The table shuddered violently, rattling across the floor. And it wasn’t just the table. Chairs, picture frames, the counter, potted plants, the coffee machine—every object that made up the café trembled all at once. It felt as if a massive giant had wrapped its fist around the entire building and was shaking it.
People screamed, dropping to the floor or scrambling beneath tables on their hands and knees. They must have thought it was an earthquake. And if it had been an earthquake, their reactions would’ve been exactly right.
But it wasn’t. This wasn’t an earthquake.
Kim Sibaek sensed it first—the thick swirl of demonic energy beginning to saturate the air.
[Death and Beauty raises her tail feathers stiffly.]
“…Hyung.”
Tae Woon seemed to realize it too—that this was no ordinary tremor. Their eyes met briefly, and without exchanging a word, both bolted out of the café.
In front of them, a massive plant had coiled itself around the Management Center building. Its tentacle-like roots writhed and pulsed, threatening to burst from beneath the pavement and engulf the ground in all directions.
Monster swarms grow like living organisms.
Then how is the first monster born?
That question had plunged post-Cataclysm monsterologists into endless research papers and heated debates. The mystery persisted for over two years—until one day, a Hunter happened to witness the phenomenon with his own eyes.
As ambient demonic energy condensed in the air, it formed a shape—something like flesh, or cells, or perhaps cerebrospinal fluid. It was impossible to describe. And then, a monster sprouted from it. After countless experiments and observations, monsterologists coined a term for it: the seed.
But calling it a seed didn’t mean it looked anything like one. Just as monsters came in countless forms, so did their seeds. The only common factor was that they all originated from condensed demonic energy in the atmosphere.
“So this is proof of spontaneous generation—2,000 years later.”
One scholar had joked.
But it was no laughing matter. Even with monster habitats cordoned off, it meant new monsters could spontaneously appear in human territory at any time. In fact, many unexplained appearances beyond the Barriers were likely due to such seeds taking root and sprouting.
Years passed before magics and magitech capable of purifying atmospheric demonic energy were finally invented.
“Even if I survive by purifying demonic energy alone, what’s the point?”
The mage who first developed the purification spell chose not to patent it. Like Jonas Salk, he offered it freely to the world, for the sake of humanity. Since then, humans have survived by corralling monsters into restricted habitats and purifying the demonic energy outside the Barriers.
Unfortunately, human society is far from equal. Purifying demonic energy consumes manastones. Naturally, the purification cycle in slums like Harlem, where the marginalized live, is far less frequent than in the wealthy uptown districts.
As a result, even today, monster seeds continue to sprout outside the Barriers across every nation.
“Just to be sure—Woon, the government didn’t neglect purification near the Management Center, right?”
Kim Sibaek asked while hacking at the roots spreading beneath the ground. His makeshift weapon was a broken chair leg, snapped when the building shook. Wrapped in Divine Power, the chair leg struck a root, and the monster recoiled as if screaming, spewing a venomous fluid.
“No way. Government facilities get the most rigorous maintenance.”
From beneath Tae Woon’s coat, shadows flared out like blades, tearing the roots apart.
It made sense. In Korea, purification was handled by a state-run agency, and government buildings were top priority. So how had this happened in the heart of Daejeon—right next to the Manastone Exchange?
This isn’t Mak Slechth—it’s Earth. The odds should be low, but… could it really be…?
A hypothesis was forming, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. First, they had to stop the monster’s growth. Plant-type monsters like this one spread their roots aggressively in the early stages. But once they took enough damage, they went dormant. If left alone, they would continue expanding mindlessly until other monsters came to devour them.
“What’s this one called?”
“Giantvine.”
“Nice. Straight to the point.”
Kim Sibaek nodded. The names of monsters needed to be intuitive, so the public could visualize and respond appropriately.
While the two of them calmly conversed and hacked away at roots, chaos raged around them. After the emergency alert went out, a flood of calls seeking loved ones filled the air—until everything suddenly went silent. The lines had likely crashed from overuse.
Roots churned beneath the ground, cracking the pavement and shaking buildings as if struck by an earthquake. In some places, water surged rapidly—likely from a burst pipe. Those experienced with disaster situations activated protective magitech or fled to buildings equipped with magic circles.
