Han Ju-oh stared at the monsters with their maws agape before him. Even with his body fully extended, they remained out of reach, hissing with a repulsive sound. He calculated how much strain this would place on his body once he dealt with them.
“Not enough.”
A dozen measly worms weren’t nearly enough to push him into a berserk state.
“Han Ju-oh Esper, there are too many of them. Let us assist you.”
“No.”
He cut off the approaching A-rank Esper’s offer in a heartbeat. Splitting an already insufficient workload was out of the question.
“You focus on the Guide’s safety.”
“But how are you going to handle that many alone—”
“It’s harder to fight while coordinating. Just fall back.”
The A-rank Esper, flustered by Han Ju-oh’s cold reply, flushed red and stepped back. Another Esper patted him on the back, saying something, but Han Ju-oh turned his head away. Or he would have, had Baek Seo-ha not caught his eye.
Tsk, clueless. That was exactly the kind of look Seo-ha gave him. At least he wasn’t hiding his dissatisfaction behind false civility like the others. That made it easier for Han Ju-oh to show his own emotions as well. Maybe he was provoking him on purpose.
Forcing down the spiral of thoughts triggered by seeing Baek Seo-ha, Han Ju-oh raised his hand, ready to activate his ability. There was no going back now.
“I’ll just have to hope for more to show up.”
Because only by accumulating strain would he reach the verge of losing control.
The spark that bloomed from his hand swelled rapidly, then dropped straight into the worm’s gaping mouth.
KRAAAAGH!
The worm twisted in agony, flailing and bumping into the others, spreading the flames to them. Han Ju-oh clicked his tongue. He had intended to drop fire into each of their mouths individually, but this kind of chain reaction only conserved his power, which was the opposite of what he wanted.
“Wow.”
Baek Seo-ha’s mouth hung open as he watched the fiery spectacle like it was some kind of performance.
“So simple…”
He bore the scornful gazes of others with composure, yet blushed when clinging to Han Ju-oh. He parried every question with snark and acted like he’d hop off at any moment, only to calm down when he realized it was a desert below. Then, when he was finally let down, he stared at Han Ju-oh in disbelief…
“What a weirdo.”
Just as Han Ju-oh was feeling disappointed over the charred remains of the worm, a gleam entered his eyes. The ground split open again, revealing another worm.
***
As Han Ju-oh soared into the sky, the monsters all reared up to reach him. Since he was the only one attacking them, they seemed intent on killing him first. The grotesque sight of the beasts swelling in unison toward a single point made Seo-ha shudder.
Seo-ha glanced at the other Espers. They were busy holding formation, shielding themselves from the sandstorm and deflecting the occasional falling stone—but none looked like they had any intention of helping Han Ju-oh.
He didn’t know they had already tried and been flatly rejected by Han Ju-oh. A Guide’s physical abilities weren’t enough to pierce through the howling storm and catch those details.
It was clear they were following orders to protect the Guides, but it didn’t look hard for them. And their expressions showed no concern. Either they trusted Han Ju-oh’s strength—or they trusted their own if he began to falter.
Seo-ha watched Han Ju-oh floating in the air as if he had wings. Observing him battling monsters in the distance, he spoke his thoughts aloud.
“Is he even human?”
“If he’s not, what else would he be?”
Moon Roi replied gruffly. The two of them sat in a relatively safe spot under the protection of an Esper, casually watching Han Ju-oh fight. It wasn’t even a tense situation.
A real fight required both sides to be evenly matched. This was a one-sided massacre. At this point, it was hard to tell who was more impressive—Han Ju-oh, unleashing his power without pause, or the endless stream of worms.
‘How do worms even know about swarm tactics?’
“Still, no matter how good he is, isn’t he a bit too alone?”
He whispered quietly to Moon Roi, but several Espers flinched—their senses far exceeded those of normal humans. Still, he hadn’t shouted it, so hopefully they’d let it slide.
“That Esper told them not to interfere.”
What could they do when the highest-ranking Esper insisted on going solo? The others could only step back and watch. Seo-ha understood all that, but his concern lay elsewhere.
“The strain must be massive.”
Even S-ranks didn’t have unlimited stamina. Han Ju-oh was still an Esper. If he kept pushing himself alone like this, the outcome was obvious. During Guide training, Seo-ha had learned that a berserk S-rank Esper could wipe an entire city off the map.
“If he snaps and goes berserk… well, never mind. You’re here, so that probably won’t happen.”
After all, there were several Guides on-site, including Moon Roi.
At those words, Moon Roi’s expression turned complicated. Though he said nothing, his feelings were clear. They were both A-rank, yet Seo-ha didn’t trust him. That must’ve stung. Maybe Moon Roi hadn’t managed to snag a top Esper in his Guide career, but at least he’d gained a real friend.
