The forest lay heavy with silence, broken only by faint traces of battle. Among the towering trees, two men walked with sharp eyes. They were known as the Shadow Brothers—Kim Ki-jun, the elder, and Kim Ki-yeol, the younger. Villains by trade, predators among hunters, they had survived by mastering the art of reading battlegrounds.
Every scar on a tree, every print in the soil, every fragment of blood told a story. Unlike lifeless written reports, these raw marks revealed a hunter's true power. And here, the story was unsettling.
The Blue Tigers of this C-rank gate had all been slain. Not in desperate struggle, but in a one-sided massacre. Each corpse bore the sign of a single strike—swift, brutal, and final.
The elder brother's expression hardened. Such dominance was not the work of a B-rank hunter. The letter they received had warned them not to underestimate the target. Now they understood why.
If measured by destruction alone, Lee Seong-jun could be mistaken for an A+ rank. Yet the brothers' eyes gleamed with cold amusement. Power without control was wasted. To them, he looked like a returnee who had been blessed with fortune but lacked refined combat instinct. And for hunters seasoned in killing both monsters and men, such prey was nothing more than a foolish novice.
Their conclusion was clear: today, Lee Seong-jun would die.
The forest path soon brought hunter and villains face to face. The brothers stepped forward, cloaked in confidence, their murderous aura leaking openly. There was no mistaking their nature—hunters of men, not beasts.
Though they exchanged light greetings, the atmosphere was suffocating. They carried the scent of blood, the weight of countless murders. They were not from the Association. They were killers hired from the shadows.
And so, the clash began.
Kim Ki-yeol struck first, dagger flashing like a shard of night. His speed was sharp, befitting a first-class fighter. Yet when his blade should have found flesh, it cut only air. Seong-jun's body shifted back with a calm grace, avoiding the strike as though he had seen it coming all along.
The younger brother faltered. The opening had been perfect—how could it miss? He dismissed it as terrible luck, yet unease rippled through him.
Seong-jun's counter came instantly. His fist surged forward like a hammer of iron, filling his foe's vision. The air cracked under the force. Only quick interference saved Ki-yeol, as his elder brother vanished and reappeared in his shadow, dragging him back.
This was the power that earned them their name. The Shadow Brothers were bound by an S-rank skill: Shadow Movement. Awakened together fifteen years ago, they had gained a joint ability that allowed them to travel between each other's shadows within a hundred meters. With this, they had baffled even A+ rank hunters, turning ambush into art.
Their blades sought Seong-jun's heart. Yet when Ki-jun's dagger thrust forward with precision, it found not soft flesh but an unyielding wall of muscle. The steel refused to pierce. His body was like carved stone, forged by both blessings and external training.
Realizing brute penetration was useless, the brothers shifted strategy. Attrition would wear him down, for even the strongest body had weaknesses. The eyes, the joints, the parts no training could harden. They would grind him until his stamina failed.
But their calculations collapsed in an instant.
Seong-jun moved.
Not with the sluggish heaviness of a man built for defense, but with startling speed. His steps tore across the ground like a wild stallion, his fists and kicks striking in a relentless storm. Every attack cut off escape routes, every blow pressed the brothers further back. His body was an unshakable fortress, yet it moved with the freedom of flowing water.
Kim Ki-jun's vision blurred beneath the cascade of strikes. Each time he sought to retreat, a new attack intercepted him. The relentless rhythm left him cornered, until finally—
Crack!
A brutal impact landed in his abdomen. Blood burst from his lips as his body crumpled to the ground.
Confusion seized him. This was not the clumsy hunter who had crushed Blue Tigers with brute strength alone. These movements were sharp, refined, and merciless—techniques honed for killing.
The realization struck like thunder. Perhaps Seong-jun had been hiding his true mastery all along, concealing his skill until the perfect moment.
As pain wracked his body, a question trembled from his lips. Could it be that this terrifying display was the true power he had been saving for them?
Yet Seong-jun's eyes remained cold, and his words carried only disappointment. To him, their full assault had been nothing more than a minor test.
And the true hunt had only just begun.