Chapter Text
"What do you see there, at the end of the world?" Liu Zhigang murmurs, turning over a carved obsidian totem in his hand. He scans the horizon, looks as far as his eyes can see- but even his enhanced vision fails him.
Every dream he has, every vision that strike him stops dead right before the final blow. Right as the eight gates open up and swallow the skies. He feels his heartbeat hammering in his chest, feels every exhale leave a cloud of mist, feels his grip- sure and calloused- grow slippery with the sweat of his fear.
And then, he wakes up.
He frowns. It's not the mountain he's on that's upsetting him; at one of China's tallest peaks, there's no one up here to bother him. (There's no one who can reach all the way up here.) All that he sees, all that's around him, is nature. Undisturbed, pristine, and unsullied.
It's almost time, he knows. He feels it in his bones, the steady tick-tock of the apocalypse inching closer with every passing day. He knows it like he knows his own name, but even then, there's nothing he can do. He sees the past visions of himself in his dreams from the wings he wear on his back and the hand that once gripped a spear to a world where he never awakened and burned on his inherited lands, a world where he became a hunter-lonesome and alone, a world where he knows the love of his soulmate and-
In each and every single world, Liu Zhigang burned.
"Not this time," he whispers to the four winds. Not this time. But even his iron will sounds weak to him. What is the point in fighting against a play written in the fate of the worlds? He remembers the taste of the chalice, remembers himself tipping back the cup and unravelling fate... Only for the threads to find themselves again and paint the same picture, over and over.
Is there any use in trying? Dread and fatigue settle on him as two stones, one on each of his shoulders. He wears the weight of the world (on himself and six others. There's one more that he doesn't dare think about, one more who casts a shadow darker than all the light in the heavens.) They mobilized the world this time, pulling on the collective potential of humanity to save itself, but... would it be enough?
It never is, but at least the Liu Zhigang of ten years go today would appreciate him trying. It's one more thing to cross off on the world's most morbid to-do list.
"Do Hunters level up?" Sung Jin-Woo stares unblinkingly at the words on his screen, a tiny innocuous question with the potential to change his life forever.
His finger hovers on the enter button. He can't be tracked, that much he's sure about. His username is randomly generated, as is his password. His information on there is all fake, and this is the only post he's going to make on the world wide web's biggest Hunter Forum.
He doesn't want to resort to asking internet strangers, of all things to do, but he doesn't have a choice. Not if he wants to survive. (And survive he will, for Jin-Ah's sake if not his mother's. Maybe one day he will come to terms with the truth- that he's just prolonging his mother's suffering, just wasting his time and everyone else's time, but that day is not today.)
He can already feel his body changing day by day, old scars disappearing and muscles appearing where there were none before.
("Oppa, why did you take down the mirrors?" Jin-Ah asks one day, annoyed that she has to ask her brother to help her fix her ponytail. )
His finger presses down.
“Do Hunters level up?” Four words and a question catch Liu Zhigang’s attention amidst a sea of forum threads.
Could this be...? He wonders. The answer is yes- Hunters do level up, but they didn’t used to. In the first go around when Hunters existed, they didn’t level up. What they were born with is what they’ll die with (what they die from, in some cases). But as the years pass by and rewind and pass again, collective humanity remembers even if its individual components do not.
Hunters level. They just don’t know they do.
They call it something different, this go around. Skill change, class change, experience, sheer dumb luck. It’s all of those and none of it at the same time; the unifying factor all of these share is level. They simply level up.
For those who are in the know, who know intimately how the cogs of fate turn, they make use of this and level up faster (will they outrun their predetermined end? He’s so tired. But even if he tries to pour out the chalice- even if he turns his head and won’t open his mouth to drink- there will always be someone else who can and will take his place.
But for someone else to level up fast enough to pick up on it... He speed dials a number on his phone and taps the toe of his boot against his chair to the sound of his own heartbeat- come on...
“Yang?” He asks the moment the call goes through. “There’s something I need you to look into for me. Yes, it’s urgent. Actually urgent, you ass.”
Seven billion lives on the line and the guy asks if it’s urgent, Zhigang thinks with a roll of his eyes.
(Possibly. But something in his gut tell him that this is it. In the same way Regia’s death is the trumpet heralding Armageddon, the Greatest of them all is the knight that shows up at the eleventh hour, to save or damn them.)
