* * *

“For that reason, please understand if I sometimes slip into informal speech with you, Kang Yigeon.

It’s an old habit from when I used to be your superior. Even though it’s been a long time, it still sticks.”

“…”

“And don’t worry, I have no delusions about reclaiming my old position. All I want is to clear the Level-6 dungeon that will appear three years from now. That’s it.”

Seohwa, his hair freshly dried, swept back his loose bangs with a black hair tie.

Rising from his seat, he shrugged off his robe.

As his bare skin came into view, Kang Yigeon instinctively averted his gaze.

Even he didn’t fully understand why he had looked away.

It wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to seeing people unclothed.

“It fits perfectly. I knew I could trust your judgment, Kang Yigeon.”

Meanwhile, Seohwa had changed into the clothes provided by the operations unit.

Adjusting his appearance in the mirror, he threw a jacket over his shirt.

“But next time, no leather jackets—just give me a baggy jumper instead. And I’d prefer comfortable clothes like sweatshirts or hoodies. In the last timeline, I dressed sharply to try to regain people’s trust. It didn’t work at all. This time, I’m sticking to my usual style.”

“…”

“Set up my identity as Seohwa, not a fake name. I’ll need cash, a card, and a detached house with a small garden in a remote area. Naturally, it should have internet. I’ll also need a laptop, a phone, and all the other essentials—you know what I mean. As for a vehicle, anything will do, but make sure it has heated seats. Except for July and August, of course.”

Kang Yigeon furrowed his brows at the barrage of demands.

Seohwa chuckled and stepped closer.

The diminishing space between them made Kang Yigeon tense up, his fists clenching.

It was an instinctive rejection—a primal unwillingness to be near this ominous, dangerous being.

He contemplated summoning his flaming sword to sever the approaching legs.

He even drew a mental line, deciding that if Seohwa crossed it, he would act immediately.

Seohwa stopped just short of that invisible boundary, as if he could sense it.

“This is the list of awakened individuals we absolutely must recruit.”

Seohwa handed over a tablet PC.

The screen displayed a list of twelve names along with brief personal details.

Among them were some familiar, predictable names—high-ranking hunters anyone would include if a Level-6 dungeon ever appeared.

Nine of them were elite hunters, including Simjin, the Danbaek guild leader.

The remaining three were unfamiliar to Kang Yigeon.

As a former intelligence unit hunter, it was no surprise he didn’t recognize them.

• Kim Tuyeon (Awakening: May 9th, Initial Grade: C, Ice Manipulation)
• Dam Yunjin (Awakening: June 12th, Initial Grade: B, Detection Abilities)
• Katie Roma (Awakening: July 19th, Initial Grade: C, Summoning)

Today’s date was April 13th.

It was impossible to know the names of those who hadn’t awakened yet.

“For now, this is enough. The others won’t awaken for a while, so we’ll stick with these. I’ll need some time to prepare for training as well. Let’s hold the first gathering three months from now, after Katie awakens.”

Kang Yigeon sent the list to his superior.

“When you say initial, do you mean their grades will rise later?”
“Yes. In the timelines I came from, Tuyeon reached S-grade, and Katie rose to A-grade. With proper training, both can reach S-grade. I also plan to elevate Yunjin to A-grade.”

“You’re aiming to maximize the potential of the awakened hunters.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s your estimated team size for the expedition?”

“The first attempt had 130 members. The second had 106 and failed. This time, I’ll take only 50.”

Kang Yigeon looked up from the tablet.

The number was even smaller despite previous failures.

“We’ll go with a small, elite team of only A-grade and S-grade hunters.”

“…”

“The Level-6 dungeon isn’t that vast. If the space were larger, a bigger team would work, but the confined space causes people to get in each other’s way. It also strains personal boundaries, making everyone irritable.”

“…”

“On top of that, everyone’s abilities are different. Combat is one field where sheer talent can’t always be overcome, no matter how much effort you put in. Hunters with lower levels only become a burden. I’ve seen countless cases where elite hunters couldn’t even focus on fighting monsters because they were too busy protecting weaker teammates.”

