Julian had already been pulled from the frontlines for several days, lingering at the rear of the first unit. His Guiding state had been hanging by a thread. Occasionally, a few Guides with energy to spare offered bits of radiation Guiding, but it hadn’t made much difference.
“Shut the hell up. You’re too damn loud.”
It had been so long since Julian’s voice had formed anything close to a proper sentence rather than a pained groan. If someone else had snapped like that, they probably would’ve gotten a sharp comeback—something like “Then plug your precious ears instead.” But with Julian, whose condition visibly worsened by the hour, even Lee Han-seo found himself speechless. He awkwardly slipped off Park Woo-jun’s back and muttered a quiet, “S-Sorry.”
No one criticized Julian for losing his temper. They all knew it was a miracle he’d even made it this far without proper Guiding.
The higher an Esper’s rank, the more Guiding they required just to stay alive—even without actively using their powers. For Julian, even standing still and breathing probably felt like his lungs were being torn apart.
His skin, cracked and bone-dry, snapped with small sparks of lightning—residual current he couldn’t fully contain. The sudden bolt he’d launched moments ago had been another symptom of that: a surge of Guiding waves his body couldn’t hold in any longer.
The Healing Esper leading the group quietly signaled for the others to remain still and avoid provoking him. They were close to the barrier stone now, but he gestured that they’d rest here first.
And he didn’t stop there. He called all the rear-positioned Guides to the front. Julian had been clenching his teeth, desperately holding on to a guiding level between 26 and 27 percent, but now his numbers were starting to waver dangerously.
“Ugh… nnngh, gah…!”
Even in the tense, breathless silence, Julian pressed his hands to his ears and slammed his forehead into the ground as if the world were unbearably loud. Thud. Thud. Again and again, he bashed his head against the floor. Blood streamed from his forehead, but he didn’t even seem to notice. His hunched shoulders trembled, frozen—he couldn’t even curl up or shift his weight without pain.
At the Healing Esper’s signal, every Guide simultaneously released radiation Guiding toward him. But Julian’s numbers, already in free fall, refused to stabilize. 25 percent. 23 percent…
He’d entered the rampage precursor stage.
From this point on, the percentages didn’t matter. The moment an Esper lost their will—their rational mind—that was when the rampage began.
“Hhhgh… ngh—AAARGH!”
No one could offer words of encouragement. Not Hang in there, not You can do it. Nothing. If Julian’s focus slipped even for a second and he tipped into full-blown rampage, under international law, he’d become an immediate kill-on-sight target.
You can’t take a rampaging Esper out of a dungeon. A single B-Class going berserk could flatten a city. An S-Class? The destruction would be beyond catastrophic. A mindless S-Class Esper was more dangerous than the monsters inside the dungeon.
“Simon, if this continues—”
“Shh. I get it.”
One of the closest Guides, positioned at the very front, spoke in a grave voice. As always, under the Healing Esper’s command, a group of A-Class physical-enhancement Espers moved in and firmly restrained Julian’s arms and legs.
Even just grabbing him triggered sparks—crackling bursts of electricity danced across their skin. Burns and electric shocks spread like a contagion, but there was no other choice. If they didn’t absorb the damage first, a Guide attempting direct contact would likely die on the spot.
Fortunately, during a prior emergency test of Julian’s matching rate, they had decided on an emergency contact order—using only un-Imprinted Guides and rotating based on matching compatibility.
But there was no time to rotate now.
The un-Imprinted Guides rushed in, pressing their bare palms against any unoccupied parts of Julian’s body—wherever the Espers weren’t already holding him down.
They poured in every last drop of Guiding they had, ignoring the risk, the pain, the aftermath. Meanwhile, the remaining Guides continued radiating waves from a distance.
Pouring water into a cracked jar. That’s what it felt like. But they kept going—and it worked. After plummeting all the way to 13 percent, Julian’s Guiding level finally began to climb.
“It’s rising. Sixteen… nineteen percent… now twenty-two!”
Everyone gathered around stared at the numbers on their wrist-mounted Guiding panels, silently praying. Park Woo-jun and a few other Espers stood at the outer edge of the circle, guarding the group in case of a sudden monster attack.
“You’re okay now, Julian. It’s over. You can rest. Just close your eyes.”
Only after his Guiding level climbed above 25 percent did Julian finally lose consciousness—a release he hadn’t been allowed even through that unimaginable pain. He collapsed in silence, like a device that had finally been powered off.
Simon, the S-Class Healing Esper who had been monitoring him closely, only called over Lee Han-seo once he confirmed Julian was fully unconscious.
“Alright, Guide Lee Han-seo. I’m leaving the rest to you. Let me know the moment he hits the low thirties.”
“Understood.”
Simon wasn’t just the team leader—he was an Esper himself. He knew exactly how life-saving, how euphoric, a downpour of high-purity Guiding could feel in moments like this.
Just because someone had an Imprint didn’t mean their purity was diluted. And Han-seo’s matching rate with Julian was higher than anyone Julian had previously encountered.
If Julian—fully conscious and in control—were to experience Lee Han-seo’s contact Guiding even once…
There’d be no doubt what kind of desire he’d start to feel.
Never mind the simmering tension between Espers—if Julian ever declared he was moving to South Korea because of Lee Han-seo, or worse, tried to forcibly bring Han-seo back to the U.S., the fallout would be catastrophic. In the already fragile international climate, it could spark a diplomatic disaster.
That’s why, when they drew up Julian’s emergency contact Guiding sequence, Han-seo had been placed dead last from the beginning.
Han-seo cast a quick glance toward the perimeter where Park Woo-jun stood on alert, then knelt beside Julian and gently took hold of his limp hand. He didn’t have much Guiding left—most of it had already gone to Woo-jun during the battle. Honestly, there hadn’t been much he could offer anyone else to begin with.
After pouring in every last drop he had left, Julian’s level climbed to about 26 percent. But Han-seo didn’t stop there. He kept holding on, continuing the Guiding.
Just like the last time—when he’d absorbed Guiding from another Esper—Han-seo focused, and immediately felt the swirl of residual energy inside Julian. Waves of different purity were tangled together, disordered, and incomplete.
He began to draw them in.
As the chaotic waves responded and shifted toward him, the numbers started to drop again—26 percent, then 23. Julian’s unconscious body shuddered, something dangerous flickering beneath the surface.
“Guide Lee Han-seo, what are you—?!”
“Just a second. I’ll take questions after.”
Han-seo didn’t even flinch, maintaining razor-sharp focus. The moment those chaotic waves entered his body, they aligned with his own Guiding frequency. Their purity shot up. He immediately sent that refined Guiding surging back into Julian through their joined hands. The level that had dipped to 21 percent suddenly spiked—28 percent in a heartbeat.
Everyone watching—Espers and Guides alike—stood frozen in disbelief.
Han-seo repeated the process again and again, purifying the mixed energies and channeling them back, until Julian’s Guiding level finally hit 35 percent.
“Alright. That should do it.”
“What… What was that…?”
“Anyway, how about we start heading out?”
His boyish face was dotted with sweat, but there wasn’t a hint of exhaustion in his expression. As if performing an outright miracle was no big deal, Lee Han-seo just smiled like it was another routine day.