The responses are as useless as he expects, Jin-Woo thinks, his face struggling to twist itself into a frown. It’s a hope against hope, and he thinks it speaks too much of his nature that he’s disappointed.
He scrolls past the trolls, the actually kind of ones who ask what he’s on and where they can get some, the ones that suggest a video game based on Hunters would be sick-
A helpful enthusiast (a Hunterist (?) who also happens to be a serial poster- judging by how many commas are in his total post count- links several academic papers studying the phenomenon (with conflicting results). He has left school long enough that his attention span doesn’t hold out beyond the introduction of the first paper, but at least it’s nice to know that he’s not the first person wondering.
Then, there’s one that strikes him as odd. A single line, from an old user with a pitiful number of posts.
“Who’s asking?”
What kind of question is that? Jin-Woo scoffs and closes his laptop. The forum will bury his thread before long (and with it his chances of- of being.... something less.)
“Sung Jin-Woo?” Zhigang picks a small ID photo out of the mess of papers on his desk. There’s a signature on his back- childish and awkward, the characters neat in a way that Zhigang’s isn’t. The file Yang pulls on him is pitifully thin, and the boy doesn’t look like much. Jailbait, maybe, with wide brown eyes and a scratch over his face. He might last three seconds in a dungeon somewhere.
“You’re asking me to dox a barely legal boy because...?” Yang asks , his judgement loud enough to carry across the table.
“It’s confidential,” he tries and looks serious. He feeds a touch of mana into his eyes; gold glazes his vision. He knows what he looks like; more than one person has called it impressive- (the ladies maybe a little something more.)
“That’s what you said the last five times you asked me to dox someone.”
“...”
“And you’re right. It was confidential until you decided to call me and tell me to make it not confidential. So, cough up. Why are you hanging a prison sentence over my head this time?”
“I’d bail you out,” he says to his best friend of fifteen years. And it’s not the first time he has “hung a prison sentence” over his best friend’s head. It’s practically what they’re friends for.
“You’d better. Or you’ll find out what else I can do besides dox people.”
“...”
“Zhigang.” There’s tone number three, the one that says he’s about this close from calling his sister. Or at least one of them.
Zhigang sighs and rolls his eyes, returning them to their usual ruby red. He leans back on his chair; it creaks with the effort to hold him upright.
“He asked if hunters level up.”
“Yes, I gathered that much from the link you sent me.”
“I level up.”
A pause- “Wait- you do?”
“Yes,” Zhigang says, hoping that he’s starting to get why it’s so urgent. “So do you for that matter of fact- and everyone else. What people call class change? Abilities? Skills? They’re what happens when you level. Why do you think these changes come about when they do?”
“Hm... fair,” Yang says with a shrug and pushes his glasses up; his usual eye smile is back- a point in favor of Zhigang’s prognosis.
“It happens slowly enough that even five-stars don’t notice,” Zhigang murmurs. “The only people who level up fast enough to notice are the ones who know they’ll level up. Me. Thomas. Goto-“
In other words, a Ruler- that, or a Monarch.
“You think this boy is a fragment?” Yang takes a second look at the photo on the table.
“‘I have a hunch,” Zhigang says, then adds- “I think so.”
“And we both know where your hunches land us.” In Shanghai. In Souzhou’s dungeon. Halfway buried in a cerberus’ chest cavity. Here- a seven star across from a five star, farther away from their home than they could ever have dreamed. A hero. A shadow in the dark. A name and a legacy larger than life.
At last, he gets up. “Well, at least you’re actually finding me for a good reason this time.”
“I have a good reason every time I find you,” Zhigang corrects.
Yang doesn’t bother, merely walking out of the conference room with a wave.
(He gets a WeChat pay request an hour later, and the number on there has Zhigang rolling his eyes. Of course he’d cuss him out even with numbers. Well, jokes on him for giving him a discount to make a point.)
There comes a day in everyone’s life when they question their own existence. What are they here for? Who did they used to be? Who will they become?
That question became the unifying factor for all of humanity on one fateful day- when the skies above central Wisconsin glowed with a purple portal, one ignored for three days in the wake of a new pandemic sweeping the world (how can a disease affect only the young and fit?).
But there was no ignoring the monsters that came forth in three days’ time.
Hunters, as the survivors of the pandemic came to be known, awakened with supernatural powers- walking Hollywood blockbusters, doing things movies could not even dream of. One gate opens the way for a thousand others. One Hunter calls forth a million more.
