As Lee Tae-rim’s Guiding stabilized, Seon Juho matched his pace, using his ability in steady, measured bursts. They could’ve opted for mucosal Guiding to unleash a powerful surge all at once, but the gate remained open. What they needed now was consistent, prolonged output.
Maintaining a continuous flow of energy without interruption was utterly draining. Tae-rim stared at the endless stream of monsters pouring out of the gate, and before long, his eyelids began to droop.
His body and mind were already worn to the bone. On top of that, he was still pushing himself to use his ability nonstop. Seon Juho, being an Esper, seemed to be holding up just fine—but Tae-rim wasn’t. His exhaustion had reached its absolute limit.
He ended up dozing off mid-Guiding, cradled in Seon Juho’s arms. No matter how hard he tried to stay awake, everything about Seon Juho was lulling him to sleep. The warmth of his embrace, the sweet scent clinging to him—everything was soothing, almost intoxicating. Tae-rim fought to stay conscious, again and again, but by the time the sun began to rise, he finally gave in and drifted off like someone who’d simply passed out. There was nothing more he could do.
***
Lee Ki-uk shot up from his seat, eyes fixed on the monitor. He’d been watching the Guiding session again today, hoping to catch even the faintest smile from Lee Tae-rim. But what he saw instead was something he could hardly believe.
Test Subject K truly possessed an Erasure-type ability—just as Dr. Kwak had insisted. With that power, K had calmly vanished, taking Lee Tae-rim with him. The sight left Lee Ki-uk stunned… and hollow. Was the answer really just raw Esper ability after all?
Espers who were injected with certain drugs during Awakening sometimes manifested erasure powers. It wasn’t guaranteed, but most cases were successful. The catch was that none of them had ever reached S-rank.
Still, Lee Ki-uk had analyzed the Wavelengths of those erasure-capable Espers and used the data in his own research. Yet whether due to their low rank or some other fundamental flaw, none had ever come close to erasing a gate. That sense of futility weighed heavily on him. Was erasing a gate even possible?
But it didn’t matter anymore—it was over. Now that Test Subject K had escaped, it was only a matter of time before the facility was exposed. Lee Ki-uk cranked the underground Gate Generator to full output. Only he, the project director, had the authority to take it to maximum.
He refused to let Central get their hands on anything here. Though it pained him to destroy the stronghold he’d built with his own hands, he didn’t hesitate. Everything important was in his head. He could always rebuild.
“Agh!”
He’d planned to summon a teleportation-type Esper and escape before the gate opened—but suddenly, blood spurted from his hand, and he screamed. Rummaging frantically through his bag, he pulled out a healing spray and applied it to the wound. Someone had passed it to him recently, touting it as a fast-acting miracle treatment. He hadn’t expected to use it so soon.
The spray lived up to its name. In an instant, the bleeding stopped, and the skin sealed itself. But the amount of blood he’d already lost was no joke—his vision swam, and dizziness hit him hard. Confused, Lee Ki-uk looked around to make sense of what had just happened.
That’s when he saw it: a perfectly circular trail carved into the wall. Everything along its path had been erased. It was clean—surgically clean. Like something had sliced through the space itself and left nothing behind.
And his right hand had been caught in its path.
Now he only had his left.
A shiver ran down his spine. If the sphere had passed just a little differently—if it had gone for his head instead—he’d be dead. His skull would’ve vanished, just like his hand.
Erasure. The very phenomenon he’d spent his life researching had just taken a piece of him. As he stared at the absence where his hand used to be, a strange thrill bubbled up inside him. It didn’t make sense. He’d seen many Espers use this type of ability before, but this time—this one felt different. Deeply, irreversibly different.
Hands trembling, he pulled up the internal surveillance system. It didn’t take long to find them.
The black spheres were moving through the facility, devouring everything in their path.
The power was terrifying. Wherever they passed, the space itself seemed scrubbed clean—like reality had been deleted. Objects, walls, people… all erased without hesitation.
Suddenly, a thought gripped him: Could an Esper with this level of power erase a gate?
He switched to the external cameras. He had to find K before he vanished completely. Had to see what he was doing.
The outdoor cameras were low-resolution, designed for intruder detection, so the footage was grainy and unsteady. But Lee Ki-uk leaned in close, desperately scanning the screens. Overhead, the lights flickered and the whole structure trembled as if in an earthquake, but his eyes stayed glued to the monitors.
His rational mind screamed for him to run. Monsters howled in the distance, the base was collapsing—but he ignored it all. Just a bit longer. Just a little more… He kept flipping through the feeds, searching. There was something he had to see.
