Savior (3)
‘I wonder how Mom and Dad are holding up in all this...’
Lost in such thoughts, Choi Yun-seok flew for about five minutes before reaching his destination.
Thud.
He retracted his wings and landed lightly on the rooftop of the building. Either they hadn’t expected him this early, or Eshton had taken longer than anticipated to report to his superiors—whichever it was, the roof was deserted.
Click.
The door handle wouldn’t budge; it was locked. Smashing it open would be trivial if he wanted to, but there was no rush, so Yun-seok dispelled his Avatar and waited patiently.
About three minutes later, the rooftop door creaked open.
“A-Are you Challenger Choi Yun-seok?”
When he confirmed it, the man who’d jumped in surprise at the sight of him hurriedly ushered Yun-seok inside.
“C-Could you wait here just a moment? Everyone will be arriving soon.”
The conference room was spacious enough to seat over a hundred. When Yun-seok asked for a phone charger, the man pulled a power bank from his pocket, handed it over, and fled the room like his life depended on it.
Was leaving him alone like this standard procedure? Yun-seok didn’t comment on it. The guide was visibly terrified just sharing the space with him.
Not that Yun-seok could blame him. After hearing about the things he’d done, any normal person would react the same way.
‘First things first—let’s check on Mom and Dad.’
He plugged in the charger, powered on his smartphone, and called his father through the messenger app. After a long string of rings, his father finally picked up.
“...Yun-seok?”
“Yes, Dad. It’s me.”
“You okay? Where are you right now? You weren’t in the UK, were you? Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Why haven’t you called until now?!”
Was that anger? Worry? Probably both. Yun-seok could understand—the world had gone to hell, and their only son had been out of touch.
He explained that he’d been in some remote corner of the world and only learned of the chaos later. He added that he couldn’t return yet because flights were grounded.
They exchanged updates, he asked after his mother, and Yun-seok ended the call, blaming data limits.
‘Check the bank account since I sent money?’
Following his father’s parting words, Yun-seok opened his banking app. His jaw dropped.
‘How many zeros is that...?’
The balance showed billions of won. Likely part of the compensation from the JC Group chairman.
Money hardly mattered now, but it stirred something in him—a sense that things were finally back to normal.
His family had always been well-off. That changed the moment the factory fire hit; every penny went toward paying off debts. To ease the burden, Yun-seok had covered his own tuition and living expenses.
And then... he’d been summoned to the Tower of Heaven.
Ironically, the most unreal event of his life had unraveled all the unfair chains binding him, restoring everything to how it should be.
‘At least they’re both safe...’
With his parents confirmed safe, Yun-seok waited. No one had arrived yet.
He opened the messenger app to check his messages.
‘This guy hasn’t changed a bit.’
The first flood was from Kang Hyung-woo. The messages were erratic, like a split personality—curses one moment, groveling apologies the next. They piled up daily until ten days ago.
‘Figured I blocked him and gave up?’
Whatever. Yun-seok checked Kang Hye-in’s messages too. Mostly check-ins, then worries about whether he was in the UK after the incident. One caught his eye: Kang Hyung-woo had vanished suddenly, right around when Yun-seok went dark.
Unlike Hye-in, who seemed relieved they’d cut ties, Yun-seok felt an odd unease.
‘What’s this about?’
Why the nagging doubt? Just then, the door opened, and about twenty people entered.
All but one were challengers. The lone civilian, their representative, spoke up. Not a challenger himself, but fluent in Korean like a local.
“Hello. I’m Michael, head of the Korean branch. Eshton informed us.”
“Yes. Choi Yun-seok.”
“This couldn’t have been an easy decision—thank you for coming. How much do you know about the situation?”
“The broad strokes.”
“I see. But seeing it with your own eyes will make it clearer. We have materials prepared—shall we review them?”
“Sure.”
Michael lowered the screen and began a presentation, playing attached videos like a briefing.
One was the UK massacre.
“This was live-streamed on Etube. The recording shattered viewership records in days, and news outlets borrowed it heavily. It’s the most vivid, up-close footage.”
The video started in front of Buckingham Palace. A man filmed himself, then at the ten-second mark...
The demon appeared. Over two meters tall, horns sprouting from its forehead.
“A demon from the Demon Army.”
“Yes.”
Crowds fixated on the demon materializing from thin air. Their murmurs were in foreign tongues Yun-seok couldn’t parse, but the vibe suggested they thought it was a movie shoot or cosplay—curiosity, not fear.
Chaos Sphere
—I’ve arrived properly.
The demon surveyed the area, raised its palm toward Buckingham Palace, and intoned flatly.
—Chaos Sphere.
