But as always, reality wasn’t so kind. Just when Chi-yu was preparing his Imprint confession—a moment for Espers and Guides as meaningful as a marriage proposal for ordinary couples—disaster struck again.
Another Gate had opened in a civilian district, and nearly every Esper was summoned on emergency orders. This time, it was a Red Gate, and Hyun Tae-oh was so overwhelmed with battle that he didn’t have a single moment to step away.
The fight had already dragged on for more than a day and a half. Espers rotated in two shifts, struggling to recover between skirmishes. But Tae-oh, the nation’s sole SS-rank Esper, had no such relief. Along with two foreign SS-rankers sent as reinforcements, he fought relentlessly without closing his eyes, cutting down mutant beasts one after another.
Only the very strongest among S-rank Espers could stand against these creatures one-on-one. Manpower was critically short. What began as a nationwide emergency soon turned into a global battle, with the World Peace Committee joining forces.
Beasts poured out endlessly—so powerful it could have been mistaken for a Black Gate. Tae-oh and the others swallowed Rampage suppressants and hurled themselves back into the fray.
They survived only because a line of S-rank Guides stood deep inside the Gate, pouring out waves of energy through Radiant Guiding. Their steady flood of power braced the Espers, letting them hold out despite the limits of the suppressants.
The tactic of creating a Guiding Wall inside the Gate had been developed after the shortcomings of the last Black Gate battle. In practice, it proved just as effective as theory had promised.
Chi-yu, who had planned to bare his heart and ask Tae-oh for Imprint, could only watch with gnawing worry as Tae-oh fought on without sleep. Restless, he drifted back and forth between the Guiding Chamber and home, unable to settle.
Min Yu-hyun and Lee Jun-hyung felt the same. Each worried over their own Esper, sharing in Chi-yu’s unease. The burden was lighter for being shared, but the anxiety never truly left. All three prayed desperately that their Espers would come back alive and unharmed.
“Don’t you think this is strange?”
Yu-hyun finally broke the silence. He looked exhausted, no doubt from spending half a day inside the Gate’s safe zone, radiating his Guiding energy.
“The last Blue Gate, and now this Red Gate… They’re not just opening where they’re supposed to, but right in the middle of civilian zones. And the beasts—don’t you think they’ve gotten about twice as strong as before?”
“Wait, really?”
“For real?”
“Yeah. Do-jae said so, and I believe him. Even I can tell the S-rankers are struggling way harder than they used to.”
“Why would that be…?”
“I think I need to talk to Professor Myung Jun-su.”
At Yu-hyun’s words, both Jun-hyung and Chi-yu nodded immediately. Because Tae-oh always went to Jun-su whenever something happened, the others had naturally followed suit.
Though he was always buried in work, Jun-su never turned away Espers from the Central Bureau. He welcomed them without complaint—except when it came to Hyun Tae-oh. With Tae-oh, the professor was consistently sharp and prickly, as though holding a personal grudge.
This time too, he listened quietly as Yu-hyun laid out his concerns. Conveniently, his current research dealt directly with the recent civilian-zone Gates—the Blue one, and now the Red.
“Could this be the start of Gates going wild again, opening at random? The Central Bureau and the Esper Association are already badly understaffed. If this keeps happening, we’ll have no choice but to recall all the Espers who switched to other jobs.”
It wasn’t impossible. After all, these crises had erupted in just half a year. Espers who had left because Gates were no longer opening could easily be called back. Jun-su, fully aware of this, nodded a few times as Yu-hyun spoke.
“Do you know the word lull?”
He asked suddenly, once Yu-hyun finished.
Chi-yu and Jun-hyung exchanged a glance, while Yu-hyun hesitantly replied that it meant when things calm down.
Jun-su snapped his fingers.
“Exactly. It means turmoil that’s gone quiet—for now.”
“…So you’re saying this is a lull?”
“Yes. For as long as a hundred years, maybe more, Gates won’t open again.”
“……”
“I don’t have complete results yet, but I’m about seventy percent sure. Randomly opening Gates, beasts stronger than their rank should allow… all of this is the storm before the calm.”
Chi-yu frowned in worry.
“Then how long will this storm last?”
“This is the last of it.”
Jun-su’s tone was firm.
“After this Gate, no more will appear. It may not be the best news for Espers, but isn’t a peaceful world better than this one?”
The three nodded without hesitation.
“True peace is coming. Stop worrying and start thinking about how you’ll make a living.”
With that, Jun-su turned back to his notes.
They left the lab with lighter steps.
***
Just as Jun-su predicted, once the Red Gate was suppressed, peace followed. His findings spread across the globe, and humanity was, for the first time, free from mutant beasts.
Some Ability Users moved quickly into new professions. Others remained with the Central Bureau to manage beasts still living in their habitats. All shared the same relief and joy.
Now the world focused on researching mutant beasts and how to keep harvesting Ridune—an essential energy resource—without killing them.
At the center of this work stood Jun-su and the RISG. His research overturned old assumptions: Ridune wasn’t created when beasts died, but in the clash between Esper powers and the energy within a beast’s body.
For years, people believed that Ridune appeared only when a beast killed by an Esper released it, seeping into the ground or walls and growing in reaction to lingering abilities. But that theory had glaring holes.
Jun-su revealed the truth: Ridune wasn’t the product of death. When an Esper’s power struck, it stirred something inside the beast that generated Ridune, which then dispersed into the air. Humans had mistaken this for a death effect, and research had been warped by that misunderstanding ever since.
By correcting that flaw, Jun-su revolutionized the field. The World Peace Committee poured resources into his work, ensuring that even without Gates, Ridune could still be gathered without interruption.
But from prison, the former research director and Bureau Chief scoffed in an interview: Instead of wasting time and money on “pointless” research, humanity should rely on the beast-core generator they had designed—an invention that could spawn beasts endlessly.
“When Gates opened, habitats filled with beasts. But with no new Gates, do you really think you can sustain Ridune extraction from only the beasts left? Is that even feasible?”
He sneered with confidence.
“Mark my words. Beasts in habitats will dwindle and never increase. Unless they lay eggs—which they don’t—they can’t reproduce. People forget that. Professor Myung Jun-su may be a genius, but as a doctor who’s spent his life on Espers and beasts, there’s much he doesn’t know. His method will never be perfect. Just wait. The world will beg for my research.”
Later, a media outlet played the recording for Jun-su and asked for his response.
He listened patiently, then gave his answer with calm precision:
“First, it’s a pity I can’t show him my results directly. As everyone knows, Gates have entered a lull—perhaps for a century or more. Many are understandably worried that Ridune will vanish without new beasts.”
He lifted a sphere from his desk, suspending it in midair. The orb projected a holographic display of his research findings.
“This is a mutant beast activity report. Ironically, it was compiled by that very director, and it’s been invaluable. Look closely: beasts never fight each other. That’s one thing they have over humans. The only reason their numbers rose in habitats was because Espers weren’t culling them. Gates opened constantly, and aside from Espers, they had no natural predators. They don’t even get angry at one another. Left alone, they’ll live until their lifespans run out.”
The reporter nodded, and Jun-su continued:
“The key is their vitality. Their lifespans are at least two hundred years. They’re omnivores by instinct, yes, but food isn’t what sustains them. Their true nourishment is Earth’s air, sunlight, and ambient energy.”
Unless humanity deliberately set out to wipe them out, beasts would continue surviving in their habitats until the next Gates opened.
“So the conclusion is simple: that so-called research was never necessary in the first place.”
Jun-su looked straight into the camera as he ended.
And just like that, the man who had dedicated his life to Espers and beasts—the former director—suffered a resounding defeat.
