Daycare teacher Song Mi-ran was a busy, frazzled woman.

Not that any daycare teacher wasn’t, but at least the other teachers didn’t have the child of an international hero enrolled in their class, so the nature of their worries ran on entirely different tracks.

No use complaining about it.

“Se-gi, are you drawing nicely?”

“Yes!”

A child with the unusual name Shin Se-gi.

Unlike the other children, she was remarkably mature and well-behaved, yet brimming with the lively energy of a child. This girl was the only daughter of Shin Jung-woo, the man called Korea’s apex.

How could she not be on edge every single moment?

Children were little disaster machines, causing trouble at every turn. If Se-gi got caught up in the commotion and hurt herself even slightly, it would mean the end of the daycare.

But isolating Se-gi for special treatment was out of the question too—that would amount to blatant favoritism.

In the beginning, the pressure had been genuinely overwhelming.

She had cursed the heavens for burdening her with such a trial, weeping in despair, all while Principal Myeong-seon kept pressuring her to take extra good care of Se-gi, gnawing away at her sanity day by day.

Yet Principal Go Myeong-seon had successfully leveraged the opportunity to put the daycare on the map, and now she was simply beside herself with glee.

There had been no one to share the burden with.

But time, as they say, heals all things.

She had adapted to this life to the point where her past anxieties now seemed foolish.

For one thing, Se-gi was a genuinely sweet child. For another, Jung-woo was unlike the typical overbearing parent—he was the kind of man who would laugh off a scraped knee from play.

“This is the rabbit and the sea otter, and~ this one is hide-and-seek~ Yesterday the rabbit was ‘it’ but the sea otter didn’t hide, so~”

As guileless as any other child.

No, she was exceptionally well-behaved, spirited, and full of smiles.

Favoritism was obviously out of the question, but seeing Se-gi beam and chatter about the previous day’s events never failed to warm Mi-ran’s heart.

Even at this young age, her features were strikingly defined and lovely. She could easily become a celebrity when she grew up—at least, that was Mi-ran’s thought.

Perhaps it would help to mention that boys had a habit of crushing on Se-gi, a testament to her extraordinary looks.

That line of thought suddenly reminded Mi-ran of an incident from a few months back.

‘Hunter Shin’s reaction when I mentioned that was something else.’

The moment she told him there were boys who had a crush on his daughter, the light had drained right out of his eyes.

Seeing a man who was usually so gentle smile with those pitch-black eyes, she thought she’d never seen a more hopeless doting father in her life.

Whatever the case, it meant the child was deeply loved.

Even by Mi-ran’s standards, who prided herself on reading parents’ subtleties after years of teaching, Se-gi showed absolutely no signs of being from a single-parent household—she was that thoroughly showered with love.

The little girl continued chattering away.

“And then Shark made soup, but~ Daddy scolded him because it was too salty~”

“He did?”

Children tended to blurt out everything that happened to them.

Working at a daycare meant casually stumbling upon families’ private secrets.

To Song Mi-ran the person—not the teacher—these were rather entertaining stories.

After all, who else in the world got to hear about the private life of the nation’s apex hunter?

She had grown bold enough to consider these little tidbits a minor source of amusement.

And so another day was drawing to a close.

‘I guess she’ll keep coming to this daycare.’

The day news of Jung-woo’s move broke, Principal Myeong-seon had wept like a child, drunk on soju.

But since there was no mention of switching daycares after the move, she seemed to be recovering her spirits lately.

Well, for a child who commuted by teleportation, what did distance matter?

Mi-ran had overheard that he was worried about Se-gi being separated from her friends, so he wouldn’t change daycares at least until the end of the year.

Five in the afternoon—the hour when the remaining children, daycare teachers, and local shopkeepers all swarmed together.

Mi-ran counted down in her head.

‘3, 2, 1.’

And—Ddaeng.

Paang!

“Hello, Teacher.”

Jung-woo materialized at the daycare’s front gate without a single second’s deviation.

Sea Otter and Shark were in tow.

The children cheered.

Then came the murmurs of the local uncles.

“Whoa, not a second off again today.”

