CHSE 3

Chapter 3

After getting off the bus, I lifted my head, and the towering figure of a massive tower pierced the sky above.

The Busan Tower.

When the towers first appeared, people called them by many names—the Tower of Calamity, the Tower of Destruction, the Tower of Death.
But now, it had simply settled into being called the Busan Tower.

Because it stood in Busan.

The towers in other cities were given similar names: Seoul Tower, L.A. Tower, Shanghai Tower.
All over the world, towers were named according to the city or region they stood in.

And in Korea, there were five such towers: Seoul, Daejeon, Daegu, Busan, and Jeju Island.

Thanks to them, the five cities became fortress-cities where multiple hunter guilds were based and the military was permanently stationed, always preparing for the possibility of the towers eroding and spewing out monsters.

Yet the expressions of commuters remained calm, as if nothing was wrong.
People sipped coffee leisurely or ducked into convenience stores for their morning routine.
And why wouldn’t they?
Since its first appearance, the Busan Tower had never once suffered erosion.

[Busan Tower – This Month’s Ranking: 94/500]

“Still within the safe zone this month. The kids must’ve worked hard.”

A tower’s ranking was determined by the progress and contributions of hunters who entered it.
It might not seem important, but ever since the towers appeared, the whole world had been obsessed with the rankings.

The reason was simple.
On the first day of every month, the ten lowest-ranked towers in the world would undergo erosion—and monsters that normally only appeared inside the towers would pour into reality.

[Pakistan reduced to ashes.]
[India’s Prime Minister Modi: “How much longer must India suffer alone? Military aid from hunter nations is absolutely critical. Without support, we may be forced to take extreme measures.”]

Across the sea, real hellscapes were unfolding.

But for us in Korea? It had nothing to do with us.
Because our towers’ contribution levels were high—proof that Korea’s hunter force was exceptionally strong.

‘Not to brag, but back when I was around, we pushed it up to 8th.’

Maybe that’s why.
As I walked down the street, I felt people’s eyes on me. Some even seemed shocked to recognize my face.

I picked up my pace toward the tower to avoid the hassle.

The closer we got to the tower, the more Tichi muttered resentfully.
As a “Save Earth” assistant, he carried deep hostility toward the towers.

“Hunter ID, please.”

After showing my license, I stepped into the shimmering space that led inside.

[Entering Busan Tower – Floor 1]

A familiar landscape unfolded as though I had teleported—a boundless plateau.
I had seen it hundreds, no, thousands of times. It felt like returning home.

“I swore never to come back to the tower after getting kicked out of Giants…”

My unemployment had barely lasted a few months before that vow crumbled.
All because of the dream.

A stuffed bear suddenly popped out beside me.

“No. I’ll head higher first.”

My mana circuit had healed.
Other abilities were still crippled and had to be rebuilt from scratch, but that was fine.
A path had finally opened up in what once seemed like a dead end.

‘And I’m only 24—still young.’

It was just that my peers and I had started as hunters abnormally early.
Usually, people awakened mana in their late teens to early twenties.

Anyway, the reason I came here was to test whether my mana circuit had truly recovered.
No matter how much you trained, you couldn’t stress your circuit to its absolute limit outside the tower.

‘And there’s also that skill, right?’

I hadn’t checked what it was yet.
To see abilities, you needed an item called a status crystal—but due to hunter laws, individuals weren’t allowed to own one.

Back in my prime, I had around five combat skills.
But after my injury, they had all faded away.
Since they were powered by mana, once my circuit broke down, the skills had grown faint and eventually disappeared.

‘So what kind of skill did I get now?’

It probably wasn’t one I had before.
Like my healed circuit, this was likely something entirely new.

‘If I still belonged to a guild, I’d have already used a status crystal to check it…’

But I had no desire to beg the very guild that cast me aside.

‘I’ll just hunt some monsters and figure it out myself. Might even make some pocket money while I’m at it.’

With that thought, I began climbing.

‘Yes. Too many hunters crowd the lower floors.’

The lower levels were teeming with hunters, from rookies to veterans.
Small guilds set up camps to harvest resources, and mercenary teams took contracts there.

