“Kwaaang!”
A massive explosion erupted on the giant screen. People with earphones plugged in were glued to the footage, utterly motionless. Even as the crosswalk signal changed, some didn’t budge, staring at the video in a daze.
Through the black smoke curling upward, white mist began to rise. The Hunter looked around, but Han Yujin was nowhere to be seen. The fog thickened, and the Hunter frowned deeply.
“What kind of stealth skill is this?”
Even a high-ranked stealth skill would struggle to evade the keen senses of an S-rank Hunter in combat mode. Yet Han Yujin’s location remained impossible to pinpoint, hidden by the enveloping mist.
It wasn’t simply obstructing vision. The magic within the mist resonated with Han Yujin’s own mana, disrupting any sensory attempt to locate his true form.
“...How can someone with an F-rank mana stat perform such precise magic control?”
Such finesse was beyond the capacity of an F-rank user. The Hunter exhaled slowly. Even if they couldn’t find him, Han Yujin alone lacked the power to mortally wound an S-rank Hunter. The White Gun’s force was formidable, but if one focused, they could sense the mana gathering in its barrel. Strike at that moment and it was over.
“But waiting around like this is boring!”
The Hunter raised both hands, gathering grayish mana into spherical shapes like bombs.
“Bang!”
They shattered explosively, thousands of fragments scattering through the mist, tearing up earth and splintering trees. The instant any shard touched the fog, Han Yujin’s position would be revealed.
“Lucky me.”
This time, nothing made contact. As the Hunter began to gather mana again—
“Swoosh—”
the mist abruptly cleared. From within, Han Yujin’s hands shot toward the Hunter’s. Though slow enough to dodge, the Hunter only smirked. No matter his plan, he’d come to them; detonate here and now—
“...Huh?”
Han Yujin’s hands closed around the gray orb of mana. He sensed the spell distort, but it was too late to stop it. The condensed mana bomb—
“Whirr—”
contracted inward instead of bursting outward, compressing into a smaller, denser form.
“Ugh!”
It pierced straight through the Hunter’s palms.
Onlookers stared, stunned. A few murmured disbelief, but most remained fixated on the screen. As the Hunter, bloodied and maimed, staggered beneath the white mist, a subtitle appeared:
[King of the Harmless]
Each time Han Yujin swept the fog, new captions about mist flooded the screen, even explaining the “sea of mist” lore without pause. Viewers accepted them without a second thought.
“Huh?”
At that moment, the dungeon gate beside a streetlamp began to glow faintly. Normally sealed by surrounding defense structures, lower-ranked, cramped F-rank gates often only used a glass-like barrier. This F-rank gate was a transparent booth-like enclosure, easy for status checks. People recoiled as its blue stabilization glimmered suddenly brighter.
“Report this!”
“Any Hunters here?”
“I’m a D-rank Hunter. Stay calm and move aside! It’s an F-rank dungeon—nothing too dangerous.”
A couple of Hunters stepped forward. The gate’s light intensified—
“...A person?”
“Were they clearing it earlier? The gate’s color was inactive.”
A man with slightly darkened, almost charred skin emerged. Yoo Myungwoo, expression hard as stone, unlocked and opened the gate. Immediately—
“Thump-thump-thump—”
The rotor of a low-flying helicopter droned overhead. One door swung open and a man holding a rope ladder jumped down. The ladder swayed, stopping just above Myungwoo’s head.
“Welcome to New York, Mr. Smith.”
Hwang Lim greeted with a broad smile and extended his hand. Myungwoo glanced at him, then drew a rope from his inventory.
“Lead the way.”
In a single motion, the rope snapped taut, tying itself to the helicopter door handle and hauling its owner upward. Myungwoo vanished into the chopper’s cabin. Hwang Lim shrugged as he watched.
“Koreans just aren’t popular here~”
He signaled to depart, swaying lightly on the ladder. His foot caught the streetlamp’s base—
“Creak!”
He kicked off the metal pole and shot skyward, leaving a deep mark before sliding into the helicopter.
On the giant screen covering almost half the wall, Han Yujin reappeared. White mist swirled at his feet as he descended onto the rocks. Chatterbox lounged deep in the chair’s backrest, eyes glued to the display: the dense fog cleft by dark red metallic threads.
“Crash!”
A wall beside them exploded inward, dust billowing as debris rattled at Chatterbox’s feet.
“Excuse me.”
Hwang Lim entered through the gaping hole, bowing politely with a cordial smile.
“Our VIP client requested a visit. As for the repair fees—”
“Any S-rank guild house will do.”
Yoo Myungwoo brushed past Hwang Lim and strode toward Chatterbox.
“Mention my name anywhere in New York, and they’ll welcome you.”
“VVIP as always!”
Hwang Lim clapped slowly. Even as the wall crumbled, Chatterbox, eyes fixed solely on the screen, turned his head toward Myungwoo. A faint scent of the transcendent lingered—though not from Myungwoo himself. Myungwoo glanced at the screen and then stepped before Chatterbox, as though shielding him.
“This violates our contract.”
Chatterbox’s lips curved beneath his mask.
“All party members are safe.”
“You’re trying to overlay it on Hunter Han Yujin.”
The trace of the “King of the Harmless.” Simply gifting a related item and having someone use it posed no issue. But broadcasting it to countless viewers, complete with subtitles shaping perceptions, carried a ritualistic weight. Even the young Chaos sensed an ill omen; the newcomer jumped at the sight. But unable to interfere directly, they sent Myungwoo to Manhattan via inter-dungeon connections.