Humanity’s war for survival has begun.
Still, humanity thrives on inequality, sieving and stratifying even heroes and generals. Amongst a million stand six particular Hunters. Six who shine brighter than all others, six who rise where others fall. Six hunters who speak of fantastical stories, of angels and demons and Monarchs here to kill them all.
No one pays them any mind. The strong all have a couple screws loose, the rabble whisper to each other. That is, until Liu Zhigang declares the coming of Kamish exactly a year and a day before the fateful gate appears, until Thomas Andre and Chris Reid strong arm the American government into evacuating the whole West Coast, until Siddharth creates a mana shield that saves a hundred S-ranks.
Until Madame Norma Selner (the Prophet, the Cassandra of Delphi of their time) declare that they speak the words of God, that they are the last hope of humanity.
Only then do the masses sit up and listen.
But now, sitting across from the man who started it all, Woo Jin-Chul can’t help but stare in disbelief.
“What brings you here to Korea, Hunter Liu?” Chairman Go Gun-Hee, his mentor, his boss, practically his father, asks calmly. He crosses his fingers, placid and smiling as if greeting an old friend. Have they met? Jin-Chul can’t be sure.
“There’s something I’d like to look into,” Liu Zhigang replies, his frown almost etched into this face.
“And that is?” Chairman Go prods.
Liu Zhigang’s gaze flickers up, crimson eyes catching warm brown ones, and he waits. The Chairman says nothing but the smile on his face stretches wider.
“Someone asked if hunters level up,” he says at last.
Do hunters level up? The famed Hero of China came all the way to South Korea for this ? Jin-Chul wants to laugh, wants to shake some sense into him and show him to the door. To bother the Chairman for such a preposterous question; he can already give him an answer- a resounding no.
“Someone in Korea?” The Chairman asks, uncharacteristically serious.
Liu Zhigang nods.
“I see...” he says, leaning back on his chair.
Jin-Chul raises an eyebrow. Doxing isn’t the most illegal thing a hunter has done. But for the Chairman to blatantly ignore it?
“I would like to stay in Korea and look for this person,” Liu Zhigang says, sliding over a stack of filled in paperwork with China’s bright red stamps bleeding through the back.
“Who did you bully this time to get the Association to agree?” Go Gun-Hee chuckles to himself and shuffles through the stack. While he’s not quite as familiar with the procedures as the Chairman is, Jin-Chul can see that it’s all in order.
“I did nothing of the sort,” Liu Zhigang says breezily with a wave of a hand.
The silence in the room echoes Jin-Chul’s disbelief.
“Of course, I'm sure," the Chairman says in the tone that means anything but. The smile on his face doesn't fade; in fact, Jin-Chul sees it widen, bright in a way that chases away the frown lines around his mouth.
"Did you at least tell them why you're here?" The Chairman asks and rifles through a mass of forms from the top left drawer in his desk. The one that keeps forms meant for his signature and his signature only. He withdraws a particular one- 402-B that has Jin-Chul staring. What-
Liu Zhigang shrugs, "They don't need to know the details. The only thing that matters is that I'm here for the good of humanity." It's better if he doesn't tell them- god knows what the Chinese Association would do with information like that. Start the third world war? Zhigang wouldn't put it above them. Best to just scare them a little, give them a pat on the head (smack, smack, kiss), and keep them guessing.
The Chairman shakes his head at that. "Well, you have my thanks," he says and signs his name with a flourish. He hands the form to Liu, who only takes a cursory glance at the title before filling in all the details. It's not the first time he has filled out this particular form.
"Chairman, I must insist-" Jin-Chul objects, the absurdity of the situation boiling over. "Even if we approve of this (which he doesn't- not really), there's no way the Chinese Association won't consider this an act of aggression-"
Liu Zhigang blinks at him, as if recognizing him from somewhere they've met before. "Hunter Woo Jin-Chul, is it?"
He's ninety-nine percent sure he didn't introduce himself. But he nods. It's rude to ignore a direct question.
Liu quirks a smile. It's not a very comforting one; he's seen snarls with less malice. "You leave the Chinese Association to me. I can promise you they won't be a problem."
He doesn't want to know who Liu Zhigang has by the neck to have this sort of influence over one the the world's biggest associations- if not the biggest one. But whatever it is, it doesn't mean that he can just have free reign over another county. Form 402-B- the one what inducts new hunters into the Korean Association and allows them access to their dungeons and guilds- Jin-Chul can count on one hand the number of times that has been granted to a foreigner.
