The Hunter Training Center smelled exactly like I remembered—sweat, cheap disinfectant, and the faint metallic tang of blood that never quite washed out of the practice mats.
I stood in the lobby at 6 AM, watching early-morning hunters filter in for their daily grinding sessions. Most were D-rank or below, trying to scrape together enough experience to level up. Desperate, hungry, and weak.
I'd been one of them once.
"ID please." The receptionist barely looked up from her computer.
I slid my hunter license across the counter. She scanned it, and her expression shifted from bored to slightly interested.
"E-rank, level 15. You here for the practice dungeon?"
"F-rank training dungeon," I corrected. "Solo run."
Now she looked up. "Solo? The F-rank dungeon is rated for parties of three to five."
"I know."
"You could die."
"I won't."
She stared at me for a long moment, probably trying to figure out if I was suicidal or just stupid. Eventually, she shrugged—not her problem if some E-rank idiot wanted to get himself killed—and printed out a waiver.
"Sign here. If you die, the center isn't liable. Emergency recall talisman costs extra."
"I don't need one."
"It's required for solo—"
"Fine." I slapped down the money. ₩50,000 for a piece of paper that would yank me out if my health dropped below 10%. Waste of money. I wasn't planning on getting hit.
She handed me the talisman and a keycard. "Gate 7. You have two hours before the dungeon resets."
I took the card and headed for the training wing.
Gate 7 was at the end of a long hallway, past groups of hunters stretching and checking their gear. A few glanced at me—young, alone, carrying a cheap steel sword—and I saw the dismissal in their eyes.
Another newbie who'll wash out in a month.
Let them think that.
I swiped the keycard. The gate shimmered to life, a vertical pool of blue light that made my teeth ache. Even now, after twenty years of diving into gates, that sensation never quite went away. Gates were wrong on a fundamental level, tears in reality that shouldn't exist.
But they did. And humanity had learned to exploit them.
I stepped through.
The transition hit like a slap of cold water. My vision blurred, gravity shifted, and then I was standing in a damp stone corridor lit by phosphorescent moss.
The Goblin Warren. F-rank practice dungeon. In my first life, I'd cleared this place maybe fifty times, always with a party, always playing it safe.
I knew every trap. Every spawn point. Every secret.
My status window flickered to life:
[DUNGEON ENTERED]
Name: Goblin Warren Rank: F Recommended Party Size: 3-5 Estimated Clear Time: 45-60 minutes Monsters: Goblins (Lv. 3-7), Goblin Warriors (Lv. 8-10), Hobgoblin (Lv. 12, Boss)
Quest Generated: Clear the dungeon solo Bonus Objective: Clear time under 15 minutes Reward: +500 EXP, Random Skill Book
Fifteen minutes.
In my original timeline, my best clear with a full party had been thirty-two minutes.
I drew my sword and started forward.
The first goblin showed up exactly where I expected—fifteen steps down the corridor, hiding behind a fake stone outcropping. In my first life, it had gotten the drop on me, nearly took my eye out.
Not this time.
I didn't break stride. My blade came up in a smooth arc as I passed the outcropping, bisecting the goblin from shoulder to hip before it could even screech.
[Goblin Lv. 5 defeated. 15 EXP gained.]
The body dissolved into black smoke, leaving behind a few copper coins. I didn't bother picking them up.
Three more goblins rushed me from a side passage. Short, green-skinned, wielding crude clubs and rusty daggers. Their levels ranged from 4 to 6.
My body was weak. My stats were garbage. But my mind had spent twenty years fighting demons that could shatter mountains.
Goblins were nothing.
The first one swung its club at my head. I stepped inside its reach, drove my elbow into its throat, and decapitated it on the backswing. The second lunged with a dagger. I caught its wrist, broke it, and kicked it into the third hard enough that they both went down in a tangle.
Two quick thrusts. Two more puffs of black smoke.
[Goblin Lv. 4 defeated. 12 EXP gained.][Goblin Lv. 6 defeated. 18 EXP gained.][Goblin Lv. 5 defeated. 15 EXP gained.]
I kept moving.
The problem with having an SSS-rank mind in an E-rank body was the disconnect. I knew exactly how to move, where to strike, how to read my opponents. But my muscles were too slow, my reactions dulled by weak stats.
