Hyun-Jae gripped the doctor's sleeve, his voice desperate. "There has to be something I can do. Anything."
The doctor looked away, his eyes scanning the busy hospital hallway before leaning in. "During this time? All you can really do is pray. Or..." He hesitated, lowering his voice to a shadow of a whisper. "Find someone else to take his place. There are still people out there hiding their marks, terrified of the draft. If someone else shows up tomorrow when the transport arrives... well, like I said, the system is a mess. They just want a body with a mark."
Hyun-Jae's heart hammered against his ribs. He didn't wait for another word.
"Thank you," he breathed. "For everything."
He turned and bolted toward the exit. He didn't stop to explain things to his mother or comfort his sisters. He couldn't. If he stayed, he would just watch his father be stolen by sunrise.
As he pushed through the sliding glass doors, the humid night air hit him, followed immediately by a cold, torrential downpour. The rain soaked through his shirt in seconds, but he didn't care. He had a destination in mind.
He knew where the shadows lived. He knew there were more people like those D-rank thugs, men who used their power for themselves and stayed off the grid to avoid the front lines. If the government wanted an Awakened "unidentified male," he would give them one. He just had to find a criminal who deserved the "meat grinder" more than his father did.
Hyun-Jae sprinted away from the sterile lights of the hospital, heading toward the shadiest district of the city. His lungs burned and his feet splashed through deep puddles, but his mind was clearer than it had been in years.
Ten years of training hadn't given him a mark, but it had given him the map of every back alley and dark corner in this neighborhood. Somewhere in the rain, a monster was hiding.
And Hyun-Jae was going to drag it into the light.
The rain pounded against the pavement, turning the narrow backstreets into a maze of dark reflections. Hyun-Jae's eyes scanned every shadow. He spotted a man leaning against a dumpster, hood pulled low, looking for trouble. But as Hyun-Jae got closer, he saw the man's bare neck. No mark.
Hyun-Jae kept moving, his footsteps heavy and hurried.
"Hey, kid. Where you going in such a rush?" the man called out, stepping into his path. He flicked a switchblade open, the steel glinting under the dim streetlights. "Leave the wallet and the phone, and maybe I won't carve you up."
Hyun-Jae didn't even slow down. "I don't have any money. Move."
"You think I'm joking?" The thug stepped forward, waving the knife. "I'm not asking twice."
Hyun-Jae wasn't in the mood for games. His father's life was ticking away in a hospital bed, and he was done being a victim. Before the thug could even blink, Hyun-Jae closed the distance. He didn't wait for a threat; he made the first strike. A sharp jab to the throat followed by a heavy kick to the knee sent the man crashing into the wet asphalt.
The knife clattered away into a puddle. Hyun-Jae pinned him down, his eyes cold and terrifyingly calm.
"Wait! Wait! I give up! Stop!" the man yelled, shielding his face as Hyun-Jae raised a fist to finish it.
Hyun-Jae hesitated, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He was about to drag this guy to a police station just to get him off the street, but the thug scrambled backward, desperate.
"You're... you're looking for something, right?" the man wheezed, clutching his bruised throat. "Normal people don't come down here looking like they're ready to kill. If I find it for you, will you let me go?"
Hyun-Jae sighed, looking at the pathetic man in the mud. He wasn't convinced, but time was a luxury he didn't have. "I'm looking for a male Awakened," he said, his voice low. "Someone who isn't registered. Someone who's been hiding."
The thug froze, his eyes widening. He looked at Hyun-Jae's unmarked neck, then back at his face. A slow, shaky grin spread across his lips.
"An Awakened? Someone to take a fall?" The man spit a bit of blood onto the ground. "Yeah... I might know someone. A real piece of work who's been bragging about his 'gift' while shaking down the local shops. He's been terrified they'll find him and send him to the front. For a guy like you... I'll tell you exactly where he's hiding."
"Lead the way," Hyun-Jae said, his voice cold. "And if you're pulling something, you won't be walking back out of these alleys."
The thug nodded quickly, hands raised in a mock gesture of surrender. "No way, man. I value my skin. Follow me."
As they turned deeper into the labyrinth of shipping containers and rusted fire escapes, the thug's back was to Hyun-Jae, hiding the sharp, predatory smirk that crept across his face. He wasn't leading Hyun-Jae to a hiding spot; he was leading him to a slaughterhouse.
They arrived at the back entrance of a sprawling, dilapidated warehouse. The smell of grease and stale smoke drifted through the cracks in the corrugated metal. The thug pushed the heavy door open, gesturing for Hyun-Jae to enter.
