Chapter 70: Those We Couldn’t Lose

“If we don’t find hyung, I’m not leaving this place.”

At Yoo Heero’s words, Koo Minah pressed a hand to her forehead. They had already spent hours scouring the gate in search of Sung Jiwoo.

The moment the first dungeon was cleared, he had vanished without a trace. There hadn’t even been time to stop it. While dealing with the monster core, Yoo Heero had desperately extended his shadow toward Sung Jiwoo—but he’d been a step too late.

After that, Yoo Heero tore through the gate like a madman in search of him. He destroyed dungeons indiscriminately. If a monster appeared, he killed it on sight. If there was a wall, he broke straight through it.

Koo Minah finally understood how he had managed to break through the final floor of the X-Gate all by himself. Even what he’d shown earlier had been an act.

Yoo Heero might be far more dangerous than she’d thought.

Right now, no one could stop him.

“I’m not planning to leave either.”

And she had no intention of stopping him.

If anything, Minah was grateful that Yoo Heero was tearing through the place so thoroughly. With her abilities alone, searching such a massive gate would’ve been impossible. On top of that, each dungeon had to be cleared one by one—and Yoo Heero had taken that headache upon himself.

Honestly, it felt like he could’ve handled this gate just fine even if he’d come alone.

After all, he was someone who had cleared an X-Gate solo. What was there to fear?

The one who was afraid… was her.

“…This must be the last one.”

Staring at yet another dungeon—she’d lost count of how many—Minah muttered under her breath. With no path leading further, this was likely the final dungeon unless something extraordinary happened.

And still, Sung Jiwoo was nowhere to be seen.

At the center of the dungeon, a monster slowly rose to its feet. It was a swamp-type creature as big as a house. Thick, murky sludge dripped from its mud-colored, viscous body.

—Grrrroooaaagh.

The grating sound reverberated through the air.

Before it could even act, the shadow stretching from beneath Yoo Heero’s feet sliced the monster apart in an instant.

Muddy water splattered everywhere. The previous monsters had at least resembled familiar living creatures, which made them nauseating—but this one was a slime. At least she couldn’t tell which part was which as it sprayed across the dungeon.

The stench of sewage hit her nose, and Minah clamped her hand over it.

“So what now?”

At her question, Yoo Heero replied calmly.

“We go back.”

From the moment Sung Jiwoo disappeared, Yoo Heero had rampaged like a madman—but not once had he raised his voice or shouted. In contrast to the ferocity of his ability, his gaze remained eerily calm. In many ways, Minah thought, he really was an incredible guy.

After removing the gate core as well, Yoo Heero turned back toward the previous dungeon without hesitation. Monsters they had already killed were sluggishly regenerating. Minah let out a deep sigh, already anticipating the slaughter to come.

Jiwoo, hurry up and come out and stop this guy…

**********

Worrying about someone was a truly destructive thing.

Sung Jiwoo learned that for the first time.

Until now, there had never been anyone he truly worried about. From the moment preparations to enter the gate began, his lips had been drying out nonstop. His mind kept conjuring worst-case scenarios, and he couldn’t rein them in.

Lee Hyerin—who had been the most visibly agitated earlier—was now the calmest of them all, finishing her preparations faster than anyone once the entry order was given.

Jiwoo, on the other hand, fumbled repeatedly even while changing into the combat suit Helios had provided. Shin Yoonjae eventually had to step in and fasten the buckles of his body armor for him.

“I’ve never seen you this nervous before.”

That he would say something like that at all spoke volumes. Jiwoo didn’t even have the energy to respond. He’d never imagined he’d suffer this much over someone else’s problem.

Or maybe… they couldn’t be called someone else anymore.

Up until now, Jiwoo’s world had been divided cleanly into two categories: himself, and others.

That boundary—solid even up to the moment of death—was starting to crumble.

“I’ve never felt this anxious in my life.”

Even when he’d been thrown into the X-Gate before dying, he hadn’t felt anxious. He’d had no regrets. In other words, there’d been nothing he needed to protect.

“…I have to save them. No matter what.”

It was a vow to himself.

“Of course.”

Shin Yoonjae reinforced it firmly.

Once they were ready, the two headed toward the others. Hyerin was having a serious discussion with her guild master, Im Changwon, while Park Soojin was speaking with his own guild members.

“I’m sorry for deciding this on my own, but… shouldn’t we save Minah?”

Park Soojin said to his guild.

From an objective standpoint, it was an excessive use of manpower for a guild master to risk himself just to save one guild member.

Yet the Knocker guild members accepted his decision as if there were no room for debate.