So it wasn’t easy to find monster packs.
Around the 40th floor—the Hwangryongsan map—things thinned out, as only upper-tier hunters (at least B-rank) could handle the danger.

That’s why I aimed for the 30s.

As I passed through a forested mountain zone, the stench of rot hit my nose.

<Enemy.>

Even before Tichi’s warning, I drew my sword. Rotten trees stretched their branches toward me.

Cursed Treants.

“…Five of them?”

That was more than expected. Even in the 30s, Treants rarely grouped like this.
But it didn’t matter.

‘If my mana circuit were still broken, I’d have run…’

But not anymore.

I had slain tens of thousands of Treants in my decade inside the Busan Tower.

Before I realized it, my body was already moving.

One branch came for me—my blade cut it clean, then swept in to slice the monster’s trunk.
A thin blue line spread, cracking and bursting its side.

“Kraaaaaghh—!!!”

The three-meter carnivorous tree screamed.

Tichi was ecstatic, charging forward.
Not that the monsters could even see him—apparently, only I could.

“Ki-ki-ki-kik!”

The others stretched out thick, wrist-sized branches, trying to bind me.

I cut them down one after another.

Crunch! Crack!

No need to dodge.

‘My mana may only be 15 now… but if I compress and distribute it properly, Treant branches are nothing.’

Most hunters couldn’t do it. But I had once reached the brink of Master-tier.

This much was easy.

‘Though… did it always feel like this?’

With only 15 mana, my total reserves should’ve been small, my recovery slow.
So I carefully controlled every drop.

Yet with each heartbeat, mana surged out explosively.

It felt like a sea of mana was constantly pouring into my tiny circuit.

“…Is this the new skill?”

It had to be.

I drove my blade into a Treant’s body and unleashed mana.
Its trunk ignited in blue flame, then exploded.

“Kiieeek!!”

One by one, I tore through them.
Even as I burned mana recklessly, my heart’s circuit showed no strain.
No stabbing pain, no risk of rupture.

In fact, mana was refilling faster than ever before.

“…This isn’t normal.”

I had to admit it—it was a skill.
Something like a cheat code for hunters.

Even compared to when I was an S-rank hunter, this recovery speed was absurd.

Or rather, not recovery at all.
The instant I used mana, it refilled immediately.

<What, you still didn’t believe me?>

“…Yeah.”

I’d hunted for over a decade, but I had never once heard of a skill like this.

Rare? Unique? Legendary?
None of those compared.

With mana flooding my veins, my swordsmanship reached its peak.
Treant after Treant fell, some screaming, some trying to flee—but I didn’t let a single one escape.

Finally, it was over.

Tichi wiped sweat off his furry brow and hovered over.

“…Yeah. My body really does feel… different.”

“I doubt it’s just D.”

No D-rank hunter could recover mana like this.

<Then?>

“C-rank at the least. If my physical stats recover, I could push for B.”

Maybe higher.
But hunters had to judge themselves conservatively.

My mana stat was still only 15.
Unlimited bullets, sure—but no heavy artillery.

‘Still… I could probably reach the 40s. Maybe the 50s, though it’d be tough.’

Even so, my heart felt no strain.
This was something beyond normal—like a gift straight from Save Earth.

“…I’ll need a status crystal.”

I had to identify this skill properly.

The Crystal Guild building stood where Busan’s old citizens’ park once was.
With the tower nearby, a military division garrisoned the area, and guild buildings filled the gaps.

Tichi pointed at a glittering skyscraper—the Giants Guild HQ, the most famous in Busan.

Was this bear mocking me?

“No. Crystal Guild is better—I know people there.”

<Why?>

“My level matches their first team. C and D-ranks.”

After my injury, I’d mostly run raids with Crystal.
I was closer to them than to the ever-changing roster of Giants.

Ding.

The guild doors opened to reveal sleek glass walls engraved with the guild’s emblem—a violet amethyst.
It showcased their achievements, meant to inspire rookie hunters.

As I walked in, a middle-aged man at the desk leapt to his feet in shock.

“Wait, is that—? Hunter Han Ji-min?!”

