The S-Classes That I Raised [EN]: Chapter 408

406. Goal (1)

The road stretched out, empty. Song Tae-won turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the long, twelve-lane expanse. In the distance, the statues of Admiral Yi Sun-sin and King Sejong stood guard, with Gwanghwamun Gate rising majestically behind them.

The familiar street, bathed in the light of the setting sun. For a fleeting moment, he felt a pang of returning to Korea. But the silence was too profound, the emptiness too stark, to sustain the illusion. No pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, no protesters raised their voices. Even the ever-present red banner, usually demanding special treatment for high-ranking Awakened, was conspicuously absent.

Song Tae-won silently observed the desolate street.

It felt like a world freshly abandoned, a world where humanity had simply vanished without a trace.

He was utterly alone in this place.

‘…The Nightmare Before Christmas.’

The system message confirmed his suspicions: this was a dungeon. Song Tae-won calmly began to assess the situation. This particular dungeon was a twisted reflection of Seoul, Korea. Though most of the signs had been stripped of their lettering, the buildings, roadside trees, streetlights, bus stops, and other familiar landmarks remained eerily intact.

He crossed the street and peered into a coffee shop. The lights were off, but the display case still held an array of drinks and baked goods. He had never encountered, or even heard of, a dungeon quite like this.

Song Tae-won’s hand tightened around the closed door handle. He applied pressure, and with a sharp crack, he ripped the door free and stepped inside. He picked up a slice of cheesecake from the display case. The refrigeration unit was still running, keeping the cake chilled.

As he examined the cheesecake, Han Yu-jin’s face flashed in his mind. Then, as if by natural association, Sung Hyun-jae followed. Song Tae-won carefully took a bite of the cheesecake. No immediate signs of poison. The taste was unremarkable.

He didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Occasionally, a colleague’s birthday cake would appear on his desk, usually some variation of whipped cream or mocha. The cheesecakes, tiramisu, red velvet, and other sweets he remembered were mostly thanks to Han Yu-jin and Sung Hyun-jae.

In any case, the items here seemed identical to their real-world counterparts. Song Tae-won set down the cake and picked up a cup. If it was a dungeon item, it should automatically transfer to his inventory.

[Error! Cannot be added to the inventory!]

An error message popped up. Song Tae-won stared at the cup, then crushed it in his hand. The glass shattered like brittle candy, the shards falling to the floor. Ordinary strength, ordinary shards.

Song Tae-won left the cafe and continued down the street. Everything was the same, except for the absence of people. It was a dungeon, so it was to be expected. But still, the silence was unnerving.

The steady rhythm of his precisely measured steps began to falter.

“……”

Without conscious thought, a long, drawn-out breath escaped his lips.

Song Tae-won wasn’t meant to be the one left behind. His role was to protect, to shield, and to disappear before the final curtain fell. He had never even entertained the possibility of being left alone in a world devoid of life.

This was a vision of failure he had never allowed himself to contemplate.

If the person he was meant to protect vanished, and the threat he was meant to stop also disappeared…

What, then, remained?

“……!”

At that moment, a faint signal reached his senses. Something alive, something moving, breaking the monotony of the gray, inanimate landscape. If it was his team, he would be relieved. Even a monster would be a welcome change. Song Tae-won banished his thoughts and resumed his cautious advance.

This was an abnormal dungeon of unknown rank. Anything could happen. Song Tae-won unwound a length of wire, wrapping it around his hand and forearm for added grip, and held a throwing dagger in his other hand. His skills, primarily geared towards close-quarters combat, were ill-suited for reconnaissance. Using his enhanced physical abilities to move as silently as possible was the best he could do.

Gwanghwamun was getting closer, and the government complex building came into view. The signal was strongest there.

In the very place where the Awakened Management Division [AMD; the government agency responsible for managing Awakened individuals] was located.

After the emergence of the Awakened and the subsequent establishment of the AMD, there had been considerable debate about its location. Some suggested moving it to Sejong [Sejong City, an administrative center of South Korea], but ultimately, for various reasons, it ended up in the Seoul complex.

The newly formed organization had to tread carefully, constantly aware of public perception. Even now, it was often met with suspicion and distrust. Preparations for its operations were inadequate, and in the early days, he found himself working at the Hunter Association almost daily. Despite numerous challenges, the AMD gradually established its presence.