It was like driving a sports car in first gear. Frustrating as hell.
But even in first gear, a sports car was still faster than a bicycle.
I reached the first trap room—a narrow corridor lined with pressure plates that triggered poison darts from the walls. In my first life, this room had killed two members of my party before we figured out the pattern.
I walked straight down the middle, stepping on every third plate. The safe path. The darts fired into empty air behind me.
More goblins ahead. A group of six, including two level 8 warriors with actual armor and real weapons.
They saw me and charged.
I counted steps. Three, two, one—
I dropped into a slide, passing under their swings, and came up behind them. My blade found the gap in the first warrior's armor, punched through its kidney. It screamed. I yanked the blade free and took its head off before it could turn.
The other warrior was faster. It spun, bringing its short sword around in a vicious arc aimed at my neck.
I blocked. The impact jarred my arms—my strength stat was too low to match it—but I'd already committed to the counter. I stepped into the bind, hooked my foot behind its knee, and drove my shoulder into its chest.
It went down hard. My blade found its throat.
[Goblin Warrior Lv. 8 defeated. 35 EXP gained.][Goblin Warrior Lv. 8 defeated. 35 EXP gained.]
The remaining four goblins hesitated. Good. They were learning.
I didn't give them time to run.
I hit the boss room at the eleven-minute mark.
The Hobgoblin was waiting. Level 12, twice the size of a normal goblin, wearing piecemeal plate armor and wielding a two-handed axe that had killed more newbie hunters than I could count.
In my first life, this thing had broken my ribs and put me in the hospital for a week.
It roared when it saw me, spittle flying from its tusked mouth.
I didn't roar back. Didn't charge. Just walked forward, sword held in a loose guard.
The hobgoblin took the bait. It charged like a freight train, axe raised high for an overhead chop that would split me in half.
I'd seen this attack a hundred times. Knew the timing down to the millisecond.
At the last possible moment, I stepped left. The axe crashed into the stone floor where I'd been standing, throwing up sparks. Before the hobgoblin could recover, I was already moving—up onto its bent knee, then its shoulder, my blade driving down through the gap between its helmet and gorget.
It tried to buck me off. I twisted the blade and pushed, using my weight to drive it deeper.
The hobgoblin made a wet, gurgling sound and collapsed.
[Hobgoblin Lv. 12 defeated. 100 EXP gained.][LEVEL UP! Level 15 → Level 16][Stat points available: 5]
The dungeon shimmered. A chest materialized in the center of the room—the standard boss loot.
My timer read 12 minutes, 43 seconds.
[BONUS OBJECTIVE COMPLETE][Additional rewards unlocked]
The chest contained exactly what I expected: 50 copper coins, a basic health potion, and a skill book.
[Skill Book: Enhanced Reflexes (Rank D)]
Not bad for an F-rank dungeon, but I didn't need it. I'd relearn all my old skills eventually, and Enhanced Reflexes was trash compared to the advanced perception techniques I'd mastered.
I pocketed it anyway. Skill books sold for decent money.
What I really wanted was in the corner of the room, hidden behind a loose stone that wouldn't be discovered for another three years.
I walked over and pulled the stone free. Behind it, carved into the wall, was a small alcove containing a single item: a silver ring with a cracked red gemstone.
[Ring of Minor Strength] +2 Strength Durability: 15/100
Broken. Nearly worthless. But right now, with my pathetic stats, every point mattered.
I slipped it on and felt the slight increase in power flow through my arm.
Better.
The exit portal opened. I stepped through and found myself back in the training center lobby.
The receptionist's eyes widened when she saw me. "You're... alive?"
"Disappointed?"
"Your clear time was—" She checked her computer. "Twelve minutes and fifty-one seconds. That's... that can't be right. That's a center record for solo F-rank."
"Sounds right to me."
"But you're only level—" She checked again. "Sixteen? How did you—"
"Practice." I tossed the emergency recall talisman on her desk. "Didn't need it."
I walked past her before she could ask more questions, but I felt eyes following me. Other hunters in the lobby, trainers by the equipment racks. Word would spread. Some E-rank nobody just demolished an F-rank dungeon in record time.
Good.
