LTTH C76

Chapter 76

While the front of the Korean Association building was drowning in screams—monster roars, human cries, chaos spreading like wildfire—the 13th floor of the same building sat eerily quiet. It was an area with restricted access, a place cut off from the world’s frenzy. Inside a spacious office, a man sat alone, expression vacant as he stared at the monitors before him.

Three displays surrounded him, each showing live CCTV footage of different regions outside their respective Association branches. Among them was the view of the one Hansol had stood before mere moments ago—occupying a larger screen than the rest.

“He should’ve died. Shame.”

[You’re probably the only one who wants to kill one of your own kind this badly.]

The unidentified voice carried a hint of amusement, utterly accustomed to the man’s chilling indifference toward human life—life treated as casually as pebbles kicked along a roadside. This clearly wasn’t their first conversation of this sort.

[Why are you so obsessed with him?]

Yet even so, the voice was laced with genuine confusion. The man’s every action, every plan, every cruelty—all of it revolved around that one person. An obsession bordering on madness.

“He took everything from me.”

[Then take it back.]

Even after hearing the answer, the voice sounded no less baffled. If something was stolen, one stole it back—that was the simplest logic. And the man, of all people, possessed more than enough power to do exactly that.

“That’s what I intend to do. I’ll take everything that belongs to him.”

[Fascinating. Truly fascinating.]

The voice brimmed with amusement, but the man merely closed his eyes instead of replying.

Perfectly groomed features, a sharply tailored suit. This man—Chae Dowon—was the one the Association had entrusted to secure the Messiah when Korea’s situation first spiraled into chaos. He closed his eyes, and memories from years ago surfaced unbidden, vivid as the day they happened.

He had been only fifteen.

His mother, his father, and himself—once a happy family—had crumbled the moment that child arrived. The moment the newcomer became part of the family, his parents’ love and attention flowed entirely toward the outsider. Fifteen—an age too young to live without affection, too young to accept being overlooked. He felt wronged. And even as he died alongside his parents on the day of the Great Catastrophe, that sense of injustice never eased.

His father’s final act had been to throw himself over that child. His mother’s final gesture had been to reach for that child’s hand instead of his.

His final memory—pinned beneath collapsing debris—was of the small child sobbing on the ruined ground.

Pitiful? Not at all.

Even in his dying moments, the emotion that consumed him was rage.

Even now, you take everything.

Before he could express that rage, darkness swallowed him, and his life ended.

If not for meeting… that thing.

He never saw the entity’s face. Only its voice, echoing from the void, had reached him. It had revived him—and demanded a price. A steep one. But he didn’t care. Life was worth any cost.

[If you stay connected to another dimension this long, your world truly will end.]

“That’s fine.”

[Even if every last one of you dies?]

Outside, the world burned. People fled; monsters flooded in endless waves across multiple regions. Hunters fought valiantly, but for every monster they felled, more crawled into this dimension. Their efforts were pointless.

“That’s exactly what I want.”

For everyone to die—that was Do-won’s sincerest wish. If enough monsters overran the country, no one—not even that child—would escape death.

[Well, I don’t mind. This world has no gods and very little cost for dimensional interference. Works great for me.]

The voice grew richer with delight, whispering greedily into the man’s ear.

[Once everything falls, I’ll do as I please.]

“Fine.”

The man answered without a flicker of hesitation. The voice shivered—this utter lack of emotion was uncanny, disturbing. Perhaps that coldness was part of why it had formed a contract with him. It leaned in, whispering again, probing.

[I’ll kill you too, you know.]

“I don’t care. As long as he dies.”

A blind conviction burned in his gaze—dangerous, unhinged. His face had drained of color long ago, deathly pale, but his eyes burned a deep, blood-red light.

[Humans really are entertaining creatures.]

Its attempt to provoke him failed miserably—yet it was not disappointed. Far from it.

[Some throw their lives away to save another…]

One of the monitors showed a hunter leaping to save a woman trapped beneath collapsing beams. He managed to push her free—but the building crushed him instead. Even a hunter’s reinforced body wouldn’t survive that.

Crackle.

Several screens flickered with static before turning black. Perhaps the cameras had collapsed with the buildings. Or perhaps the CCTV operators had simply died.

[And others throw away their lives to kill.]

Do-won’s expression remained blank, reflected faintly in the now-dark screens. The noises outside—screams, explosions, collapsing concrete—were fading little by little.

His lips curved, ever so slightly.

[Truly… nothing is more amusing than this.]

The situation in Korea spread worldwide faster than expected. It was early—far too early—but news headlines were already declaring Korea’s downfall. Media outlets grew frantic; foreign Associations mobilized.

The Korean Association, upon realizing this catastrophe was isolated solely to Korea, immediately sent calls for aid to the world. The responses varied. Some nations expressed willingness to assist. Others rejected the request coldly, calling it “not their problem.”

Yet despite each nation’s stance, there were those who understood the severity—and those who had witnessed the Messiah’s power with their own eyes. Those people boarded planes to Korea without hesitation.

Among them were Japanese hunters.

“You’re really going to go?”

“It’s the country right next to us. If Korea falls, we’re next.”

“Those damn monsters aren’t going to cross the ocean!”

The older guildmaster slammed his fist on the table, enraged by the younger hunter’s suicidal intention.

Japan’s government had ordered its hunters to stay put. Korea would fall soon—no point in wasting resources. A few had objected, but they were drowned out by the majority. Japan had no intention of sending its precious hunters, especially not to Korea. And that included the two standing before him now.

“Well, research on these monsters isn’t complete yet, is it? They could cross the ocean.”

“And what’s the point! It’s only you and Takamichi. What do you think two people can even accomplish!?”

These were the very same rankers summoned to the Berthel’s laboratory incident—the ones who had once died inside that strange hut. Yuki answered calmly.

“As you said yourself, it’s only two of us. You won’t miss us that much, will you?”

“……”

The older man choked. Yes, they were “just two”—but those two made up over half the guild’s combat power. They weren’t just two. That was precisely why he couldn’t stop them—neither by persuasion nor force. In the end, he gave a stiff, unwilling nod.

Unlike Japan, however, some countries were eager to help Korea. The United States was one of them—home of the hunter who stood at the Messiah’s side.

The American government and Association worked in perfect unison, gathering personnel to send to Korea. It helped that James had painted the Messiah in a favorable light—but beyond that…

“Korea may fall, but the Messiah won’t.”

“Exactly. So we need to get on his good side early.”

They were not fools.

They knew the Messiah wouldn’t die—not with the people guarding him. Even if Korea collapsed completely, they would evacuate him. For that reason, the U.S. kept their international teleportation array open at all times, preparing for the worst.

And so, hunters from across the world boarded flights to Korea, each carrying different motives. The total number was three times what the Korean Association had expected.

It had nothing to do with the Association.

Everything—every response, every mobilization, every volunteer—was because of the Messiah.