Ryu Family Apartment - 6:30 PM
The rice cooker's gentle hum filled the small kitchen as Natsumi watched his grandmother move with practiced efficiency. Her arthritic hands might shake when she thought no one was looking, but they remained steady when preparing meals—muscle memory overriding physical limitations.
"I'm so glad you're home safe," she said, ladling miso soup into two bowls with careful precision. "When the hospital called to say there had been an accident... I was so scared."
Her voice carried the tremor of someone who had spent three days imagining the worst possible outcomes.
"I'm okay, Grandma," Natsumi said softly, though the words felt inadequate. How could he explain that he was more than okay? That he'd been fundamentally transformed in ways she could never understand?
"I know, I know." She settled into her chair with the careful movements of someone whose bones remembered every winter of the past decade. "But losing your teammates... that must be so hard for you."
She reached across the small table and patted his hand, her touch gentle and warm.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Sometimes the heart needs time to heal before the mouth can find words."
The simple compassion in her voice made something twist painfully in Natsumi's chest. She was trying to comfort him, to help him process trauma she assumed he was carrying, completely unaware that he now possessed power that could level mountains.
They ate in comfortable silence, the weight of her simple presence settling around him like a warm blanket. She didn't press for details about the accident, didn't ask uncomfortable questions about how he'd survived when others hadn't. She simply shared the meal with quiet contentment, happy to have him home and safe.
But as they cleared the dishes, she caught his hand gently.
"I lit incense at the temple yesterday," she said quietly. "For your teammates. I know you probably didn't know them well, but... no one should die alone in the dark."
Natsumi's throat tightened. She had no way of knowing that he'd held Sooyeon's hand as she died, that he'd whispered comfort to people who'd never shown him kindness. But somehow, she understood that he would have cared anyway.
"Thank you, Grandma."
"We take care of each other, Natsumi-kun. That's what makes us human." She squeezed his hand with surprising strength. "I'm just grateful you came home to me."
The words should have been comforting. Instead, they made him acutely aware of how much he'd changed, how much responsibility now rested on his shoulders. She was looking at him with such pure relief and love, completely unaware that her ordinary grandson now carried the weight of protecting the entire world.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it made him acutely aware of how much he'd changed in just three days. How much more he would need to change in the days to come.
His phone buzzed against the kitchen counter—a message notification that cut through his philosophical spiral.
Unknown Number:We need to talk. Meet me at Banpo Park, bridge level 3, 10 PM. Come alone. —A friend who knows what you really are.
Natsumi stared at the message, his mind racing through possibilities. The Hunter Association wouldn't use anonymous texts—they had official channels for follow-up investigations. Criminals wouldn't know enough to make specific reference to his "real" nature.
Which meant someone else had figured out what happened in the dungeon.
Someone with enough knowledge to be dangerous and enough discretion to avoid official channels.
"Natsumi-kun?" His grandmother's voice carried a note of concern. "You look worried."
He forced his expression to neutralize, but kept the phone's screen turned away from her. "Just work stuff. Nothing important."
Another lie. Another small betrayal of the person who'd raised him, who'd sacrificed everything to keep him fed and housed and loved.
But some burdens were too heavy to share with civilians, no matter how much you trusted them.
"I need to go out for a while tonight," he said, helping her dry the last of the dishes. "Hunter Association business."
She nodded without pressing for details—another small mercy in a life that had suddenly become very complicated.
At 9:45 PM, Natsumi stepped into the Seoul night and began walking toward what might be his first real test as the new Guardian of the Abyss.
Banpo Park - 10:00 PM
The Han River reflected the city lights like scattered diamonds, beautiful and cold. At this hour, the park was nearly empty—just a few late joggers and the occasional couple seeking privacy among the shadows.
Bridge level 3 was a maintenance platform accessible only to city workers and people with enhanced physical capabilities. Natsumi reached it easily, his new strength making the climb feel effortless, but found no one waiting for him.
Just empty concrete and the distant hum of traffic passing overhead.
He was beginning to think the message had been a hoax when the shadows moved.
Not metaphorically. Literally. The darkness beneath the bridge gathered itself into a roughly humanoid shape, then solidified into a figure wearing expensive clothes and an expression of controlled amusement.
"Punctual. I appreciate that in a fellow professional."
The man looked to be in his thirties, with the kind of refined features that suggested good genetics and better grooming. But his eyes were wrong—too old, too knowing, carrying depths that didn't belong in any human face.
And the power radiating from him...
Natsumi's newly enhanced senses screamed warnings. This wasn't just another hunter. This was something that existed on an entirely different scale of threat assessment.
