“…What happened with the Noah members?”

“Took you long enough to ask.”

His concern for those who had witnessed a battle between giant snakes—a sight that would rattle even the most enlightened monks—was late, to say the least.

The looks on their faces were a sight to behold.

When the gate was cleared and he held the now-human Geon-joo in his arms, the Noah members had simply stood there, dumbfounded, with no intention of questioning him further. They had just stared blankly as the shattered temple slowly repaired itself. Whether it was because they had caught a fleeting glimpse of a blond-haired Han Geon-joo in the Forgotten Temple, or because the snake fight had been so intense they were still bewitched, it was clear that the Noah members were not in their right minds.

At least Lee Jaehee was normal.

It had fallen to him and Jaehee to snap the others, whose eyes had gone vacant, back to their senses. It was a hellish task. He was already frantically busy caring for Han Geon-joo, who was burning up and groaning as if he were on his last breath the moment they entered the reward room. Having to look after five grown adults on top of that was pure torture. If it hadn’t been for Jaehee, he might have just left all five of them behind in that gate.

The Awakeners, who had acted like dazed fools as if in a trance even as they left the cleared gate, pushed through the crowd of reporters, and boarded the plane, only began to regain their senses one by one after the plane entered Korean airspace. The barrage of questions that followed was met with a single, consistent answer from Sa-yoon.

“I told them your transformation into a snake was a skill. A skill with severe aftereffects, so you can’t use it often.”

It wasn’t an empty claim. Even then, Han Geon-joo had been burning with a high fever, desperately clutching Sa-yoon’s collar. As he held the man, who looked to be on death’s door with his deathly pale face, no one thought to question his answer. Of course, more than a few were curious about what kind of skill it was, but Sa-yoon had left them to Jaehee.

He was under no obligation to answer, after all.

And so, he had kept his mouth shut, holed up in his room for fifteen days, and taken care of Han Geon-joo. His phone, which he had kept off, was probably now flooded with hundreds of calls and messages.

The thought made him glance at the phone lying neglected on the cold table, and a weary expression crossed his face.

The Association President has probably handled things, but I should check in soon.

The quick-witted Min-cheol, when warned at the Association after the gate clear to handle the aftermath properly, would have announced his and Han Geon-joo’s injuries along with the news of the clear. Having just cleared the first-ever SS-rank gate, no one would have questioned their injuries, and while everyone would have been understanding, it wouldn’t resolve all the questions about the SS-rank gate itself. It was obvious that the reporters, Min-cheol, and the Noah members were all eagerly awaiting the day he and Han Geon-joo would emerge from their seclusion.

As if aware of this, Han Geon-joo’s expression darkened, and he let out a preemptive groan about how exhausting things would be for a while. Sa-yoon, not disagreeing, confirmed that Geon-joo’s fever had completely broken and picked up his phone. It was time to face the backlog of work.

“How much should we tell them?”

“You already told the Noah members about the System and the war. I think it would be fine to tell them about the Demigod Body. It would make it easier to work together in the future.”

“True. They’re not the type to have loose lips, so telling them a reasonable amount might be better.”

They were the type who, if he mentioned the Demigod Body skill and hinted that they might be able to get a similar skill as a bonus if they stuck by him, would keep their mouths shut. And would they just keep quiet? They might even actively try to help him and Han Geon-joo. Hunters who had reached a certain level of mastery were only ever interested in getting stronger and more stimulating fights.

Looks like I ended up getting Min-cheol what he wanted after all.

The Association President had scheduled the Hong Kong gate to foster cooperation and unity among the Noah members. Seeing that what he had wanted, including the addition of Jaehee, had been more or less resolved, Sa-yoon smiled and checked his phone, which began to ring the moment he turned it on.

“Persistent bastards.”

They must have kept calling even when they got the notification that his phone was off, because it connected instantly. Sa-yoon, confirming Min-cheol’s name displayed prominently on the screen, cleared his throat and answered. The frantic voice on the other end was silenced by his simple request to prepare a spot for him in the Association’s conference room.

***

“So this is what they mean by ‘pleasure at the end of hardship.’”

Leaving the conference room, Sa-yoon hummed a tune as he fanned the six pledge forms in his hand. As expected, Min-cheol and the other Noah members, who had at first been flustered, angry, and demanding information, had quieted down the moment he laid a fraction of the information he possessed on the table.

Some had listened intently, while others had looked at him with suspicion, but with Jaehee vouching for him, the game was as good as over. In times like these, it was a relief that Jaehee had such a trustworthy face.

After that, as a continuation of their previous meeting, he had declared that anyone who wanted in had to sign a pledge. The prideful S-ranks, though they found his arrogant statement disagreeable, had signed the documents, pledging their lives should they leak any information. Thanks to that, Sa-yoon had completely secured the people who could be entrusted with Korea’s safety when he, Jaehee, and Han Geon-joo were called away for the eventual war. He could breathe a little easier, no longer having to worry that he wouldn’t be able to give the war his full attention.

“Now we just have to worry about the overseas guilds.”

“We can’t completely ignore the domestic front either. Now that an SS-rank gate has opened, we’ll have to run a few with them so they can adapt and become useful.”

