tactics were useless; brute force was his only option.
Al Ajira nimbly evaded the attack, creating distance between them. He chuckled, a dry, rasping sound.
Back and forth they danced, a deadly game of cat and mouse, forever separated by an unbridgeable gap.
“You lack respect for your elders.”
“And you, it seems, have little regard for human life.”
Finn lunged again, his staff whistling through the air.
Age and infirmity were liabilities on the battlefield, even for hunters. Their abilities were fundamentally different.
Al Ajira had dedicated himself to a single, specialized skill, while Finn’s abilities were far more versatile, equally adept in close-quarters combat.
The distance between them closed. Al Ajira raised his staff, channeling his mana.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. But do you truly believe such crude tactics will prevail?”
A grotesque tumor erupted from his leg.
Finn, without hesitation, sliced it off, gritting his teeth against the pain.
It was a necessary sacrifice, but each act of self-mutilation chipped away at his resolve. His body could endure, but his mind…
It was a tragedy that such a skilled healer, someone with the potential to revolutionize medicine, had chosen the path of terrorism. If Al Ajira had been even slightly more benevolent, he could have eradicated disease, rewritten history.
But such musings were a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Al Ajira had made his choice, and Finn had only one course of action.
“I won’t grant you a quick death.”
“Heh. Such bold words from a UN lapdog.”
Finn pressed forward, his staff a whirlwind of motion.
Hives erupted across his skin, tumors pulsed and grew, but he didn’t falter.
He severed his own arm to alter his trajectory, sacrificing a leg for leverage, gouging out his eyes to illuminate the path forward. A path of pain, of sacrifice, a path only he could walk.
Each loss brought him closer to his goal, a strategy beyond comprehension for ordinary humans. But for Finn, this was… familiar.
Just a few years ago, he’d been on death’s door, ravaged by magic hypersensitivity. This was nothing new. He’d endured worse.
Pain was merely a sensation, not an obstacle.
“Why prolong the inevitable? Surely, you’ve realized by now that you cannot defeat me.”
Al Ajira’s words were accurate. Finn was a bloody mess, his gear tattered, his gray hair matted with crimson.
“Who said anything about ending this?”
He laughed, a defiant, bloodshot glare fixed on Al Ajira.
He tried to hide his trembling legs, but the effort was futile.
Al Ajira shrugged, a dismissive gesture.
“I’d enjoy prolonging this… game, but I’m afraid I have other… engagements. This ends now.”
He raised his staff, aiming for Finn’s head. A brain tumor, a death sentence even for a skilled healer.
“No one has ever survived this attack.”
Finn knelt, his jaw clenched so tight his molars cracked.
He couldn’t fall here.
Al Ajira had boasted of defeating both Wools and McCain. While his guildmates were achieving victory, he couldn’t afford to fail.
He had to live up to their expectations, to prove himself worthy.
To defeat Al Ajira, he needed overwhelming healing power.
Power enough to cleanse this corrupted, twisted malice.
All other thoughts vanished, his mana surging uncontrollably. With a desperate, almost primal focus, he wrestled it into submission.
This wasn’t the time to die. This was the time to transcend death itself.
His desire, his resolve, crystalized into something… more.
[New Ability Acquired]
[God’s Gentle Hand (SS) NEW]
A pair of brilliant white wings unfurled behind him, their feathers settling on the ground, dispelling the lingering corruption.
The grotesque mounds of flesh and bone began to recede, as if time itself were rewinding. The scattered remains of the other hunters reformed, their bodies restored, their eyes blinking open in confusion.
“Reversal…? Such an ability… impossible…”
Al Ajira, witnessing the impossible, recoiled, his hand instinctively reaching for his staff. But his Flower of Mutation withered and died.
“It’s futile. This area is under my control now.”
Finn slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He pinned the old man beneath his foot, raising his staff like a executioner’s axe.
“Al Ajira, you’re a textbook healer, all your points allocated to mana. Unfortunately for you, that leaves you vulnerable in… other areas.”
Without his abilities, Al Ajira was just a frail, bitter old man.
“Don’t look at me like that. It won’t change anything.”
THUD!
He brought the staff down with bone-crushing force, shattering Al Ajira’s ribs.
A fatal blow for most, but Al Ajira was a skilled healer. As long as he clung to life, he could recover.
But even if Al Ajira desired it, Finn wouldn’t allow it. He would heal him, only to break him again, a cycle of pain and despair.
“I warned you. I won’t grant you a quick death.”
Al Ajira’s hand trembled as he reached for his fallen staff.
