Your own family never truly understands when you choose to follow your own path. They only acknowledge it once you’ve succeeded. Otherwise, all you hear is: I told you so. It was obvious that wouldn’t work. Why didn’t you listen to me?

  I loved Yumi more than anything, but that was the last thing I wanted to hear from her. Not that she’d actually say it. She’d just think it—and stay silent. And somehow, that was even worse. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes...

  I had taken the tram close to the Everland theme park. The stop that would’ve dropped me off right in front of it was shut down, blocked because of the dungeon. They always set up a quarantine zone, just in case the monsters decided to expand their territory. No one really knew why they were here or what their true purpose was. But most people believed it was the beginning of the end.

  I slung my backpack over my shoulder. It held some food, a flashlight, few bandages, and an old hunting knife. I had already used a fair amount of the bandages to wrap the gash on my forehead. I’d tried washing the blood off my face in the school bathroom, but there was too much of it. I had just smeared it around, making it worse. My clothes were in no better condition: worn-out sneakers with my toes poking through the front, a pair of ripped jeans that were torn at the crotch, and a tattered shirt full of holes... all of it stained with my own blood.

  People on the tram had looked at me like I was filth. Like I was just some homeless guy from the slums. Not a Monster Hunter.

  But here, no one cared. The closer you got to a dungeon, the fewer people dared to wander the streets. The afternoon sun cut through the gaps between towering buildings, casting a golden light that made everything, concrete and asphalt alike, seem almost peaceful. But ahead, looming over the Everland Dungeon, darkness clung to the sky like a dome of pure malice.

  It had been five years since these strange anomalies started appearing across the world. The first one was discovered in the Arabian deserts in late 2025. God knows (or maybe the devil does) how long it had been sitting there before anyone found it. Then the reports kept coming. Abysses in Scandinavia, Greenland, Canada. Soon, they were everywhere. Shanghai, New York City, Toronto, Moscow, Seoul. Then rural areas. The jungle. The Amazon. Everywhere.

  And once that happened, humanity’s downfall began.

  Monsters poured from the cracks, hideous, nightmarish creatures straight out of hell, driven by only two instincts: chaos and corruption.

  The world had been changing ever since.

  Everyday problems became irrelevant.

  Crime rates skyrocketed.

  Governments had to add Deaths by Monsters to their official crime statistics.

  At the same time, new jobs were born: Monster Hunters, Paladins, people who made a living by fighting back.

  My parents, like my grandmother, had always told me I should become a doctor. Or a teacher. Those jobs still existed. Universities were well-protected. Hospitals and clinics were busier than ever.

  But my path was different.

  More than ever, today had made that clear.

  I knew exactly what I was meant to be.

  And so, on my seventeenth birthday, against my parents’ final wishes and against my grandmother’s hopes, I chose to walk the path of a cheap, low-life Monster Hunter.

  Sin-Joo was waiting at the abandoned tram stop. Behind him, the massive theme park loomed. The entrance gates, the towering drop tower, the wooden roller coaster stretching above the darkened trees at the park’s edge.

  I adjusted my crooked glasses. The left lens had cracked.

  "I’m so sorry," Sin-Joo said, stepping toward me.

  Something about his voice made me pause.

  He wasn’t even surprised by my black eye. Or the bloody bandage around my head. If it had been me in his place, the first thing I’d have asked was, Dude, what the hell happened to you?!

  And it wasn’t just that.

  There was something about the way he spoke... like he was apologizing for something much bigger than just missing our meeting.

  "Where were you?" I asked. "We were supposed to go over everything one last time before coming here together."

  "I know. My dad needed me at home. And…I forgot my gear."

  He patted the duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

  For the past week, ever since we got the confirmation that we’d be allowed to join a dungeon raid, we had spent every single day preparing for this moment.

  And now he was telling me… that he forgot his gear?

  I couldn’t shake the feeling that Sin-Joo had known what my tormentors were planning. That he had skipped our meeting because he was afraid. Afraid they’d do to him what they had done to me.

