Chapter 118: Gate (3)

Ho cheol put the T-shaped breathing device in his mouth.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle the environment, but there was no need to foolishly wander around without protection when his throat was stinging.

Se-ah, already wearing her breathing device, looked at Ho cheol with a slightly surprised expression.

“That’s unexpected.”

“What is?”

“I thought you’d say relying on tools like this is a sign of a weak spirit and refuse to use it.”

“…What do you take me for? That’d be stupid.”

What a weird assumption.

Even with the breathing device, the high gravity and stinging eyes persisted.

They maintained formation and waited briefly.

At the front of the investigation team, a guide hunter was busy setting up a complex mechanical device and operating it.

Glancing at the scene and returning to his spot, Ho cheol asked.

“What’s that about?”

When it came to gates, Ho cheol’s knowledge was only slightly above a layman’s, and even that was stuck a decade in the past.

It was only natural he didn’t know the purpose or process of what was happening.

Se-ah placed her hands on her hips and explained with a hint of swagger.

“Environmental analysis and route mapping. Standard procedure when entering a gate.”

“Fancy.”

Soon after, the machine made a loud noise and spat out a sheet of paper.

The three hired hunters gathered around it, debating heatedly before reaching a conclusion and dispersing.

One of them suddenly approached—not Ho cheol, but Se-ah beside him.

The hunter asked cautiously.

“How will we handle command?”

Originally, the operations headquarters had assigned him as the on-site commander.

But that was just the headquarters’ decision; field judgment was another matter.

Though he was currently in charge, he was convinced Se-ah was better suited.

“If it’s you, I’d be willing to yield command.”

Se-ah casually waved her hand.

She was here to mediate strategic gaps or conflicts between hunters and heroes.

Despite her past as a renowned hunter, she hadn’t been in the field for years and wasn’t overly confident.

“Nah. For now, I’m just a support member until an unexpected variable pops up. Plus, I want to see how modern hunters perform.”

At her relaxed refusal, the hunter gave a wry smile.

“Hearing that from you of all people feels like pressure. Alright, I’ll take charge then.”

Returning to the front, he packed up the device and briefed the team on the gate’s environment, conditions, and distance to the next destination.

Ho cheol half-listened, instead turning to Se-ah.

“You must’ve been a big deal, huh?”

Ho cheol knew how greedy hunters could be.

It wasn’t for nothing that people said hunters were the personification of greed.

Not just for money, but for status and power too.

For a hunter to approach Se-ah so deferentially was something else.

It’d be impossible unless there was a significant gap in reputation or skill.

Se-ah, meanwhile, adjusted the straps of her backpack nonchalantly.

“I was kind of a big deal back then. He probably knows me from those days. I don’t know him, though.”

“The curse of fame.”

The briefing was nearing its end.

“Even the smallest mistake or wrong choice in a gate can mean life or death, so never let your guard down. We’ll adjust our pace, so step exactly where we step.”

The lead hunter turned and started moving.

Fluorescent paint on his soles left clear footprints on the ground.

Honestly, Ho cheol wondered if such caution was necessary.

But they were the pros.

For now, he followed the faintly glowing footprints obediently.

They moved in a line without major incidents.

The environment was chaotic, but it wasn’t hostile—just something to adapt to.

How long had they walked?

Bored, Se-ah turned her head and spoke.

“Wasn’t something off?”

“About what?”

Se-ah poked her cheek with her index finger and tilted her head.

“The Intelligence Department is supposed to have the tightest system in the association. But today, it felt…”

She tapped her cheek, searching for the right words.

“Scattered? Disorganized? Something like that. Plus, it seems like they had a big personnel shake-up. Nobody’s handling their tasks efficiently.”

From a passing glance, Se-ah could sense the unease among the Intelligence Department agents.

“Did it? I didn’t notice.”

Ho cheol hadn’t picked up on it at all.

He didn’t know how competent the Intelligence Department usually was, so their slightly sloppy performance seemed normal to him.

But he could guess the cause—no, he was certain.

It was likely tied to the recent events centered around him.

The Zero—Chain raid incident.

It had grown too big for the association to cover up internally, so someone had to take the fall.

The Intelligence Department’s director had lost their position because of it.

Not literally beheaded, but forced to step down.

And it wasn’t just the director.

Other officials who had dipped their toes in the mess faced consequences, big and small.

Se-ah pondered for a moment and muttered.

“Maybe because the director changed?”

She’d heard something about it recently, but since it was tied to political infighting and irrelevant to her, she hadn’t paid much attention.

“That’d definitely have an impact.”

But that wasn’t all.

“There was probably a personnel shake-up too.”

Se-ah’s eyes widened.

“Why all of a sudden? It’s not even the season for it.”

“Must’ve been some internal issue.”

Ji-an’s deal condition: the ‘list of informants within the association.’

Its exposure had led to the capture of numerous informants, not just in the Intelligence Department but across the association.

Spies selling info to villain organizations, information brokers, and leakers—the numbers were significant.

The association couldn’t let them handle sensitive documents or information, so they were all removed from their roles, causing a massive tangle in tasks and operations.

It had ushered in an era of overwork, far beyond even the Zero—Chain mass escape.

Aside from environmental factors, no gate-specific monsters appeared.

Naturally, aside from Ho cheol and Se-ah, most of the team relaxed significantly.