“Hunter Shin’s sense of time is unreal. That’s why he’s the strongest in the country.”

There was a joke going around: Sharp-Quitting Shin Jung-woo.

Mi-ran and the nearby shopkeepers were among the few who knew it was no joke at all.

“Daddy!!!”

Se-gi came running—dododo—and launched herself into Jung-woo’s arms.

Jung-woo caught her with a wide grin, scooping her up.

“Did Se-gi have a good day today?”

“Yes, she played nicely with the others like always.”

“And she listened to her teacher?”

“She listens so well, we’re always grateful.”

“Ahem! Today I said thank you because Kang-ho gave me candy!”

Se-gi cut in, puffing out her chest proudly.

The instant the name ‘Kang-ho’ left her mouth, Jung-woo’s eyes went pitch-black.

“…Is that so? So Kang-ho did that…”

Mi-ran had to stifle a laugh.

That brief but intense moment passed, and Jung-woo and Se-gi vanished.

“Thank you as always. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, have a safe trip home.”

Paang!

The extraordinary yet routine spectacle came to an end.

Afterward, Mi-ran wrapped up her remaining work and prepared to leave.

She hadn’t been able to check her phone during work hours and was only getting to it now.

She opened the group chat and let out a dry chuckle.

[Kim Ji: Hey, is it true Hunter Shin Jung-woo is doing a solo Qilin subjugation? For real?]

[Kang Ho-su: Answer ASAP]

[Jang I-re: Did Jung-woo oppa teleport out of work again today???]

[Kim Ji: Info) Jang I-re is 6 years older than Shin Jung-woo. She’s 30 this year.]

[Jang I-re: Shut up]

The Jung-woo that Mi-ran knew was a peculiar, kind parent who came to pick up his daughter with not a second’s error, every single day.

But the Jung-woo the world knew was a superhuman who pulled off feats no one else could manage, as if they were nothing.

That gap felt particularly stark today.

[Song Mi-ran: I don’t know about the solo Qilin subjugation, but for now, Yang Kang-ho is in emergency mode]

[Kim Ji: hahahahahaha]

[Jang I-re: lol lol]

[Kang Ho-su: Kang-ho, Kang-ho…]

And so the day faded away.

Jung-woo’s announcement of his solo Qilin subjugation sent shockwaves through the public.

First, only four people in the entire world had actually accomplished such a feat at this point in time. Second, precisely because of that, rather than simply worrying, there was a sense that if anyone could pull it off, it might just be Jung-woo.

It was too late to lament the potential loss of national power—an individual’s abilities had been laid bare for all to see, and that exceptional talent only amplified expectations.

[It’s not entirely impossible. First, Hunter Shin Jung-woo’s personal ability lies in commanding an S-Rank Hunter legion, he has skills that debuff enemies, and now he’s acquired buff skills as well. Above all, the ability user’s own command capacity is exceptionally outstanding.]

[Are you saying it’s sufficiently possible?]

[I view the outlook positively.]

The analysis desk’s opinion was something the public could readily empathize with.

Rather than a straightforward one-on-one brawl, his capacity to form an army.

The Domain’s debuff and the buff from Rabbit, first deployed on the front lines in Japan—there were plenty of metrics to view positively.

Above all, there was a safety net.

In case of emergency, a support team and S-Rank hunters would stand by approximately five kilometers from the combat zone.

The solo subjugation had effectively become a kind of verification test.

February was gradually drawing to a close amid such anticipation.

That was the external atmosphere; on a personal level, Jung-woo was feeling razor-sharp tension.

As the one undertaking the subjugation, no amount of preparation could be enough.

The far eastern edge of Hamgyong Province.

Jung-woo stood alone in the place where he had spent time with Jun-ho during the Lunar New Year holiday.

There was one reason.

To test his upgraded combat power.

“Sea Otter, Shark.”

Ppok!

Jormungandr’s magic stone had arrived.

Today, he planned to test the magical changes in Sea Otter upon equipping it, while simultaneously putting Shark through a live combat trial.

Jung-woo first opened the carrier he had brought.

