Lee Aseok tapped a finger against the window. The glass vibrated with another boom outside.

  There was blood on the sidewalk.

  And there, he could make out Seo MinHyun, standing atop a fallen truck, screaming dramatic instructions like he was in a musical war movie.

  “I said line up by height, not by looks! Why are all the good-looking hunters in the back?! No wonder the frontlines are collapsing!”

  A Wyvern dived toward him.

  Park Taegun appeared from the left, shield cutting upward. One wing was sliced cleanly.

  The beast screamed.

  Seo MinHyun didn’t even pause. “Thank you, Taegun. I almost broke a nail.”

  “You’re welcome,” Taegun replied dryly.

  Lee Aseok blinked once.

  His hand brushed his chest where the fruit knife had grazed him earlier.

  He stood up slowly.

  The holy sword hovered eagerly.

  Outside, the sky burned orange as another Wyvern landed on a building and roared toward the heavens.

  Lee Aseok leaned his cheek against the cold glass, eyes half-lidded.

  Outside, the city howled.

  The once-polished streets of the capital were now strewn with bodies, fire, and crumbling stone. Sirens wailed. Buildings smoked.

  The sleek, glass-fronted guild tower across the street had a giant claw mark down its face. People were yelling, screaming, running in every direction that wasn’t being torn apart by winged beasts.

  He could see the wyverns clearly now. Long necks, crimson-black wings, sharp talons. One of them landed on the hood of a car and screeched, flames escaping its throat.

  Lee Aseok didn't move.

  A-rank dungeon break.

  He knew it the moment the wyvern showed up.

  But what made his eyes narrow slightly was something else.

  There shouldn’t be any A-rank breaks this early.

  At least not in this city. Not at this time.

  Not in the life he remembered.

  His hand brushed over his chest, still faintly damp beneath his shirt. His gaze didn’t lift as a section of the sidewalk exploded across the street, sending shrapnel everywhere. His reflection in the window barely flinched.

  “More frequent,” he murmured. “More violent.”

  He said it as if commenting on the weather.

  These weren’t normal patterns. Too many dungeon breaks in too short a time.

  Still, he didn’t particularly care.

  He was curious, vaguely.

  But not concerned.

  His eyes followed one wyvern as it dove toward a group of mid-rank hunters. They scattered, spells flying in every direction. Most missed.

  A black streak blurred through the air..

  Mu Yichen.

  One clean slash, and the wyvern’s head hit the ground seconds after its body.

  Lee Aseok’s gaze followed him for a while.

  Even with blood on his cheek and wind tearing through his clothes, Mu Yichen still looked composed. Calm. As though cutting down a dragon-like creature in midair was no more complicated than trimming a branch.

  Of course, the problem with flying monsters was… well, that they flew.

  Mu Yichen vanished again, chasing after the next one mid-air.

  Below, flames exploded upward.

  Seo MinHyun, radiant with arrogance and bright orange fire, was blasting another wyvern out of the sky. His coat was half-burned, his hair an absolute mess.

  And still, he grinned like it was a runway.

  “BEHOLD THE GLORY OF SEO MINHYUN!”

  No one was listening.

  But he continued anyway, now dramatically posing with one leg on a fallen streetlamp. The streetlamp collapsed under his weight a second later, and he landed face-first with a muffled yelp.

  Park Taegun didn’t look at him.

  He was already driving his shield through the chest of a lower wyvern, pulling a bleeding hunter back behind cover with one hand.

  Clean. Efficient. Controlled.

  Lee Aseok tilted his head.

  He had to admit, it was fascinating watching them work.

  A moment later, something shifted outside the broken door of the bakery.

  Lee Aseok’s gaze snapped to the movement.

  A hunter.

  Tall. Honest-looking. Sturdy frame and thick eyebrows. There was something unmistakably earnest about him, even as his armor was slightly mismatched and he had a smear of blood across his cheek.

  The man was carrying something wrapped in a small coat.

  A puppy.

  The hunter glanced around once before gently ducking into the building. He spotted Lee Aseok sitting by the window.

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  “Hey,” the man said, panting. “I, I saw this dog trapped in a drain. Can it stay here a second? I gotta go back out.”

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer.

  The hunter didn’t wait for one. He carefully set the shivering creature down near the counter, then stood.

  He gave Lee Aseok one last nod. “Thanks, man.”

  Then he turned and ran.

  Lee Aseok watched him go.

  And something stirred.

  A flicker of memory. A hallway soaked in smoke. The smell of blood and cheap stimulants on his skin. The twitching withdrawal beneath it all.