“That’s all.”
Chatterbox inclined his head slowly.
“It won’t harm Han Yujin directly—at least until the party ends. And perhaps even after.”
Myungwoo’s brow furrowed. Chatterbox was right: Yujin remained unharmed—for now.
“It’s mere ornamentation. People change with attire and setting, or they don’t. I hope for change, but a failure would only be regrettable.”
“Then end it here.”
“There’s no reason to.”
“Screech—”
The short sword in Myungwoo’s hand emitted a metallic ring as it leveled at Chatterbox’s throat. Chatterbox lifted both hands slightly.
“The Sovereign’s Blade.”
“Even if I can’t kill you, I can sever your connection to that body.”
The blade could only be used once for that purpose. Yet borrowing it meant Myungwoo would pay a price too.
“Even if I step back now—”
“I understand the party won’t stop. Don’t move until this stage ends.”
At least preventing further direct interference by Chatterbox. He rested his raised hands on the armrests, letting his body slump loosely.
“Care to make a wager? I’ll bet on Han Yujin winning. Even if I no longer intervene.”
Myungwoo’s jaw clenched. If Yujin failed to win, the image Chatterbox desired would slip away.
“Yujin really is something, but Seong from Sesung Guild—might be tough.”
Hwang Lim, watching, pulled out his phone.
“My darling has chat disabled~ Let’s see... her brother still isn’t watching. Mr. Public Servant is also ignoring. Among Breaker Sister, the youngest, and Sesung’s guild master...”
Deciding Sesung’s guild leader was best, Lim opened Seong Hyunjae’s personal stream and tapped the screen.
“Ah, it’s blocked. Phantom, lift the filter?”
“External info about participants is automatically and fairly blocked.”
“Then: ‘Do your best, Han Yujin!’ looks like a normal cheer. Hey, Jupiter! It’s H, who had a blast with Xiao Jin in China.”
Myungwoo’s expression soured. He twitched as if wanting to throw his sword at Lim.
“They’re relaying through Mr. Smith.”
Lim sent a message in the chat. Myungwoo, focusing on the blade at Chatterbox’s throat, still glanced at the TV. Even with such an item, what they’d accomplished shouldn’t have been possible. Yet Han Yujin—
Three pairs of eyes remained fixed on the screen.
“Clink-clink.” Coins struck each other. Yujin brushed aside the mist, scooped up the scattered gold coins, and sighed deeply.
“...Still bittersweet.”
It was undeniable that his power had made it possible. But alone, it wouldn’t suffice. And unlike other items earned by his own effort, these were gifts from Chatterbox.
Even if called a contract, it wasn’t fair to say he was paying a price. He might choose not to use them, but he used them purely for his own desire. There was no debt of gratitude as with Myungwoo’s favor. He neither bought nor stole them.
Of course, that didn’t inherently prohibit borrowing items.
“Others must be watching me.”
Even relying partly on Chatterbox’s power, they’d still praise him: “Incredible for an F-rank,” “Not a combat class,” “Weak compared to S-ranks.”
It wasn’t a crime, nor clearly wrong. Yet it felt uncomfortably off.
“...I did want to prove myself—”
By my own strength. Refusing others’ help, joining the party alone—those wishes had been there. He checked the map. Other Hunters, having clashed among themselves, had nearly halved in /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ number.
“But that’s not the urgent issue.”
What mattered was achieving the best rank possible and protecting those close to him from Chatterbox. He pocketed the coins and moved onward. He almost longed to check the chat, yet felt reluctant.
“...I’ve done pretty well.”
He’d heard plenty of praise. But the current compliments... No good could come from thinking like this. He took a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time for idle thoughts—he’d soon face acquaintances.
He clenched the die in his hand. A dot vanished not far off—someone was eliminated. Beside that vanished dot was—
“Han Yuhyeon.”
His younger sibling. Yuhyeon materialized from stealth; no other Hunters were nearby. Soon the ground beneath his boots bore a charred line, slicing through the forest floor without spreading like a fire. Even S-ranks might not spot that stealth.
“...Hyung?”
His brother turned immediately. Upon releasing his skill, his eyes widened slightly.
“Hyung, this is... it’s weird.”
Yuhyeon murmured, staring at the mist surrounding his brother.
“It’s definitely you.”
“It’s from the items Chatterbox gave me.”
“...”
Yuhyeon’s grip tightened on the Sovereign’s Blade. The mist was irritating, but more so was the unsettling sense that Chatterbox’s mana imprint had mingled with his own. When Delowes transformed, it’d felt like donning a mask—you could remove it and return to normal. Mixing together was different.
“We gonna fight?”
Before Yuhyeon could press further, he rolled the die. It tumbled across the burnt earth and landed on three. Instantly the surroundings morphed into a sandy desert, sinking his feet slightly.
“...Another Chatterbox gift?”
“Yeah. It just sets up a one-on-one duel. I’m at a disadvantage, aren’t I?”
He smiled, gazing at the black blade. The Sovereign’s Blade couldn’t pierce the favor, but that blue flame was dangerous—the same fire that devoured the System’s wall. It was still immature and self-consuming, but enough to beat him.
...Normally it wouldn’t matter, but now that Yuhyeon sensed something odd, it was best to end it quickly.
Placing his hand on his chest, he faced Yuhyeon.
“Let’s begin.”
Yuhyeon tightened his lips and hoisted the jet-black sword.