In particular, the hunters belonging to the AMD were not only his teammates but also, in a sense, Song Tae-won’s disciples. Determined not to lose a single one of the people who had stayed with him through thick and thin, Song Tae-won carved time out of his nonexistent schedule to train them.

The best equipment available was always allocated to the AMD hunters. An S-class hunter [the highest rank of Awakened individuals] was unlikely to find themselves in a life-threatening situation, and due to the nature of his skills, a lack of equipment wasn’t a major disadvantage for Song Tae-won. It was simply more efficient to ensure the safety of his team, preventing further depletion of their already insufficient manpower.

It wasn’t a sacrifice, nor was it an act of particular consideration. From Song Tae-won’s perspective, it was simply the most logical and responsible course of action.

For the past three years, soon to be four, the AMD had been built on that foundation.

“It’s quiet today.”

A familiar voice broke the silence, light and devoid of any tension. Song Tae-won instinctively ducked behind a thick roadside tree.

“It’s been mostly like that since the Sesung Guild Leader [referring to Sung Hyun-jae] disappeared. Hunter Kang So-young has become much more docile too. She’s practically a model guild leader now.”

“It’s been more than half a year since she last got a ticket [received a citation or reprimand], probably.”

Holding his breath, Song Tae-won strained to hear the conversation. The AMD hunters were engaged in a bizarre exchange. The Sesung Guild Leader had disappeared, and Kang So-young had apparently taken his place. It was a scenario Song Tae-won struggled to comprehend.

He cautiously craned his neck to get a better view. The security booth at the entrance was empty. The parking lot was devoid of cars. Beyond the wide-open iron gate, two AMD hunters were casually chatting, paper cups of coffee in their hands. They seemed utterly unconcerned by the unsettling emptiness around them.

“…I wish the Sesung Guild Leader had just moved abroad permanently from the start.”

“And changed his nationality.”

“If he heard that, you’d be cursed for the rest of your life.”

“He’s not here anymore anyway. If he had kept his nationality, he would have suffered even more if he went abroad.”

“That’s true. When he lied about being in the country, I secretly followed him to clean up the mess. Ugh.”

“He was also criticized in the media for neglecting his duties as head of the AMD. It’s annoying. Do you think he even wanted to leave his position?”

The hunter grumbled, finishing his coffee in one gulp. He crushed the paper cup in his hand.

“I need a cigarette.”

“Smoke discreetly. Otherwise, there’ll be an article about a public official smoking expensive hunter cigarettes.”

“I’m so disgusted, I’m thinking of quitting. Do you think I’m here because I lack the ability to be elsewhere?”

“But you can’t leave, you idiot.”

“Even if I left now, there are guilds that want me, but I can’t leave!”

The two men chuckled, then abruptly fell silent. A brief pause hung in the air.

“Shall we visit the grave this weekend?”

“That’s the only thing I’m grateful to the Sesung Guild Leader for. It’s close, so I can visit often.”

“…Giving medicine after causing the disease. No, it’s killing and then offering compensation.”

Song Tae-won’s body went rigid.

“Watch your mouth. It’s not certain.”

“Why are you saying that now? If there was nothing to hide, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Honestly, does it make sense that the head of the department died in a dungeon? Huh? Even S-classes who aren’t a big deal haven’t died during raids yet, how could he?”

Without needing to delve into complex reasoning, Song Tae-won’s mind swiftly pieced together the narrative.

Song Tae-won was dead. Officially, he had died during a dungeon raid, but there were whispers that he had been killed by Sung Hyun-jae. Sung Hyun-jae had erected a grave for Song Tae-won in Seoul and then vanished.

It was both shocking and strangely unsurprising.

He had always known that he might meet his end at Sung Hyun-jae’s hands someday. But he hadn’t anticipated that Sung Hyun-jae would disappear as a consequence of killing him.

Of course, he had expected that Sung Hyun-jae would act as if Song Tae-won had never existed.

‘…No, in the first place, this is…’

It was merely a fabricated future, conjured by the dungeon. It was said to be linked to the raiders, so it seemed to be an illusion woven from Song Tae-won’s memories. Perhaps it was an illusion tinged with his own desires.

