Chapter Text
☁️
The first thing Park Sunghoon learned as a Hunter was that monsters were never born monsters.
People simply decided what they were. Some were born with claws. Some with fangs. Some with eyes that glowed in the dark and shadows that moved even when they stood perfectly still.
And then there were the cultivators. They were different. They looked human. They spoke like humans. They lived among humans.
But somewhere along the path of their existence, they had stepped beyond the limits of what a human being was supposed to become.
That was what made them dangerous. At least, that was what Sunghoon had been taught.
He had been thirteen when he first entered the Hunter Academy.
By sixteen, he had learned how to recognize the residue of spiritual energy.
By eighteen, he could track a supernatural creature through a forest without leaving a single trace of his own presence.
By twenty-one, he had become one of the youngest Hunters to receive a black insignia.
The black insignia was not given for bravery. It was not given for strength. It was given to those who had survived long enough to become useful.
Sunghoon had never questioned why he was useful. He had simply accepted it. That was what Hunters did. They followed orders. They protected the ordinary world.
And they killed whatever threatened it. Simple. At least, it had always been simple.
Until the morning the Elders summoned him.
-
The Hunter Headquarters stood at the northern edge of the capital, surrounded by tall stone walls engraved with ancient protective seals.
Ordinary people couldn't see the building. To them, the land appeared to be nothing more than an abandoned stretch of forest.
But Hunters knew better. The Headquarters had existed for nearly five hundred years.
It was where young Hunters were trained. Where missions were assigned. Where records of supernatural beings were preserved.
And where the names of those who never returned were carved into stone.
Sunghoon walked through the main gate without slowing down. His black coat brushed against his ankles as he crossed the courtyard.
A few younger Hunters immediately stepped aside when they saw him. Some bowed. Some whispered. Sunghoon ignored all of them. He was used to it.
People often became quieter when he entered a room. He had never bothered to find out why.
Perhaps it was because of his reputation. Perhaps it was because of the black insignia attached to his collar. Or perhaps it was simply because Sunghoon had never been particularly good at looking approachable.
He entered the main building and climbed three flights of stairs. The fourth floor belonged to the Council. No ordinary Hunter was allowed beyond the first door.
Sunghoon stopped before it. Two guards stood on either side. They recognized him immediately.
"Park Sunghoon." Sunghoon nodded.
"You're expected." The door opened. He stepped inside.
The atmosphere changed immediately. The corridors of the Hunter Headquarters were usually filled with noise.
Boots against stone. Weapons being sharpened. Hunters arguing over missions. But the fourth floor was silent. Too silent.
Sunghoon walked down the corridor without speaking. There were seven doors. The last one was larger than the others. It had no handle.
Instead, a silver seal was carved into its surface. Sunghoon placed his palm against it. The seal recognized his spiritual signature. The door opened. Inside, six people were waiting. The Council.
Sunghoon stopped just inside the room. He recognized every face. Chairman Kang sat at the center. To his right were three Elder Hunters. To his left were two representatives from the Archive Division. None of them looked particularly pleased to see him.
That was unusual.
Sunghoon had attended enough Council meetings to understand their expressions. Displeasure meant a Hunter had failed. Concern meant something had gone wrong.
Fear—
Sunghoon looked around the room. There was fear here. Not much. But enough.
His gaze settled on Chairman Kang. "What's the mission?"
No greeting. No unnecessary formalities. Chairman Kang stared at him for several seconds.
Then he said, "Sit."
Sunghoon remained standing. "I'd rather hear the mission first."
One of the Elders frowned. "Your arrogance—"
"Leave him." Chairman Kang's voice silenced the room.
Sunghoon waited. The Chairman reached for a file lying on the table. It was old. Very old.
The leather cover was almost black from age. There was no Hunter insignia on it. No classification mark. No name.
Sunghoon's eyes narrowed. "What's that?"
Chairman Kang placed the file in front of him. "Your next assignment."
Sunghoon looked at it. Then back at him. "Why isn't it classified?"
"It is."
"There's no seal."
"There doesn't need to be."
Sunghoon's expression changed slightly.
The Council had four levels of classification. Public. Hunter-only. Restricted. And sealed.
Sealed information was not supposed to exist outside the Council. It meant that even Hunters weren't trusted with the truth.
Sunghoon looked down at the file again. "What's the target?"
Nobody answered. The silence stretched.
Then Chairman Kang said, "The last cultivator."
Sunghoon didn't move.
For a moment, he thought he had heard incorrectly. "That's impossible."
