As he stepped inside the gate, he was also thinking about the fused soul and also a memory about the story of Solo Leveling. The absurdity of it was so profound, he felt as if he had drunk three bottles of sake. Because he saw himself in it.
His entire reality, the life he had built, the future he had planned—all of it was a fictional narrative. He saw himself, the stoic Chief of Surveillance, as a supporting character, a minor detail in a grander tale. He saw President Go Gunhee, the immovable rock of the Hunter's Association, and other powerful S-Rank hunters as mere figures in a grand scheme.
The very foundation of his life was a plot point in a story he now knew the ending to, and the utter disbelief of it all was a weight he carried with every step.
The scent of damp earth and stale air, a familiar combination in any dungeon, pulled him back to the present. His internal musings were abruptly silenced by a low growl echoing from the cavern ahead.
The source of the sound was not in front of him, but slightly to the left, hidden behind a large rock formation. He could "feel" its presence, a faint, pulsing signature of crude, animalistic mana. It was the first creature of this new test.
He channeled his power into his eyes, and the world around him shifted. The natural darkness of the cave vanished, replaced by a monochrome landscape where everything was outlined by the flow of mana. The walls glowed with a faint, stable luminescence, while the air itself shimmered with the residual energy of the Gate.
Behind the rock, the monster's mana signature was now visible, a dull, reddish-brown aura that pulsed with primitive anger. He saw its mana core, a small, unstable orb of energy in its chest, and the faint, almost invisible lines of mana that flowed from it, feeding its muscles. He could not only see the creature; he could understand it.
With a newfound clarity, he identified the creature as a Brawler Orc. He saw three more behind it, their mana signatures just as simple and crude. The monsters, armed with rusty axes, charged at him with a guttural shriek.
To an ordinary A-Rank Hunter, this would be a simple fight. But to Jinchul, it was a precise experiment.
He moved with speed and efficiency, a stark contrast to how he had fought before. As the first Orc lunged, he sidestepped, his movements fluid and minimal. His right hand, coated in a subtle layer of mana, shot out and struck the Orc's chest, directly where he had seen the core. The force of the blow was not immense, but its precision was absolute. The Orc shuddered, a thin wisp of mana escaping its form as it dropped to the ground, its life force extinguished. It was a single, clean strike.
The remaining three Orcs hesitated for a fraction of a second, their primitive minds unable to comprehend how their comrade had fallen so easily.
That was all Jinchul needed. He activated his mana-infused sight, his vision momentarily sharpening to an impossible degree.
The world seemed to slow down, and he saw their mana signatures spike as they prepared for their next attack. He dodged the first axe with a slight tilt of his head, its mana signature a violent, chaotic line that barely missed his ear.
He stepped inside the second Orc's guard and delivered a similar, precise strike, this time to the back of its neck, a junction point of its mana flow. The creature fell, its life fizzling out.
The other two Orcs, one to his left and one from behind, lunged at the same time. Jinchul's new senses told him their movements were uncoordinated, a chaotic blur of brute force. He sidestepped the one on his left, his body a blur of motion, and delivered a swift, concussive blow to the back of its knee. The Orc crumpled, its mana flow cut off.
The Orc behind him, with a grunt of frustration, swung its axe wildly. Jinchul used the momentum of his previous move to spin, his left arm coming up to parry the axe's handle, his right hand delivering a precise strike to the creature's exposed mana core. The last Orc, trembling with fear, dropped its axe and tried to flee. Jinchul didn't pursue it.
He simply extended his hand, and for the first time, consciously channeled his mana outward. He didn't know what to expect. There was no flashy display of power, no elemental surge. It was a subtle, invisible wave of force, a shock that hit the Orc's mana signature and caused it to convulse. The creature fell to its knees, its eyes rolling back in its head. It wasn't dead, but its body had been rendered completely powerless.
Jinchul stood in the center of the quiet chamber, his breaths even, his heart steady. The test was a success. He could see their weaknesses, and he could exploit them with a terrifying, absolute precision. It wasn't brute force; it was control.
He knelt down next to the motionless Orc, its mana signature now a faint, pathetic glow. He had the power to not only take a life but to disable it completely.