"Jin-Chul," The Chairman steps in before he can object again (politely, of course). "It's fine. I trust that Hunter Liu will conduct himself responsibly during his stay. It's vital that he finds what he's looking for." The slightest hint of mana in those aged eyes is a warning in itself. Zhigang waves a hand- message well received. He's not here to cause trouble. He's not planning it anyways. (But trouble has its way of finding him- he's used to it.)
"Look, I'll clear your dungeons for free, and your Association can have all the mana crystals and monster bits. I'm not here for the money, fame, nor fortune. I've had enough of all that to last me at least five lifetimes," Zhigang says and snorts.
It's not funny in the least, Jin-Chul grumbles to himself. But he knows a losing battle when he sees one, so he steps up and signs his name on the dotted line that says "Witness". He hopes he's making the right decision, but there really isn't another option for him.
"It's not unusual for lower leveled Hunters to scour for work as independent contractors," Yang says, his voice modulated on electronic.
"He's ballsy, this little E-ranker," Zhigang snorts. He's well used to the guild system; guilds don't take on dead weight- anyone under C rank might as well not work as a hunter. That's not accounting for all the hunters who "mysteriously" disappear in dungeons... Most of whom don't have the backing of a guild to scare off scavengers and false rankers.
"He's desperate," Yang corrects. Zhigang hears Yang rustle through a stack of papers- presumably Sung Jin-Woo's bills and account statements.
"Most low-ranking Hunters are." It's nothing new.
"Still, this website is as shady as shady gets- it doesn't even ask for your proper identification as a Hunter," Yang snorts. Zhigang can see him shaking his head and tsking, like he always did even as a precocious child.
That doesn't matter to him- it's not the most illegal thing he has done (not by far). "Just book me a spot on all the dungeons this guy goes on."
"You'll be so bored doing this- don't come back to me crying. You've always been terrible at babysitting my cousins."
"Your cousins aren't going to save the world, Yang," Zhigang says, his voice dry. "This is at least a little more important than babysitting." Even if it is what his self-imposed mission boils down to.
"Whatever- next time you do your own scheduling. I'm not your goddamn secretary."
"Just take it as your daily good deed. Service to humanity and good karma and all that. Sunshine and rainbows and whatever you dream of- I don't want to know," Zhigang says.
"Fuck you," Yang snorts. He's laughing on the inside, Zhigang knows. Hell, he's probably breaking out in hives at the very thought. "I'm not picking up your phone call if you come asking me for favors every twenty four hours."
"It's not a favor if I pay you."
"I don't work for you," he retorts and cuts the call.
"You could if you wanted to," Zhigang says to the dial tone. And he could- if there's anything but his pride getting in the way. It's the best way to ensure that he stays alive, Zhigang thinks. More than anything- more than whatever ridiculous sums of money or pride, he- he wants to keep his people alive. Zhigang sighs and checks the calendar on his phone: "three C-ranks a day? Damn this guy's industrious." What a chore.
"Hey- you there- show me your ID," Jin-Woo hears a brusque voice shout in his direction. He reaches into his pockets with a sigh and rolls his eyes. Still getting carded at the proverbal door- some things don't change no matter how he changes. Then, someone's shoulder blocks his view.
"Me, I presume?" An accented voice speaks up and raises a hand sheepishly. The stranger is tall, Jin-Woo assesses. Built like a solid brick wall with broad muscles, but without any armor on him (that he can see anyways)- a fighter then.
"Yeah, you. I ain't never seen you around these parts." Jin-Woo sneaks a glance. It's the guy who poured coffee on him one day.
"Ah, I just moved here not long ago and really need some cash," he shrugs. The grey hoodie on him is oversized, but even then Jin-Woo can see the outlines of his arms just where his shoulders taper.
"Well, Imma gonna need some identification," the raid leader says, squinting his beady eyes at the stranger. It's complete bullshit, Jin-Woo thinks. There's no stipulation that says identification must be shown. It's why he picked this raid to begin with. Not many places will let a hunter take on missions three ranks above his own.
"Sure, sure," the fighter says easily and steps forward to hand over his card.
"The fuck- if you're gonna fake an ID, at least do a better job at it," he sneers.