"No." Chairman Kang's voice was quiet. "That's what we believed too."
One of the Archive representatives opened another file.
"This morning, we received confirmation from the western border."
Sunghoon glanced at him. "Confirmation of what?"
"The presence of spiritual energy."
Sunghoon's fingers rested against the edge of the table. "How strong?"
The man hesitated. "Beyond measurement."
That was not an answer.
Sunghoon's eyes hardened. "Try again."
The representative swallowed. "We couldn't measure it."
"Why?"
"Because every spiritual instrument we sent into the area stopped functioning."
Sunghoon was silent.
The Elder seated nearest to the window spoke. "Three teams were dispatched."
Sunghoon looked at him. "Three?"
"Yes."
"How many Hunters?"
"Twelve."
"And?"
The Elder's expression didn't change. "None returned."
Something cold settled in Sunghoon's stomach. Twelve Hunters. Three teams. No survivors.
He had seen entire squads wiped out before. But twelve trained Hunters disappearing without leaving a single body behind was different.
"Any evidence?"
"One."
The Archive representative pushed a small object across the table. Sunghoon looked down. A jade pendant. Cracked in half. He didn't touch it.
"Who did it?"
The room went quiet again.
Then Chairman Kang said the name. "Kim Sunoo."
Sunghoon's eyes lifted. The name meant nothing to him.
And yet— Something about it felt strangely familiar.
He dismissed the thought immediately. "Who is he?"
No one answered. Sunghoon waited.
Finally, Chairman Kang leaned back in his chair. "That's the problem."
He opened the old leather file.
The first page contained a drawing. Sunghoon stared at it. A mountain. Black ink against yellowed paper. At the peak was a circular symbol. An eye surrounded by flames. Below it, written in ancient script, was a single name.
Haneul.
Sunghoon frowned. "Mount Haneul?"
Chairman Kang nodded. "Three hundred and twenty-seven years ago, a cultivator lived there."
Sunghoon glanced at the file. "Kim Sunoo?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly. Sunghoon looked up.
Chairman Kang's expression had changed. "His name was never recorded."
"Then how do you know he existed?"
"We don't." The room became colder.
Sunghoon's eyes narrowed. "Then what exactly am I hunting?"
Chairman Kang closed the file. "That's what you're going to find out."
Sunghoon stared at him. "You want me to investigate a person whose name you don't know, whose existence you can't confirm, in a place where twelve Hunters disappeared?"
"Yes."
"And if this person is responsible?"
"You kill him."
Simple. The answer should have satisfied him.
It didn't. Sunghoon crossed his arms. "Why me?"
One of the Elders laughed quietly. "Because you're the best."
"No."
Sunghoon's gaze remained fixed on Chairman Kang. "That's not the reason."
The Chairman didn't respond. Sunghoon knew there was something they weren't telling him.
The Council never summoned a Hunter personally unless the mission was important. They could have sent a squad. They had sent three. All of them had disappeared.
So why send him alone? "What's the real reason?"
Chairman Kang's expression hardened. "Because you're the only Hunter left who can enter Mount Haneul."
Sunghoon frowned. "Why?"
"Your spiritual signature."
That made even less sense.
"What about it?"
"Your energy isn't fully compatible with Hunter seals."
Sunghoon's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
The Chairman looked toward the window. "Years ago, before the Hunters were divided into ranks, there were people who could manipulate spiritual energy without weapons."
Sunghoon remained silent.
"Those people were called cultivators."
"I know what cultivators are."
"Do you?"
The question was quiet. But it made Sunghoon pause.
The Chairman turned back toward him. "Tell me what you know."
Sunghoon didn't hesitate. "According to the Hunter Archives, cultivators were humans who cultivated spiritual energy to enhance their physical abilities. The strongest could manipulate elements, create barriers, communicate with spirits, and—"
"That's the Hunter version."
Sunghoon stopped. "What's the other version?"
No answer. Chairman Kang stood. The meeting was clearly over.
"Go to the Archive."
Sunghoon didn't move. "Chairman."
"Park Sunghoon." The tone was a warning.
Sunghoon's jaw tightened. "What?"
"If you find the cultivator—" He stopped.
For the first time since Sunghoon entered the room, Chairman Kang looked uncertain. Not afraid. Uncertain.
"Do not listen to him."
Sunghoon stared at him. "Who?"
Chairman Kang's eyes met his. "Whatever he tells you."
Then the door opened. And the meeting was over.
