SLASH!
A single horizontal strike was enough to cleave one hundred and thirty-five peaks of the Ten Thousand Summits in the lands of the Heavenly Demon Sect. The distance carved between the farthest east and west spanned over ten kilometers.
The sky stained crimson, and a heavy, suffocating blood moon took the place of the sun. The killing intent radiating from the man beneath that moon was enough to strike down the strongest of warriors. He stood suspended in the sky, and before him… stood another.
The figure wore strange armor. Was it metal? No, it wasn't metal at all. It was condensed darkness—shadows forged into a light suit of armor, crowned by a peculiar helmet. Long, coal-black hair flowed from beneath it, and four majestic horns protruded from the frame, lending it the regal presence of a dragon's head. At the center of the chest plate, a crystal pulsed with a mix of dark purple and blood-red light.
The figure raised a terrifying black sword and lunged toward the man beneath the moon. The two collided, and—
"Ah... those dreams again," a young voice muttered as his eyes slowly opened.
He rose immediately, donning a dark cloak that concealed his entire frame. He wrapped a scarf around his face, leaving only his eyes visible—eyes of a distinct, sharp maroon with slit pupils.
He emerged from his makeshift den, a small cave hidden within a sparse forest. No sooner had he stepped out than he was swarmed by a pack of goblins and feral wolves. He drew his worn sword and moved through them with blinding speed—flawless swordsmanship, a formless style. In less than five minutes, nearly three hundred heads lay on the ground.
He checked the small bag on his back. Good, it's still there.
It was just before dawn, yet he spotted a source of light on the ground nearby. He rushed toward it until he found it.
"A gate!" he cried out.
It was surrounded by a horde of monsters, yet he charged without a second thought.
In the heart of Seoul, hunters stood on routine alert before a newly formed gate. There was little cause for concern; the initial scan classified it as Rank C—a standard cleanup job for professionals.
But before the sirens could signal the raid, the unexpected happened.
The gate's essence shifted violently. Its pitch-black interior vanished, replaced by a brilliant, blinding white. A deathly silence fell, broken only by a hunter's shout.
"How was it cleared?! No one has even stepped inside yet!"
"Is this even normal?!"
Inspectors from the Hunters Association arrived within minutes to assess the anomaly. Suddenly, the gate shook, and something emerged. The hunters retreated, weapons drawn, expecting a disaster-rank monster to break through.
But what stepped out was not a monster.
It was a boy, staggering with heavy steps. His clothes were nothing but tattered rags, and his body was a map of scars and dried blood. In his right hand, he gripped a sword whose blade was worn thin, its luster lost from carving through endless flesh and bone.
He stood around 175 centimeters tall, with a solid build forged by horrors. His features bore an innate nobility that contrasted sharply with his wretched state. His hair was black as night, and his eyes—the same maroon with slit pupils.
It was the same youth from before.
Despite his appearance, he didn't look a day over twenty. He looked around in bewilderment, shock etched in his eyes as he whispered words no one understood.
"...Impossible. Humans? Are they truly... humans?"
Later, at the Korean Hunters Association Headquarters – Interrogation Room.
The boy sat with an unsettling calmness after receiving medical aid and a heavy meal. Now in clean clothes, he showed no sign of panic despite the strange technology surrounding him. Investigator Park Chul sat opposite him, observing in silence.
Strange, Park thought. Even without a translator, his composure is unnatural. He isn't afraid; he's the one observing us.
Park placed a magical artifact on the table. "This is a translation tool."
The boy didn't hesitate. He picked up the corresponding piece and inspected it briefly. Park channeled mana into the device, and words began to flow.
"Can you hear me now?" Park asked.
"Yes... I hear you," the boy replied in a calm, deep voice. "A remarkable piece. It seems magic here has reached a high level of technical development."
Park laughed softly. "It's not our craft. It's an artifact from the Tower."
The Tower? What is that? the boy thought. I'll find out later. I must not appear out of place.
He scanned the room with curiosity. "So... gates exist here as well? It seems I've ended up in a completely different world." He smiled coldly. "Put my questions aside for now. I suspect your quiver is full of them."
"Your name?"
"Jin. No family name. I am seventeen years old."
Park's eyes widened. "Only seventeen?!" He regained his composure. "Tell me, what happened to you?"
Jin sighed, a sense of estrangement returning to his eyes. "In my world, gates appeared too. Guilds and noble families controlled everything; technology relied entirely on magic." He paused, pointing to the metal object on the desk. "But this... what is it?"
"This is a phone. We'll explain later. Continue."
"I entered a gate with a team," Jin went on, "but I was separated, and the entrance closed behind me. I stayed trapped there... for nearly two years."
"Two years? Inside a Rank C gate?!" Park exclaimed.
"It wasn't just a gate. It was a vast world." Jin looked down at his palms. "In the beginning, I was weak. I had nothing but a simple, rigorous method of refining mana. But I wanted only one thing... survival."
Investigator Park fell silent, lost in thought. Two years of solitary hell had not broken this boy. He looked at him with a hidden spark of admiration.
And so... the journey of the "Gate Survivor" began.