Just moments ago, the Espers had been locked in a fierce battle against the monsters, but now they moved swiftly, surrounding the cluster of Guides with military precision. At the same time, the 4th Army Espers who had been guarding the Guides surged forward in perfect sync. With the monsters already wiped out, their new target was unmistakable—there wasn’t even time for confusion.
“Ghhh… ngh…”
“Guiding concentration is dropping fast. Freefall from 32 percent—now past 28—currently at 26. Entering rampage precursor zone!”
The physical enhancement-type Espers, well-versed in handling situations like this, moved without wasting a single motion. They secured restraints on Julian Moore, who was trembling and braced against the ground, then injected sedatives and substitutes directly into his exposed skin—rough and efficient, no time for delicacy.
His pale lips parted in an attempt to scream, only to be harshly silenced by a rough hand. Even a single scream might attract more monsters. Driven by instinct, Julian tried to summon electricity in self-defense, but stopped himself—he couldn’t risk hurting his teammates. Instead, he began smashing his forehead into the ground over and over, sobbing in agony. Watching him in that state—smeared in dirt, thrashing in despair—was harrowing. It was almost too awful to look at.
Julian finally lost consciousness, collapsing like a puppet with its strings cut. Only then did the others let out the breath they’d been holding and lower their tense shoulders.
“Stabilized at 26 percent. We’ll administer substitute injections every ten minutes until he hits 31 percent.”
A Guiding level of 65 percent was considered the baseline for normal daily functioning. Even during missions, protocol dictated that Espers should maintain at least 40 percent. Anything below 30 was a serious danger zone. Under 25 meant rampage precursor. So 31 percent might have been a temporary stopgap, but it was nowhere near enough for sustained operation. Still, they had no other choice.
Right now, everyone still seemed to be holding up, thanks to it being early in the dungeon, but even the most skilled Guide wasn’t a bottomless well of Guiding waves.
Wasn’t this just abandoning him to a suicide mission under the guise of control issues? They couldn’t execute him outright, so they threw him into this fire pit instead. Members of the Assault Team cast somber glances at Julian, each harboring similar bitter thoughts. The Espers who’d spent years searching for their Bonded Pairs felt the weight of it even more acutely.
“Han-seo.”
“Oh… you’re here? Are you hurt?”
After handing Julian over to a Healing Esper, Park Woo-jun made his way to Lee Han-seo. Han-seo wanted to check him over for injuries, but in the pitch-dark dungeon, even that felt like a luxury. With night vision goggles, he could barely make out Woo-jun’s silhouette.
“I’m fine. Just sit and relax. We’re taking a thirty-minute break here—time to eat, too.”
“Whew… alright.”
Dropping his backpack, which had felt like it was filled with lead, brought instant relief. The damp ground didn’t even bother him anymore. Just sitting across from Park Woo-jun brought a sense of comfort, like he could finally breathe again.
He pulled out a bar-shaped combat ration and took slow bites, eyes flicking ahead. He couldn’t see past the other teammates, but he knew that was where Julian Moore was.
Woo-jun noticed the direction of his gaze but said nothing. He simply held out his own canteen and brought it to Han-seo’s lips. “Here—drink a little.”
“Still worried about him?”
“…Who?”
“That guy.”
“It’s not like that.”
Han-seo took two gulps to wash the dryness from his mouth, then turned completely toward Park Woo-jun, deliberately turning his back on Julian.
Sure, he pitied Julian—he looked absolutely wrecked—but that didn’t mean Han-seo was about to leap up and volunteer to Guide him out of some misguided sense of obligation.
If anyone was going to Guide Julian in this dungeon, it would be Lee Han-seo. No one said it aloud, but they all knew it.
After the first battle post-entry, someone had brought out a portable Matching Rate scanner, just in case. Every Guide present had to check their compatibility with Julian—even those with Imprinted Espers weren’t exempt.
An Imprint only meant a Guide’s total guiding capacity was linked to a specific Esper for efficiency. It didn’t mean they were incapable of Guiding others.
Han-seo’s Matching Rate had been an astonishing 79 percent. Everyone was floored—no one had ever recorded a number that high, not even in the US. But it made sense. Given Julian Moore’s current state, where he couldn’t even tell shit from food, if even a single B-Class Guide had shown that level of compatibility, they’d have been Bonded already.
A few other Guides had scored in the 70s, but none surpassed Han-seo. More importantly, their Guiding capacity and purity didn’t even come close to his.
