Chapter 02 …
[Think positively.]
Sejin pouted at Pakun’s overly optimistic tone.
“What do you mean?”
[The fact that you haven’t found the other gods yet means that the others are doing everything they can to stop the sealing of the thousand souls.]
What was that supposed to mean? Did it mean the countdown to destruction had been extended? Sejin tilted his head with a sulky expression.
[Originally, the seven gods were binding the thousand souls, but since I’ve been freed, the other gods will gradually awaken as well. And the thousand souls will follow the same path.]
If Sejin managed to gain the final god, the seal on the thousand souls would be completely broken.
Pakun’s voice lowered as if warning Sejin of the bloody storm that would follow.
[For now, all you can do is wait for the other gods to awaken.]
It was already clear that Pakun had awakened. The seal was beginning to crack.
[Before that, you must become familiar with combat by freely wielding the powers of me and the other gods.]
Wouldn’t it be nice if leveling up in life worked like it did in games?
The power Sejin would eventually hold was enough to prevent the destruction of the world—but how he used it depended entirely on his own abilities.
Knowing Pakun’s concerns, Sejin quietly sighed and nodded.
“I know.”
Even though he was being chased as an unregistered hunter, he was still diligently closing gates. He pressed his lips shut before a grumble could escape.
From Pakun’s perspective, Sejin’s efforts would seem utterly inadequate compared to Cheonhee in the past.
Still, Sejin was doing his best given the circumstances.
“If only I could just register as a hunter. Why can’t I?”
Clenching his trembling hands, a crescent-shaped mark appeared in his palm.
He possessed the power of a hunter but remained unregistered. That was Sejin’s precarious position.
What good was closing gates all the time when the Seven Stars refused to show up and the state constantly hunted him?
Feeling frustrated at his own situation, Sejin furrowed his brow.
“I swear, my heart won’t survive this.”
Strictly speaking, what he was doing wasn’t wrong, but the government was hell-bent on capturing Sejin, the unregistered hunter.
It wasn’t that their actions were completely unreasonable.
“It’s really troublesome.”
Who could understand the feeling of being chased by government hunters? He hadn’t committed a crime, and he was only quietly closing gates, yet he was always pursued.
Last time, he had nearly been caught.
Recalling that near-disaster, Sejin poured the cold water from his cup down his throat in one gulp.
[Tch.]
Pakun’s scolding seemed to retreat, as if he understood Sejin’s frustration.
If you have a conscience, you’d feel this way.
Long ago, gates appeared, and monsters emerged from them. Humanity fought back with the weapons they had, but it wasn’t enough against the creatures called “creatures.”
A sudden calamity halved the population.
Then, like a comet, hunters appeared.
People began to awaken to fight the disasters. Some could summon fire or water from their hands; others moved boulders without so much as lifting a finger.
They were called hunters.
The awakened humans’ combat abilities were unimaginably powerful.
One by one, hunters began to close the gates, gradually restoring order to a world that had been collapsing.
The balance of power, previously toppled by the creatures, shifted, and humans established rules to manage hunters.
That’s why hunter registration became an extremely important process.
If hunters turned malicious, even the gates couldn’t prevent the society that had barely been rebuilt from collapsing.
While ordinary people admired hunters who killed the creatures emerging from the gates, they also feared them.
Registered hunters were under strict government surveillance.
“It can’t be helped. Great power comes with great responsibility.”
Not all people are good, and the same went for hunters.
Hunters with criminal records were imprisoned in special facilities, and all their civilian casualties were recorded.
But… why can’t I even register? Am I half-baked?
“If only I could register as a hunter, I wouldn’t have to worry about this.”
Sejin ran a hand irritably through his hair.
[The machine is malfunctioning.]
“Malfunctioning? It works just fine.”
All the other hunters managed to register, so what exactly was broken?
[It can’t handle someone with Cheonhee’s soul inside, that’s all.]
Even when Pakun tried to soothe him, Sejin was still irritated.
Had he really become a hunter? When he came of age, he had eagerly gone for the examination.
Pakun should have stopped him, but he didn’t, and Sejin wasted about 200,000 won five times on blood tests before finally giving up.
“Why won’t it work!”
Sejin flared up in anger, jumping around at the disappearing money.
Pakun clicked his tongue sympathetically. The machine could only screen those with faint traces of blood; it was incomplete.
“This is ridiculous!”
Pakun tried to console him, saying that Sejin was the real deal while the others were imitations, but the one million won he spent was gone.
“My money…”
Thinking about it made Sejin boil with anger. Every penny had been hard-earned through part-time jobs.
For that reason, Sejin continued closing gates while keeping his identity secret.
Ah, he couldn’t just stop. If he didn’t, the world would end!
Sejin’s hands trembled in frustration, making the stainless steel cup crinkle slightly.
[Calm down.]
Steam rose from the table as hot soup was served.
Sejin’s eyes brightened at the steaming soup. He needed to eat well before entering the next gate.
“This looks delicious.”
As he picked up meat from the soup and seasoned it with fermented shrimp, his attention was drawn to the news on the store’s television.
The first images were blurry shots of someone’s back, estimating their height and gender.
“Whoa.”
Sejin froze mid-bite. The bounty was two hundred million won.
“Gah… almost lost my appetite.”
But thankfully, he still felt hungry.
[Two hundred million? Already increased!]
Pakun’s proud voice made Sejin roll his eyes, chewing the meat in his mouth.
“You proud?”
[Ahem.]
“Very proud, huh?”
Sejin’s sarcasm earned Pakun a few awkward coughs.
[Oh, there goes Han Gitae. Handsome face, but what a character… tsk tsk.]
On the large TV, as Pakun said, the handsome-faced Han Gitae appeared.
“He really is handsome.”
Sejin covered his mouth, muttering to himself. Pakun immediately scolded him:
[If you’re only handsome, you won’t get far!]
“Well… he is handsome.”
Pale skin suited his cold expression, black hair contrasted with striking silver eyes, a sharp nose, and neatly positioned lips—a textbook example of a handsome man. Even compared to top celebrities, his face was not lacking.
“He really is handsome.”
Whenever that handsome presence mentioned Sejin’s name, the sharp jaw seemed to blunt slightly.
“Is… this really happening?”
Sejin swallowed hard at the chilling feeling.
-“The Hunter Promotion Agency will not turn a blind eye to the hunter known as ‘Heukyeong.’ I’m sure you all remember the terrible acts unregistered hunters committed against civilians in the past.”
Han Gitae stood at the podium, gripping the microphone with a cold expression.
Sejin bit down on his spoon nervously.
The intensity coming from the screen made him gulp the cold water from his stainless cup. Yet his throat still burned.
-“To prevent a repeat of past mistakes, the Hunter Promotion Agency is working tirelessly, and the unregistered hunter ‘Heukyeong’ will certainly be apprehended soon.”
Every hair seemed to be perfectly in place, and even from the screen, Han Gitae’s gaze was chilling.
“I’m going to die here.”
Because that “Heukyeong” he was looking for was… him.
The rice in his mouth felt like sand.
