Minhae closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.
The noisy sounds of the internet café slowly faded, as if someone had lowered the volume of the world. He let himself sink inward, into the place he rarely allowed himself to visit.
"Now… where did all of this begin…?"
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the café.
He was standing inside his memories.
Ten Years Ago....
"To the right! The boss is trying to escape to the right! Hold formation!"
An adult man shouted commands at the party. Around him, Hunters tightened their positions — swords raised, shields braced, magic circles glowing beneath their feet.
At the center of the battlefield stood a massive monster: a two-headed minotaur, its hooves cracking the dungeon floor with every furious stomp. The team had cornered it, desperately trying to stop it from breaking through their line.
"Luciel… the boss is trapped. We need to finish it quickly," the man said, his voice shaking with exhaustion as he looked toward the smallest figure in the group.
That figure was Minhae.
His face was hidden behind his power — soft, feather-like lights shaped like seraphic wings veiled his features, making him look less human and more like something divine.
A pair of radiant wings unfurled from his back.
He rose into the air.
Without a word, without even moving his lips, he activated a skill.
"Judgment."
Light gathered in his hand, forming a brilliant sword — a blade so sharp it seemed capable of cutting through the world itself.
He swung once.
Silence fell.
The towering minotaur split cleanly in two, its massive body collapsing with a thunderous crash. The slash didn't stop there — it tore through the dungeon wall behind it, leaving a deep, glowing scar in the stone.
And it barely missed the Hunters standing behind the monster.
Luciel descended lightly to the ground.
"Luciel!" the man shouted angrily. "It was just an A-Class boss! You didn't need to use a skill like that — you almost killed your teammates!"
The boy's hidden face turned slightly toward him.
"No one got hurt," he replied flatly. "There's no reason to get worked up."
Then he turned and walked toward the exit gate as if nothing had happened.
The man ground his teeth in frustration.
Behind him, another Hunter helped a woman to her feet.
"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.
"I'm fine, just a sprained ankle—"
"No, you're not," the man interrupted. "If you were one second slower, that attack would've taken your foot off."
"That brat…" the first man muttered bitterly. "Just because he's the strongest, he thinks he can look down on everyone."
"It's okay," the woman said gently. "He's just a kid."
"A kid with no parents to teach him right from wrong," the other man added coldly. "That's why he turned out like this."
Minhae heard every word.
But he kept walking.
"…Yeah," he murmured to himself. "I don't have parents."
And just like that, the past he tried so hard to bury rose to the surface.
.
.
.
"Minhae… Minhae… my sweet Minhae…"
A weak, trembling voice echoed in the darkness.
A woman lay pinned beneath collapsed debris, her lower body crushed under concrete and steel. Blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the ground.
Her trembling hand cupped the cheek of a small boy kneeling beside her.
"M-Mom… Mom…!" the boy sobbed, clutching her hand with both of his.
"Minhae… you have to be strong…" she whispered, struggling for each breath. "Don't let anyone look down on you… Don't let anyone use you…"
Tears streamed down the boy's face, dripping onto her bloodstained fingers.
"Be the strongest… carry my dreams…"
Her voice grew weaker.
"But… don't push yourself too hard… If you get tired… it's okay to rest… It's okay to run away sometimes…"
Her hand slipped from his cheek.
And didn't move again.
"Mom…?"
The boy shook her gently.
"Mom…?"
His cries echoed through the ruined building.
They drew attention.
Monsters, drawn by the sound, crawled from the shadows.
The boy didn't move.
Then—
Light exploded from his back.
Wings of pure radiance unfolded, illuminating the darkness. His tears stopped. His expression emptied. Something inside him shattered — and something else took its place.
He stood And began to kill.
He didn't feel pain.
He didn't feel fear.
He didn't feel exhaustion.
Only a single thought remained:
Destroy them all.
Hours later, the rescue team arrived.
They found a small child sitting in the middle of a massacre.
Monster corpses lay piled around him, their blood soaking his clothes, dripping from his hands, matting his hair. His face was unrecognizable beneath the gore.
"Easy… easy…" a medic said softly, approaching him. "Are you hurt anywhere? What's your name?"
The boy didn't respond. His eyes were empty, staring at nothing.
The medic gently patted his head.
"What's your name, little one?"
A long silence passed.
Then, in a hollow voice, he answered:
"…Luciel."
And that was the day the youngest S-Class Hunter appeared.
From then on, Luciel entered dungeon after dungeon, annihilating monsters with overwhelming force. He never held back. Never hesitated.
When people asked why he used such destructive skills even on weak enemies, his answer was always the same:
"It's better to kill them completely in one strike. No delays. No risks. No wasted lives."
But everyone knew—
That wasn't the real reason.
Back to the Present
"Luciel! Can you tell us what happened inside the gate?!"
"Please comment on the boss monster!"
"Are you planning to join a guild once you come of age?"
Cameras flashed as reporters crowded around the dungeon exit.
"Luciel, we need to go. You still have evening classes," a well-dressed woman said, approaching him.
"You don't have to remind me, Aunt Sohee," Minhae replied as he stepped into the waiting car. "It's not like I attend public school anyway."
After awakening as an S-Class Hunter, Minhae never returned to a normal classroom. He was privately tutored, balancing education with dungeon raids. He only entered dungeons on weekends—
—or when emergencies like dungeon breaks occurred.
he was a national weapon, A symbol of hope, A prodigy without fear.
But no one knew that behind the holy wings and emotionless mask…
…was just a grieving child who never learned how to stop fighting.