The Ministry of Defense building was a cauldron of chaos.

The first cause was Jormungandr’s sudden acceleration; the second was Jung-woo’s arrival.

Both incidents shared the same root cause.

Takada Ryu-ken, the Vice Minister of Defense, had provoked Jormungandr.

Ryu-ken’s jaw chattered uncontrollably.

He had never imagined things would come to this.

‘H-how did it come to this…!’

He had only wanted to claim a sliver of credit.

A modest share of the contributions from the Jormungandr subjugation would have been enough.

It was necessary.

Japan’s domestic politics had been severely shaken by the current crisis.

The nation had already lost a decade to the collapse of the bubble economy before the Millennium Shock, and another decade to Izanami’s emergence afterward.

With yet another economic upheaval looming on the horizon, he had felt compelled to do something—anything.

But the gods were cruel, and here was the result.

It had been a reconnaissance mission at 100 kilometers out.

Reconnaissance, not bombardment.

Merely approaching a little closer had cost them an Aegis ship.

And on top of that, Jormungandr had accelerated.

The damage was already substantial.

But that was not the end of it.

“Please stop!”

“No.”

At the Ministry of Defense’s main gate, the Self-Defense Forces attempted to block the path, but Jung-woo’s response left them speechless.

His words might have sounded playful under different circumstances, but his expression was so cold that no one dared treat them as such.

This was the wrath of a superhuman.

The wrath of a superhuman who held the nation by the throat.

At first, they had not taken it seriously.

Ryu-ken and the other senior ministers involved had assumed that since this subjugation fell under diplomatic affairs, the worst they would face was an expression of regret—something easily resolved with an apology and subsequent cooperation agreements.

It was a naive assumption, but they could hardly be blamed for thinking that way.

After all, Japan was a land that did not know the era of superhumans—or rather, it was a land that had never truly understood it.

While the rest of the world had reshaped its social norms in response to superhumans, these men had wielded the power of silent superhumans however they pleased.

How could they have known firsthand?

Known that those at the apex—men like the one standing before them—could overthrow a nation on a whim if they so desired?

They had received word that Jung-woo was marching straight to the Ministry of Defense without preamble.

Only then did alarm bells ring in their minds.

The unexpected frontal assault signaled that something was going terribly wrong.

By the time he appeared in the flesh, their vision had gone white.

“Is that the Vice Minister of Defense?”

“…Yes.”

“S-Shin Jung-woo, hunter… Miss Hikaru…!”

Ryu-ken froze.

He was not the only one.

Everyone involved had been gathered here for a meeting.

Not a single one of them dared to meet Jung-woo’s eyes.

In the midst of it all, Jung-woo spoke.

“How convenient that you’re all gathered in one place. Saves me the trouble of visiting twice.”

“Shin Jung-woo, hunter, please, come inside and—”

“Is there really a need to go inside? Neither I nor this country has the luxury of sitting around being entertained, thanks to someone here.”

The words came with a smile, but they cut to the bone.

Or rather, they were closer to a blade’s edge.

“I won’t waste time with the usual ‘why did you do something so pointless’ or ‘how will you take responsibility.’ That would be a waste of my time.”

He recalled his first arrival in Japan.

Ryu-ken had been at the immigration checkpoint.

The Jung-woo from then and the Jung-woo now seemed like entirely different people.

“We can settle accounts later. Responsibility, or whether any of you even deserve to remain in those seats.”

“What do you m—”

“Bring out all your weapons. You have Vertanium armor-piercing shells, correct? I need the explosive compound inside them. Roughly 3,000 tons or more. And I’ll also need about 500 Special Magic Antennas.”

“P-please wait a moment! That is impossible!”

“Impossible?”

A shiver ran down Ryu-ken’s spine.

Behind Jung-woo’s smile, he felt as though he were staring into the eyes of a monster.

“I didn’t come here to hear the word ‘impossible.'”

His legs trembled.

Merely being exposed to that gaze felt as though his reason was crumbling away.

He recognized something then.

‘Fear?’

There was a pressure that manifested the moment highly condensed mana was released from an entity.

It was said to be akin to the terror prey experience when locking eyes with a wild predator.