-
The Archive was located beneath the Headquarters. Most Hunters never visited it. There was no reason to.
The Archives contained records that were centuries old, written in languages most modern Hunters couldn't read.
Sunghoon descended seven levels underground. The deeper he went, the colder it became. He passed through three security gates before reaching the central hall.
The Archive Keeper was waiting. She was an old woman named Han Yerin.
Sunghoon had met her only twice. Both times, she had looked at him as though she knew something he didn't. He disliked that.
"You're looking for the cultivators." It wasn't a question.
Sunghoon placed the file on the table. "I'm looking for Kim Sunoo."
The old woman looked at the name. Her expression changed. Only slightly.
But Sunghoon noticed. "You know him."
"No."
"You're lying." Her eyes lifted.
Sunghoon stared back. Neither moved. Then she smiled.
"You've become more observant."
"I didn't come here for compliments."
"No."
She picked up the file, "You came here because they sent you to die."
Sunghoon's expression remained blank, "Is that what you think?"
"I know."
"Then tell me why."
She didn't answer. Instead, she walked toward a massive bookshelf. Sunghoon followed.
"Three hundred years ago," she said, "the Hunters believed they had destroyed every cultivator."
"Did they?"
"No."
She stopped before an empty shelf. Sunghoon looked at it.
There were no books. Only dust.
"What happened?"
"The cultivators disappeared."
"Why?"
"Nobody knows."
"Then why are they considered extinct?"
The old woman looked at him. "Because the Hunters needed them to be."
Sunghoon's eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer."
"It is the only one you're going to get today." She turned away.
Sunghoon caught her wrist. The moment his fingers touched her skin, the lights flickered. Both of them froze.
A strange sensation moved through Sunghoon's body. Cold. Then heat.
For less than a second, he saw something. A mountain. Snow. A red lantern hanging from a tree. And someone standing beneath it. A figure dressed in pale robes. Sunghoon couldn't see his face.
But he heard a voice. Soft. Almost amused. "You came back."
The vision disappeared.
Sunghoon released the woman's wrist.
She stared at him. "What did you see?"
"Nothing."
Her expression changed. She knew he was lying. Sunghoon turned away.
"Where is the information on Mount Haneul?"
The old woman remained silent for a long time. Then she walked to another shelf. This one was hidden behind a wall. She placed her palm against the stone.
A seal appeared. The wall opened. Sunghoon stared. Inside was a narrow chamber. At the center stood a single wooden box. The old woman took it out.
She didn't give it to him. Instead, she held it close.
"Before you open this," she said, "understand something."
Sunghoon waited.
"Not every story told by the Hunters is a lie."
"Some of it is."
"Yes."
She looked directly at him. "And not every cultivator is innocent."
Sunghoon nodded. "That's what I thought."
"But Kim Sunoo—"
She stopped.
Sunghoon's eyes sharpened. "What about him?"
The old woman looked down at the box. "I don't know."
"You're lying again."
"Perhaps."
She handed him the box. Sunghoon took it. It was heavier than it looked.
"Open it when you reach Mount Haneul."
"Why?"
"Because if you open it here, they will know."
Sunghoon's fingers tightened around the box. "Who?"
The old woman smiled.
This time, there was no amusement in it. "The people who killed the cultivators."
Sunghoon stared at her. "Who killed them?"
The old woman didn't answer. She only whispered, "Go to Mount Haneul, Park Sunghoon."
Then she stepped back. "And when you meet the last cultivator—"
Sunghoon waited.
Her voice became quieter, "Don't let him see the mark on your wrist."
Sunghoon's eyes immediately dropped. There was nothing there.
At least, nothing he had ever noticed. "Why?"
The old woman looked at him. "Because if he sees it, he'll know who you were."
Sunghoon's blood ran cold. "Who I was?"
But the old woman had already turned away.
The conversation was over.
-
Sunghoon left the Archive with more questions than answers. He hated that. He preferred facts. Facts could be understood. Facts could be used.
But this mission was built entirely on uncertainty.
A cultivator who shouldn't exist.
A mountain that had killed twelve Hunters.
A Council that was hiding something.
An Archive Keeper who knew his name before he spoke it.
And a mark on his wrist that he had never seen.
Sunghoon returned to his quarters. He locked the door. Then he removed his coat. He rolled up his sleeve. His wrist was normal. No mark. No scar. Nothing.
Sunghoon stared at it. He waited. Nothing happened. "Ridiculous."
He lowered his sleeve. The box sat on the table. He hadn't opened it. He wasn't supposed to. Not yet.