Inside, the space was lit by flickering industrial lamps. It was a den of thieves, dozens of hooligans and criminals sat around crates, sharpening blades or counting stolen goods. At the center of it all, sitting on a makeshift throne of luxury leather car seats, was a man surrounded by expensive liquor and a group of terrified-looking women.
On his neck, three jagged lines were visible even through the haze of smoke. A C-Rank.
The man on the throne looked up, his eyes narrowing. "You brought an outsider here?" he roared at the thug. "You know the rules. No one sees this place and lives to talk about it."
The thug bowed low, his smirk finally breaking into a full-blown grin. "Sorry, Master. I brought him here because he was looking for an 'unidentified awakened male.' I figured he'd make a great toy for you before we dump his body in the river."
Hyun-Jae scanned the room. There were at least twenty men, all armed, and a C-Rank who could likely snap a normal human's spine with one hand. He had expected a trap, but the sheer numbers were worse than he'd feared.
He didn't hesitate. Before the thug could move away, Hyun-Jae lunged.
In one fluid motion, he snatched the switchblade from the thug's pocket and pinned the man against his chest. He pressed the cold steel directly against the thug's jugular.
"Shut up," Hyun-Jae commanded, his eyes fixed on the man in the center.
The room went dead silent. The thugs stood up, reaching for pipes and knives, but the C-Rank stayed seated, amused by the audacity.
"You've got guts, kid," the C-Rank said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "But you're unmarked. Do you really think a piece of cheap steel is going to save you in a room full of real men?"
"You're coming with me," Hyun-Jae said, his voice remarkably steady despite the adrenaline screaming in his ears. "Right now."
He knew it was a stupid risk. He was a regular human threatening a room full of criminals and a superhuman. But as he thought of his father's pale face in that hospital bed, the fear vanished, replaced by a desperate, suicidal focus. He didn't have to win; he just had to take this man back.
Hyun-Jae didn't wait for the C-Rank to give the order. He shoved the hostage thug toward the nearest group of enemies and bolted.
He didn't run deeper into the warehouse. Instead, he dove back through the heavy metal doors into the storm. Standing his ground in an open space against twenty men was a death sentence, but the narrow, rain-slicked labyrinth outside was a different story.
"Kill him! Tear him apart!" the thug screamed, clutching his neck.
The mob poured out of the warehouse like a flood of shadows. But the moment they stepped into the rain, the world changed. The downpour was so heavy it acted like a curtain, muffling footsteps and blurring vision.
Hyun-Jae didn't keep running. He vanished behind a stack of rusted shipping containers, his heart racing but his mind cold. Ten years of training, thousands of hours spent mastering movement and spatial awareness, finally had a purpose.
One by one, he thought.
The first criminal rounded the corner, swinging a lead pipe. Hyun-Jae didn't trade blows. He used the man's momentum against him, stepping into his guard and driving a palm into his chin. Before the man could even grunt, Hyun-Jae disappeared back into the darkness.
A second man was pulled into the gap between two dumpsters. A third was tripped into a deep puddle and silenced with a swift strike to the temple. To the thugs, it felt like the rain itself was attacking them. The noise of the storm masked every struggle, every muffled cry.
"Spread out! He's just one guy!" someone shouted, but the voice was laced with growing panic.
Suddenly, a massive shockwave of pressure cleared the rain in a five-meter radius.
The C-Rank stepped into the center of the alley, his three marks glowing faintly through the gloom. He didn't look angry; he looked delighted. He kicked a nearby trash can, sending it flying like a projectile into a brick wall.
"Impressive for a maggot," the man boomed, his voice carrying over the thunder. "My name is Kwang Dong-Ho. I was getting bored sitting in that warehouse waiting for the world to end."
Dong-Ho cracked his knuckles, the sound like breaking wood. He scanned the shadows, his senses sharpened by the Etherea in his veins.
"You've got talent, kid. But you're playing a game of hide-and-seek with a predator. You want an 'awakened'? Fine. Come and try to take me."
Hyun-Jae didn't try to match Dong-Ho's strength. He knew the math, a C-Rank's punch can carry the same force of a moving vehicle. Instead, he leaned into the chaos of the rain, moving with a frantic, desperate energy.
He wasn't a master; he was a man possessed. He took hits, a pipe across the shoulder that made his arm go numb, a fist to the ear that left his head ringing like a bell. He managed to pull one thug into the dark, landing a messy, heavy-handed blow, but he was falling apart. Every time Dong-Ho lunged, Hyun-Jae barely scrambled away, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Dong-Ho laughed, a booming sound that carried over the thunder. He wasn't even winded. He stepped forward, catching Hyun-Jae with a casual backhand that sent him spinning into a pile of wooden pallets.
"Look at you," Dong-Ho sneered, walking slowly toward the wreckage. "Coming in here with no mark, no power, acting like you're some kind of hero. You're just a bug crawling into a furnace."