In particular, the mana that a high-ranking hunter dispersed in its pure, condensed form was so overwhelming that several nations classified the mere act of emitting Fear as an act of terrorism.

Now he understood why.

That gaze—that brain-slicing terror.

No ordinary human could withstand it.

No, not even a fellow hunter could withstand it.

“Urk…!”

The B-Rank hunters assigned as escorts staggered.

Some of them foamed at the mouth.

Yet none collapsed.

The control was chilling.

Jung-woo was administering each person present a precisely calibrated dose of terror—enough to terrify, but not enough to make them lose consciousness.

His jaw rattled.

He wanted to say he would bring everything immediately, but the words would not come.

The explosive compound inside Vertanium armor-piercing shells.

It was a foundational material for modern hunter equipment.

As the only known substance capable of absorbing mana and converting it into impact force, it was as valuable as gold.

Demanding 3,000 tons was tantamount to ordering them to strip the national stockpile bare.

The 500 Special Magic Antennas were no different.

They were the only means of communicating inside Third gates.

Each unit cost in the millions of dollars.

That quantity meant emptying out the entire stock allocated to the metropolitan area spanning Osaka, Nara, and Kyoto.

They were to drain all of this now?

Replenishing that volume alone would be a monumental undertaking.

Gate defenses would develop gaps starting the day after tomorrow.

But Jung-woo showed no intention of retracting his demands.

“You all love responsibility and saving face, don’t you?”

“Ghk…!”

“I’m giving you the chance to do what you love. Isn’t this a rather generous arrangement?”

Despite turning the Ministry of Defense into a living hell simply by existing, he was remarkably composed.

The attitude of someone dispensing mercy was terrifying beyond words.

“Do you not understand? Or are you still preoccupied with what comes after?”

“Hh, hhuh…”

“Shall I put it more directly?”

Jung-woo stepped right up to Ryu-ken’s face.

Though his voice was low, it resonated throughout the entire space.

“Because of the mess you created, the operation schedule is in shambles, and success is no longer guaranteed. The fact that I’m not just washing my hands of this and going home—that I’m staying to deal with it—should tell you how much restraint I’m exercising.”

ttak-ttak-ttak-ttak—

His teeth clattered.

There was nothing he could say.

One thing became painfully clear.

He had touched what should never have been touched.

The Jung-woo standing before him was not thinking about this nation’s future.

He was thinking only of subjugating Jormungandr—of pulling that future forward, here and now.

And yet, that was the only correct answer under the present circumstances.

Whatever Jung-woo intended to do, neither the cause nor the justification lay with the government any longer.

Ryu-ken’s composure crumbled in an instant.

With an ashen complexion, he turned his gaze to Hikaru.

She was the nation’s bulwark.

Would things have been different had they used her differently?

He entertained the thought, but it was already too late.

“Vice Minister.”

“…Yes, Miss Hikaru.”

“I’ve been thinking about what I can do for this country.”

She was different from Jung-woo.

By nature, she was exceedingly timid.

A perfectly ordinary girl who struggled desperately to meet the expectations placed upon her.

At least, that was how Ryu-ken remembered her until now.

The Hikaru before him merely gazed at him with something resembling pity and murmured softly.

“Entrusting this power to you all… was apparently not the right decision.”

It was over.

The Japanese government had lost all control over its hunters.

Only that reality hung in the air.

Jung-woo spoke.

“Deliver the explosives and antennas to the coastline. Two hours. That’s exactly how much time I’ll give you. I’ve already wasted precious time getting here.”

“…Yes.”

Saying anything more would only cut their own throats.

And yet, Ryu-ken spoke.

“…May I make one request?”

“That’s a fascinating thing to say. In a way that makes me feel uneasy.”

“The public announcement…”

In that moment, Jung-woo let out a short laugh.

“Ah. That kind of face-saving.”

Even with his head bowed low, Ryu-ken could feel it.

The emotion constricting his throat, choking off his breath—was contempt.

“There’s no reason for me to concern myself with anything else until the subjugation succeeds. And afterward, I have no desire to stay involved. More precisely, I see no need to remain entangled with you any further than necessary. At least, that’s how I see it.”

It was a conditional statement.

One that made explicitly clear whose responsibility that role now fell to.

