Kim Sibaek’s eyes widened, and Tae Woon let out an amused chuckle. Seo Gaeun quickly followed up with an explanation.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just… after being out in the field with you today, I got a feeling. I thought I should say something, since others might start noticing too.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“You’re not just skilled at fighting monsters—you’re unusually good at handling entire swarms of them.”
Awakeners were rare. Even among them, those who actually hunted monsters in the field were fewer still. Since Hunters were vastly outnumbered, they were used to fighting in parties.
Even S-rank Hunters, who could solo most monsters, rarely worked alone. No one could predict when another Cataclysm might strike, and no matter how strong you were, one human alone could only do so much.
“Not a single person who ran off on their own during the Cataclysm—saying they didn’t want to babysit the weak—survived. Since then, guild training has focused heavily on teamwork.”
“……”
“So, to be honest, I was a little worried when I heard you’d be joining us out here. It’s not like that Giantvine mission where you jumped in temporarily. I was afraid you’d try to solo everything yourself.”
If he’d been a National Intelligence Service Awakener working abroad, his missions would’ve involved counterterrorism or espionage—not fighting monsters in a raid team. Even if he had field experience from the Cataclysm, time would’ve dulled those instincts.
But Sibaek had slotted himself into their formation with ease. Even without direct orders, he matched Seo Gaeun’s overall strategy and supported the other Hunters smoothly. He spotted weaknesses in their formation and reinforced them without hesitation. That kind of finesse didn’t come from a day or two of training.
He had a wide combat perspective and never got swept up in battle lust or pride. He wasn’t trying to show off—he was maximizing the team’s overall efficiency. It was a far cry from the image of a field agent trained for assassination or infiltration.
“Honestly… you’re like a drill instructor.”
Kim Sibaek clicked his tongue in mild disbelief. It wasn’t far from the truth—after the Cult had stabilized, he’d rarely fought on the frontlines. He had focused on support as an Apostle and trained Paladins himself. My girl’s sharp.
He just responded with an awkward smile, and Seo Gaeun didn’t push the subject. If he didn’t want to attract suspicion in the future, he’d have to play it up a little—just enough to blend in without disrupting the formation.
As curious onlookers started gathering, perhaps drawn by the serious vibe of their conversation, Tae Woon raised his voice, casually steering the topic elsewhere.
“Hyung, as the S-rank backing us up—how would you rate the Second Assault Team?”
“They’re all excellent Hunters. I don’t really think it’s my place to evaluate them.”
Sibaek remained humble, but Seo Gaeun was still watching him expectantly.
“It’s not every day we get an objective outsider’s opinion.”
That finally convinced him. While her leadership was rock-solid, he had noticed subtle inconsistencies in the team—bad habits, unconscious tendencies, things like that.
One of the Hunters, who had been eavesdropping with rapt attention, couldn’t help but jump in.
“Wait, you can really spot stuff like that?”
It was the same Hunter Sibaek had pulled to safety earlier.
“Uh, Mentor? Do you mind if I call you that too?”
“Call me whatever you like.”
“Did you happen to notice any bad habits in me?”
“You’ve had a serious injury in your left leg before, haven’t you?”
“Gasp! How did you know?!”
“Probably without realizing it, but when you land, your left leg tightens. You hesitate to put your full weight on it.”
Which, of course, created openings.
“If the injury’s healed, try to be aware of that during training. Your movements will feel much smoother.”
“Oh… whoa…!”
Her eyes lit up like she’d just received sage wisdom from a grandmaster. Other guild members, already curious and slightly starstruck, started inching closer.
“Hunter—uh, Mentor! What about me?”
“Hello, Mentor! If you have time, could we spar sometime?”
And just like that, a new part of Kim Sibaek’s daily life began. Surrounded by eager guild members, he stood calmly while Tae Woon watched from behind, his gaze thoughtful—almost like this was exactly what he’d intended all along: for Kim Sibaek to naturally blend into their everyday world.
His reputation within the guild was rising fast—but that didn’t mean everyone trusted him.