Hyun-Jae tried to push himself up, his fingers slipping on the wet wood. Before he could find his footing, Dong-Ho's boot slammed into his chest, pinning him flat against the ground. The air left Hyun-Jae's lungs in a pained wheeze.
"You really thought you could just walk in here and take me?" Dong-Ho leaned down, his three marks casting a faint, cruel glow in the dark. "You unmarked trash are all the same. You think a little bit of bravery makes up for the gap in our blood. It doesn't. I don't know who you think you are, kid, but in this world, you're just a delivery service that brought me a reason to laugh."
Dong-Ho stepped back, gesturing to the remaining thugs. "Finish him. I want to hear him beg before the rain drowns him out."
The mob swarmed. It was a blur of boots and blunt objects. Hyun-Jae curled into a ball, the taste of copper filling his mouth as the rain mixed with the blood in his eyes.
I'm an idiot, he thought, his vision flickering. What was I thinking? I'm not a hero. I'm just a guy who can't accept reality.
The guilt hit him harder than the kicks. Because of his pride, his father was dying in a hospital, and now he was going to die in a gutter. His mom, Yuna, Yuri... they were going to lose both of them in one night. He had tried to save his family and ended up destroying it instead.
Dong-Ho pushed the thugs aside, wanting the final blow for himself. He raised a massive, glowing fist, his face twisted in a grin.
"Don't worry," Dong-Ho mocked. "I'll make sure the government finds what's left of you."
He brought his fist down.
Thwack.
The sound was sudden and dull. Dong-Ho's eyes rolled back, his grin vanishing as his body went limp. He collapsed forward, hitting the ground with a heavy splash.
The thugs froze.
Hyun-Jae blinked through the red haze. Standing on top of a nearby shipping container was a familiar silhouette, her coat snapping in the wind. Against the crimson glow of the countdown, she looked like a calm spirit.
Sena.
She didn't say a word. She dropped from the container, moving through the thugs like a blur of lethal efficiency. It wasn't a fight; it was a cleanup. Every strike she landed sent a man flying into the dark.
Within seconds, the only sounds left were the steady pulse of the rain and Hyun-Jae's ragged breathing. Sena walked over, her boots clicking softly on the pavement. She looked down at him, her expression unreadable.
"You again," she said. "Do you have a death wish, or are you just remarkably bad at staying home?"
Sena didn't wait for a thank you. She reached down, grabbed Kwang Dong-Ho by the collar of his jacket, and began dragging his heavy, unconscious body across the wet pavement as if he were nothing more than a sack of grain.
Hyun-Jae's hand shot out, his fingers locking around Dong-Ho's ankle. "Wait," he wheezed, his voice thick with pain and the copper taste of blood. "This one... he's mine."
Sena stopped. She turned her head slowly, looking back at him with a gaze that could have frozen the falling rain. Her brow furrowed in genuine, cold confusion. "Yours? This is a C-Rank criminal with a standing warrant. In ten days, he's just another body for the front. He's government property now."
"Let him go," Hyun-Jae pleaded, pulling himself up onto his knees. Every movement felt like a hot iron was being pressed into his ribs. Between gasps for air, he blurted out the truth, the hospital, his father's failing heart, the mark, and the sunrise deadline. "I need him. If I bring him in as the 'unidentified' Awakened the doctor reported, my father stays home. My dad won't survive the front lines, Miss Sena. Please."
Sena's expression didn't soften. If anything, she looked bored, her eyes tracking the movement of a nearby shadow before returning to him. "The world is ending, and you're playing swap-the-soldier? Let go. I have a job to do, and I don't have time for a sob story."
She turned and started walking again. Because of her superior strength, she didn't just drag Dong-Ho, she dragged Hyun-Jae right along with him. His knees scraped against the jagged, flooded asphalt, and the rain lashed at his face, but he didn't loosen his grip. His knuckles were white, his fingers hooked into the criminal's boot like a vice.
"Let go," she snapped, her annoyance finally breaking through her calm. "You're being pathetic. You're going to get yourself killed just to save a man who's already been marked by the sky."
"I'm not letting him go!" Hyun-Jae yelled, his voice cracking against the thunder.
Sena stopped abruptly and looked down at him, her silhouette blocking out the red glow of the timer. "If you're so worried about your father, why don't you just take his place? Go to the hospital, put on a show, and tell them it was you."
"You know it doesn't work like that!" Hyun-Jae hissed, his teeth grit in frustration as he stared at his own bare, unmarked hands. "I don't have a mark! I've tried for ten years! They check the Etherea, they check the neck. I'm useless to them! I'm just a normal human!"
"Then that's your problem," she said coldly.