"You're not human," Natsumi said calmly, though his hand instinctively moved toward the shadows gathering around his fingers.
"How perceptive. Though technically, neither are you anymore." The entity smiled, revealing teeth that were just slightly too sharp. "The moment you accepted Kamzer's inheritance, you transcended mere humanity. Congratulations, by the way. I've been waiting centuries for someone worthy of the title."
"Waiting for..."
"Oh, I'm getting ahead of myself. How rude." The entity performed an elaborate bow that somehow managed to be both respectful and mocking. "I am Vex'ahlia, formerly of the Seventh Circle, currently operating under independent contractor status. Think of me as... a consultant."
The name triggered recognition from Kamzer's memories—fragments of encounters, battles fought across dimensional boundaries, negotiations conducted in languages that predated human civilization.
"You're a demon," Natsumi said.
"Such a limited term. I prefer 'interdimensional entity with entrepreneurial interests.'" Vex'ahlia straightened, his expression becoming more serious. "But yes, I am what your mythology would classify as demonic. The question is: what are you going to do about it?"
It was a test. Natsumi could feel the weight of evaluation behind the casual words. This entity was measuring his reactions, cataloging his capabilities, determining whether he posed a threat or represented an opportunity.
"That depends," Natsumi replied carefully. "Are you here to threaten Earth?"
"Threaten Earth? My dear boy, I've been protecting Earth for the past five hundred years."
The statement hit like a slap. "What?"
"Did you think the dimensional barriers maintained themselves? Did you imagine that Kamzer's imprisonment left your world unguarded?" Vex'ahlia began walking along the platform, his movements fluid as smoke. "When your predecessor fell, someone needed to pick up the slack. Temporarily, of course. Until a proper replacement could be found."
Natsumi's mind reeled. The inherited memories showed him centuries of Kamzer's battles, but they were incomplete—fragments of experience rather than comprehensive records. Entire decades were missing, gaps where the Guardian's attention had been focused on crises too urgent to document properly.
"You've been..." he started, then stopped, trying to process the implications.
"Holding the line. Maintaining minimum barrier integrity. Occasionally eliminating threats that your Hunter Association couldn't handle." Vex'ahlia paused at the platform's edge, looking out over the river. "It's been exhausting work, I must say. Thankless, too. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to secretly save a world that would try to destroy you if it knew you existed?"
The question carried undertones of genuine frustration. Whatever this entity was, whatever its motivations, it sounded tired in a way that reminded Natsumi uncomfortably of Kamzer's final memories.
"Why?" he asked. "Why would a demon protect Earth?"
"Because, young Guardian, I have investments here. Interests that require long-term stability. Contracts that become void if the entire planet gets devoured by cosmic horrors." Vex'ahlia turned to face him, his expression shifting to something that might have been respect. "Also because Kamzer saved my life once, and I pay my debts."
Another memory fragment surfaced—a battle against something vast and hungry, Kamzer standing back-to-back with a figure wreathed in shadows and flame. Allies born of necessity rather than trust, but allies nonetheless.
"He never mentioned you in the memories he passed down."
"Of course not. Knowledge of my involvement would have been... complicated. Your predecessor was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them. If he'd known I was planning to maintain his work, he would have felt obligated to object on principle."
Vex'ahlia moved closer, and Natsumi could smell something like ozone and burned copper—the scent of power barely contained within physical form.
"But you're not Kamzer, are you? You're younger, more flexible, less burdened by absolute moral certainty. Perhaps we can establish a more... collaborative relationship."
"What kind of collaboration?"
"The kind where you learn to use your inherited power without accidentally destroying half of Seoul. The kind where I share five centuries of intelligence about incoming threats. The kind where Earth gets two guardians instead of one."
It made sense, strategically. From Kamzer's memories, Natsumi understood the scope of what he'd inherited—responsibility for threats that could end civilization, enemies that operated on scales beyond human comprehension.
But accepting help from a demon felt like the first step down a road he might not be able to retrace.
"What's the price?" he asked.
Vex'ahlia's smile widened. "Smart question. The price is trust. You acknowledge my contribution to Earth's defense. You consider my advice when making decisions that affect dimensional stability. You stop reflexively assuming that anything demonic is automatically evil."
"That's all?"
"That's everything. Do you have any idea how isolating it is to spend centuries protecting people who would kill you for existing? How exhausting it becomes to fight for a world that sees you as a monster?"
The pain in his voice was genuine. Raw. The kind of emotional wound that came from prolonged sacrifice without recognition or gratitude.
Just like Kamzer, Natsumi realized. They're both carrying the same burden.
