, been transformed by the Dimensional Anomaly. That was the purpose of today's work.

Looking at the teams and hunting zones assigned according to each person's age and experience, the Nonsan City officials clearly weren't doing this for the first or second time. The only thing that soured my mood a little was that the most dangerous, most rugged trail zone had nothing but my name sitting on it, all by itself.

The Variants in the other zones were squirrels and water deer, more or less — but the expected encounter list for my assigned zone had wild boar written on it in letters you could read from across a room, and even a leopard cat. It was a lineup that practically belonged on the savanna.

Once the briefing ended, other officials started handing out palm-sized devices to the huntsmen. Everyone took them like they'd done this a hundred times, clipping them to their vests or belts, so I followed suit and tucked mine at my waist.

"As you all know, these are location sensors. If you leave your designated zone, an alarm will sound automatically. Your position is being transmitted to our control center in real time, so we'll do everything we can to prevent friendly-fire incidents between huntsmen."

Oh… so once you got to a city, they actually prepared countermeasures for messy situations like this.

Every huntsman clipped on their gear and started moving toward their assigned trails with their teammates. Before I headed to my own zone, I picked up the ammunition crate the city hall was handing out.

Wow… back in Dohwang-ri I had to source every last cartridge myself, but here the government was even providing the bullets.

There was one thing that felt a little off, though. Almost every other huntsman received an ammo box meant for small game — but what landed in my hands was the same kind of heavy ammunition crate I'd used last time, when I took down that Giant Mudskipper.

"Firearm use is permitted only after you enter your assigned zone."

"Yes. I'll keep that in mind."

I answered with a smile, and the young official handing over the ammo smiled faintly back.

Before heading to my zone, I pulled the device from my belt and looked it over. Helpfully, it was already switched on, and stickers on the outside carried a pair of instructions.

These little details were probably the difference between the countryside and the city.

I opened the small cover on the back of the device and found a pair of wireless earphones that looked like earplugs. The moment I put them in both ears, other people's voices drifted through faintly — apparently the central control center was managing the comms.

State-of-the-art equipment at a hunt packed with old folks and middle-aged men. A truly awkward combination, but what could you do about the times? You adapt.

When I stepped into the entrance of my assigned rugged trail, a clear voice came through the earphones.

"Yes~"

I answered at length, but the earphones apparently had no microphone function — after that, silence returned with no reply. I pulled my smartphone from my vest pocket and waited for five minutes to pass, then finally began the search.

When people said "hunt," they usually pictured what the huntsmen in the other zones were doing — moving as a team, driving the game into one place, and finishing it with gunfire. But this zone was just me, all by myself.

In truth this was a zone Hunters should have been handling, but with no volunteers they'd shoved a Semi-Awakened like me in as a substitute. So I couldn't use traditional hunting methods. I had to move like a Hunter.

That said, there were clear limits to "moving like a Hunter." I couldn't go flying between the trees or fold the ground beneath my feet the way real Hunters, with their vastly superior physiques, could. But I had something they didn't.

The experience I'd gained living as a huntsman more than made up for my lack of physical ability. Where the creatures tended to appear, where they sheltered, where the faint remaining tracks were headed — some of that was book knowledge, but most of it was instinct that came from years in the field.

As I continued searching the mountain, the occasional dull crack of gunfire drifted over from other zones. The other teams had already started bagging something, but strangely, my assigned zone was nothing but quiet.

The Dimensional Anomaly ended days ago. Maybe the sharp ones already bolted for another area?

Going home empty-handed would be a little disappointing, but it couldn't be helped. Running myself ragged through here would only net a few extra coins in pay. As long as I didn't go tearing through the woods and catch a bullet from some huntsman in another zone, that was enough.

The radio had gone silent by now, so I pulled out one earphone and quietly followed the forest path. Since it had been a hiking trail, it wasn't long before an old signboard came into view. It indicated a temple nearby, but given that the officials hadn't mentioned a word about it during the briefing, it was probably an abandoned temple that had shut its doors to ride out the chaos.

That was when it happened.

A very faint sound passed by the ear I'd taken the earphone from. It wasn't the sound a wild boar or a water deer would make. Even when those creatures were on alert, they didn't move this unnaturally. This was… the kind of sound someone who'd been deliberately holding still would make if they accidentally stepped on a dry twig.

If a fellow huntsman or anyone else had approached, a warning would already have sounded through the earphones. The fact that the silence held meant someone was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hiding on purpose.

In this day and age, there were no lunatics setting up a mountain hideout in a closed temple to raid villages. And even someone who lived with the mountains as a companion would have no reason to come here unless they were scouting their own burial plot.

Which left only one answer. Either it was a monster that wasn't human — or it was someone who hunted humans.

Pretending I hadn't noticed a thing, I slowly started retracing my steps. Then, when I found a spot where a stream ran beside the path, I stopped as naturally as someone who'd grown tired and needed a rest. Feigning an attempt to cool my feet in the water, I slipped my body into the brush along the stream in a single motion.