Three Days Later.
The neon lights of Seoul's red-light district flickered against the wet pavement. It was a place where legitimate Hunters rarely ventured—a breeding ground for illegal artifact trading and unsanctioned dungeons.
A black sedan parked in a shadowy alleyway, the engine purring softly.
"Young Master," Logan whispered, glancing at the rearview mirror with concern. "Are you sure this is the place? The intel I gathered says this warehouse is a front for a smuggling ring, but..."
"It's not just smuggling, Logan," Han-wool replied from the back seat. He was adjusting the straps of his leather armor, his movements calm and precise. He wore a black face mask and a hood pulled low to obscure his identity. "The mana signature leaking from this place... it smells like rotting flesh."
Han-wool opened the door. "Keep the engine running. This won't take long."
"Please be careful. If they are indeed the Cult..."
"Then they should be the ones worried."
Han-wool slammed the door and vanished into the darkness of the alley.
Inside the Warehouse.
The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the ozone smell of dark magic. In the center of the vast, empty space, a rift pulsed—not blue, but a sickly, bruised purple.
Around the rift, five figures in dark robes stood in a circle. They were chanting, their voices low and dissonant. In front of them, a bound Hobgoblin—captured from another dungeon—was writhing in pain.
"Oh, Great Black Sun," the leader of the group intoned, raising a jagged obsidian dagger. "Accept this offering. Corrupt this flesh."
He plunged the dagger into the Hobgoblin's chest.
SKREEEE!
The monster shrieked as black veins spread from the wound. Its green skin turned a necrotic grey, and its eyes rolled back, glowing with a pulsating purple light.
> [Monster Mutating...]
> [Hobgoblin -> Mutating Hobgoblin Warrior]
>
"It is working!" one of the cultists hissed excitedly. "The necrotic mana is taking root!"
"Focus!" the leader snapped. "We need to prepare the batch for Mount Chiri. The Master demands an army. For the plan."
Up in the rafters, crouching on a steel beam, Han-wool watched with cold, analytical eyes.
'So that's how they did it,' he thought. 'They aren't just waiting for the apocalypse. They are manufacturing it.'
He scanned the enemies below.
> [Cultist Leader (Mage Type)]
> [Rank: D+]
> [Cultist Grunt x4]
> [Rank: E]
>
The leader was the threat. A D+ Rank meant he had firepower comparable to, or even greater than, the Hobgoblin Han-wool had helped kill days ago. But humans were physically softer than monsters.
Han-wool gripped his Goblin Dagger.
'Five targets. One mutated monster. I currently have 5 out of the 12 steps of Shadow Step available due to my low proficiency.'
He stood up on the beam, balancing effortlessly.
'Time to interrupt the service.'
He dropped.
As he fell, the air rushing past his ears, he activated his skill.
"Shadow Step."
Vwoom.
His body dissolved into a streak of black smoke. He bypassed the floor entirely, hiding his presence completely as he merged with the long shadow cast by the Cultist Leader.
The cultists didn't even hear him land.
"Next offering!" the Leader commanded, turning around to grab a cage.
But as he turned, the shadow behind him rose up.
A hand materialized from the darkness, clamping over the Leader's mouth.
Slash.
The Goblin Dagger, coated in paralysis poison, drew a clean red line across the Leader's throat.
"Gkhh—!"
The Leader's eyes bulged. He tried to scream, but only a wet gurgle came out as the poison seized his vocal cords.
Han-wool didn't let him drop. He held the dying man upright, using him as a human shield.
"Who—?!" The grunt to the left spun around, noticing the strange movement.
Han-wool kicked the back of the Leader's knee, forcing the body to kneel, and threw a second dagger—a throwing knife he had bought earlier—straight into the grunt's eye.
Thwack.
The grunt dropped without a sound.
"Enemy!"
"It's a Hunter!"
The remaining three cultists panicked. Two drew swords, while the third began to chant a spell.
"Darkness... bind him!" the mage-cultist screamed, firing a bolt of black energy.
Han-wool grinned behind his mask.