The Crystal Guild Master.

“Been a while.”

“I heard the rumors, but why come only now?!”

“…Sorry?”

“You should’ve joined us right away! I told you before—Crystal would’ve made you our ace!”

“…Ah.”

He misunderstood why I was here.
But then again, he was always like this—full of hunter ambition, like Sim Cheon-min, the Giants’ master who once dreamed of turning his guild into a giant.

“I just wanted some rest.”

I shrugged casually, not to offend him.

“Well, our people will be thrilled you came. We’ve got jobs lined up, too.”

“I’m taking this year off. I’ve been through a lot.”

“…You’re resting? For real?”

“Yes.”

My firm tone left him disappointed.

“Anyway, you’ve still got a status crystal, right?”

“A… status crystal?”

He looked puzzled.
Why would someone not raiding the tower need their stats checked?

“I still train privately. Just want to make sure my abilities haven’t degraded. If erosion hits, even retired hunters have to fight, right?”

I didn’t mention my healed circuit.
No one would believe me—and even if they did, I’d be dragged around endlessly.

Too many hunters had retired due to broken circuits. If it got out that I’d miraculously recovered, my freedom would vanish.

‘That too. I want the bastards who kicked me out to choke on regret.’

Giants loved their “elite few” excuse. What a joke.

“…Well, the tower’s been tense lately.”

His face darkened, but I didn’t pry.

“Anyway, you know—if you ever raid again, it’ll be with Crystal, right?”

“Of course. We’re family.”

“…Good. We’ve got a few spare crystals. I’ll give you one free—let’s call it payback for that time with Urgos, yeah?”

Urgos? What was that again—

“Oh, when your whole team almost died?”

“Yeah! You forgot?”

“Honestly, there’s not a single Busan hunter who hasn’t owed me their life.”

“…True enough.”

He scratched his head sheepishly.

“Seriously, what the hell were Giants thinking, kicking you out?”

“My circuit was broken.”

“…Sorry.”

“It’s fine. That was nearly two years ago.”

“Still pisses me off… No wonder Giants keep declining. Seoul’s guilds sneer at Busan nowadays.”

Muttering curses at Giants, he disappeared into the back and returned with a glowing orb.

“Check inside that room.”

He handed me the crystal.

“No recording equipment, right?”

“That room’s clean. Don’t worry.”

I gave a dry laugh and headed in.

Placing my hand on the orb, I poured mana into it.
Golden letters shimmered into view.

[Strength – 26, Agility – 22, Stamina – 23, Toughness – 27, Luck – 10, Dexterity – 8, Mana – 15, …]

“…Oh.”

My mana stat, once 0, now read 15.
Other physical stats had improved too—enough to be recognized as at least D-rank.

But Tichi’s expression twisted.

“They were much higher once. The injury crippled me. What you saw was experience filling the gap.”

<Still…>

But numbers didn’t matter most.

Because the orb began to shine gold again—revealing something new.

[Skill: Infinity (EX)
From the heart flows endless mana, supplied infinitely into the circuit.
However, total usable mana is proportional to your mana stat. If too much is drawn at once, recovery speed decreases.
Excessive use beyond one’s limits can cause bodily collapse.]

“…It’s real.”

Tichi had been right.

But his voice barely registered.

‘Endless mana? That’s even possible?’

A shiver ran down my spine. My heartbeat quickened.

Visions of the powerful enemies who had once blocked my path in the tower flashed through my mind.
And finally, the image of Karas, the one who pierced my chest and mocked me, surfaced—then faded.

“Infinity…”

I reread the description, hands trembling with excitement.

Tichi puffed out his round belly proudly.

I must’ve hurt his feelings by doubting him.

But really, how could anyone believe such a skill right away?

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Of course I did.
I’d been a top hunter for over a decade—I knew better than anyone.

“But a true munchkin would be able to crush the tower with a flick of their finger.”

That’s how it was in the novels I’d read.
The lone level-upper.
The infinite regressor.
The one who commanded armies alone.

<…Not even gods could do that. So what’s your plan?>

I looked Tichi in the eye.

“I’m going to check Save Earth.”