Instead, he began preparing. Weapons. Medical supplies. Spiritual seals. Rope. Water. Food. A map.
He would need at least three days to reach the foot of Mount Haneul. If the roads were clear. Which they probably wouldn't be.
He packed everything he needed. Then he stopped. There was one thing missing. His Hunter blade.
Sunghoon turned toward the weapon resting against the wall. It had belonged to his father. The blade was black, almost completely without reflection. A silver inscription ran along its edge.
For what must be protected. Sunghoon had never understood why his father had chosen those words.
Hunters didn't protect monsters. They killed them.
Still, he took the blade. He strapped it to his waist. Then he picked up the box. For a moment, he considered opening it.
He didn't. Instead, he placed it inside his bag.
He would follow the rules. He always did.
-
The next morning, Sunghoon left the Headquarters before sunrise.
Nobody came to see him off. He preferred it that way. The capital disappeared behind him by noon. The road became narrower. The villages became fewer.
By evening, he reached the last settlement before the forbidden territory. It was a small place. Too small.
Sunghoon noticed the silence immediately. There were no children playing. No animals. No one outside.
He entered the only inn in the village. The moment he stepped inside, every conversation stopped. Sunghoon looked around. Six people sat in the dining area. All of them stared at him. He approached the counter.
"Room."
The innkeeper looked at his Hunter insignia.
His face went pale. "We don't have any."
Sunghoon glanced toward the stairs. There were at least five rooms.
"You're lying."
The innkeeper swallowed. "Please."
Sunghoon leaned closer. "I need a room."
The man shook his head. "Not tonight."
"Why?" Nobody answered.
Sunghoon looked around. Then he noticed the windows. Every single one was covered. Not with curtains. With paper seals. Hundreds of them. Hunter seals. But old ones. Very old.
"What's happened here?"
The innkeeper whispered, "Nothing."
Sunghoon stared at him. "Then why are you afraid?"
The man looked toward the window. His face had lost all color. "Because it's almost dark."
Sunghoon glanced outside. The sun was setting.
"Why does that matter?"
The innkeeper's voice dropped. "Because people disappear after sunset."
Sunghoon's hand moved instinctively toward his blade. "Who?"
The innkeeper looked at him.
"Everyone who goes near the mountain."
Sunghoon was silent.
"How long?"
"Three months."
"How many?"
The innkeeper didn't answer. Sunghoon waited.
Finally, he whispered, "Thirty-seven."
Sunghoon's eyes hardened.
"Thirty-seven people disappeared?" The man nodded.
"Men. Women. Hunters."
Sunghoon stopped. "Hunters?..."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Four."
Sunghoon's fingers tightened - "Names?"
" I don't know" - The innkeeper shook his head.
"You're lying."
The man looked terrified. "Please leave."
Sunghoon stepped back. Then he heard something.
A sound outside. Soft. Almost like a bell. Everyone in the inn froze. The innkeeper's eyes widened. Sunghoon turned toward the door. Another bell. Closer. He walked toward the window.
"Don't."
The innkeeper grabbed his arm. Sunghoon looked down at the man's hand. "Let go."
"Please."
"Let go."
The man released him. Sunghoon opened the door. Cold air rushed inside. The village was empty. The sun had disappeared.
And somewhere beyond the trees—
A bell rang again. Sunghoon stepped outside.
The sound came from the direction of Mount Haneul. He stared into the darkness. Something moved between the trees. A shadow. Then it disappeared. Sunghoon's hand closed around his blade. He should have waited until morning. He should have stayed inside. He should have followed the rules.
Instead, he stepped forward. One step. Then another.
The moment his foot crossed the edge of the village—
The spiritual energy in the air changed. Sunghoon stopped. His breath caught.
For the first time in his life, he felt it. A presence. Ancient. Powerful. Watching him. Not from the forest. Not from the mountain.
From somewhere much closer. Sunghoon slowly turned around. There was nobody there. Only the empty village. The closed inn. The dark windows.
And—
A small red paper charm lying at his feet. Sunghoon bent down. He picked it up. The moment his fingers touched it, a voice whispered beside his ear. Soft. Almost playful.
"You're really late this time."
Sunghoon spun around. His blade was already drawn. Nothing. Only darkness.
Then the bell rang again. Once. Twice. Three times.
From the mountain. Sunghoon stared into the trees.
And somewhere beyond them, unseen by human eyes, something smiled.
The Last Cultivator had finally noticed that the Hunter had arrived.