'You're using darkness against me?'
He didn't dodge. He simply stood there.
The black bolt struck Han-wool's chest—or what appeared to be Han-wool.
Flicker.
The image of Han-wool rippled like water and vanished.
[Shadow Step: 2nd Step (Afterimage)]
The black bolt passed harmlessly through the illusion and struck the grunt standing directly behind where Han-wool had been.
"Argh!" The grunt screamed as the dark magic burned his chest.
"What?!" The mage-cultist stepped back in horror. "He... he didn't get hit by the spell?"
"My turn," a whisper came from the void.
[Shadow Step: 3rd Step]
Han-wool reappeared instantly behind the two injured swordsmen.
Slash. Slash.
He hamstrung them both before they could turn. They collapsed, screaming and clutching their legs.
The mage-cultist, the last one standing, scrambled backward, tripping over his own robes. "Stay back! Do you know who we are?! We are the chosen of the Black Sun!"
Han-wool walked toward him, the bloody dagger spinning in his hand. The Mutating Hobgoblin Warrior roared and tried to break its chains to attack, but Han-wool ignored it for the moment.
"I know who you are," Han-wool said, his voice distorted by the mask. "You're fertilizer."
He grabbed the cultist by the collar and slammed him against a wooden crate.
"Where is the main gathering?" Han-wool asked calmly.
"I... I'll never tell you! The Cult of the Black Sun will burn your soul!"
"Wrong answer."
Han-wool placed his hand on the cultist's chest.
'System. Skill: Steal.'
> [Conditions Met: Physical Contact + Fear.]
> [Target: Cultist (Low Rank)]
> [Stealing... 'Memory Fragment: Hideout Location'.]
>
The cultist's eyes rolled back into his head. He convulsed as his mind was ransacked.
Images flashed rapidly in Han-wool's mind.
A mountain pass.
An abandoned temple hidden in the fog.
A date: October 31st.
"Gaaah!" The cultist foamed at the mouth and went limp.
> [Steal Successful.]
>
Han-wool dropped the unconscious body. He turned to the mutated Hobgoblin, which had finally snapped its chains with a deafening screech.
The monster charged, rotting claws extended.
Han-wool didn't flinch. He looked at the creature's chest.
> [Virtual Point Detected.]
>
Thanks to his stats and experience, he could see the faint glow of the corrupted core pulsating beneath the rotting flesh.
He waited until the monster was inches away.
[Shadow Step: 4th Step]
He sidestepped the lunge, appearing directly beside the monster's exposed ribcage.
"Sleep."
He drove his hand—not the dagger, but his bare hand reinforced with mana—straight into the rotting flesh.
Squelch.
He grabbed the black core and ripped it out.
The Hobgoblin froze mid-roar, then crumbled into dust.
Han-wool stood amidst the carnage, holding the pulsing black stone. It was different from a normal monster core. It was tainted. Dangerous.
But to the Thief who had eaten the heart of a Lich King in his past life?
"It looks like a protein bar."
Crunch.
He bit into the corrupted core.
A surge of cold, violent energy exploded in his veins.
> [Ding!]
> [You have consumed a Corrupted Core.]
> [Necrotic Mana detected.]
> [Resistance Check... Passed.]
> [Skill «Shadow Step» has leveled up!]
> [Skill Obtained: «Shadow Step» (Lv. 2)]
> [Description: You can now use 7 steps out of the 12 steps. Cooldown reduced.]
>
Han-wool wiped his mouth, his eyes glowing with a terrifying red light.
He turned and walked toward the exit, stepping over the bodies without a second glance.
Outside, Logan was waiting. When Han-wool opened the door, the butler gasped.
The aura around the Young Master had changed. It was sharper. Darker.
"Young Master... did you find what you were looking for?"
Han-wool got into the car, glancing at the newly acquired memory in his brain.
"I found a date, Logan," Han-wool said, staring out at the city lights. "October 31st. That's when they plan to move the sacrifice."
He clenched his fist.
"We have two months to build an army. Drive."