“Let’s grab a drink after this. We’ve swallowed enough sand today—how about some samgyeopsal?”
Seo-ha spoke while watching the pile of monster corpses grow.
“My treat.”
As he felt touched by Moon Roi’s ocean-deep generosity, the screaming ceased, leaving only the sound of wind sweeping over the sand.
Seo-ha stood up and brushed the sand off his backside.
“So just the final boss left now?”
Once the boss was defeated, this dungeon would be cleared. Up until now, everything had felt manageable thanks to Han Ju-oh’s overwhelming power, but that wouldn’t be the case going forward. As the boss battle approached, everyone reclaimed the tension they had momentarily set aside.
Seo-ha peered over the shoulder of the Esper standing in front of him, positioned protectively to shield the Guides. He gazed toward the dunes. Quiet—eerily so. His eyes traveled upward, landing on Han Ju-oh still suspended in the sky.
Even after expending so much power, not a single expression crossed his face. Han Ju-oh probably never wrestled with the kind of doubts Seo-ha did. Unlike Seo-ha, who had suffered over his inability to fully harness his abilities and ultimately handed in his resignation, Han Ju-oh was living the life he wanted.
He was an Esper. Seo-ha, a Guide. There was no point in comparing—but that didn’t stop the envy.
“It’s coming.”
At Moon Roi’s words, Seo-ha looked back at the dune. A subtle tremor rippled through the ground. Soon, a towering pillar of sand erupted skyward—far more menacing than anything they had seen thus far. It looked like a full-blown sandstorm had ignited.
As the sand slid away, revealing the boss, Seo-ha bit his dry lips and stared into the open air. Han Ju-oh’s expression twisted for the first time as he unleashed a blade of wind toward the boss. It only scratched the surface, barely leaving a mark, and the boss thrashed violently.
The resulting shockwave kicked up a torrent of sand, sweeping outward in all directions. Seo-ha shielded his eyes with his arm. Even then, sand slammed into his face, making it hard to breathe.
KIEEEEEEKK!
Struggling just to keep his eyes shut and avoid the sandstorm, Seo-ha was forced to cover his ears as a monstrous shriek tore through the air. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, the ground beneath him shook violently—so much so that his feet briefly lifted off the surface.
…
As the sandstorm began to settle, silence returned. Seo-ha slowly lowered the hands that had been clamped over his ears.
‘Is it over?’
He blinked several times, trying to get a sense of his surroundings—but something blocked his view. Not a problem with his vision. It was someone’s chest.
He looked up.
Han Ju-oh.
The man who had hovered in the sky this whole time now stood right before him, and Seo-ha, flustered, blurted out something stupid.
“Good work.”
He wanted to say something worthy of the mountain of monsters Han Ju-oh had defeated. Instead, all he managed was a bland greeting.
It was the fault of his own petty jealousy. He shouldn’t have felt that way, but seeing Han Ju-oh before he’d sorted through his emotions left him unable to fully hide it.
“Now that it’s all over…”
He was about to say something about needing to receive Guiding when—
A powerful force swept over his back, suddenly wrapping around his torso. Confused, Seo-ha looked down—and froze in horror.
“What the—?!”
It was a talon. A bird’s claw. The moment he realized it, his body was lifted into the air, and the rest of his words were cut off. With no time to fully process what had happened, he was forced to watch the world spin below him in a dizzying blur.
Moments ago, he’d grumbled about the discomfort of trudging through sand—but now he realized just how much he’d taken for granted the ability to stand on solid ground. As he dangled from the claw, helpless and unsure when he might fall, watching flightless humans soar through the sky felt surreal—he nearly blacked out.
“Some… someone… help me…”
Seo-ha stretched out his hand, pleading pathetically. He didn’t care who—he just wanted someone to save him. Terror gripped him. He was afraid he might actually die, carried off like this by a monster.
Why had he let his guard down?
Seeing Han Ju-oh so effortlessly obliterate the monsters had lulled him into a false sense of safety. That unguarded moment had led to this. So what if Han Ju-oh was right in front of him? The speed at which this bird-like beast had snatched him away had outpaced even Han Ju-oh’s reach.
As he was dragged higher and higher into the sky, the faces of the others below became indistinct. Seo-ha’s arm drooped limply.
The creature clutching him wasn’t alone. More monsters, the same size as the giant worm-like boss, began to reveal themselves in every direction. The scene was utter chaos.
Just as the faint glimmer of hope in Seo-ha’s eyes began to dim—
A dot on the horizon grew larger.
It was Han Ju-oh.