  I told him it was no big deal, that stuff like that happened sometimes. Then we walked in silence down the empty street. Even the traffic lights in the quarantine zone were turned off.

  It didn’t take long before we reached a military checkpoint, where a ROKA soldier stood guard. I pulled out my phone and opened the app to show him my permit.

  "You look like you’ve already fought in a few dungeons today," he said after checking the online document.

  "Sure feels like it," I replied.

  "Yeah? Too bad you don’t look like you won any of them."

  I didn’t say anything. Just stayed silent.

  "The permit checks out, but you two kids aren’t nineteen yet, are you? I’m gonna need to see your IDs."

  We handed him the scanned parental consent forms. And that’s when my heart started pounding.

  Because my parents were dead. Officially, at least. And Yumi would never have signed this.

  Sin-Joo and I had both forged our documents.

  "Alright, looks good," the soldier said, barely taking the time to verify them. "Now, I just need your signatures on the waiver. This confirms that neither your bodies nor any of your personal belongings will be recovered in the event of your death. Any valuables you carry into the dungeon will become the property of the state. Or of the demons lurking inside."

  Sin-Joo and I exchanged glances.

  At seventeen, death still felt so… abstract. Even though, on some of my darker days, I had already wished for it. But this? Being legally reminded of the possibility... it made it real. It made it tangible.

  Of course, we signed anyway.

  "Alright, good luck in there. Not that you’ll need much luck," the soldier said with a smirk.

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I don’t think anything’s gonna happen to you today. See for yourself. Your team’s already waiting. Oh, and by the way... thanks for doing your part to make this country safer."

  That sounded so damn good.

  Making the country safer.

  A thank you.

  And… respect.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  For the first time in my life, I was acknowledged. By a ROKA soldier, of all people.

  As we headed toward our group, we were already dreaming about the future. About the riches we’d earn. About starting our own guild. We imagined spending our days heroically slaying soul-eating demons, decapitating elite monsters, and selling their devil horns or fangs to merchants.

  We saw ourselves going head-to-head with the three major guilds that now controlled the world. They influenced global politics more than any government would ever admit.

  Soon, we’d be hunting the creatures that built dungeons in the shadows of our cities, spreading corruption like a disease.

  And hopefully, we’d never have to go to school again.

  There were too many monsters out there. Not enough hunters. So we would answer the call to adventure. Sin-Joo and I. Friends forever?

  Right in front of the Everland Dungeon, a modified pickup truck was parked. Massive off-road tires. A high-powered spotlight bar. A machine gun was mounted on the flatbed, and the truck’s sides bore the winged insignia of the Elysian Wardens—the biggest, most influential guild in the world. The greatest Paladins to ever emerge from the Abysses.

  We stopped in our tracks, unable to believe what we were seeing.

  "Who the hell in our group is with the Elysian Wardens?" I asked.

  Sin-Joo looked just as stunned as I was.

  "Apparently… that guy."

  I stepped to the side, and that’s when I saw what had been hidden behind a massive pillar.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  My heart pounded like a war drum as my eyes landed on the Paladin.

  He stood out from the group like a radiant diamond among pebbles. Noble, powerful, terrifying.

  I knew him from TV. From the countless magazines I had collected. From the internet. From Dungeon Now.

  His name was Ryn Valen.

  Standing at an imposing 6'3", he loomed over me like a giant. Broad shoulders, powerful build. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline. The Nexus coursed through him. His skin was pale but flawless, as if the sheer power inside him shielded him from age, from imperfection.

  The Nexus. The mysterious magical force that granted Paladins their strength, their abilities.

  Years ago, Ryn had been the disciple of Velric Valgarem, a name that, over the past five years, had become almost legendary.

  Velric had been one of the first Paladins to stand against the horrors of the Abysses. With shoulder-length snow-white hair and a weathered face that radiated both hardness and wisdom, he looked like a knight destined from birth to fight for the light. Velric Valgarem had been among the elite who entered the first G-Dungeon, The Cursed Maw of the Dead, a hellish place that had never let a single soul return.