  A dark, hollow corner of the street. He could barely see, and even if he could, he hadn’t had the strength to crawl out.

  He remembered the way his fingers trembled around the sword in his hand.

  How numb his legs felt. How badly his heart had ached. Not from heartbreak, but from the sudden vacuum of energy now that the mana-enhancing drugs were gone.

  The bakery floor was warm from the fires outside. Smoke filtered in through the cracks in the windows, curling like grey fingers along the walls. Lee Aseok sat by the window again, knees drawn up, face blank.

  His eyes weren’t on the flames this time.

  They were on the hunter.

  That same honest-looking man from before, the one who had left the dog inside without even waiting for a thank you, was now helping a woman and two children across the debris-strewn road. His movements were awkward but purposeful. Clumsy in his armor, but steady.

  He was a C-rank.

  Lee Aseok could tell instantly.

  The hunter had no business being out here. Not in the middle of an A-rank dungeon break. Not when wyverns flew overhead, slicing the air like predators from another world.

  That man was going to die.

  And still, he helped.

  Lee Aseok watched, and for a moment, the smoke and fire blurred into memory.

  A different fire. A hallway scorched with heat. The tightness in his chest from mana withdrawal. His vision was swimming. His body limp, like a puppet whose strings had all been cut.

  No one came looking for him.

  Why would they?

  He was the freak who’d stolen the holy sword. The drugged-up embarrassment of the Hero’s Party. The dirty secret of Mu Yichen.

  He’d curled up in that alley thinking: Ah. So this is it.

  And then a hand reached down.

  A rough, callused hand.

  “I don’t like you,” the man had said, dragging him to his feet with no particular gentleness.

  Lee Aseok hadn’t been able to lift his head.

  “But you fight monsters for humans. So I respect that.”

  No name. No smile. Just a short walk to safety, and then the man vanished.

  Lee Aseok hadn’t thought much of it at the time.

  Until months later, when he found that same man again.

  Inside a gate. Mangled. Dead.

  Respect hadn’t saved him.

  And a few months after that, Lee Aseok died too.

  The cycle ended.

  Or so he thought.

  Now, in a life that wasn’t supposed to exist again, the same man stood outside, shielding civilians with his body as a wyvern glided in from the sky. It moved silently, wings slicing the air, talons ready.

  Lee Aseok narrowed his eyes.

  No one had noticed it yet.

  Not Mu Yichen, who was dueling another wyvern midair on the far end of the plaza.

  Not Seo MinHyun, who was busy yelling at someone about “how to properly fan flames for dramatic effect.”

  Not Park Taegun, who had gathered a squad of scattered hunters and was commanding their defense line with military precision.

  Only him.

  Only Lee Aseok, sitting alone in a crumbling bakery with a shivering dog and the holy sword leaning against the wall.

  The hunter didn’t see the shadow above.

  Didn’t hear the rush of wind behind him.

  He was focused on shielding the woman and children, waving them toward a makeshift shelter near the underground stairs.

  Lee Aseok gripped the window frame tightly.

  Then loosened his grip.

  Then smiled.

  “Stupid,” he muttered.

  He wasn't a hero.

  But he doesn't want to owe anyone anything.

  He chuckled softly, his expression curving into something sharp. Something dangerous.

  Lee Aseok closed his eyes and asked him a question. Is there anything in this world that he cares about?

  The answer is, No

  Suddenly, Lee Aseok chuckled.

  “Fine.”

  He stood.

  The holy sword, still leaning nearby, vibrated with a high-pitched hum as if sensing the shift in him.

  Its silver edge gleamed.

  Lee Aseok didn’t touch it.

  Instead, he walked toward the window, brushing dust off the sill with the back of his hand. Outside, the wyvern was diving now, fangs exposed, targeting the C-rank hunter from above.

  The hunter finally looked up.

  His eyes widened.

  Too late.

  Lee Aseok kicked the window wide open.

  The sound snapped through the air like a gunshot.

  And then he jumped.

  Wind tore past him.

  The holy sword leapt from its place without hesitation, following him like a loyal dog. The moment he was midair, the sword flipped, aligning perfectly in front of him.

  The holy sword vibrated again, humming with something dangerously close to… joy.

  If swords could feel.

  And if this one could feel, it was currently feeling very proud, and very slighted.

  Because despite being a legendary weapon forged in divine light, imbued with celestial mana, and chosen by the gods themselves… its master had just killed a wyvern.