She was done arguing. Sena crouched and then leaped, her powerful legs propelling her, and the two men she was holding, toward the fire escape of a nearby building. Hyun-Jae's stomach dropped as he was jerked into the air. He swung violently, the wind whipping past him, but he refused to let go even as they landed hard on a rooftop four stories up. One wrong move and he would have plummeted back into the alley.
Sena landed perfectly, but she let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. She looked at the bruised, bloody, and shivering young man who was still stubbornly clinging to a criminal's leg on a rainy rooftop. He looked like a drowned rat, but his eyes held a terrifying, desperate fire. It wasn't compassion that moved her; it was sheer, mounting annoyance. He was a variable she didn't want to deal with, and his stubbornness was starting to interfere with her night.
"Fine. Stop. You're giving me a headache," she muttered, her voice low and dangerous.
She reached into a small, waterproof pouch at her belt and felt around for a moment. She pulled out a dull, metallic ring, unremarkable, except for the way it seemed to swallow the light around it. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she tossed it at him.
Hyun-Jae caught it with trembling hands, the metal feeling unnaturally heavy and cold against his palm. He stared at it, confused, as the ring hummed with a faint, rhythmic vibration he could feel deep in his bones.
"What is this?" he asked, looking up at her.
Sena didn't answer. She simply adjusted her grip on Dong-Ho's collar and stepped toward the edge of the roof.
"Figure it out," she said over her shoulder. "But if I see you in an alley again, I won't be the one who stops the beating. Go home. You have a long night ahead of you."
Before he could ask another question, she disappeared into the rain, leaving Hyun-Jae alone on the rooftop with nothing but his injuries and the mysterious ring.
Hyun-Jae slammed his fist against the gravel of the rooftop, the physical pain in his knuckles barely registering against the crushing weight of his failure. The rain continued to pour, washing the blood from his face, but it couldn't wash away the image of his father's pale face in that hospital bed.
He looked down at the dull, vibrating ring in his palm. It felt like a useless consolation prize. With no other choice and his body screaming in protest, he dragged himself off the roof and began the long, limping trek back to the hospital.
By the time the sterile white lights of the hospital entrance came into view, Hyun-Jae was barely standing. His shirt was torn, his face was a map of bruises, and he moved with the mechanical stiffness of someone holding their ribs together by sheer will.
"Hyun-Jae?"
He looked up to see the doctor from earlier, now wearing a heavy coat and carrying a briefcase, clearly finishing a grueling shift. The man froze, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of the boy. He rushed over, grabbing Hyun-Jae by the shoulders to steady him.
"Good god, what happened to you?" the doctor hissed, his voice thick with guilt. "This is my fault. I shouldn't have said those things. I shouldn't have put such a reckless, impossible idea in your head. Look at you! You could have been killed!"
Hyun-Jae didn't respond. He didn't have the energy to explain the warehouse, the C-Rank, or the girl who had vanished into the night. He just stared at the floor, his silence radiating a deep, hollow disappointment. He had failed. Sunrise was coming, and he was empty-handed.
As the doctor reached into his pocket for a medical penlight to check Hyun-Jae's pupils, his hand brushed against the object Hyun-Jae had tucked away. The metallic ring fell out, clattering onto the linoleum floor with a heavy, resonant thud that sounded far too dense for its size.
The doctor froze. He stared at the ring, his breath hitching. He didn't pick it up immediately; he just hovered over it as if he were looking at something sacred, or dangerous.
"Where..." the doctor whispered, his voice dumbfounded. "Where did you get that?"
Hyun-Jae slumped against the wall, his voice raspy. "A girl. She took the guy I was after and threw that at me like it was trash. Why?"
The doctor knelt down, gingerly picking up the ring. He held it up to the light, watching the way it seemed to distort the air around it. "Hyun-Jae, do you have any idea what this is?"
"It's a ring," Hyun-Jae muttered bitterly. "A piece of junk."
"No," the doctor said, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and sudden, sharp hope. "I've only seen photos of these in high-level briefings. This is an Artifact. When the Celestials first arrived ten years ago, they gave these to the world's main governments, it was meant to serve as an 'starter pack' to help us prepare for what was coming. They are incredibly rare, probably in the low double digits across the entire planet."
He looked at Hyun-Jae, his professional composure slipping.
"These aren't just jewelry. They are catalysts. They are designed to forcefully boost and stabilize the Etherea of an individual. Even a low-rank could potentially double their output with something like this."
Hyun-Jae's eyes widened, the fog of pain in his mind clearing. He stared at the small, dull circle of metal in the doctor's hand. The possibility hit him like a lightning strike, if this thing could boost Etherea, then his desperate, bloody crawl through the rain might not have been a waste after all.