Chapter 94: The Price of Going Too Far

The bat’s wings began to burn away. Ash fell as holes opened here and there across the membranes.

Chiiik! Chiiiiik!

The bat writhed in agony. The acrid stench made Seong Ji-woo clamp a hand over his nose.

Spinning wildly through the air like it had gone mad, the bat suddenly thudded into the ground. Its flaming body rolled back and forth across the floor. Though the fire gradually died down, its wings were left shredded, reduced to little more than tattered rags.

As if enraged by that fact, the bat grew increasingly feral. Using the thumb-like claws on the upper part of its wings, it scraped along the ground and charged straight at the hunters.

While everyone else still floundered in confusion, Yu Hui-ro’s shadow shot forward and bound the bat in an instant.

Like a boa constrictor swallowing its prey, the shadow coiled around the bat, tightening steadily around its throat.

“What the hell is that…?”

Stunned, people froze in place, unable to move. Some even looked at Yu Hui-ro with awe-filled eyes.

Just seeing his ability—the one they had only ever heard about in news reports and rumors—was enough to leave them shaken and overwhelmed.

“….”

Gasping weakly, on the brink of death, the bat still glared around with blazing red eyes.

Even in that state, its killing intent remained fierce. Ji-woo flinched. The bat struggled violently, trying to break free from the web-like shadows. Each movement made the ground shake with heavy thuds.

This was nothing like the plant-type monster from the previous dungeon. From its sheer size to its murderous aura, everything about it was on another level. Like the other hunters, Ji-woo stood frozen, unable to do anything.

“….”

This was a kind of fear he had never experienced before. A fear unfamiliar to a supporter like him—the raw terror of standing face-to-face with death.

Spotting Ji-woo, the bat opened its mouth wide, revealing awl-like fangs as it let out a piercing screech. Unable to tell whether it was a warning or a threat, Ji-woo squeezed his eyes shut.

A violent wind roared through the space, loud enough to burst eardrums. The vibrations were even worse than the noise, rattling his skull until his head rang.

The bat, still bound in shadow, was lifted into the air—then slammed straight back down.

KWAANG!

With a deafening crash, sand and dust exploded outward. The bat fell silent, no longer screaming or struggling, as though it had been knocked unconscious.

Aside from the occasional twitch, it barely moved at all.

KWAANG! KWAANG!

Even so, Yu Hui-ro lifted it again and again, smashing it into the ground repeatedly. Cracks split across the floor, and the enclosed space echoed endlessly. People clutched their heads, groaning in pain.

KWA—AANG!

Ji-woo barely managed to stay on his feet as he watched Hui-ro’s brutal display. Whatever was going through Hui-ro’s mind, it didn’t look like he had any intention of stopping.

“Yu Hui-ro, what are you—!”

He looked like someone who wanted to tear the monster in half. They hadn’t even located the monster core yet, but at this rate, wherever it was, it would be reduced to dust.

“….”

The other hunters stared blankly, unable to believe what they were witnessing. In this space, only Yu Hui-ro was moving.

Handling a bat the size of a house was one thing—but his method was so crude, so overwhelmingly powerful, that no one else could possibly imitate it.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but stop it!”

At this rate, even the dungeon itself might collapse. Ji-woo was practically sinking to the ground now. Slowly, it was Yu Hui-ro—not the bat—who began to terrify him.

“Hey—! …Huh?”

At that moment, Yu Hui-ro’s shadow vanished.

It hadn’t been easy to see to begin with, wrapped around the jet-black bat—but it had definitely been there. And now… it was gone.

The bat slumped to the ground. At the same time, the shadow reappeared.

Did I imagine it?

Ji-woo rubbed his eyes. The shadow was still there, binding the bat.

The bat twitched again—and Yu Hui-ro lifted it once more.

“f*ck, someone stop that bastard! Is he insane?!”

Someone shouted from behind. That single outburst ignited a chorus of curses and frantic cries.

“The dungeon’s going to collapse!”

“Do something already! Hey, you’re in the same guild, aren’t you?!”

There was no time to hesitate. Ji-woo ran toward Yu Hui-ro.

“Hui-ro, stop it!”

And at that very moment, the shadow flickered.

Thinking his eyes were playing tricks on him, Ji-woo narrowed them—but it flickered again.

The shadow blurred, then turned black once more.

“Hui-ro…?”

Trying to understand what was happening, Ji-woo cautiously called his name. And then Yu Hui-ro collapsed.

“…Hui-ro!”

Ji-woo sprinted forward, his breath catching in his throat.

He could feel the bat’s ragged breathing right in front of him—it wasn’t dead yet—but fear no longer touched him.

His mind went blank. His entire world narrowed until only Yu Hui-ro remained in view. Something had clearly gone wrong with his ability.

Ji-woo hurriedly applied buffs to him. And the instant the buff duration ended, Yu Hui-ro lost consciousness again.

Which meant that without Ji-woo’s buffs, he could no longer properly use his ability.

What the hell…?