"No, no- it's not fake, I swear," the man holds up his hands. "Here," he says and pulls down his hood. From his angle, he can't quite see the full face, but that jaw line... It almost looks familiar? Jin-Woo gives himself a mental shake. Plenty of fighters "glow up" as they call it nowadays. Hell, he's probably going through his own version of it thanks to the System (it would be, if he could still call this skin his own.)
"You-" the raid leader does a double take and hands the card back shakily.
"I swear the picture's not fake- he's my idol you see. It's why I'm here actually. I ran out of plastic surgeries to get, and Korea has the best work in the world." Zhigang shrugs.
The awkward silence that permeates the air almost made Jin-Woo choke with laughter. He sneaks a glance at the raid leader's face (those bulging beady eyes and his pink face) and hides a laugh that escapes. He coughs politely, and the stranger turns around.
He's handsome this guy. And he looks almost exactly like China's Hero, Liu Zhigang, if not for a couple of scattered moles near his eyes. He can see why the others did a double take, but he doesn't have time for that. He still has another dungeon scheduled today.
"If there's nothing else, perhaps we should go?" Jin-Woo asks.
"Yes, of course," the leader says, clearing his throat and hurrying to the gate.
"Thanks, my name's Yang," the stranger with the jawline says to him. "Let's have a good run," he says with a wink and shoulders his pack.
"You're welcome," he replies, a bit irked that that he has to work to match this guy's strides. "I'm Sung Jin-Woo. And you really didn't need to show your identification."
"Oh I know- that's why I booked this dungeon to begin with," he shrugged. "I'd like to avoid having the same conversation a thousand times. Even if it is funny." He tugs his hood up just as they step past the gate's entrance and into the dungeon. Jin-Woo can't see why he wants to limit his field of vision like that, but each to his own. Perhaps he really is self conscious of his looks.
"Me too," Jin-Woo says quietly though he doesn't offer up his own reasons (not corrective surgery anyways- he would never waste his money on something frivolous like that.)
"I booked just about every one that's like this," Yang says. "A man's gotta eat you know," he sighs. "And my options are limited." He dodges a hellhound's claws and punches it squarely in the chest; the hound chokes on a fractured breath and stays slumped on the ground.
Jin-Woo makes a pitying noise and sticks close to the man. Questionable tendencies aside, clearly he knows what he's doing. And he can understand- Korea isn't exactly the friendliest place to foreigners, let alone foreign hunters without his guild.
"Look out!" Jin-Woo shouts as he spies a camouflaged moth detach itself from the wall. "Three o'clock on your left!"
"Thanks!" Yang says and flashes him a smile. Focus, Jin-Woo tells himself.
"Hey, here's your coffee," Jin-Woo says with a small smile. He tosses the vending machine coffee at him.
"Thanks!" Yang says. "Here- keep the change. I don't like having coins on me." He wrinkles his nose at the thought.
He's such a child, Jin-Woo thinks with a shake of his head. Nonetheless, free money is free money. He's not in a position to urn it down. He didn't expect the Chinese man to turn into a regular presence in his life- for all he's still trying to get the funds from those surgeries of his.
He asked once why he doesn't just go on higher ranking dungeons.
"Are you kidding me? I don't dare," he laughs the question off. Maybe he's like Jul-Hee? Some hunters are just more comfortable with lower ranked dungeons...
"What's the dungeon today?" he asks.
"A strike raid short on three people," Jin-Woo frowns. There's something about this that rubs him wrong. He's never one to ignore his own instincts, but there's no way he can back out of it now without having to pay a fine.
"There's something off," the man says, tossing his bottle of coffee up in the air and catching it.
Jin-Woo nods, glad that he's not the only one getting a bad feeling from this.
"Who's the kid?" he snorts and points to the teenager in bright copper armor. "It's nice to have a walking mirror with me in the dungeons."
Jin-Woo snorts. "Never seen him, but he's asking for trouble like this."
"Yeah, those guys look like they want to rob him blind. Is this his first dungeon? Jeez," he rubs his head.
"It's not my business," Jin-Woo says succinctly. But he does spare a glance for the kid; he's too used to looking after Jin-Ah to just ignore a kid her age.
Zhigang shrugs. "I'd prefer not having any blood on my hands if I can help it."
"Says the one fighting with his bare fists," Jin-Woo rebuts.
"Hey, monster blood doesn't count. It's... Practically ketchup."
Jin-Woo makes a face at that; he doesn't want to know what goes through that guy's brain sometimes, but at least he's glad that he's not walking into that dungeon alone.