A desirable future in which he died at the hands of Sung Hyun-jae, likely while attempting to stop him.

Song Tae-won gazed up at the building through the trees. He had gleaned more information about the dungeon, but he was unsure how to proceed. The typical dungeon raid involved defeating the monsters within.

But now…

“You guys are free, aren’t you.”

Another voice cut through the air. As light footsteps approached, Song Tae-won’s back tensed slightly. The power he felt was considerable. For a moment, he thought it was the new head of the AMD, but the voice was also familiar. When he had known him, he had been a B-class hunter. He was a B-class, but he was so outstanding that he was expected to grow into an A-class before long, Baek Yeon-joon.

But now, he felt close to S-class.

“Right here—who is it!”

Baek Yeon-joon suddenly shouted, his voice sharp and commanding. Simultaneously, a short twin blade flashed, drawing a circle as it hurtled towards the roadside tree. Kagagak, the blade spun, slicing through the thick trunk in a single motion. With a shower of wood chips, the tree crashed to the side with a groan, its leaves scattering.

‘As expected, it’s a monster.’

Song Tae-won, who had retreated before the blade struck the tree, muttered to himself with a hint of bitterness. The original Baek Yeon-joon, no, no AMD hunter would have acted so rashly in the city. They wouldn’t have thrown their weapons first unless it was an emergency situation where a monster was attacking a non-Awakened.

“C, Chief?”

The hunters’ eyes widened as they saw Song Tae-won, who had been forced to reveal himself to avoid the attack. A dead man had reappeared. But the shock was fleeting, quickly replaced by a deep-seated hostility.

“Damn it, which bastard!”

“Is it a monster? Just tell us it’s a monster!”

“I’m not.”

He wasn’t a monster. This was a dungeon, and they were the monsters. But the words remained unspoken. While Song Tae-won hesitated, the hunters drew their weapons in unison.

“If it’s a monster, we have to catch it, and if it’s not a monster, we have to catch it even more! Damn it!”

“How dare you show up here with that face?! What’s your purpose!”

A voice filled with resentment rang out. Song Tae-won gritted his teeth. They were monsters. As long as he had to clear the dungeon and escape, he had no choice but to fight and eliminate them.

‘It’s a simple mental skill.’

He tried to convince himself. But Song Tae-won was an S-class hunter, and among them, one with exceptionally acute physical senses. If he had been less perceptive, it would have been easier to deceive himself. But every fiber of his being was acutely aware of the people before him.

“Jin-ah!”

“Yes!”

The support-type hunter quickly retreated, activating a skill on Baek Yeon-joon. Knowing he had to neutralize the support-type first, Song Tae-won found himself unable to move. His feet seemed rooted to the sidewalk.

“You go in and report the situation and evacuate! This doesn’t look good!”

The other hunter immediately turned to run inside. It was a monster. The monster was trying to summon reinforcements. He had to stop it.

Song Tae-won’s fist clenched, and almost instinctively, his leg muscles coiled. His body shot forward like an arrow.

“It’s dangerous!”

Baek Yeon-joon hurled a short spear. Kwadeuk! The forearm wrapped in wire deflected the spear, and Song Tae-won reached the fleeing hunter without hesitation. His toe slammed into the hunter’s leg, catching him completely off guard.

“Keueok!”

Wooddeuk, the leg bone snapped. Song Tae-won’s hand seized the head of the collapsing body. The dagger in his other hand flashed, slicing through flesh and bone in an instant.

Mechanically, precisely, efficiently, he extinguished the monster’s life.

“Seong-hoo!”

A cry of anguish pierced Song Tae-won’s ears. Dilated pupils met his gaze. His chest was stained red with the blood that had splattered.

“Yo, you crazy! Jin-ah, step back further! Get everyone out here now!!”

Familiar faces, one, two, three, emerged from the building. Song Tae-won unconsciously wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. But his hand was even more bloodied, only smearing the red further.

“Damn it, what’s going on!”

“What, is it, is it a monster?!”

“It’s killing people in broad daylight, so would it be a hunter! Be careful! It seems to be a boss-level monster that can imitate the appearance of others!”

A monster. That was certainly what he was to them. Song Tae-won silently assumed a fighting stance, offering no explanation.