“Ha…! Hahaha!”
He stopped. One of the screens showed the gate—its edges beginning to warp and collapse into a void of pure black. A grin split across Lee Ki-uk’s face, his eyes gleaming. If only it had been daytime—he could’ve seen it more clearly. The darkness made it frustratingly hard to observe.
But if he could analyze that Wavelength… he was certain he’d finally reach his goal. He couldn’t risk missing a second. He stared at the screen without blinking, afraid the moment would slip away.
The sight of the gate melting into the darkness—the thing that had taken his beloved wife—was the moment he’d longed for. Goosebumps rippled down his arms. An overwhelming catharsis surged through his entire body.
“Hahahahahaha!”
He burst into manic laughter. How could he even begin to describe this feeling? He’d finally found the key. The ability that Test Subject K possessed—yes, this was it…
With a thunderous crash, the ground beneath him gave way.
Lee Ki-uk couldn’t laugh anymore. A massive chunk of concrete came crashing down from above, caving in his skull.
And then the monsters came, howling as they swarmed over his broken body.
That was the end.
***
“We’ve picked up Guide Lee Tae-rim’s signal!”
From that moment on, nothing felt real. Jung Jae-heon was still in a daze, trying to make sense of it all.
After Lee Tae-rim and Seon Juho were abducted, the entire site had plunged into chaos. Only three S-rank Gates had opened—but the problem was their placement. They’d appeared right in front of the barrier surrounding the Guides’ dorm, leaving them scrambling to both fend off the monsters and evacuate the Guides at the same time.
S-rank Espers from District 1 had rushed to the scene on an emergency call and went straight for the S-rank monsters. But even with that quick response, they couldn’t prevent casualties among the Guides. Injuries and deaths were inevitable. They’d done everything they could—but it hadn’t been enough.
Jung Jae-heon had truly thought he was going to die. He could barely remember how he’d managed to fight—his memory of the battle was a blur. He hadn’t even learned of Tae-rim and Seon Juho’s abduction until after the situation had somewhat stabilized. Unsurprisingly, District 1 had erupted in an uproar.
The Center Director had gone into a frenzy, demanding how an Esper and a Guide could possibly be kidnapped right in front of the Center’s main building. It was laughable, really—he’d kept quiet when people were being dispatched to the field, but now he was making a scene. Jung Jae-heon could only shake his head.
According to the report he’d received, all the Espers who had appeared to capture Lee Tae-rim were S-rank—and there were sixteen of them. The escorts Jung had assigned to protect Tae-rim were A-rank, ten in total. The power imbalance had been overwhelming.
In the end, the A-rank Espers had been taken down in an instant, and Tae-rim was lost before they could even mount a proper defense. Six of them had been killed without so much as a real fight. That was the cold reality of the difference between S-rank and A-rank. And Jung Jae-heon realized—far too late—how complacent he’d been.
He’d expected Molt to send S-rank Espers to subdue Seon Juho, who was classified as S+ rank. But he had assumed that once they had Tae-rim, Seon Juho would have no choice but to follow. It had never crossed his mind that they’d deploy so many S-rank Espers just to capture the Guide. He’d believed that ten A-ranks would be more than sufficient.
He’d thought if the A-ranks could hold them off long enough, Seon Juho would arrive and take care of the situation. Looking back, that had been incredibly naive. Their target had always been Seon Juho. They’d sent a swarm of S-rank Espers from the beginning—it should’ve been obvious.
Their objective wasn’t the Guide. It was Seon Juho, the S+ Esper. But Espers had one critical weakness—their Guide. So of course the enemy would aim for the Guide first.
That idea had rooted itself so deeply in Jung Jae-heon’s thinking. Tae-rim was important to him too, so it was only natural that he’d focus on protecting him. But that narrowed vision had made him overlook the bigger picture.
And by the time he realized it, it was already too late. To control Seon Juho, they’d strapped a bomb around Tae-rim’s neck. Seon Juho had no choice but to surrender and follow them. Even if it had been him in that position, Jung Jae-heon knew he would’ve done the same.
The moment Tae-rim and Seon Juho vanished—each with a teleportation-type Esper—the remaining attackers moved without hesitation. They flew straight toward the Guides’ dorm, hurled something down, and jumped to their deaths.
The round devices they dropped released a thick gas that spread across the dorm’s roof—and at that exact moment, the monsters became rabid. As if triggered by something, they surged forward in a frenzy more violent than anything they’d seen before.