  But Velric and his team had returned. Not only had they survived, they had triumphed. They cleared the dungeon, and their victory became part of history. Reports of the final battle spoke of a boss so monstrous it could have wiped out armies. And yet, Velric had slain it. There was that one photo... his snow-white hair drenched in the blood of hell itself. It had become a symbol of humanity’s unbreakable will. After that, he became an unshakable pillar of strength. A mentor. A teacher to the strongest Paladins, including Ryn Valen.

  But even legends aren’t infallible, are they?

  Ryn never spoke of his former mentor in public.

  Yet, I had once seen him in a live interview, and when someone mentioned Velric’s name… something had flickered across his face. Just for a moment.

  A darkness.

  Like rage. Like pain.

  Like something shattered deep inside him.

  And now, here he was. Standing before us. Silent. Unwavering.

  But something in his expression sent a chill through me.

  "Have you ever seen something so beautiful?" Sin-Joo whispered.

  "You mean Ryn Valen?"

  "Yeah. He’s breathtaking. Right?"

  "I’ve never seen anything more stunning in my life," I admitted.

  When the monsters emerged, so did mysterious new powers... gifts from an unknown force, granted only to those who survived contact with the Abyss. A power that let them fight the creatures and venture into the depths.

  We called them Paladins.

  Only about one percent of those who came into contact with an Abyss survived. The rest died, horribly. Ryn Valen was among that one percent. And ever since, he had served the Elysian Wardens. His golden plate armor shimmered, forged by the best smiths of the Wardens and reinforced with power crystals harvested from high-rank dungeons. The seal of the Elysian Wardens glowed on his breastplate. But something felt… off. Yeah, it was his main hand weapon. The Paladin carried a massive sword on his back, a weapon I had never seen him use before. During his last guild runs, he had wielded the epic mace Dawnbreaker, paired with the Sanctum of the Lifebringer as his off-hand talisman, stacked with attributes and passive effects that boosted mana regen and healing power. I pulled out my old smartphone, pretending to check my messages. But then I thought...why even pretend? In a world where people took photos of literal dog shit on the street just because it looked kinda unique, why should I feel bad about snapping a pic of a pro?

  Except I wasn’t taking a picture.

  I was scanning his weapon.

  Dungeon Now! spat out the following result:

  [Sword of Justice]

  Rarity: Epic

  Type: One-Handed Sword (Main Hand)

  Required Level: 50

  Attributes:

  +15 Strength

  +10 Vitality

  +12 Intellect

  Passive Effects:

  Holy Retribution: Each attack has a 10% chance to radiate divine energy, dealing bonus holy damage equal to 15% of Strength to enemies nearby

  Judgment's Edge: Critical strikes cleanse the wielder, removing one negative effect

  Divine Command: Restores 2% of max mana on a successful parry or block

  "A blade that does not thirst for blood, but for justice."

  Strange choice. I slid my old smartphone back into my pocket, frowning. Sin-Joo shrugged, mirroring my reaction. What the hell did we know, anyway? Ryn Valen could probably clear the entire dungeon barehanded.

  And then he noticed us. He didn’t walk toward us. He waited for us to come to him.

  And so, we did.

  I was trembling with excitement. My knees felt weak.

  There was no other way to put it... I felt pathetic in his presence.

  He radiated something beyond strength. Something beyond power. A presence. A knowledge. And we were stepping straight into it.

  "Sin-Joo and Takuya, huh?" His voice was deep, calm. "I’m—"

  "Ryn Valen," Sin-Joo blurted out.

  I had wanted to say the same thing. But I hadn’t dared to interrupt the Paladin.

  "These two," he gestured toward the others, "are Dae-Won, our melee expert and tank, and his wife, Hye-Rin."

  "Pleasure to meet you," Dae-Won said, standing a little straighter in the presence of the Paladin. "Though, allow me to correct you: Hye-Rin will be my wife this summer, once we’ve cleared enough dungeons to afford the wedding."

  I smiled at both of them, nodding.

  Dae-Won and Hye-Rin seemed grounded, bonded by love and a shared goal.

  I was happy for them.

  And for a moment, I envied them.