The girl they had wielded so freely—the girl who could no longer be wielded—stood at his side.

Ryu-ken closed his eyes.

“…Thank you.”

His neck was on the guillotine.

The final duty he would perform in this office was to turn the nation’s future into tomorrow’s gunpowder.

“Jung-woo, want some jelly? I hear Japanese jelly is really good.”

Those were the first words Jung-woo heard upon exiting the Ministry of Defense.

Ho-jong, whose eyes usually resembled dead fish, was speaking with an uncharacteristic sparkle in them.

“…Jelly, all of a sudden?”

“Well, they say eating something sweet when you’re in a bad mood helps.”

“Is that the kind of situation this is?”

“Don’t eat it if you don’t want to. I was just trying to return the favor for the good show.”

Jung-woo narrowed his eyes and accepted two pieces of jelly.

He handed one to Hikaru and popped the other into his own mouth.

Even in the midst of everything, the sweetness on his tongue calmed his nerves somewhat.

‘It actually works.’

Then came the next words.

“Come to think of it, why am I the one who ended up playing the bad cop? They’re the ones who messed up. Isn’t negotiating this kind of thing your job as Association Chairman?”

“You went without telling me. And it’s a good thing you did.”

“Why?”

“My self-restraint is a bit lacking. If the Chairman of the Korean Hunter Association punched the Japanese Vice Minister of Defense in the face, that would be a genuine international incident.”

It was probably not a joke.

Though that future had since vanished, Ho-jong was the kind of man who, when blood rushed to his head, would turn a fellow national assembly member into a corpse at a press conference and drag them around by the hair.

Jung-woo let out a deep sigh.

Ho-jong continued.

“You’re a scary one, Jung-woo. But impressive. Should’ve taken a photo.”

“Stop it. You’re making me embarrassed.”

“Should I?”

“Please.”

Truth be told, Jung-woo did not enjoy using coercion.

He took no pleasure in the lawless image that came with it.

He had done it because it was necessary.

That was the extent of his sentiment on the matter.

He could have done more, but he chose not to.

This was not a situation that afforded the luxury of venting irrational emotions, and the sliver of reason he maintained told him clearly that such a role was not his to play.

Thinking ahead, anything beyond this would become poison.

Incompetent as they were, the leadership of a nation still wielded power that could not be ignored.

When Hikaru attempted to do something, they could at least serve as her hands and feet.

That was why he had implanted only the fear of a superhuman—nothing more.

Jung-woo glanced sideways at Hikaru.

She looked deep in thought.

But he was not particularly worried.

“Ichijomodori was resolute.”

“Ah…!”

Hikaru, who had been staring with round eyes like a rabbit, soon broke into a sheepish smile.

“…I’m glad if that’s the case. My heart was pounding so hard.”

“If you ever need help, just say so. For now, let’s focus on catching Jormungandr first.”

“Anytime?”

“Hm? Yes, anytime.”

Her gaze was remarkably persistent.

Jung-woo rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

“Mr. Ha Kwon-seung, I need to explain the changes to the operation plan to the subjugation force. Could you summon them?”

“Shall I call them straight to the field?”

“Yes. They have a general sense of how things are unfolding, correct?”

“They’re receiving real-time updates on Jormungandr’s route, so they should know. The phones have been ringing off the hook as it is.”

Jung-woo took a deep breath and checked his watch.

Fewer than fifteen hours remained until the projected landfall.

“Se-gi’s going to scold me.”

It seemed he would not be able to stay with her today.

Once this was over, he would make sure to take time off and be with her.

“Let’s go.”

Jung-woo led his party into the vehicle.

Heading east from Osaka, the horizon stretches out before you.

It was a view of the distant Pacific Ocean.

It must have once been a place where tourists flocked from all over to witness this very sight.

Today, however, it was saturated with a gloomy, rigid atmosphere.

“Welcome, members of the subjugation force.”

It was dusk.

Jung-woo stood before the eighty-strong Jormungandr subjugation support team and began to speak.

“We’ve gathered a day earlier than planned. Regrettably.”

By the time he arrived here, he had reined in all his emotions.

The equipment he had ordered was delivered, and the groundwork for attempting a new plan was largely in place.

