Against the Clock: The Team Leader’s Pursuit of Glory

"How did you feel about meeting Kang Mu-hyuk?"

"He wasn't much different from our intel. He's a very cunning negotiator. He doesn't reveal what he wants outright, but he makes his intentions clear. His thoughts are not easy to read, to say the least."

Kaylan Fisher, Gunpowder's general manager, reported the negotiations to Guild Master Dwight Hill, after giving a character assessment of Kang Mu-hyuk.

After hearing the report, Dwight drummed his fingers on the desk, lost in thought, before speaking.

"I don't like that Ithaca has been put at stake, but we have little choice. We'll just have to laugh it off. The real problem lies elsewhere."

"You mean San Diego?"

"They're just self-proclaimed rivals---They're simply jealous of the LA guilds. We can ignore them. What concerns me more is the East."

"The East. You mean...?"

"New York Rockets and Washington Dynamite."

Fisher frowned at the mention of these two guilds. These two guilds, with similar names and an obsession for making things explode, were the two major breeding players of the North American mount market for dragon horses, or Yongma.

Both were tier guilds with S-rank hunters that dominated the North American mount market, so they had immense influence. If it weren't for the Hunter's Law restricting regional expansion of larger guilds, they might have swallowed up the entire United States. Their greed made the West constantly wary of them.

"We've heard about Rider Wolf, so the eastern guilds will likely make their move soon."

"How dare they interfere in Western affairs? Even during the last chaos, they didn't even help--- they only got in our way."

Fisher's expression turned hostile, his clenched jaw as if he was looking at his parents' enemy. He hadn't been on good terms with the East, to begin with. But this time, there was even more of a reason to be angry.

It was due to the Red Gate Outbreak incident last spring. This disaster occurred when a greedy, mid-sized guild attempted to secretly conquer a downgraded Red Gate but couldn't handle it and fled. 

The opened Red Gate turned into a catastrophe. Thanks to early intervention by LA's top guilds, further disaster was averted, though the town where the gate was located was destroyed.

The state government suppressed media coverage, as it tried to contain the incident. Though the US gave a very high degree of freedom to the press, in gate matters, they were the most conservative ever. They were aware that exposing guild negligence could tarnish the heroic image of hunters who were crucial figures for national safety and justice.

Hunters were needed for the survival of the nation and the order of society, and to make Hunters fulfil their duty, they had to remain heroes forever. So, the incident was officially downgraded from a Red Gate to a Yellow Gate event.

The problem was the behaviour of the East at that time. Upon learning of the Red Gate breach, they realized this situation could take some time. They delayed support and instead, rushed to buy up hunter gear and supplies in California, creating a shortage. The Western guilds, focused on fighting monsters, had no time to respond to this predatory behaviour in time.

Although early suppression minimized the damage, if the Red Gate crisis had escalated, the East's actions could have crippled the West's guilds.

"When have Easterners ever sought permission to meddle? Harassment is practically their hobby. They're afraid of the West's potential. If we can mass-produce mounts, it's only a matter of time before we surpass them."

Dwight was confident they could compete with the Eastern Guilds. Despite lacking S-rank hunters, the West had far more frequent and larger gate occurrences. Though the risk was higher, it provided ample opportunities to amass wealth. With more hunting sessions, the mid-level hunters' skills were also superior to those in the East.

Resolving the mobility issue would allow the West to attack gates faster and more efficiently.

Statistics showed that guilds with mounts completed attacks up to five times faster than those without, so it was only natural for the Gunpowder Guild to bet everything they got on the Rider Wolf.

"We'll act quickly. Whether we have to grill Ithaca or collaborate with other guilds to put pressure on them, we'll get that Rider Wolf no matter what."

Fisher spoke with a solemn tone.

"Tell me what you need. I'll mobilize the guild's full resources to support you."

***

A prominent LA journalist once said: "If you want to see LA's dark side, go to Skid Row. But don't risk your life."

Skid Row, in downtown LA, housed one of the largest homeless populations in the United States. It accounted for nearly half of all crimes reported by the LAPD, highlighting the dire state of its security.

The city once attempted large-scale revitalization efforts, but displacing 10,000 homeless residents was hard. Public opposition, citing human rights issues, forced authorities to retreat even when they tried to exercise their authority.

Even secret attempts using hunters were thwarted by protests from Skid Row's hunter residents. These hunters, opposing forced evictions without alternatives, defended their homes--- even resorting to violence.

Of course, if they had simply thrown their weight behind it, they could have wiped out a hundred or so low-ranked Hunters in one go. But since they couldn't commit mass murder in the middle of LA, the downtown development plan was abandoned.

Skid Row, having survived both the Great War and countless other smaller battles, spent its nights serenaded by the sounds of police cars and ambulance sirens---a haunting lullaby.

In a closed warehouse hidden within a dark alley, two men---neither homeless nor part of any criminal organization--- were drinking.

"Hiccup... hiccup... Ugh. This Moonshine(illegal rum) tastes awful. No way this would sell."

"I don't have any rum for sale. We're gonna be drinking it all."

"So you're saying all of this "isn't" for sale?"

The man with a tired expression turned around to see a massive metal barrel and liquor bottles stacked high. The drunkard chuckled at his friend's surprise.

