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Fifteen years ago, the world we knew—our streets, cities, routines, and even our logic—began to collapse.
It didn't happen with a war. Not with a virus.
Not even with an explosion.
It began with a silence. A strange, ominous quiet that spread over cities like Seoul, Busan, Tokyo, and New York. A stillness that swallowed the air itself. As if the world was holding its breath.
Then came the light. Blinding, vertical slashes in the sky and in the earth—rips in the fabric of reality. They were like wounds torn across space, glowing with unnatural hues—some red, some violet, others a color that had no name.
The world called them Denguen—short for "Dimensional Gates Unknown and Unbound Entrances." It was a name born from desperation, from the minds of scientists who had no way of explaining what they were seeing. But the people called them something else.
Portals. Rifts. Or simply—Hellgates.
What came out of them was worse than death.
Towering beasts with molten eyes and skeletal wings. Creatures made of sludge, claws, bone, and hatred. Beings from other realities with only one purpose—consume, kill, devour, repeat.
Entire neighborhoods vanished in an hour. Hundreds of thousands were slaughtered before governments even had time to respond. The military was useless. Bullets bounced off some of these things like pebbles off steel. Cities fell into chaos. People fled, cried, rioted. Civilization teetered.
And just when humanity seemed ready to break—
—some people awakened.
They were the first Hunters.
Ordinary people—accountants, students, bakers, soldiers—began to show strange signs: glowing eyes, burning veins, levitating objects. Something deep inside them had reacted to the opening of the Denguen. It was as if the chaos had unlocked ancient power sealed within humanity.
They became mankind's only hope.
Some could shoot fire. Others could fly. Some could strengthen their bodies to tear apart monsters with their fists. And some, the rarest, could heal, control elements, or command beasts.
Soon, Hunter Guilds were formed. Governments partnered with them. Nations funded them. And a new economy, society, and hierarchy was born.
A world ruled by power.
But not everyone awakened.
Not everyone became strong.
And in this new world, the weak had only one destiny—suffer.
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Fifteen years later…
It was a dull morning in Seoul.
The streets bustled with life, but there was a nervous edge in the air—like the sky was about to collapse but hadn't made up its mind yet.
Jin-Soo adjusted the torn strap of his cheap backpack as he exited a subway tunnel. His clothes were second-hand, barely stitched together. A small blade hung from his waist—not some powerful hunter weapon, but a rusted E-rank dagger he'd used a hundred times. It was chipped. The grip was fraying. But it was all he had.
The moment he stepped into daylight, a gust of polluted wind slapped him across the face. He coughed quietly, eyes stinging, and walked on.
He didn't complain. This was normal.
In his right hand, he held a lunchbox—cold rice and two pickled radishes. It was all he could afford.
Because Jin-Soo was an E-rank Hunter.
The lowest of the low.
People like him weren't called heroes. They weren't respected. They were used.
He had no flames, no strength, no talents. No flashy armor or fan following. Only broken boots, tired eyes, and a fragile body covered in thin scars—memories of battles where he barely escaped with his life.
But he still entered the Denguen. Again. And again. And again.
Because someone was waiting for him at home.
His younger sister—Ha-Eun—a sixteen-year-old girl with soft lungs and weaker immunity. She couldn't run, couldn't climb stairs, couldn't go to school anymore because of her asthma. Doctors said she needed regular medicine, a clean-air machine, and proper nutrition.
All of it was expensive.
And Jin-Soo… he had no one else. Their parents had died ten years ago during a monster outbreak near their hometown in Jeonju. He was only ten then. Ha-Eun was five.
He'd held her hand and watched as the monster chewed through their father like paper.
He never forgot the sound.
So now, even if he was weak, even if the world laughed at him—even if every step into the Denguen was a gamble with death—he still went.
For her.
---
That day, he limped his way into the Hunter's Association substation in Mapo district.
The receptionist, a bored-looking man in a white shirt, looked up and snorted.
"Back again, Jin-Soo? You're gonna die one of these days."
Jin-Soo just nodded. "Is there a group looking for E-rank fillers?"
"Yeah. B-rank leader. Wants two fillers for a green Denguen in Gwangmyeong. He says the pay is low."
"I'll take it."
The man laughed. "You didn't even ask the cut."
"Doesn't matter. My sister needs her meds."
The man paused for a second.
Then shrugged and handed him the form.
"Sign and don't die."
---
That afternoon, in a ruined subway terminal converted into a makeshift raid camp, Jin-Soo met his team: five other Hunters—two B-rank, two C-rank, and one support-type.
Among them was someone who mattered more to him than any paycheck.
Seo-Yeon.
A C-rank healer, same age as him—twenty. She wasn't beautiful in a flashy way, but her eyes were soft, her hands gentle. She never judged him. She never treated him like trash. In this cruel world, she was the only light that remained.
"You've got new cuts," she murmured, frowning as she gently healed his forearm.
"I tripped," he lied. "On the way here."
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
"You know, you don't have to keep doing this," she whispered. "One day, you won't come back. What then?"
"I will," he said.
"How can you be so sure?"
He smiled weakly.
"Because I promised Ha-Eun."
She stared at him. Then lowered her hands. "Then I'll be there too. I'll keep healing you... until you don't need it anymore."
Jin-Soo didn't know what to say.
So he stayed quiet.
And the group stepped into the Denguen.
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