  With a pipe.

  Lee Aseok lowered his arm, flicking his wrist slightly as the bent metal groaned.

  The pipe was ruined. Warped from the impact, burned slightly at the edges where he’d channeled his power through it.

  It had been the nearest thing to grab when he’d sprinted toward the wyvern bearing down on the shelter crowd. A railing, maybe, or part of a collapsed signpost.

  Not important.

  It had worked.

  He clicked his tongue softly and dropped the pipe with a casual clang on the street.

  The holy sword hovered beside him, its silver glow intensifying. If it had eyes, they would be squinting.

  Lee Aseok ignored it.

  On the other side of the impact zone, Nam Jiwon stood frozen.

  His hands were still up, shielding the small group of evacuees, an old woman, a teenager with a broken leg, and two kids too stunned to cry.

  His shield trembled slightly.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  The wyvern that had been diving straight toward them now lay across the rooftop of a two-story café, its corpse grotesquely twisted, neck shattered from the force of the impact. Its wings flapped once, lifelessly, before going still.

  Nam Jiwon stared up at the sky in disbelief.

  Then slowly, as if afraid to confirm what he already knew, he turned around.

  His eyes fell on the figure standing in front of the crowd.

  The black torn at the sleeves.

  Long dark hair tousled from the wind and soot.

  A beautiful face like it had stepped out of a sculpture, sharp, cold, unreadable.

  Lee Aseok.

  The Chosen One.

  The cursed one.

  Nam Jiwon felt his mouth go dry.

  Was it the heat of the fires nearby, or..

  No. That wasn’t it.

  The tension rolling off Lee Aseok was… unnerving. Not aggressive. Not hostile. Just quiet. Like a blade half unsheathed.

  Even the evacuees behind him had gone silent.

  Everyone in the capital had seen Lee Aseok’s face in the past few weeks.

  Some because of the holy sword's unexpected choice.

  Some because of the controversy.

  Most because of the rumors: an unstable man, emotionally dead, picked by the holy sword by mistake. Someone to avoid. Someone dangerous.

  And yet here he stood, pipe still sizzling on the pavement beside him, his hand slacking at his side.

  He hadn’t even looked at Nam Jiwon.

  He was too busy… having a staring contest.

  The holy sword hovered, shimmering indignantly beside Lee Aseok’s hand, practically trembling with judgment.

  Its master stared at it blankly.

  Again.

  Their third staring contest in less than ten minutes.

  It would’ve been awkward, if Lee Aseok was the type to acknowledge such things. But he wasn’t.

  And the holy sword, for all its pride and brilliance, was still just a floating piece of metal. Glowy metal, yes. Possibly divine. Still metal.

  Lee Aseok turned his head slightly, noticing the crowd behind him slowly dispersing.

  The rescue efforts had resumed now that the wyvern threat had been eliminated.

  Cries of panic had dulled into cautious footsteps, and emergency alarms were fading beneath the hum of stabilizing mana shields.

  From a distance, Nam Jiwon stood with one foot half-raised, stuck between go thank him and don’t get too close. The internal debate was killing him.

  He wanted to go up to Lee Aseok, thank him properly, maybe even talk to him.

  But that was Lee Aseok.

  The Chosen One.

  The one even top-tier guild masters avoided like a cursed artifact. Rumor said he’d never smiled. Not once. And the look in his eyes, always so distant, as if he saw something no one else did. Something terrible.

  Nam Jiwon stared longingly.

  Then flinched as a gust of wind whooshed past him.

  A figure in white armor blurred through the air like a strike of light and landed beside Lee Aseok with the precision of a seasoned SSS-rank.

  Mu Yichen.

  Elegant. Controlled. Always like a painting come to life. Not a single strand of hair out of place.

  “Lee Aseok,” he breathed, stepping forward. “Are you okay?”

  His voice was soft, concerned, but never fragile. He didn't touch Aseok, but his presence leaned toward him, subtle and careful, like someone approaching a wounded animal.

  Lee Aseok didn’t respond.

  He merely looked down at the broken pipe still dangling from his fingers, as if weighing whether it was worth keeping.

  Mu Yichen’s brows furrowed. “I saw the building collapse from across the field. I thought..” His voice tightened for the briefest second. “You weren’t responding to comms.”

  Lee Aseok raised his eyes to meet his.

  Then blinked once.

  “Didn’t charge it.”

  “...Your earpiece?”

  “Mm.”

  A beat of silence passed.

  Mu Yichen stared at him.

  Lee Aseok turned away.

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