The 7777 Guild was built primarily by Seoul refugees. Its core members, including Guildmaster Tae Woon and most of the raid division’s team leaders, all shared that background.
Every single S-rank Hunter in the guild was a Seoul refugee. That’s why A-rank Hunter Na Jungwoo of the First Assault Team had pinned his hopes on one thing: becoming the guild’s first S-rank who wasn’t from Seoul. That alone would prove he was better.
And to be fair, Na Jungwoo was a top-tier Hunter. He’d even been floated as the next S-rank candidate, with many expecting he’d be promoted soon.
But that dream fell apart in an instant. The coveted title he’d worked so hard for was suddenly stolen by an outsider—a so-called cultist—who caused an uproar by being granted S-rank status the moment he registered as a Hunter. Unprecedented. Unfair. Completely insane.
Of course it was biased. How could it not be? Getting promoted based on classified achievements from his time as a secret agent—records that didn’t even exist on paper? It was the kind of excuse that didn’t pass the laugh test.
Some people had their doubts, sure. But once the footage of the Eid Portal raid at the MA Department Store was released, all that criticism vanished overnight. Everyone shut up. Everyone except Na Jungwoo.
He refused to let it go. If anything, his suspicions only deepened. He became convinced that Tae Woon had pulled strings behind the scenes. And the whole “cultist” label? That just poured fuel on the fire.
Pi Minhyung had no trouble picking up on the vibe.
“Look, man. I don’t know if he’s from some cult or not, but the guy’s legit. You think I just stood around twiddling my thumbs during the Eid Portal thing?”
“Sure. Yeah. I’m sure you didn’t.”
Blinded by jealousy and rage at having his shot stolen by a so-called cultist, Na Jungwoo snapped back with open sarcasm—even at Pi Minhyung, someone he usually wouldn’t dare talk back to. But of course Minhyung would take Sibaek’s side. He and Tae Woon were practically family. Blood’s thicker than water, right? Or was it in-law thick? Whatever—when two guys acted that close, what the hell were you supposed to call them? Either way, biased as hell.
Pi Minhyung scratched the back of his head, glancing at Jungwoo’s face, which was practically screaming, I don’t trust that guy for a second.
“If you’ve got that big of a problem with it, why not go by the guild motto?”
The 7777 Guild’s motto:
We don’t take orders from anyone weaker than us.
So Na Jungwoo marched straight up to Kim Sibaek, head high, and issued a challenge.
“Let’s spar.”
He didn’t notice the way Tae Woon’s eyes narrowed in amusement as he sat beside Sibaek, casually peeling a tangerine and feeding the slices to him one by one.
Jungwoo even said he was fine streaming the whole thing live on the guild’s YouTube channel. Full confidence. No hesitation.
“If you beat Sibaek-hyung, I’ll raise your salary fivefold.”
Tae Woon’s offer only made Jungwoo’s bravado burn hotter. If Pi Minhyung hadn’t stepped in out of pity, they really would’ve gone live. Luckily for Jungwoo’s dignity, the match ended up happening behind closed doors—with only Tae Woon and the First Assault Team watching.
Jungwoo was sure—dead sure—that this was his moment to prove he was the real deal. That he deserved the S-rank title, not some shady outsider.
And in the beginning, it looked like things were going his way.
The so-called cultist showed up with a fancy sword borrowed from the guild armory, but he didn’t even try to counterattack. He just dodged. That was it. Typical cultist behavior—sly, evasive, playing for time.
Jungwoo kept thinking he was this close to landing a blow, but not once did he so much as graze a hair. The match dragged on—slow, dull, and increasingly annoying. Everyone watching started to lose interest, except for Tae Woon, who was grinning like he was watching a high-end magazine shoot.
Finally, Pi Minhyung let out a long sigh.
“Hyung, just squash him already.”
“Ah… but he’s a veteran Hunter who’s done a lot for the guild. I’m just the new guy…”
Even as they chatted casually, Na Jungwoo still hadn’t realized what was happening. But then Tae Woon said one sentence—and with it, the match was decided.