That Yu Hui-ro—an S-rank hunter, no, someone who had solo-cleared an X-gate—had deteriorated to the point where he couldn’t fight without support was impossible to comprehend.

More shocking still was the fact that Hui-ro had never said a single word about it. This wasn’t something that could have happened overnight.

Ji-woo supported Hui-ro’s body, but his height and build were too much for him to handle alone. Straining and panting, he dragged him toward the wall and propped him up against it.

Aside from his pale complexion, he looked like someone sleeping peacefully. Emotion surged up Ji-woo’s chest, but he forced it down and let out a quiet breath.

He saw guild members rushing toward them from afar. Ji-woo wiped the cold sweat from Hui-ro’s face with his sleeve.

“What—what happened?”

Lee Won-jae asked, his face even paler than Hui-ro’s. His body trembled visibly.

“Why did he suddenly pass out?”

Son Ji-hwan also looked completely shaken. Chae Min-jeong frantically searched the air, then pulled out a palm-sized glass vial.

“At least take this…”

Ji-woo accepted the potion she handed him. It was a stamina recovery potion. It wouldn’t do much in this state, but it was better than doing nothing. He pulled the cork without hesitation.

He parted Hui-ro’s dry lips and carefully poured the potion in.

Chiiik, chiiiik!

At that moment, the monster Hui-ro had knocked out began to stir.

Letting out intermittent screeches, it rose to its feet, stretched its neck forward, and roared viciously.

Its voice was cracked and hoarse, even more unbearable than before. Staggering on its damaged body, it collapsed again—only to scream and rise once more.

How many times did it fall and stand back up? Eventually, it was nothing more than a shapeless wreck, lashing out weakly.

Where Hui-ro’s shadows had bound it, deep grooves were carved into its flesh, the marks unmistakable.

Thud.

Not long after, the monster finally died. Its body twitched in a last, feeble resistance—and then it was over.

In the end, Yu Hui-ro had killed it.

Son Ji-hwan ran toward the corpse to wrap up the dungeon. Other guilds glanced around, then belatedly rushed in as well, hoping to scavenge something.

Whoever found the monster core first would claim it—that seemed to be the rule. Their blades tore into the corpse without a shred of mercy.

Watching the scene, Ji-woo frowned, then turned to Lee Won-jae and Chae Min-jeong.

“Let’s leave first. Please help me support him.”

There was still one dungeon left, but they hadn’t come here to clear the entire gate. This was where they would stop.

The others seemed to agree and helped Ji-woo carry Hui-ro out.

“…Did he have some kind of chronic illness?”

After they finally got Hui-ro into the car, Min-jeong straightened her bent back and asked. Ji-woo handed her a bottle of water and shook his head.

“I’ve never heard anything like that…”

Then, suddenly, he realized something.

“…Come to think of it, I’ve never really heard anything at all.”

“Huh?”

“He’s never told me. Not even once.”

Even as he said it, bitterness filled his mouth.

“I-I’ll call an ambulance first.”

Lee Won-jae hurried off with his phone, while Ji-woo silently stared at Hui-ro with a heavy expression.

Wiiing, wiiing!

A few minutes later, an ambulance specialized for ability users arrived. The massive vehicle, with its intimidating, military-like appearance, looked less like an ambulance and more like a giant coffin.

“Where’s the patient?”

The armed paramedic flinched when he saw Hui-ro and immediately sent a transmission somewhere—likely reporting a top-level emergency.

In his current state, Yu Hui-ro was practically a ticking time bomb. Bitterly, Ji-woo could only watch as they restrained him.

Just like the bat earlier, Hui-ro was tightly bound to the bed. It was hard to tell whether they were treating a patient or a terrorist.

“….”

“Vice Guild Leader, please contact us as soon as the Guild Master wakes up.”

Min-jeong spoke with a worried face. Behind her stood Son Ji-hwan and Lee Won-jae—fear in one man’s eyes, regret in the other’s.

Ji-woo forced himself to nod, even managing a faint smile, and climbed into the ambulance with Hui-ro.

With a heavy clang, the metal doors shut. The bright light disappeared, replaced by dim blue illumination.

If his guess was right, Hui-ro was suffering from ability exhaustion—a condition that occurred when someone pushed their powers to the absolute limit, a precursor to a full rampage.

To prevent that rampage, the body forcibly shut itself down, plunging the user into a blackout.

Ji-woo had experienced it before.

Once, during a period when he obsessively ran gate after gate, he had collapsed into a blackout the moment he stepped into his apartment, remaining unconscious for three full days.

No one contacted him. No one came looking. He had been left alone for three days straight.

When he finally woke up and saw his own condition, he’d thought:

At this rate, I could die without anyone ever noticing.

Ji-woo summoned a soft cluster of light to illuminate Hui-ro’s face. Then, gently, he took Hui-ro’s hand.

Maybe it was just old memories surfacing—but he didn’t want Hui-ro to be alone.

“We’ll administer a sedative.”

Even without it, Hui-ro lay calm and silent, but the paramedic didn’t hesitate, injecting the needle into his arm.