Inside lay a magic stone that evoked the image of a frost-kissed white gem.

Touching it confirmed it was genuinely cold.

Whether because Jormungandr had lived in the Arctic Sea or because that was simply the creature’s nature, he couldn’t say.

Now that his perspective had shifted, he could make certain inferences.

‘Acquisition of concepts. Perhaps the purpose of evolution through magic stones is precisely that.’

The hunter interface embedded more profound concepts into entities as their rank increased.

Viewed from that angle, the visible rank increase to ‘S+’ appeared to exist for the purpose of supplementing concepts.

The fact that his summons paid no attention to a magic stone’s rank further supported this hypothesis.

So there was reason for anticipation.

‘Jormungandr’s skill was simple. Devour.’

Setting aside how it would manifest in output, the goal of a direct increase in firepower seemed achievable.

“Want to come try it on?”

The groove in the shell was small.

The magic stone was only about the size of Sea Otter’s head.

But there was no real concern.

Magic stone absorption was less a physical insertion and more of an absorption process.

Sea Otter waddled up to the magic stone with ppok-ppok sounds.

Its fur was glossier than usual today, and its shell looked neat and clean.

It resembled a bachelor stepping out to meet a date.

For a doll with no real facial expression, the blatant anticipation was especially telling.

Ppok! Ppok ppok!

Sea Otter rubbed its cheek against Jormungandr’s magic stone.

It stroked the stone with its paws—suk-suk—fawned over it in every conceivable way, and only then shyly offered its shell.

“Oh, good grief.”

It was a moment that drew a dry chuckle from him.

Paat!

The moment the shell and the magic stone made contact, light enveloped the surroundings.

It was an unusually flashy effect. Jung-woo swallowed hard, squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them—and saw something.

“Hm?”

Ppok!

A small, frost-kissed magic stone was embedded in the center of Sea Otter’s shell.

That wasn’t the end.

“…A cauldron?”

Sea Otter was now carrying a small cauldron on its back like a backpack.

Size-wise, it was slightly smaller than its head.

This was the first time a change had been so visually dramatic.

The cauldron was made of the same soft, plush material as a cotton-stuffed doll, leaving Jung-woo wondering what practical use it could possibly serve. Yet he knew better than to let his guard down with these abilities—his curiosity soared without end.

The question wouldn’t linger for long.

“Alright, shall we test it out?”

Most magical beasts encountered on the road here were A-Rank.

Champion entities also inhabited the area, albeit sparsely.

A perfectly suitable location to test the firepower of Shark and Sea Otter.

Jung-woo rose from his spot, set out in search of magical beasts, and soon encountered a group.

Ppyobyobyobyong!

Upon entering the Domain, the magical beasts transformed into doll monsters.

Jung-woo gave the order.

“Shark first, then Sea Otter.”

Chwaaaak—!

Shark charged.

Thus the battle began, and over the course of combat, Jung-woo came to understand Shark’s abilities.

Then, after Sea Otter joined the fray, he let out a deep gasp of admiration.

“Ah…!”

The performance test was a success.

By the calendar, it was late February.

Some time had passed since the day of Jung-woo’s performance test.

Urban development connecting Hwanghae Province to Pyongyang had progressed significantly, and relocations were underway in areas near Gyeonggi Province.

It was a monumental period in which civilians were establishing residential zones beyond the DMZ, and television broadcasts were busy endlessly reporting related news.

With Jung-woo’s solo subjugation still further off on the schedule, its newsworthiness had somewhat diminished—making it an ideal time to focus on personal preparations.

Jung-woo was summoned to the Association Chairman’s office.

It wasn’t an unexpected matter.

“We got a response from that side.”

“That side meaning…”

“The Central Plains.”

The term collectively referring to the sixteen nations of the continent once known as China.

Those who remembered the previous generation, like Ho-jong, tended to lump them together.

If one asked why they had suddenly reached out, the answer was singular.

‘We’ll soon share a land border with a foreign nation.’

That was precisely why the Qilin was the last to be subjugated, after all.

Jung-woo asked.

“Which ones?”

The final stage before subjugation.