Chatting idly, they soon reached the end of the first gate and the entrance to the second.

“For such a harsh environment, we got here pretty easily.”

The hunter set up the same device again, operating it with a serious expression.

As the three hunters gathered around it, discussing something intently, Se-ah approached with her hands behind her back.

Looking at the device’s monitor, filled with complex graphs and long strings of code, she said casually.

“Can’t everyone cross?”

“How did you… Oh, it’s you. Yeah, the passage’s instability is too volatile. Crossing all at once is impossible, and we’ll need to manage its state periodically.”

The hunters’ dilemma was simple.

Someone had to stay behind to manage the passage’s instability.

The question was who.

“Seriously.”

Se-ah clicked her tongue, exasperated that they were wasting time on such a trivial matter.

For hunters, staying behind meant losing out on per-gate bonuses, which was unacceptable.

Moreover, the absence of monsters in such a harsh environment wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Their hunter instincts were screaming something ominous.

Staying behind might drag them into something troublesome.

After heated debate, one hunter was chosen to stay.

“Five will stay here to ensure the passage doesn’t close or destabilize. We’ll move to the second gate.”

The slightly reduced team entered the second gate’s entrance.

Unlike before, a vast blue landscape stretched out.

“It’s cold.”

The environment was no less forgiving.

The air was mildly chilly, but the cold seemed to seep into their bones upon contact.

Even light breathing produced visible white puffs.

“It’s freezing. But it’s not high-gravity like before, so we can move quickly.”

“Let’s hurry.”

The second gate was harsh but monster-free as well.

“Too quiet.”

“Yeah. You’d expect at least one monster.”

It was a good situation, but not a good sign.

Even with Ho cheol’s limited gate experience, such silence often meant an untouchable problem was brewing.

Se-ah couldn’t shake her unease either.

But they couldn’t dwell on something that hadn’t happened, so they pressed toward the third gate.

“Damn, it’s cold.”

Brushing frost off his arm, Ho cheol stood before the gate’s entrance.

As before, one hunter and four others stayed to manage the passage.

Entering the third gate, Ho cheol slowly scanned his surroundings.

High gravity, low oxygen, extreme cold—they’d endured it all to reach the final gate.

What dangers awaited here?

Contrary to his concerns, it was calm.

Breathing was easy, gravity was normal, and it wasn’t hot or cold.

Se-ah, removing her breathing device, scanned the area sharply but soon dropped her combat stance.

But only for a moment.

“Hold on.”

A faint sense of unease and foreboding.

Se-ah was the first in the team to notice.

Stopping everyone, she called the lead hunter to a halt.

“Gather here.”

The team, puzzled, assembled around her.

“What’s up?”

The hunter who’d offered her command asked.

Under everyone’s gaze, she raised her hand.

“Look.”

She swung her hand horizontally through the air.

Fwoosh—

Half the team didn’t catch it, while the other half doubted their eyes.

Only the hunters stared in shock at the spot her hand had passed.

“No way!”

“Again, slowly.”

Se-ah repeated the motion more slowly.

Her hand cut through the air, and for a brief moment, her palm flipped.

This time, the entire team saw it clearly.

Even Ho cheol, seeing it for the first time, muttered uneasily.

“What the hell is that?”

“Inversion field.”

Se-ah withdrew her hand and said briefly.

“It’s an area where everything, like a mirror, is reversed.”

“If it’s just visually reversed like a mirror, that’s not too dangerous, right?”

The green-clad hunter, who’d been silent until now, spoke.

Se-ah’s hand had flipped in the field but returned to normal once out.

It didn’t seem that dangerous, so why bother?

But a hunter shook his head vigorously.

“An inversion field doesn’t just reverse visuals. Phenomena flows—everything moves backward.

Brief contact doesn’t affect you, but in a wide or dense area…”

He trailed off.

Everyone’s expressions hardened similarly.

An association hero asked.

“What gets reversed? Blood flow or something?”

“If only it were that simple.”

That level of risk would be manageable for the Awakened here.

In terms of direct harm, the previous environments were worse.

But an inversion field wasn’t so gentle.

“Human organs and systems work to sustain life. In an inversion field, even that reverses.”

The heart stops pumping, the liver stops detoxifying, the lungs stop breathing.

All life-sustaining processes reverse, rushing toward death.

Staying too long was essentially a death sentence.

Having come this far, turning back wasn’t an option.

But the hunter scanned the area far more cautiously.

“Finding a route will take a while.”

Identifying an inversion field by sight, especially while moving, was incredibly difficult.

Every step had to be taken with care.

“Uh, isn’t our target a villain organization’s stronghold?”

“Yeah?”

“Then that…”

Someone raised a hand, pointing.

All eyes followed, landing on the same spot.

Far off, a massive tower stood.

Moments ago, it was obscured by clouds, but it grew clearer.

Its pointed top resembled a beast’s fang, menacing.

Beyond its shape, it was utterly alien.

A tower should rise from the ground, but this one extends downward from the sky.

Clouds swirled around it, and its surface gleamed transparently, like a piece of the sky itself.

Someone muttered.

“So the whole tower… is an inversion field?”

Everyone was speechless.

“We’re screwed.”

That summed up their collective sentiment.

While everyone stared at the tower in stunned silence.

“Honestly, I was tired of walking. This works out.”

Ho cheol, alone, perked up and started toward the tower.

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