I needed to build a reputation. Needed people to start noticing me. In my first life, I'd been invisible for years, just another faceless hunter grinding for pennies.
This time, I was going to make noise.
I spent the rest of the morning at a street vendor, eating tteokbokki and reviewing my status.
[STATUS]
Name: Han Do-Hyun Age: 25 Rank: E Level: 16 EXP: 247/800
Stats: Strength: 20 (+2) Agility: 16 Endurance: 17 Mana: 12 Luck: 8
Available Stat Points: 5
Skills: [Basic Sword Mastery Lv.3] [Danger Sense Lv.1] [Mana Circulation Lv.1]
Five stat points. In my first life, I would've agonized over this decision for days, worried about making the wrong choice.
Now? I knew exactly what I needed.
I dumped three points into Agility and two into Endurance.
Agility would let me execute techniques my mind remembered but my body couldn't handle yet. Endurance would keep me from collapsing after extended fights—my stamina was embarrassingly low.
Strength could wait. The ring was covering that for now.
My phone buzzed. A text from my mother:
"Ji-Hye said you looked sick this morning. Are you eating properly? Come home for dinner tonight."
I stared at the message for a long moment.
In my first life, I'd made excuses. Too busy. Had a raid scheduled. Couldn't make it.
I'd missed two years of family dinners before the Collapse killed them all.
I typed back: "I'll be there."
Another buzz. This time from the Hunter Association app:
[NEW DUNGEON ALERT]Silverwood Den (D-rank) has appeared near Uijeongbu Estimated spawn: 68 hours Recommended party: 5-7 hunters, minimum D-rank
Right on schedule.
That dungeon contained the skill book I needed—[Intermediate Sword Mastery]. In my original timeline, another hunter had found it and sold it for fifty million won. I'd never been able to afford it.
Sixty-eight hours. I had just under three days to prepare, gather better gear, and figure out how to solo a D-rank dungeon with my current stats.
In my first life, attempting that would've been suicide.
But I'd fought demons that could level cities. I'd commanded armies. I'd stood alone against the Demon King himself.
A D-rank dungeon full of wolves and spirits?
I'd cleared worse with a broken leg and half my mana depleted.
I finished my tteokbokki and checked my bank account. ₩797,000 left after the training center fees. Not enough for good gear, but enough for basics.
Time to go shopping.
The Hunter Association's equipment district was packed with vendors hawking everything from enchanted swords to suspicious potions that "definitely weren't expired."
I ignored the flashy shops targeting rich hunters and headed for the back alleys where the real dealers operated.
Old Man Cho's shop was squeezed between a ramen restaurant and a pawn shop, barely marked except for a faded sign that read "Equipment & Repairs." Most hunters didn't know it existed.
I did.
In my original timeline, Cho had been one of the few honest dealers in Seoul. Fair prices, quality work, and he didn't ask questions.
The shop bell jingled when I entered. Cho looked up from behind his counter, a grizzled man in his sixties with burn scars covering his left arm.
"We're closed," he said.
"Sign says open."
"Sign's wrong."
I walked up to the counter anyway and set down my steel sword. "I need this sharpened and reinforced. Best you can do with a ₩100,000 budget."
Cho picked up the blade, examined it with a critical eye. "This is garbage."
"I know."
"You'd be better off buying a new sword."
"Can't afford one. Can you reinforce it or not?"
He grunted and set the sword down. "₩80,000. I can sharpen it, reinforce the tang, add a basic durability enchantment. It'll hold together for maybe a month of heavy use."
"Deal. I also need armor."
"₩100,000 budget and you want armor and weapon work?" He laughed. "Kid, you'd be lucky to get a helmet for that."
I pulled out my phone and showed him a picture I'd sketched during breakfast. "Leather armor. Light. Reinforced here, here, and here." I pointed to the chest, joints, and spine. "No helmet. I need mobility more than protection."
Cho squinted at the design. "You draw this?"
"Yes."
"You know armor design?"
"I know what works."
He studied the sketch for a long moment. "This is... actually pretty good. Efficient weight distribution, protects vitals without restricting movement." He looked at me with new interest. "Where'd you learn this?"
"Experience."
"You're what, level 15? 16?"
"Does it matter?"
Cho was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "₩200,000 for everything. That's my cost, no markup. Armor and weapon work."