“Please bring her back. If you don’t, we’ll hold it against you.”

“I’m supposed to spar with Minah the day after tomorrow, so don’t be late.”

“Of course. She’s my guild member. I’ll bring her back—wait for us.”

Aside from a brief internship in high school, they’d only spent about a year together with Koo Minah. Jiwoo watched them with a complicated expression. He could finally understand why Minah—who always claimed she preferred being alone—had chosen to join a guild.

At the same time, he realized he could never do the same.

Clearing dungeons itself wasn’t difficult—but the more they pushed on, the more Jiwoo felt drained. He couldn’t even begin to guess how massive this gate truly was. The dungeons went on endlessly.

By the time they cleared the fourth dungeon, everyone was drenched in sweat. Jiwoo was no exception. His face grew paler by the minute, his mouth parched and dry, yet sweat dripped relentlessly from his chin. Cold sweat ran down his spine, sending chills through him.

Before entering the fifth dungeon, the party took a brief moment to regroup.

And just as they were about to move on—

BANG! BANG, BANG!

Something inside the dungeon began slamming violently against the door.

“…Step back.”

Im Changwon issued a swift command, and the party retreated. Only Park Soojin and Im Changwon remained at the front, arms spread protectively in front of the others.

“That is coming from inside the dungeon, right?”

“…Most likely.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before… Is this normal? I’m scared.”

Hyerin asked in disbelief, and Im Changwon shook his head.

“This is my first time as well. Since the gate hasn’t been berserk for long, there’s no telling what might happen. In the worst case, we could be facing a monster wave.”

A monster wave.

A term describing monsters pouring out like a tide after the boundaries between dungeons within a gate collapse.

It was the worst disaster ever recorded since the appearance of gates—an event so catastrophic that a centennial memorial ceremony had been held, led by the United States, just a few years ago. It had occurred over a hundred years ago, known only as a historical footnote to the modern generation.

When the last survivor of that monster wave died two years ago, the incident became something that existed only in history books.

At Im Changwon’s grim explanation, Hyerin was so shocked she nearly forgot how to breathe. Jiwoo swallowed dryly, and Shin Yoonjae squeezed his eyes shut. Park Soojin deliberately shouted in a boisterous voice.

“So we’re standing at a historic moment right now? What an honor.”

“…I suppose so.”

Im Changwon let out a short laugh, recognizing the effort. A professional hunter—and especially a guild master of a major guild—needed the nerve to reassure their people, no matter the situation.

“….”

Unfortunately, none of it reached Sung Jiwoo.

In that moment, he felt an uncontrollable fear—and was startled by himself for it. A fear of death he hadn’t felt even when the world was ending crept over him.

All this time, Jiwoo had believed his life held no real value. Even after being given a second chance, that belief hadn’t changed. He thought himself insignificant, disposable—someone whose death would go unnoticed.

And yet…

Without realizing it, he must’ve developed a foolish expectation toward life.

Without a word, Jiwoo cast buffs on the four people beside him.

BANG—CRASH!

At last, the dungeon door collapsed. Massive chunks of stone fell with terrifying force.

THUD—RUMBLE!

The floor caved in as dust exploded upward. Through the haze, the silhouette of the being that had broken down the door became visible.

“….”

In that frozen moment—

“…Hyung?”

Sung Jiwoo’s eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones.

The voice brought everyone—who had been ready to attack—to a dead halt. Jiwoo himself reacted a beat late, his thoughts stalling.

“Yoo Heero…?”

When the voice he had been desperately searching for answered him, Yoo Heero called out again—this time far more brightly.

“Hyung…!”

Like someone reunited with a long-lost loved one, Yoo Heero rushed forward and pulled Jiwoo tightly into his arms.

“Where did you go? I was worried sick.”

Only when he felt Yoo Heero’s body heat did Jiwoo finally relax. His stiff shoulders slumped.

“I was worried too! I thought… I thought something had happened to you guys…”

His voice broke halfway through. The terrifying speculation he’d heard outside had filled his mind with endless worst-case scenarios on the way here.

Jiwoo carefully hugged Yoo Heero back. The moment his hands met at Heero’s back, he realized they were trembling.

“I thought I’d never see you again…”

When he finally spotted Koo Minah over Yoo Heero’s shoulder, Jiwoo’s eyes brimmed with tears. Minah, utterly exhausted, collapsed into Lee Hyerin’s arms. Hyerin held her tightly, sobbing as if she were mourning the dead.

“Thank goodness… really. Thank goodness…”

Sung Jiwoo could no longer deny it.

He had people who mattered to him now.

And that was… a very big problem.