  I wished, deep down, that one day I could have something like that.

  To love someone.

  And to be loved in return.

  Compared to his partner, Dae-Won seemed a bit rough around the edges. As he soon told us, he worked as a nightclub bouncer in Seoul. He was built like a tank... thick arms sculpted by years of hard workouts. His brown eyes carried both warmth and an unshakable determination.

  Despite being the tank of our party, he wasn’t wearing heavy armor. Just a worn-out bulletproof vest, patched up from previous battles. But still... unlike us total noobs (Sin-Joo and I), he had actually been inside dungeons before.

  "Hye-Rin will be our ranged specialist and field medic," Ryn Valen explained. "And judging by your condition, Takuya, she might be useful before the raid even starts."

  "That’s what I was about to suggest," Hye-Rin said with a knowing smile.

  She was petite, barely 5'3", which even made me feel somewhat tall. Her dark brown hair was neatly tied into a high ponytail, practical and efficient. She wore a military uniform, and I figured that’s where her background lay.

  If she was a soldier, it would explain why she was armed with a K5 handgun, if I wasn’t mistaken. I sat cross-legged on the ground, letting her examine my injuries.

  "Oh wow, your bandages are soaked through," she muttered, frowning. "What did you even do to yourself? This needs stitches."

  "Or healing," Ryn Valen said, extending his right hand toward me.

  A glowing magic circle formed in front of his palm, intricate symbols twisting and rotating in both directions, their meanings a complete mystery to me.

  The light grew stronger.

  Then... I felt it.

  A warmth spreading across my forehead. Then heat. It was almost burning, but I didn’t dare move.

  Something was happening to my skin. I could feel it shifting, closing.

  The magic circle vanished, and as the Paladin lowered his hand, I hesitantly reached up to touch my forehead. Where the wound had been, there was now only smooth skin. It itched slightly, a fresh scar forming.

  Unbelievable.

  The dull pain in my ribs, the ache in my legs... every bruise and wound from my earlier beating was gone.

  I felt lighter. Stronger. A strange euphoria surged through me, an exhilarating rush I had never felt before.

  Had the Paladin given me a buff?

  Or was I just feeling the way a kid does when their biggest idol signs an autograph?

  A famous Paladin had just healed me.

  Unreal.

  "Having a healer of his caliber in our party makes me feel completely useless," Hye-Rin joked, her soft voice laced with amusement. "I’m just a simple ROKA field medic."

  "I think we all feel the same way, babe," Dae-Won chuckled, pressing a kiss to her hair.

  And for the first time, the tension lifted from all of us. After all, we had a Level 50 Paladin with us. And this was a dungeon of the easiest difficulty. The parties that had failed before us… they didn’t have this kind of luck. We, on the other hand, were guaranteed to clear it.

  Right?

  Yeah. We were all thinking the same thing. And it was comforting to know that. But it also brought back the question that had been nagging at me from the moment I first saw Ryn Valen.

  Why was someone like him... an elite Paladin... interested in such a low-level dungeon?

  He was massively overqualified.

  Then I thought about the four wiped parties before us. Maybe the South Korean government had misclassified the dungeon’s difficulty? Maybe the guild had pulled some strings and gotten a special clearance, so that Ryn Valen could step in.

  But we weren’t told anything about that.

  From our perspective, we were just a randomly assembled group who had signed up early enough and gotten lucky. Lucky enough to have a powerhouse leading us through the instance.

  We were safe, I thought.

  And somehow, Ryn Valen must have sensed the relief in our eyes.

  Or maybe he could read the emotions on our faces.

  Because all of a sudden, his expression darkened.

  His voice turned serious.

  "Do not underestimate the dangers of this A-Dungeon."

  "Now that we have you with us, we’re basically useless," I said, forcing a smile.

  His gaze drifted toward the entrance of the corrupted theme park, where darkness swirled like a storm cloud, seeping from the gaping void beyond.

  And then... he said something that unsettled me.

  Something strange.

  Something I quickly forgot, because finally, it was time to go in.

  "I’m certain that each of you will play an important role in this dungeon."