It wasn’t simply the sting of defeat, a sensation long forgotten. It was the chilling realization that this was his first, and final, defeat.
Han Taemin and Shino raced towards the designated rendezvous point, a small village near Damascus. It was strategically located, offering both a vantage point to observe enemy movements and a staging ground for a counterattack.
But its proximity to the capital also made it inherently dangerous.
Shino, gazing at the endless expanse of desert, spoke.
“Wouldn’t it have been more efficient to… parachute in?”
“A valid point. However…”
Han Taemin pointed towards the clear blue sky. A flock of birds flew overhead, a seemingly innocuous sight.
“Observe.”
“Migratory birds?” Shino tilted her head, puzzled.
Suddenly, a brilliant beam of energy lanced through the sky, incinerating the entire flock in an instant. Not a single feather remained.
The sheer power of the attack was… terrifying.
Shino, finally understanding Han Taemin’s point, looked at him with wide eyes.
“…What… what was that?”
“A creature called Palam, I believe. Though the UN’s intel is… limited.”
“A creature? But creatures don’t just…”
“It’s dead. Controlled by Aziz.”
“Oh…”
Even in death, there was no escaping Aziz’s grasp.
The Corpse Magician, a fitting title for one who commanded armies of the dead, who exploited even the most monstrous of creatures.
“There’s no telling how many more… creatures Aziz controls, but they are all our enemies.”
“There could be… more of those? So that’s why you said my brother might fail…”
“It’s alright. We have six SSS-Class hunters for a reason.”
Shino nodded, her expression easing slightly. She urged her mount forward. There was no time for idle chatter.
As they approached Damascus, they saw a monstrous figure battling Palam.
“Has the battle already begun?” Shino asked, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Most likely. I doubt that creature would be roaming freely otherwise.”
Han Taemin studied the creature battling Palam.
Massive horns, a ferocious visage, a thick, powerful tail, and leathery wings. Despite the difference in size, it was a familiar sight.
‘A Balrog.’
One of the summoned creatures Modern had shown him. This meant Modern was nearby.
They’d planned to meet at the designated rendezvous point, but with the battle already underway, they needed to change their plans.
Shino, sensing his thoughts, gripped her greatsword.
“We need to enter the city.”
“…Not yet. The fighting hasn’t escalated. That’s just a distraction. Don’t waste your energy.”
A new voice startled them. They turned to see a figure clad in a form-fitting combat suit, a transparent visor covering her face.
“Ka-Hunter Karina?”
“Always charging in headfirst, aren’t you? Trying to hog all the glory for yourself.”
Han Taemin shook his head at her playful grin, so out of place on this grim battlefield. The sight of her, however, eased his anxieties.
“Is everyone at the rendezvous point?”
“Yep. Fortunately, our side hasn’t seen much action. We arrived ahead of schedule. Let’s head over there.”
“…So, it wasn’t a surprise attack after all?”
“Modern’s creating a diversion. You said everyone was scattered, right? We need something to keep Mutlaq occupied.”
“Word travels fast.”
But that raised a question. Karina, having started at the northern border, shouldn’t know what transpired in the south.
Realization dawned on him.
“Is one of my guild members here?”
“Yep. Your… precious little prodigy has been quite busy. Even I was impressed.”
“Hee hee.”
Following Karina’s strange giggle, they arrived at the rendezvous point. A wave of relief washed over Han Taemin as he recognized the familiar faces of his guild members.
A small, unassuming house on the outskirts of Damascus. Hardly suitable for long-term accommodation, but appearances were deceiving.
The UN had converted it into a hidden base.
Beneath the house lay a vast underground bunker, capable of housing hundreds, a repurposed Syrian civil defense shelter.
As Han Taemin descended, all eyes turned towards him. He smiled broadly.
Gi Siwoo, Cha Yeri, Finn, Jin Baekji, and even Yoo Sora, who’d been stationed at the northern border.
All present and accounted for, and miraculously, unharmed.
Considering the chaos, their survival was a testament to their skill and resilience.
Pride swelled in his chest.
“Taemin!”
Cha Yeri was the first to reach him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. Gi Siwoo and Finn followed, then Jin Baekji and Yoo Sora, offering silent hugs of relief.
“Siwoo, it seems you’ve embraced your… potential.”
Not just internally, but externally as well.
A single horn protruded from his temple, a powerful tail swayed behind him. He was undeniably… different.
“I was nervous before, but now… it doesn’t feel so bad.”
Gi Siwoo stroked his chin, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“Don’t you think I look… a bit more impressive now?”