The recent Forgotten Temple gate had been too tailored to him and Han Geon-joo—or more accurately, designed for Han Geon-joo to clear—so the other Noah members hadn’t been able to show much of their abilities. Therefore, his task until the Unity Games was to run a few more gates with them to accurately assess their current skills and push them beyond their limits.

“You’re planning to recruit from the overseas side during the Unity Games, right?”

“Probably.”

Sa-yoon answered Geon-joo’s question as he checked the latest news articles. He had delegated all authority regarding the press to the Association President, so he no longer needed to worry about interviews or articles about himself. He quickly scrolled past the infuriating headlines like, “A Korean is the top contributor in the first-ever SS-rank gate?” and soon found the information he was looking for.

‘Unity Games moved up due to the discovery of an SS-rank gate. To be held next Friday.’

He clicked on the article, and the exact date of the Unity Games and the public’s reaction to it were laid out. Sa-yoon checked the comments and let out a dry laugh.

“An SS-rank gate has opened, and all they can think about is ordering chicken and watching the Unity Games.”

When he was younger, he had imagined that if the world was ending, people would be trembling in fear, wandering the streets like madmen. But now, watching the world as it neared its end, that wasn’t necessarily the case. The people of the world, who had been terrified when gates first appeared, had now built up an immunity, a familiarity, and were leaving comments like, “An SS-rank gate? Are we all going to die now? Nah. Won’t the S-rank hunters take care of it? If they can’t, we’re all dead anyway lol.”

The general atmosphere of the world was probably not much different.

In the end, the ones whose feet were to the fire were the A-rank and higher hunters who had to face the high-level gates directly.

As Sa-yoon stared at his phone with a look of disdain, Geon-joo came over, rested his chin on his shoulder, and looked at the screen.

“I knew there was talk, but it’s been moved up really fast. Won’t you be busy?”

“I will be.”

To assess and improve the Noah members’ skills in the remaining week, he wouldn’t even have time to breathe.

“So think of today as your last vacation.”

The words were a warning to Geon-joo and a notice to the Noah members. And true to his word, the very next day, a program that was essentially a trip across the River Styx, disguised as a training camp, began at the Association. The time had come for what he called “24 hours of non-stop gate clearing, no sleep, no food.”

They had managed to hold on, more or less, through the light warm-up of clearing two S-rank gates and the quick clear of an S+-rank gate to check their fundamentals. They had even maintained enough composure to occasionally curse Sa-yoon as a crazy bastard, question his sanity, and chatter about how humanity would be shocked by the results if they just threw that monster into a research lab.

But the group, who had bonded over their common enemy, began to lose focus when Sa-yoon, upon receiving a report of an SS-rank gate, personally flew them to a location seven hours away, round trip.

An hour into the SS-rank gate clear, which had started without Sa-yoon, all of them had shaken hands with the Grim Reaper at least once. After three hours, they were crawling around like zombies, their faces haggard. After five hours, they had reached the point of raining curses down on Sa-yoon. Among them, Mi-jeong, who borrowed the power of evil spirits, even started a curse, which Yi-han had to stop by covering her mouth, but Sa-yoon did not relent. Amidst the hellish clear, only Geon-joo and Jaehee, who had experienced his unconventional gate clearing methods before, silently used their skills, fighting back the urge to vomit.

“We’re all going to die, you crazy bastard!”

How long had it been since they started? Yi-han, who had died and been revived from a single drop of blood about three times during the SS-rank gate clear and was now indistinguishable from a zombie, finally exploded. He dodged the potion bottle being forcefully shoved into his mouth and voiced his complaint, but it was no use in stopping the brutal clear. To the man who had even drawn his sword and charged at him, Sa-yoon responded with a kind smile.

“If you die from something like this, you should give up your S-rank title.”

“This is an SS-rank gate, you lunatic!”

“Oh, look. You opened your mouth so nicely.”

Ignoring all cries that were well worth a moment’s consideration, he shoved the potion bottle in. Yi-han gagged as the recovery potion hit the back of his throat. It was the same when Ho-cheol, Dong-ju, and Taeseok shouted.

“Just kill that thing instead! It’ll be faster than clearing the gate!”

“I agree.”

“For some reason, I feel like we could actually do it. Am I going crazy…?”

At one point, unable to bear the abuse-like schedule, Ho-cheol, Dong-ju, Yi-han, and Taeseok had even ganged up on Sa-yoon, but Sa-yoon had only been pleased that their joint attack finally had some sincerity to it. The outcome remained unchanged: he knocked the four of them down one by one and forced potions down their throats.

“…A bastard who’s going to hell.”

Mi-jeong, who knew Sa-yoon’s nature, swung her fan with a face that looked half-dead. Their eyes met, and when he asked if she wanted some too, a look of utter disgust was his reply. In that look, as if she were seeing some vile creature, Sa-yoon shrugged.

Well, that hurts.

This was all for their own good. Sa-yoon, thinking that they would surely come running to him with tears of gratitude once their skills improved, clapped his hands.

“Stop lying around and get back to clearing.”

The crazed screams that returned were, to Sa-yoon, the triumphant shouts of a future victory.