The silence was broken by a new sound, a deep, rhythmic thudding that shook the very ground. The mana signature was immense, a towering presence of raw, untamed power that was far beyond the simple Orcs. It was a mana that spoke of brute strength and a primitive kind of magic.
And as he looked toward the source, a massive figure with tusks and a club emerged from the darkness, its mana signature a vibrant, hungry red. He immediately identified the creature as a Brawler Orc Chieftain, a boss-class monster known for its devastating physical power and surprisingly potent magic. This was the real test.
The Chieftain roared, a sound that rattled the bones of the fallen Orcs. It slammed its club into the ground, a shockwave of mana radiating outward. Jinchul's mana-infused sight immediately picked up on the ripple.
He saw the path of the shockwave, a cone of destructive mana spreading toward him, and he instinctively sidestepped to avoid it. The mana flow in the Chieftain was a chaotic mess, a raging storm of power, but even within the chaos, Jinchul could see patterns. He could see how the mana flowed from the core, up through the spine, and into the massive muscles of its arms, empowering the club.
The Chieftain charged, its speed unnatural for its size. Jinchul didn't try to meet it head-on. That would be suicide. Instead, he used his mana sight to predict the Chieftain's movements, dodging left and right with minimal effort, each step perfectly timed.
The club swung past him with a deafening whistle, creating a vacuum. His focus narrowed. Every missed attack left a momentary gap in its mana flow. Jinchul saw a brief, faint line of mana connecting the Chieftain's left shoulder to its core. A weak point. As the Chieftain's club swung high for a downward strike, Jinchul moved. He channeled a precise amount of mana into his fist, creating a focused point of force, and delivered a quick, sharp jab directly at the weak point.
The Chieftain roared in pain, its mana signature flickering erratically. Its left arm, the one holding the club, paralyzed.
Seizing the opportunity, Jinchul began his own offensive. He moved around the now-struggling monster, his every strike a masterpiece of precision. He targeted the key mana points—the back of its knees, the small of its back, the joints in its arms. With each strike, he didn't just cause physical damage; he disrupted the creature's mana flow, causing its powerful aura to dim. The once-unstoppable Chieftain was now slow, its attacks sluggish and predictable. Jinchul was systematically dismantling it, not with brute force, but with a terrifying, calculated control.
The Chieftain, in a final act of desperation, let out a piercing shriek. A burst of chaotic mana erupted from its core, but Jinchul was ready. He channeled his own mana into his body, creating a defensive barrier around his skin. The burst of raw energy felt like a physical hammer blow, but the barrier held. The Chieftain, having exhausted its last remaining energy, fell to its knees, its huge body trembling as its mana signature faded to a faint ember.
Jinchul stepped forward and placed his hand on the Chieftain's chest, directly on its mana core. He felt the dying flicker of mana within, a weak, pathetic shadow of its former glory. He gave a final, firm push, and the core shattered.
The Orc Chieftain collapsed, its body turning into a fine dust of mana. The dungeon went silent.
Jinchul knelt down, his chest rising and falling as he took a moment to recover. He wasn't physically exhausted, but the intense focus required to see and manipulate mana had drained him mentally.
It was a new kind of fatigue, a profound weariness of the mind. He felt his hands trembling. He had gone from a man who could fight with his fists to a man who could see the very essence of mana and manipulate it. It wasn't just a reawakening; it was something else.
He had hidden the true nature of his power from Go Gunhee. He had told him it was a "reawakening," a gift of enhanced senses and mana control. But he was more than that, a bridge, an echo, a reflection of a different world.
A world he only knew through a handful of memories and a story about a weak hunter who became the world's strongest. A story he knew from another memory now was not just fiction, but prophecy.
He thought of Sung Jinwoo, the protagonist of the story. The hunter who was supposed to be the anomaly. The one with a System that allowed him to level up. Was Jinwoo also a transcendent being? Did he also have a fragment of a soul, a memory of a different world that guided his actions? The thought sent a jolt of both fear and awe through him.
He was the surveillance chief, the man who was meant to watch out for anomalies. But in a twist of fate, he had become the biggest anomaly of all.
His test was complete. He had proven his abilities. Now, a new chapter of his life, a chapter that was never meant to be written, was about to begin.