“Aaaah!”
But there are always people who can do neither. A scream rang out—someone was being dragged underground, their leg snared by a writhing tendril.
Kim Sibaek sprinted over, severed the root, and hoisted the student up with one arm, pulling them to safety.
“Th-thank you so mu—”
Before the sentence could finish, the student burst into sobs as soon as they were set down. From a collapsed wall nearby, people huddled inside a magic circle frantically waved, urging them to hurry over.
“Go! Take shelter over there—now.”
The student gave a quick bow and sprinted toward the magic circle in a panic.
It was, by all accounts, a critical emergency—but not a hopeless one. Since the incident had occurred at the Management Center, there were plenty of Hunters nearby. The only problem was the lack of leadership, and without clear direction, they were running around in confusion—until Tae Woon stepped in to coordinate.
After quickly assessing each Hunter’s Trait, Tae Woon split them into two groups: one to remove roots, the other for rescue operations. With that, the immediate chaos began to settle.
But for Kim Sibaek, a heavy pressure lingered in his chest, like dark clouds looming overhead.
We should be able to deal with the monster swarm in time… but what about the quest?
With the Management Center in shambles, it was uncertain whether he’d even be able to complete registration today. And even if he cleared the quest within the time limit, restoring the systems and digital infrastructure would take time.
Was the world really going to end just because he couldn’t register as a Hunter? The thought alone was ridiculous.
Just then, the system window flickered, and a new message popped up:
[Well, would you look at that! A monster outbreak? Even the system’s in shock! If you’d just gone along with it instead of fussing over useless plans, none of this would’ve happened -_-+]
“…”
That snide tone never failed to get on his nerves.
[But since our dear Returnee was doing his best, here’s a special little gift to help turn things around.]
[Sudden Quest]
[Defeat the Giantvine (0/1)]
[Reward: Time extension for the second quest]
[Time remaining: 12 hours 00 minutes]
A lifeline had appeared just as things reached a dead end—but it raised a deeper question.
How much can I really trust this system?
Regardless of his willingness to complete the quests, Kim Sibaek couldn’t bring himself to trust the system. It had threatened the end of the world, stirred up fear, and now, with a flick of the wrist, it was casually changing the rules.
If the penalty for failure had been something more manageable, he might’ve even considered failing on purpose to test it. But with planetary destruction on the line from the very first quest, he had no choice at all.
I wonder if taking out a Giantvine in a different area would still count toward the quest…
Lost in thought, Kim Sibaek scratched the back of his head and shook the thoughts away. Quest or not, the Giantvine still needed to be dealt with. The rest could wait. First, take out the monster in front of him. Judging by its size, clearing it within the time limit shouldn’t be difficult.
From beneath his T-shirt, Biendeoé poked her head out through the collar, her big eyes wide open.
[Death and Beauty reports that the roots have stopped growing.]
Sure enough, during the brief moment he’d been checking the quest, the tremors beneath the ground had completely faded.
“Hyung.”
Tae Woon approached, tossing aside the last severed root like a piece of trash.
“Looks like we managed to stop the spread.”
“Nice work, Woon.”
“You too, Hyung.”
Kim Sibaek raised a hand to pat his shoulder, but Tae Woon tilted his head, brushing his cheek into Kim Sibaek’s palm instead. His skin was smooth and dry—despite all the running and root-chasing, not a single bead of sweat.
“But there’s something else that worries me—because this happened at the Management Center, of all places.”
“Ah, right. There were tons of people inside earlier. We need to get them out before the building collapses.”
“Yeah, the people are important—but so is the Manastone Vault. It’s part of the monster’s territory now.”
Kim Sibaek tilted his head, not immediately following—until he recalled the difference between magitech on Earth and Mak Slechth. The realization hit late.
“…Wait, are you saying the vault isn’t fully secure? Don’t tell me they’re keeping manastones in glass display cases or something.”
“It’s not that bad. There are protective spells in place. But the lower-grade stones don’t get as much protection. And since the attack happened during trading hours, there probably wasn’t time to move everything into secure storage.”
As Kim Sibaek listened, concern welled up in his eyes—just as something else began to change.
