Go Byeonggap’s mornings start a little earlier than most. 5 AM, before the sky’s fully light — that’s when he wakes.

Among the many perks of being an awakener is better impulse control than ordinary people. Go Byeonggap shook off the urge to sleep more and crawled out of his bedding.

He didn’t care for clichés like “the early bird catches the worm.” Like most proverbs and idioms, they were just platitudes. Still, it wasn’t far off, even pessimistically, that an early-rising hunter had a higher chance of snagging a good rift.

Brushing his teeth, Go Byeonggap checked his phone. He was scanning the rifts that had appeared nationwide the night before.

He avoided rifts near Seoul whenever possible. The big guilds had staked out territories there and acted like feudal lords. In short, even if he went, they’d already be taken.

Go Byeonggap’s hunting grounds were usually the outskirts of Gyeonggi Province or Gangwon-do. The fewer people and the more remote the area, the less competition for rifts.

Today, it looked like he’d have to head to Yangpyeong.

“Lately, F-rank and E-rank rifts just aren’t popping up much…”

Korea sees around 300 to 400 rifts a day. That sounds like a lot, but with over 23,000 active hunters, it’s not that many.

Arithmetically, that’s a 65-to-1 competition rate per rift.

D-rank hunters like Go Byeonggap number around 4,800 nationwide. That’s the second-largest group, after the 7,100 C-rank hunters.

The E- and F-rank rifts — the main hunting grounds for D-rank hunters — make up about 15% of all rifts. That means 45 to 60 appear a day, and 8,500 hunters are fighting over them.

They had to beat a 160-to-1 competition rate just to claim a single rift. That’s why you had to wake up even earlier and head to even more remote wilderness.

Of course, there were variables. Some registered hunters weren’t active, and some had quietly retired without anyone knowing.

Even with more hunters than rifts appearing each day, not every rift got cleared. If they had, no rift would ever remain unclaimed.

Go Byeonggap washed up, got his gear together, and hurried out the door. His pride and joy—a beat-up compact car—had one more piece of luggage than usual: a longsword.

Today, he was dead set on actually using that sword.

“Let’s just finish one cleanly and call it a day.”

He prayed the rift he’d marked wouldn’t get snagged by someone else, then started the engine.

Passing Sadang and Bangbae, crossing over Banpo, he was about to merge onto Olympic Expressway when he spotted cops blocking the road about fifty meters ahead.

“What’s this?”

He grumbled, tossing his cigarette into the ashtray. A moment later, his car came to a stop in front of the traffic control officers.

“What’s going on?”

Byeonggap rolled down the window and asked. The young cop in the fluorescent vest looked like he’d already had his fill of complaints today.

“An A-rank rift opened near Dongjak Bridge. Risk of accidents—please detour around.”

Rifts emit force fields. If a civilian walks into one, they drop like they’ve been hit with anesthetic—limp and useless. In severe cases, nerve collapse or death.

An A-rank rift could project a force field stretching hundreds of meters. If a driver got exposed, a crash was almost guaranteed.

But that didn’t apply to Byeonggap. Low-tier as he was, he was still an awakener.

He pulled his Hunter ID from his wallet and held it up.

“Awakener here. No problem—let me through.”

“Ah! Yes, sir. No issue. Go ahead.”

“Thanks. Take care.”

The officer cleared the way. Byeonggap eased onto the empty Olympic Expressway. Stuff like this happened now and then; he didn’t think twice about it.

As he sped down the wide-open road, the Han River came into view on his left. True to the cop’s word, a rift had opened about two meters above the water, between Dongjak Bridge and Banpo Bridge.

It was A-rank, so it was sizable. Hunters were probably already inside it.

“How much did an A-rank rift pay again?”

The pure profit from an A-rank rift—the monetary value of its magic stones—only came to about 45 million won. Toss in all the loot, and it barely scraped 60 to 70 million.

Usually, five or six S-rank hunters got deployed to an A-rank rift, so per person, that’s roughly 10 million won. Seems low for a day’s wage for the top 2%.

But the reality was completely different.

An S-rank hunter rakes in billions a year. They don’t make money the same way as ‘free hunters’—the ones who collect magic stones one by one and sell them to the Association for a profit. Their whole system is different.

That was why famous hunters showed up on TV so often — they had the money and the fame to match.

Go Byeonggap tried to remember how much debt he still had left, then gave up. No point souring his own mood before a raid.

He drove out of Seoul and kept going for a long while until he found himself in Yangpyeong County. It was around nine in the morning by the time he reached the area near his destination.

– You will arrive at your destination shortly.

The navigation system guided him to an abandoned lot.

Byeonggap pulled the car onto the lot, then slammed the brakes. A curse slipped out of him before he could stop it.

“Ah, shit…”

A handful of luxury sedans were already parked in front of the rift. Eight people stood there, checking their gear.

All of them were middle-aged men in their forties. Clean-cut looks, expensive equipment that reeked of money.

‘Looks like hobbyists.’

From the look of things, none of them hunted for a living.

Among E- and F-rank awakeners, there were people who hunted as a pastime. Weak monsters could be taken down easily with guns, and the regulations on firearms and ammunition were loose for hunters, so they poked around rifts for fun.

It was basically a leisure sport. They relieved stress with some target practice, used the magic stones they picked up to fund their after-parties — for low-grade awakeners who already had day jobs, there was no better hobby.

Of course, for someone like Byeonggap who hunted for a living, they were a thorn in his side.

