October 16th.
Beneath the glittering skyscrapers of Seoul lay a world that the Hunter Association pretended didn't exist. It was a subterranean maze built into the abandoned subway tunnels of Sindorim—a place appropriately named the "Goblin Market."
Here, the glow of the gates wasn't Green, Purple, or Gold. Everything was illuminated by flickering, illicit neon lights. It was a haven for scavengers, rogue Hunters, and black-market dealers trading in unappraised artifacts and illegal monster parts.
Han-wool, using the Ring of Deceit to maintain the appearance of a tall, broad-shouldered man in his thirties, walked through the damp tunnels. His face was obscured by a dark mask and the pulled-down brim of a cap.
Beside him walked Woojin. The sniper had the metallic case containing the Star Piercer strapped tightly to his back. He was sweating profusely, his eyes darting at every shadow.
"Young Master—I mean, Boss," Woojin corrected himself in a harsh whisper. "Are you sure about this? If the Association catches us buying unregulated weapons, our Hunter licenses will be permanently revoked."
"We are preparing to fight a Cult that wants to end the world in two weeks," Han-wool replied smoothly, not breaking his stride. "I think we can risk a minor parking ticket from the Association."
They bypassed the stalls selling cheap health potions and low-grade monster bones, heading straight for the deepest part of the tunnel.
At the end of the line stood a heavily reinforced steel door guarded by two massive men. Their auras suggested they were at least high E-Rank or low D-Rank combatants.
"Password," the guard on the left grunted, stepping forward to block their path.
"The sun sets in the east, but the shadow remains," Han-wool said, reciting an old black-market code he remembered from his past life.
The guards exchanged a look, then slid the heavy steel door open.
Inside, the room was a literal armory. Crates of standard-issue Guild weaponry were stacked alongside highly illegal, customized gear. Sitting on a crate in the center of the room was a man with a scarred face, counting a stack of high-denomination chips. This was 'Viper,' the most notorious arms dealer in the Sindorim Underbelly.
"Well, well," Viper hissed, looking up. He had the sharp, calculating eyes of a snake. "I don't recognize you. And I know every Purple-Rank and above in this city. Which means you're either a rookie, or you're hiding something."
"I'm here to buy, not to socialize," Han-wool said, his voice artificially deepened by the Ring. "I need explosives. Specifically, Dwarven Demolition Charges. At least twenty kilos."
Viper paused, his eyes narrowing. "Dwarven charges? Those are meant for breaching Purple-Rank dungeon walls. You planning to blow up a city block, friend?"
"I'm planning an excavation," Han-wool replied coldly.
"Twenty kilos of Dwarven grade..." Viper tapped his chin. "That's military ordnance. It's going to cost you. Let's say... 500 million won."
Woojin gasped quietly. It was an outrageous markup. The market value was barely a fraction of that.
"100 million," Han-wool countered without missing a beat.
Viper laughed, a dry, rasping sound. His two guards stepped up behind him, resting their hands on their weapons. "You walk into my den, with no Guild insignia, and try to lowball me? I think you misunderstand the situation.
You'll pay 600 million now, or I'll have my boys strip you bare and sell that fancy gun on your friend's back."
Woojin tensed, his hand slowly reaching for the case on his back.
But Han-wool didn't move. He simply tilted his head.
"I don't negotiate with corpses," Han-wool whispered softly, letting a fraction of his true, Mythic-grade aura leak through the disguise.
"What did you just say?" Viper scoffed.
"Boys, break his legs."
The two guards lunged forward, drawing their heavy steel blades.
Han-wool didn't draw his dagger. He simply looked up, locking eyes with the guards.
His pupils flared with a brilliant, petrifying yellow light.
[Skill Activated: «Paralysis Glare» (Lv. 1)]
The two guards froze mid-step. Their muscles locked completely, their eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as their nervous systems shut down. The momentum carried them forward, causing them to topple over and crash onto the concrete floor like stiffened statues.
"What the—?!" Viper jumped up, reaching for a shotgun strapped under the table.
But as his hand brushed the stock of the gun, the shadow beneath his boots rippled.
[Shadow Step: Step 4 (Shadow Jump)]
Vwoom.
Han-wool vanished from the entrance and instantly materialized behind Viper. The cold, poisoned edge of the Goblin Dagger was pressed firmly against the dealer's jugular.
"I said, 100 million won," Han-wool murmured directly into Viper's ear. The chill of his voice made the underground room feel like a freezer. "And I want the detonators thrown in for free."
Viper swallowed hard, feeling the blade bite slightly into his skin. He realized instantly that the man behind him wasn't a rookie.
The precision, the speed, the sheer killing intent—this was a predator.
"O-One hundred million," Viper stammered, raising his hands slowly. "Deal. The crates are in the back. Take whatever you need."
"A wise business decision," Han-wool said, stepping back and withdrawing the blade.
He tossed a black, untraceable bearer card onto the table. "Deduct the amount. And if you try to track that card, I won't use the paralysis skill next time."
Ten minutes later, Han-wool and Woojin walked out of the steel door. Woojin was now carrying two heavy duffel bags packed with military-grade Dwarven explosives, alongside his sniper case.
"That... that was intense," Woojin whispered as they navigated back toward the surface.
"Your eyes turned yellow. Was that the Basilisk core?"
"Yes," Han-wool replied, pulling his cap down further. "Two seconds of paralysis. In a fight between high-rankers, two seconds is the difference between life and death."
They climbed the concrete stairs, exiting the subway station and stepping out into the cool October night. The black sedan was idling by the curb, with Logan waiting diligently.
As Logan opened the trunk for the explosives, Woojin looked at Han-wool.
"Boss," Woojin said, his voice steadying.
"We have the levels. We have the S-Rank gun. And now we have enough explosives to bring down a mountain. What's the actual plan for October 31st?"
Han-wool leaned against the car, looking up at the smog-covered sky of Seoul. He pictured the Permanent Dungeon of Mount Chiri—a sprawling, subterranean labyrinth that the Cult of the Black Sun had converted into their holy ground.
"The Cult will be transporting my brother, Hajin, to the deepest cavern where Amartya sleeps," Han-wool explained. "They will have their high priests, elite guards, and likely mutated monsters defending the perimeter."
Han-wool turned to Woojin, his eyes flashing with a dangerous red glint.
"We aren't going to sneak in, Woojin. We're going to set those Dwarven charges at the structural weak points of the cavern roof."
Han-wool smirked. "While you provide sniper cover from the high ground, I'm going to drop the mountain on their heads."
Woojin's eyes widened, a fierce grin breaking out on his face. "A burial. I like it."
"Rest up, Sniper," Han-wool said, sliding into the back seat of the car. "The real hunt begins on Halloween."