“…”
“To put it bluntly, lower-ranked hunters are just dead weight in such scenarios. That’s why this time, I’m taking only the truly talented.”

“And who decides who’s talented and who isn’t?”

Seohwa shrugged lightly.

“Who else? I do.”

Kang Yigeon’s amethyst eyes flared with anger.

A deep disdain filled his gaze.

“You have no right to judge the worth of someone else’s talent.”

Seohwa smiled faintly, as though expecting the comment.

“I know how much you hate words like limits or talent ceilings. You believe everything can be achieved through willpower and effort, don’t you? As someone who rose from F-grade to S-grade, it’s natural you’d think that way.”

Kang Yigeon awakened at the age of seventeen, initially graded F.

While awakening was enviable to non-awakened civilians, F-grade was an exception.

Among hunters, it was the lowest grade—barely better than a trained athlete.

Even with grueling effort, most F-grades maxed out at C-grade, with B-grade being unattainable.

That was the accepted truth.

But Kang Yigeon challenged that reality and the system that defined his limits.

Reaching C-grade quickly, he threw himself into high-level dungeons, took on hidden missions, and gained experience through sheer grit.

“Stop it, Yigeon. You can’t go beyond B-grade. The system doesn’t allow it.”

“C-grade is already an admirable level for a hunter. Stop chasing the impossible and let it go.”

Ignoring such advice, he persevered.

He eventually reached B-grade in three years.

From there, his growth accelerated—reaching S-grade in less than a year.

It was an unprecedented feat, garnering worldwide attention.

Lower-ranked hunters idolized him, seeing him as proof that improvement was possible.

But…

“I respect your relentless efforts, Mr. Kang Yigeon, and I deeply admire your determination to overcome limits. But let’s face reality—you’re the only one. It’s been five years, and no other F-rank has advanced beyond B-rank.”

This was the problem.

Kang Yigeon was the only one who had ever broken through his limits.

It would’ve been easier to accept if others had simply given up due to the difficulty, but there were still those who hadn’t given up and were tirelessly earning experience somewhere out there.

Yet, despite their efforts, no second success story emerged.

The world began to settle on the belief: “F-rank advancement caps at C-rank. The system has set it that way.”

“Was I the only one in the previous loop you experienced as well?”

“Regrettably, yes. I think you might have a unique hidden trait related to overcoming limits, aside from being a Mentalist and a Pyromancer. Perhaps even you aren’t aware of it, but it must be there.”

Seohwa, noticing Kang Yigeon’s frown, added in a soothing tone.

“I know it might seem like I’m belittling or looking down on lower-ranked Awakeners, but please don’t misunderstand. It’s for their protection. Taking more of them along would only lead to everyone dying. It’s nothing more than taking them to their deaths.”

“……”

“These aren’t just words to calm you down. They’re the truth, based on my experiences.”

During the second loop, Seohwa had led three times more people than in the first.

Everyone agreed the first failure was due to a lack of personnel.

The result?

The lower-ranked hunters were wiped out before they could even contribute, like seashells swept away by a wave.

Watching the massacre of lower-ranked hunters sapped the morale of the higher-ranked ones.

‘This can’t be how we succeed in this loop—with so many sacrifices. Let’s turn back time once more, and next time, succeed without any losses.’

It was a foreign hunter named Wolf who proposed this.

Even if he hadn’t, the outcome would have been the same—failure.

“Pack your things. We’re heading to the temporary lodging.”

“Does that mean you’ve accepted it?”

“……”

“I’ll take that as a yes. I won’t ask twice.”

Seohwa packed the notebook, laptop, and pen he had received in the interrogation room into a box, then stored the box in his inventory.

Kang Yigeon mentally noted how Seohwa turned a non-item object into an item by placing it in a box.

That had to be a skill since it wasn’t one of the ten natural abilities of a Mage.

* * *