Not instant; five seconds later, the effect manifested.
Whiiiiiing!
Fifty meters from its palm, a massive black-and-purple sphere flickered into existence. No explosion—just like biting into a giant apple, everything in its place shattered into particles and was sucked back into the demon’s hand.
Kaboom! Rumble!
Debris from glancing structures crashed down. Screams erupted; some fled, others froze in panic. The filmer was among the latter.
The demon turned, palm outstretched toward him.
End of video.
“...”
Subsequent clips were lower quality, shaky cams, but relentless: Ferris wheel, clock tower, museum, high-rises. Everywhere the demon went, landmarks crumbled amid blood and screams.
Finally, Michael showed an aerial shot of London—pockmarked with spherical craters, unreal as a bad composite.
“Around an island in the Pacific.”
Satellite image: no island, just a colossal something in its place.
“One outlet dubbed it ‘Hatcherry’ first, and it stuck officially.”
Hatcherry—apt name.
Michael sequenced images chronologically. The Hatcherry devouring the island grew daily.
“It’s already consumed a 50km radius of ocean.”
Experts predicted total Earth coverage in three months at this rate.
‘Three months...’
Yun-seok felt dizzy. He’d been so tower-focused he’d tuned out the world. If the mission trial had lasted beyond forty-five days...
He might’ve returned to a lost cause.
“Only confirmed demon skill is Chaos Sphere. But as you saw, it absorbs something with each destruction.”
Michael wrapped with a hypothesis: link between the UK’s 300,000 dead and the Pacific rift.
“What do you think?”
The broad question prompted Yun-seok to clarify.
“Whether I can win?”
“Frankly... yes.”
Duel origins to floor 10—no doubt. But they didn’t know his exact power level. Korean Hospital, Challenger Management Bureau—familiar from reports, but hundreds versus this scale?
“We’re certain you’re our top asset. That’s why we worry.”
“About what?”
Michael skirted delicately.
“If direct confrontation seems tough, we can pivot strategies.”
In short: if you can’t, follow our lead.
Yun-seok wasn’t offended. He just shook his head firmly.
“No. I’m good. Don’t think I’ll lose.”
Chaos Sphere wasn’t shop-bought—likely unique. Immensely powerful, but the five-second cast was its weakness. To transcendent Yun-seok, plenty of time to evade.
‘The Hatcherry might fall easily too...’
Details would come in combat. Neither was fully scouted.
But based on this, solo was feasible.
Michael eyed Yun-seok’s calm confidence.
“...Then can you give us certainty?”
What now? Yun-seok tilted his head; Michael elaborated.
“A challenger quantifies strength numerically. She’ll arrive by chopper in ten minutes. For reference, the demon clocked 60 million.”
Strength as numbers—like a scouter. Intriguing.
‘But 60 million—high or low?’
No baseline. Then, one of the challengers spoke.
“Mine was 11 million.”
Proud tone.
“Who’s he?”
Yun-seok asked Michael; answer came from the man.
“Joban Trocian, floor 13 mission challenger.”
Floor 13 mission—not shocking. Impressive sans coins, though. Self-intros by floor/trial seemed normalized now.
“Then six like him should do it, right?”
Yun-seok quipped to Joban; Michael replied.
“Worldwide, we can’t even find six at his level. It’s not simple math.”
“Got it.”
Yun-seok met Joban’s gaze—defiance laced with hostility.
‘Thinks I threaten his spot?’
Laughable. Yun-seok didn’t see him as competition.
“Fine. Let’s do it. Could be fun.”
“Thank you.”
Michael brightened. Chopper sounds soon followed, then a woman entered.
“Maria!”
She knew the locals—brief nods, eyes on Yun-seok.
“Him...?”
“Yes. Possible?”
“Possible or not, it’s my job. Let’s see.”
She stood before him, trembling slightly. Had she heard the rumors? Yun-seok preferred not knowing his infamy’s spread.
Check
Her eyes gesture; Yun-seok nodded okay.
“Check.”
Her eyes glowed blue, deepening over time.
“Does this usually take this long?”
“Took seconds for me...”
Mutters from onlookers. About a minute in...
“...W-What? Who are you?”
Her eyes widened; she staggered back. Joban rushed over.
“Maria, what? How much?”
“70 million...”
Ten million over the demon. Murmurs rippled.
But her next words stunned them.
“It’s not done. Still climbing. Fast.”
“What?”
“100 million. 150...”
Limit hit? She shuddered...
“200...”
Thud.
She collapsed.
“...”
Yun-seok was speechless. Were they pranking him?
He’d never imagined this in reality.
‘Not some comic from 30 years ago—what the hell...’
It was just absurd.