Byeonggap drove the car further into the lot anyway. A middle-aged man in a military-patterned tracksuit came over, waving his arms.

“Spot’s taken. Turn around~”

Byeonggap rolled down the window and stuck his upper body halfway out.

“Did you all get your Hunter Licenses issued and go through the subjugation registration?”

He couldn’t just turn back, so he asked, hoping against hope.

If even one of them didn’t have a license, he could nail them for illegal firearm possession and borrowing. He planned to use that as leverage to claim the rift for himself.

The middle-aged man snorted.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve got ’em all, so go find somewhere else.”

“Let me see one. I need to check.”

Byeonggap got out of the car and walked toward the group.

A bald middle-aged man who’d been checking his gear glared at Byeonggap with obvious irritation.

“Hey, what are you, from the Association? Why should we show you our licenses? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m just asking in case one of you isn’t actually a hunter.”

“So I’m asking again — who are you? What right do you have to demand that? You someone special?”

Byeonggap was at a loss for words. Honestly, he had no right to see anyone else’s license.

“Ah, Mr. Kim, that’s enough. Calm down.”

“No, Mr. Choi. Am I angry for no reason? I’m not, right? This guy just…!”

“Ah, still, you’re only hurting yourself getting angry, Mr. Kim. Hehehe.”

The mild-faced man beside the bald middle-aged hunter put a hand on his arm.

Then he let out a hearty chuckle and soothed the group.

“Come on, no need to start trouble here—we just need to show our Hunter Certificates, don’t we? We all came to snag a good spot, so let’s not get red in the face. Ha-ha. Look here—this is a real Hunter Certificate, right?”

CEO Choi offered his Hunter Certificate. The others brandished theirs in a challenge.

“……”

Go Byeonggap stared, mute. Every single one of them was a registered hunter.

“I get how you feel, but we’ve been waiting days for this spot ourselves. Try somewhere else.”

“Oh, for crying out loud! A young guy like you can’t be cool about this? This line of work needs manners, you know!”

“Aish. CEO Kim, that’s enough now. Ha-ha-ha.”

“…Sorry for the trouble.”

Go Byeonggap tucked his tail between his legs and trudged back to his car.

“Haah. Just my rotten luck.”

Frustrated, he stuck a cigarette between his lips and pulled out his phone. He needed to scout another rift—now—or he’d be empty-handed today.

His fingers and eyes moved in a frantic dance. Finding a decent rift was as tedious as picking out bean bits with chopsticks.

“This one’s too far—this one’s practically in Seoul’s backyard. Probably already been cleared. Hmph! And this one’s C-rank.”

Byeonggap stared at the phone screen for a long while. Then a rift twenty minutes away caught his eye.

“Shoo… D-rank, huh.”

A D-rank rift.

A D-rank boss monster supported by E-rank and below minions.

Byeonggap rarely even considered rifts above D-rank. The risk of solo subjugation was simply too high.

E- to F-rank rifts could forgive a slip or two. But from D-rank up, a single mistake could mean death.

‘What now?’

He hesitated—then changed his mind.

‘With me as I am now… isn’t it possible?’

He was no longer the man he used to be.

He had goblins he could command like limbs, and the elixir of Growth had granted him strength beyond any ordinary low-rank awakener.

‘How strong am I now? C-rank? Maybe even B-rank?’

Though he doubted it—the gap between C and B was vast. Still, C-rank felt well within reach.

‘Let’s do it.’

To climb higher, you had to take the hard steps—even if it hurt.

Decision made, he drove toward the D-rank rift.

* * *

Determined not to lose this spot too, Byeonggap sped up. He tore down the national road and arrived to find the site mercifully empty of people.

‘An abandoned factory?’

Rows of factory buildings barely held their shape. The dirt floor reeked of stale oil.

Go Byeonggap clamped a cigarette between his lips and hurriedly prepared for the subjugation.

Weapon, potions, gear — all of it was in perfect order.

Finally, he pressed the karma meter against the rift. The device ran through its calculations and spat out its verdict: This is a D-rank rift.

He took a drag. “Sssshh. Ha…”

Even the cigarette couldn’t settle the tangled knot in his chest. It had been a long time since he’d stepped into a D-rank rift by choice.

Back in the day, he’d been inside plenty of them.

Go Byeonggap had once worked as part of a team.

No — correction. He hadn’t been a team member. He’d been a slave. A crooked crew that lured in green hunters and worked them like dogs.

Fresh-faced at twenty-two, fresh out of his awakening, Go Byeonggap had been burned by people and burned by money in that place.

By the time he crawled out, the only thing he’d salvaged was a single lesson: never trust people easily, never trust money easily.

That was why he worked alone.

“Water under the bridge.”

He stubbed out the butt, flicked it away, and stood before the rift.

A deep breath to calm body and mind.

What kind of monster would come out? That was his main concern.

‘A lanky ghost? Or a wood devil? Just please, no bastard like a spike porcupine…’

With a sharp exhale, Go Byeonggap threw himself into the rift. His vision flashed for an instant, then returned to normal.

A sullen sky and heavy air greeted him. The hidden world never seemed to have a sunny day.

He swept his gaze across the front in a shooting stance. A few seconds later, he felt the tension drain from his body.

He let out a chuckle. “Ha! Look at this.”

Then he shouted toward the front at the top of his lungs.

«All of you kneel, you adorable bastards!»