"There's something else," Vex'ahlia continued, his tone becoming more urgent. "Something Kamzer couldn't have warned you about because it happened after his imprisonment. The barriers aren't just weakening naturally—someone is actively sabotaging them."
Natsumi's blood turned to ice water. "Who?"
"That's what we need to find out. But I have suspicions." Vex'ahlia pulled out what looked like a smartphone, though it crackled with energies that definitely weren't terrestrial. "Three days ago, when you inherited Kamzer's power, dimensional sensors across the globe registered massive energy spikes. Someone noticed. Someone with enough power to mask their own dimensional signature."
The screen displayed a map of Earth marked with glowing red points—dozens of them, scattered across every continent.
"These are dimensional weak points that have appeared in the last seventy-two hours. Each one represents a potential breach large enough to admit S-Rank entities. Previously, these formations took months to develop. Now they're appearing overnight."
Natsumi studied the map, recognizing several locations. Major cities, population centers, strategic military installations.
"This isn't random," he said.
"No. It's coordinated. Someone is preparing for an invasion, and they're using your power awakening as cover for their preparations."
The weight of implication settled on Natsumi's shoulders like a lead blanket. He'd thought inheriting Kamzer's legacy meant taking on his predecessor's enemies and responsibilities.
He hadn't considered that his very existence might trigger new threats.
"What do we do?"
Vex'ahlia's expression shifted to something that might have been approval. "We investigate. We prepare. And we hope we can identify the threat before Earth becomes the primary battlefield in someone else's war."
He extended his hand—not for a handshake, but palm up, revealing a small crystalline device that pulsed with inner light.
"This is a communication beacon. It will allow us to coordinate without using mundane technology that can be monitored. Consider it a gesture of good faith."
Natsumi took the device, feeling it warm against his skin as it attuned to his energy signature.
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because, young Guardian, you don't have a choice. The enemies gathering in the dark are too powerful for any single entity to face alone. Even Kamzer at his prime needed allies." Vex'ahlia stepped backward, his form beginning to blur at the edges. "Besides, I've been protecting your world for five centuries. If I meant harm, I would have acted long ago."
"Wait," Natsumi called out. "How do I contact you?"
"You don't. When the time comes, I'll contact you." The demon's voice was already fading, his form dissolving back into shadow. "Be careful, Guardian. And remember—not all monsters are enemies, and not all humans are allies."
The shadows settled back into ordinary darkness, leaving Natsumi alone on the platform with nothing but the distant sound of traffic and a crystalline beacon that felt warm against his palm.
He stood there for a long time, processing everything he'd learned. The scope of his responsibilities had just expanded exponentially. Not only did he need to master Kamzer's power and prepare for cosmic threats, but he also needed to identify and counter an active saboteur who was using his awakening as cover for an invasion.
And he needed to do it all while maintaining the facade of being an ordinary F-Rank porter under Hunter Association scrutiny.
The beacon pulsed once against his palm, then went dormant.
Natsumi pocketed it and began the long walk home, his mind already racing through tactical possibilities and strategic concerns that no twenty-three-year-old should have needed to consider.
But then again, he wasn't just a twenty-three-year-old anymore.
He was the Guardian of the Abyss, whether he felt ready for the title or not.
Ryu Family Apartment - 11:30 PM
His grandmother was still awake when he returned, sitting at the small kitchen table with a cup of tea and one of her favorite romance novels spread before her.
"How did it go?" she asked, looking up with mild interest as she marked her place in the book.
Natsumi paused in the doorway, taking in the perfectly normal scene. Just his grandmother enjoying a quiet evening with tea and fiction, the kind of peaceful moment that had defined his entire life until three days ago.
"Fine," he said, settling into the chair across from her. "Just some follow-up questions about the accident."
She nodded sympathetically. "Those bureaucrats do love their paperwork. Are you hungry? I saved you some rice."
"No, I'm okay." He glanced at the novel's cover—something with a shirtless man embracing a woman in a flowing dress. "Good book?"
"Terrible book," she said with a small laugh. "The hero is completely unrealistic and the plot makes no sense. But sometimes that's exactly what you need after a long day."
She closed the book and looked at him with the gentle attention she'd always given him—no suspicion, no probing questions, just quiet maternal concern.
"You look tired, Natsumi-kun. You should get some rest."
"Yeah, probably." He stood, then hesitated. "Grandma?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad I'm here. With you, I mean. I'm glad we have this."
Her expression softened into the smile that had comforted him through every childhood disappointment and adolescent crisis.
"Me too, my dear boy. Me too."
Some truths were too important for words.