"Just kidding. How could we possibly drink all this? Of course, I made it because I'm gonna sell it. Plenty of folks out there love strong booze. They mix it with their own recipes, and get high."

"Must be hunters, I suppose. My god, look at the state of them. They're always chasing banned stuff. Tsk, tsk."

"Even if it's against the liquor laws, Hunters get away with anything."

"Fucking America. In the name of collecting gate disaster taxes, they're jacking up alcohol prices with all sorts of tax, and then the rich Hunters just drink Moonshine anyway."

"But hey, it's how we make a living, right?"

"True, but this stuff isn't for regular people."

"Aren't we regular people?"

"We're not exactly planning for long lives, are we? The present is the most important for us."

One of the men stood up, his face so flushed it looked like he might burst.

"Where are you going?"

"To drain the tank."

"Don't piss here! Go out to the back. This is still our business place, don't stink it up."

The man staggered to the rear of the illegal brewery warehouse, where a sewer hole sat. 

Until recently, it had been tightly sealed, but now the lid was gone---likely taken by someone scavenging for metal. He fumbled with his pants' zip and finally began relieving himself.

That's when he heard it: a sound carried by the wind from beneath the sewer. The air rising from below the ground was warm, almost like a spring breeze, though the stench was unbearable. It felt oddly comforting against the cool autumn night.

"I must be really drunk. Even the sewer smells like a heater now."

As he finished, he looked down to zip his pants.

"??"

A faint breathing sound came from the round sewer hole. At first, he thought it was just the wind, but the sound repeated several times at short intervals. He quickly realized it wasn't the wind at all. In that instant, his drunken haze cleared.

The unspoken rule of living downtown in the Monster Age came to mind: 'Never set foot near suspicious places.' Because the day you do, it'll be your last. It was like a lesson learned from everyday life in America, living with monsters.

"How could this be...?"

The man tried to back away subconsciously, leaving his jacket unzipped in his haste. Yet, while his mind was sharp, his body wouldn't cooperate. His staggering steps gave out perhaps because of how drunk he was, and he fell. He quickly understood that it wasn't just the alcohol causing his legs to fail him.

"Ugh... Argh...!."

Grasping at his neck, he felt something lodged there--- long and thick.

'A bat? A skewer?'@@novelbin@@

His hand followed the object outward from where it was lodged in his neck. At its end, he found a tuft of coarse, fluffy hair. He lowered his gaze since his neck couldn't look down. 

He saw it clearly: a large, furry ball and a metal rod at the end of it protruding from the sewer hole. Then, a strange wind whistled past his ears. At last, the entity from the sewer emerged fully. But the man couldn't see it.

His world had gone completely dark. Though he could still breathe, his body was paralyzed. Something dragged him away, limp and unconscious.

And just like that, Skid Row returned to its initial silence, like a rock thrown into the endlessly deep lake.

***

Kang Mu-hyuk recalled his conversation with Thomas from the day before.

"Hunter Thomas's mana-related trait... Is it some kind of schadenfreude?"

There was no other way to describe it. The ability to freely modify an acquired skill--- something gained through existing gate assignments--- was unprecedented, let alone an original skill that had been realized through training. Even more so, the ability to mimic a skill without even having learned it, simply by using a combination of mana, was beyond imagination.

'Seeing as he cut off the conversation at that, I suppose he's trying to raise his value.'

Thomas had suggested rescheduling their meeting, claiming he had an urgent assignment. But Kang Mu-hyuk didn't take it at face value.It didn't seem like Thomas was in the middle of a major mission. And no task could possibly outweigh the value of his own life.

'I have an idea as to why he felt the need to raise his worth.'

The reason was simple: the Ithaca Guild.

'The skill Ithaca invested in Hunter Thomas was valued at $770 million on the New York market just yesterday. That's about 900 billion won give the current exchange rate. They use it as a one-time strategic weapon, thanks to the trait allowing unrestricted use of magic. There's no way they'd let him go easily.'

Burning through 1 trillion won for research into mana poisoning when a cure for it wasn't guaranteed was daunting. For someone like Kang Mu-hyuk, even with his desperation to find a cure, under these conditions, he'd usually back down.

But once he realized the potential of Thomas's trait, the matter was no longer about Kang Mu-hyuk's personal struggles--- it had become a guild recruitment opportunity.

'That's what he was aiming for. That's why he mentioned his trait first. His so-called trust in me was just a formality. How amusing.'

However, Kang Mu-hyuk wasn't concerned about Thomas's manipulations. His interest lay elsewhere: Thomas's potential as a hunter.

'If we could cure his mana poisoning, what power would he be able to unleash?'

The mana poisoning treatment Kang Mu-hyuk's father had devised was effective if caught early. If left untreated, it became increasingly difficult to manage as time passed.

Kang Mu-hyuk had started treatment early but couldn't fully eradicate the condition. The human body simply couldn't withstand the strain, forcing his treatment to stop midway.

After several brushes with death, he only managed to achieve partial success. Now, he had to rely on the medicine made by his father to survive each day. Now, even that lifeline was slipping away as he developed a tolerance.

'But if it's a hunter... maybe he could endure the procedure until the end.'

There was only one course of action left.

"We have to get Hunter Thomas on our side. No matter what it takes."

Kang Mu-hyuk went to his room, opened his carrier, and took out a leather bag with a meaningful smile.