I only had ₩797,000 total. ₩200,000 would leave me with barely enough for potions and supplies.
But I needed this.
"Deal."
"Come back in two days. I'll have it ready."
I paid him half up front and left.
Two days. Sixty-eight hours until the Silverwood Den spawned, minus forty-eight hours for equipment prep.
That gave me twenty hours to train this weak body into something that could survive a D-rank dungeon solo.
I headed back to my apartment and got to work.
Training with an E-rank body after having an SSS-rank one was like trying to write poetry with a broken hand.
I spent six hours drilling sword forms until my arms felt like lead. Every movement was sloppy, uncoordinated. My muscle memory remembered techniques my body couldn't execute.
Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it.
But slowly—painfully slowly—I felt things start to click. My footwork became smoother. My strikes more precise. The disconnect between mind and body began to narrow.
By hour eight, I was moving almost the way I remembered.
By hour ten, I collapsed.
I woke up three hours later on my apartment floor, every muscle screaming in protest. My phone showed five missed calls from my mother and three texts asking if I was coming to dinner.
Shit. I'd lost track of time.
I dragged myself into the shower, scrubbed off the sweat and blood from burst blisters, and threw on clean clothes.
Dinner with family.
The thing I'd give anything to have again.
I wasn't going to miss it.
My parents' house was a modest two-story in the suburbs, the kind of place that had been in our family for three generations. It survived the Collapse in my original timeline—barely—but my parents hadn't.
I stood outside for a moment, staring at the lit windows.
They were in there. Alive. Eating dinner. Watching TV. Living their lives completely unaware that in two years, they'd be dead.
Not this time.
I walked up and knocked.
My mother opened the door, and her face lit up. "Do-Hyun! You came!"
She pulled me into a hug before I could react. I stood there stiffly, arms at my sides, trying not to break down.
"Mom, I can't breathe."
"Good. You're too skinny." She pulled back and examined me critically. "Have you been eating? You look tired. Are you sleeping enough?"
"I'm fine, Mom."
"He's lying," Ji-Hye called from inside. "He looked like a zombie this morning."
"I did not—"
My mother dragged me inside. My father looked up from the TV and nodded. "Do-Hyun. How's the hunting?"
"Good. Made some progress today."
"That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."
If only he knew.
Dinner was kimchi jjigae, japchae, and about six other dishes my mother had "just thrown together." The table was covered in food.
We ate. Ji-Hye talked about school. My father complained about work. My mother fussed over everyone.
Normal. Domestic. Peaceful.
I'd forgotten what this felt like.
"Oppa, you're crying again," Ji-Hye said.
I wiped my eyes quickly. "No I'm not."
"You literally are."
"It's the kimchi. Spicy."
My mother gave me a concerned look. "Do-Hyun, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm perfect."
And for the first time in twenty years, I almost believed it.
I stayed until late, helping with dishes, watching terrible TV with my father, listening to Ji-Hye complain about her study schedule.
Every minute was precious.
When I finally left, my mother pressed a container of leftovers into my hands. "Eat properly. And come back soon."
"I will."
I meant it.
On the bus ride home, I checked my phone. A message from the Hunter Association:
[QUEST COMPLETED: First Step] Solo clear of F-rank dungeon achieved Reward: Skill Book [Intermediate Sword Mastery] has been added to inventory
Wait. What?
I opened my inventory and there it was—a skill book I hadn't earned yet, just sitting there.
The system had given me the reward early.
But the Silverwood Den hadn't even spawned yet. I was supposed to find this book there in three days.
So if the book was here now...
What the hell would I find in that dungeon instead?
A new notification appeared:
[TIMELINE DEVIATION DETECTED]Fate Distortion Level: 3/100
The future is changing. Some events will occur differently than you remember. Prepare accordingly.
"Shit."
The butterfly effect was already starting.
I'd barely changed anything—just cleared one dungeon faster—and the timeline was already diverging.
This was going to be more complicated than I thought.
But as I stared out the bus window at Seoul's lights, watching my city sleep peacefully, I felt determination harden into steel.
Let the timeline change.
I'd adapt.
I'd survived twenty years of hell. A little chaos wasn't going to stop me.
The Silverwood Den spawned in sixty-five hours.
Time to see what fate had in store.