Once he finished eating, Han-seo pulled off his gloves and placed his hand against Park Woo-jun’s palm. The moment they touched, a rush of Guiding waves surged out—shuuuuuuk—as if being sucked straight in.
“Hey! You…!”
Woo-jun’s Guiding level was down to 43 percent. Since teaming up with Han-seo, even inside dungeons, it had never dropped below 60.
Han-seo forgot all about Julian and everything else for a second. He was so stunned, he nearly screamed, barely holding back a surge of frustration. Woo-jun just chuckled and said, “Sorry.”
“Don’t smile. You ever think about the person worrying about you from behind?”
“I’m sorry. Things moved too fast—I didn’t have time to fall back.”
Since the Imprint, radiation Guiding had become nearly as effective as contact Guiding—but only at close range. The distance between Park Woo-jun at the front of the 1st Unit and Lee Han-seo at the rear of the 3rd was far beyond what a normal Guide could manage. But Han-seo was somehow holding on, pouring out an overwhelming amount of Guiding energy and using their high Matching Rate to keep Woo-jun going.
“I’m not asking you to come all the way back here for contact Guiding, am I? Why don’t you ever listen? Next time your level drops below fifty percent, you fall back. At least try to receive the radiation properly, will you? What’s the point of Pairing with me if you’re gonna pull crap like this, huh?”
“Why else? Because I love you.”
“Unbelievable. That mouth of yours is all that works these days. You weren’t like this before. You’re seriously starting to sound like Kim Joon-young.”
“Wow. Seriously?”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
No matter how much Han-seo scolded him, pouring out his worries like a storm, Park Woo-jun just kept smiling with that same soft expression. Typical. This wasn’t the kind of situation where they could afford to be worrying about anyone else. Han-seo clenched his jaw and forced himself to ignore the ache pulsing in the back of his skull.
***
They had officially passed the 320-hour mark inside the dungeon. In that time, seventeen more bodies had been found. Only a few were intact.
They would’ve liked to recover the corpses and bring them out, but the team simply didn’t have the strength. All they could do was dig shallow graves and bury the remains to prevent further desecration.
Supplies were nearly gone. The Guides were so exhausted they could barely stand, much less move. But even so, things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Half the dungeon was behind them. If they could just hold out a little longer—just grit their teeth and endure—they might make it out without losing a single person.
The fact that Julian Moore was still alive—still clinging to breath—was weirdly encouraging. It reminded them it was possible.
And then, another miracle happened.
They found a survivor.
An A-Class physical reinforcement-type Esper, clinging to life against all odds. He’d scavenged supplies from the corpses and buried himself in dirt to preserve body heat and conserve energy. He’d barely managed to hold on.
Sure, his body was heavily contaminated by corrupted energy—he’d never return to a normal life—but the fact that he was breathing at all was a miracle.
There was just one problem.
“Hey.”
“……”
“They say you’re some big deal, huh?”
“……”
“How much do I have to pay to get a look at that famous face of yours?”
Maybe it was the near-rampage state he’d been in when they found him, but he had a dangerous obsession with Guiding. The moment he heard Lee Han-seo—the S-Class Guide, well-known among high-rank Espers—was part of the team, his eyes glazed over and he started clinging to him every chance he got.
Physically and mentally, he wasn’t fit for combat. For now, he’d been placed in the Guides’ group.
The ones assigned to Guide him on rotation were the Guides from the 4th Unit—since they moved closest to the main group, they were the only ones with any Guiding capacity left.
And yet, despite the situation, the guy didn’t even thank the Guides who were helping him. He just kept orbiting around Han-seo, constantly trying to get closer. Of course, whenever Park Woo-jun was nearby, he shut up and vanished like a coward.
“Rude little bastard. Won’t even answer when I talk to him.”
They were moving again after finishing another battle. Han-seo walked calmly, letting the guy’s nonsense pass through one ear and out the other. After over two weeks of surviving alongside this ragtag group, he’d picked up enough survival English to understand even the crap he didn’t want to hear.
“Well, I guess a top-tier Guide should play hard to get. Come on, just take off those goggles once. Let us at least enjoy the view.”
A mountain is a mountain, and water is water… and an asshole is still an asshole, no matter where you put him.
When the Esper casually tried to throw an arm around his shoulders like they were buddies, Han-seo yanked it off with sharp disgust and spat one line—
“Shut up. You fucking piece of shit.”
Half English, half Korean—but everyone got the message loud and clear. Snickers rippled through the group. A few Guides he made eye contact with even gave him a thumbs-up, grinning like he’d just said exactly what they were all thinking.
