“…….”
“…….”
No one could say a word.
Lee Han-seo thought, Isn’t this taking it a bit too far? But what could he do? It wasn’t as if Park Woo-jun had made the decision alone, and there was no way they could just pull the designated main striker out of the mission now.
For once, Han-seo found himself on the side of the majority, not the usual “sacrificed minority.” Probably everyone here—except Julian Moore—was in the same boat.
Park Woo-jun gave him a firm, silent hug before striding off. His broad back gradually receded into the distance, brushing past Julian Moore, who staggered as if he could barely stay upright.
Han-seo stared blankly for a moment, then shook himself out of it and hurried to join the 3rd unit.
The strike force had been divided into four teams.
The 1st unit led with seven S-Class Espers. Behind them, the 2nd unit consisted of A-Class Espers providing combat support. Together, they made up the core fighting force.
The 3rd unit was formed of Guides who’d crossed the gate, regardless of affiliation. And the 4th unit brought up the rear—A-Class physical enhancement-type Espers tasked with protecting the Guides and hauling extra supplies.
At the very front stood Park Woo-jun, alongside another S-Class physical enhancer.
Julian Moore, the main striker, waited just behind them, ready to step forward when the battle began.
Every time Han-seo tried to catch a glimpse of Woo-jun, Julian’s slumped figure came into view along with him.
Looking at the man—so utterly wrecked—it was hard not to think about the plight of Espers who couldn’t control their own powers.
Of course he felt sympathy.
Until now, he’d never given much thought to the foreign S-Class Espers who didn’t attend briefings. He might’ve idly wondered, How are they even handling dungeons without a Bonded Pair Guide? but it never lingered.
But now Julian Moore stood here—looking nothing like an S-Class Esper should—leaving behind a haunting first impression.
Han-seo wasn’t the only one staring. The other Guides were all watching too, their gazes uneasy, caught somewhere between guilt and pity.
Somehow, Han-seo felt a little lighter.
At the same time, he felt a twinge of shame. He’d always despised the herd mentality, yet here he was—finding comfort in the majority, shedding responsibility by blending into the crowd.
Honestly, watching that foreign Esper dragged into this mission, treated no better than livestock… Han-seo’s first thought had been: I’m just glad Woo-jun was never treated like that.
In the end, humans always feel their own hangnail more sharply than someone else’s burning skin.
Exactly forty minutes later, like clockwork—
BEEEEEEP—
A high-pitched frequency pierced their ears, and the nearly fifty-person formation began its slow advance.
Ahead of them, a black maw gaped wide, the pupil at its center glinting with feral malice.
***
Skrrrrt… skrrrrt…
The sound of thick reptilian hide dragging across the damp floor sent a shudder down Han-seo’s spine.
He clenched his teeth to stay silent and focused all his energy on Guiding.
Barely fifty meters ahead, the 1st and 2nd units were locked in fierce combat.
They’d been inside the dungeon for a full sixty hours now.
There was barely time to breathe before wave after wave of monsters attacked. They’d already fought more than twenty battles—and because the creatures always came in groups, things inevitably turned into chaotic skirmishes.
The Espers surrounding the Guides tensed suddenly, shoulders locking up like iron rods.
He even heard someone mutter, “Shit.”
One of the Guides, alarmed, raised a telescope to check the front—and promptly gagged.
Nothing came up—none of them had eaten much—but the reflex said it all.
The dread spread like fine dust.
Feeling a pit in his stomach, Han-seo pulled his own telescope from his backpack.
He placed it against the lens of his visor, adjusted the focus—and what had been vague shadows suddenly came into horrifying clarity.
“Ugh…!!”
He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.
Other Guides who had looked around the same time reacted much the same.
The monster had the usual grotesque appearance—bipedal, lizard-like, with thick hide and claws.
But that wasn’t what horrified them.
“Fucking sick bastards…” someone muttered.
No—the real problem was that the monsters were wearing human corpses.
As if showing off, they had draped themselves in bisected human remains. Judging from the half-shredded combat suits and the level of decay, these were likely members of earlier strike teams.
They’d never encountered monsters like this.
Sure, the ones they’d fought so far had been deadly enough—but not like this. Not with this level of sheer, visceral revulsion.
Some of them had even removed the protective gear from the bodies and strapped it onto themselves—as if they’d figured out how it worked through repeated encounters with humans.
Han-seo had only been doing this for a short time, but he’d never wanted out of a dungeon more than now.
This dungeon was particularly vast.
According to Woo-jun’s earlier briefing, the layout and air pressure suggested that its size matched the island where their base camp had been set up—almost exactly.
Not just in scale, but in shape.
It wasn’t unusual for dungeons to reflect parts of the surrounding terrain—but to replicate it this perfectly? This was the first time.
Whatever was happening to this world—however it was still barely holding itself together—no one knew.
Humanity had no answers.
All they could do was survive, day by day.
The primary goal of this expedition was, of course, to clear the dungeon and shut it down.
But none of them had given up on the slim chance that survivors from the advance team might still be out there.
That was why, instead of heading in a straight line toward the barrier stone, they were circling as wide as their stamina would allow—scouring the terrain, just in case.
They hadn’t found a single survivor.
All that greeted them were a few battered corpses and the aftermath of savage battles. And yet, looking at those relatively intact remains, Han-seo was struck by the grim thought that dying in one piece was, in this place, a kind of mercy.
Fighting down the nausea, he forced himself to focus on Guiding. The distant sounds of muffled blows and the monsters’ poison-laced shrieks were reaching their peak.
It seemed the creatures had learned by now—if they went for the Guides, the whole squad could crumble before anyone had a chance to react. So they aimed for the rear instead, desperate to break through.
A few even managed to get close in the chaos.
But the A-Class Espers guarding the back line were more than capable. Not a single Guide had been physically harmed—though mentally, they were all barely holding it together.
God, this is fucking awful… I could puke from how disgusting this is…
Han-seo clamped his eyes shut, muttering silently under his breath, trying not to lose focus.
With Park Woo-jun so far ahead, it was getting harder to track his unique Guiding wave. Radiation Guiding lost precision at this range, and Han-seo could feel the drop in effectiveness.
Minutes crawled by.
Then someone up front shouted, loud and urgent—“Run away!”
The sky—if that formless, black void blanketing the dungeon could even be called a sky—shuddered violently.
Rrrumble, rrrumble.
The darkness flickered, hinting at something just beyond, and then—
KA-BOOM!
A lightning bolt came crashing down, blindingly bright, as if the sky itself had split in two.
The monsters didn’t even have time to scream.
They were fried where they stood.
The scent of charred protein—a grotesquely mouthwatering smell—wafted through the air, carried all the way back to where Han-seo and the other Guides were huddled.
With a single, overwhelming strike, the hours-long battle was suddenly over.
It was one hell of a statement.
One hit was all it took to show why Julian Moore—over every other S-Class Esper—had been chosen as the main striker.
Sure, it took forever to build up enough Guiding input to land that kind of blow. But when he did strike—nothing could stand against it.
Han-seo exhaled hard and slumped to the ground, shaking his head in disbelief.
This was probably the third or fourth time he’d seen it, but it still blew him away every single time.
Until now, the only electrokinesis users Han-seo had encountered were C-Class at best.
The most they could do was crackle a bit of static—barely enough to shock someone.
There’d even been jokes that they couldn’t charge a phone, let alone fight.
He used to think electrokinesis was a weak, unimpressive power.
What a stupid assumption.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