“There were external complications. However, we don’t have time to complain about them.”

Some vented their anger.

Others displayed shame, and somewhere, doubt surfaced.

But no one said anything that would break the atmosphere.

Jung-woo took in each of them, one by one.

These were the B-Rank and above forces who had volunteered to defend this nation, in this place, at this moment.

It was a law that held true everywhere.

When an insurmountable threat bore down, there were always those willing to throw themselves in front of others.

The sentiment the world dismissed as heroism had blossomed even in this barren soil, and that was something to be grateful for.

Jung-woo’s role was to guide these people to a happy ending.

That was all he intended to think about now.

“The options are extreme. Survive, or everyone dies. And by ‘everyone,’ I mean not just those standing here, but every single person on the land behind us.”

The tension in the air surged.

What could he possibly say to them?

After a brief moment of deliberation, Jung-woo decided to borrow another’s words.

“In my country, there is a man named Cheon Jun-ho.”

Ho-jong’s gaze snapped toward him.

He seemed to react to the name alone, without even knowing what was coming.

Jung-woo ignored it and continued.

“I imagine few of you are unfamiliar with him. He was recently the subject of major news, and even before that, his achievements carried tremendous international stature.”

The eyes of the force took on a more intense hue.

Jung-woo pressed on under their collective gaze.

“After he was separated from the parasite, the first question he asked was this.”

Jung-woo had only heard the words secondhand, as he had been unconscious at the time.

“‘Are people living safely, with smiles on their faces?'”

It was a statement that implied a great deal.

At the same time, it spoke of a value that must never change.

A hushed silence hung in the air.

Jung-woo paused for a beat before continuing.

“I believe everyone here came to answer that question with a ‘yes.’ So that the people starting their tomorrow can hear of Jormungandr’s subjugation and return completely to their everyday lives.”

No further words were necessary.

“Let’s go. It’s time to be heroes.”

“Waaaaaaaah!!!!!”

A roar erupted that seemed ready to shatter the shoreline.

That night was unusually short.

For good reason—there was far too much to do, keeping them up through the night.

From the operation briefing to the placement and assembly of the newly supplied equipment, hours slipped by in a flash.

Each person needed time for final checks at their respective stations, leaving no room for rest.

Thus, three in the morning arrived.

Outsiders began trickling onto the beach.

Given that the entire surrounding area was under lockdown, they were not civilians.

They were reporters.

People who had come to witness this subjugation to its end, and ultimately to deliver the news that those who would live on this land could finally feel safe.

They kept their distance.

Jung-woo, for his part, did not give any interviews.

Officially, the subjugation had been flawlessly prepared without a single hiccup at any stage.

Until the moment the subjugation concluded, the public would believe exactly that.

One hour later.

With all equipment in position, the report came.

“The target is entering territorial waters!”

It was time to begin.

‘94%.’

Pressed for time, he had ultimately failed to fill even 1% more.

But it had to be bridged.

That was what it meant to be a commander.

“Confirmed.”

Drones rose into the air.

Broadcasting drones for the networks, hunting drones for the subjugation force.

The sight of those craft ascending into the sky in unison, glinting in the light, carried a certain grandeur.

Jung-woo steadied his mind.

This would be a subjugation unlike any before.

“Shark.”

Poong—!

Poong—!

Poong—!

Poong—!

Shark shadows surged from the ground.

The eighty-member subjugation support team mounted the avatars’ backs.

Jung-woo remained at the coastline with key personnel—Hikaru, Ho-jong, Kwon-seung, and others—holding their position.

At a glance, it was an exceedingly deformed formation: the vanguard absent from the front lines while only the rear guard charged forward.

But simultaneously, this was the answer Jung-woo had arrived at today.

“Out-of-Rank magical beast, designated name Jormungandr.”

He spoke into the radio.

“Commencing subjugation operation.”

Chwaaaaah—!

Rabbit extended its whip long and wide, striking every allied unit within range.

Simultaneously, the sharks carrying the subjugation force launched into action.

The sea wind struck his face.

It was the moment Jung-woo’s mind went ice-cold.

DDiring!

【Skill: The re-evaluation of [■■■■] has been completed!】

Without warning, a new variable arrived.