The outbreak of a Raid Gate in Seodaemun was not a cause for alarm. By their nature, Raid Gates could never be sealed forever. Unlike normal gates, they lacked a dimensional core, meaning that after each conquest, the anomaly would eventually reopen. Sometimes this relapse came in mere months, other times after a year, but it was always inevitable.
Thus, the event itself was routine. What truly mattered was the grade.
This time, the Raid Gate shone green, the lowest tier of danger among its kind. In the hierarchy, green meant A-rank, blue meant S-rank, yellow signified SS-rank, red carried the weight of SSS, and black stood beyond measure. For Baekho, one of the Five Great Guilds, a green Raid Gate should have been little more than practice.
Yet Seong-jun sensed the story ran deeper. Why summon him for something so trivial?
The answer came from Oh Kyung-hyun himself. What the public saw as a cooperative clearing of Raid Gates between the Five Guilds was, in truth, a competition. Every two years, guilds paraded their strength under the guise of unity, but the reality was rivalry. The press dissected every result, every performance, weaving narratives about the future of each guild. Reputation rose or crumbled based on these articles, and with it, financial value, influence, and standing.
This year, Baekho faced a dilemma. The rookie who was meant to represent them had suffered a crippling injury inside a gate. Though Baekho boasted twenty S-rank hunters and even two SS-ranks, the rules of the green Raid Gate prevented them from using such power. The competition demanded only hunters below S-rank, young talents meant to showcase the guild's promise for the future.
Without their rising star, Baekho risked humiliation. Sending a mere A-rank, even a skilled one, would invite mockery. Worse, if they bent the rule and sent an S-rank, they would face public outrage and whispers of weakness. Whichever path they chose, their prestige would suffer.
That was why the guild master himself had come.
Baekho needed someone like Seong-jun—a hunter who could wield power beyond rank, a force that could not be measured by the letters of a system. Hunters like him were rare, perhaps five or ten appearing in all of Korea each year, each destined to tilt the balance of guild reputations.
And at this moment, no one fit the role more perfectly than Seong-jun.
Oh Kyung-hyun's proposal was simple yet cunning. He did not demand that Seong-jun abandon the Association. Instead, he offered a form of joint affiliation. Seong-jun could fight under Baekho's banner in the Raid Gate, while still retaining his position with the Association. This arrangement was not new—once, in earlier years, geniuses too powerful for a single guild to monopolize had been allowed to serve multiple powers. Over time, the practice faded as guilds grew strong enough to contain even prodigies. But here it was again, revived as a lifeline.
The offer came with promises. No restrictions, no hidden chains. After the Raid Gate, Baekho would make no demands. All terms were sealed with the personal name of the guild master himself.
At first glance, it was an attractive deal. Yet Seong-jun hesitated. Participation would mean stepping into the spotlight of the entire nation. The five guilds, the industry, the media—every eye would turn to him. His identity, until now protected by the Association's secrecy, would be stripped bare. With fame came danger. If rivals like Hwanseong already sought to harm him, what of others once they knew his true strength? His family would no longer be safe from the greed and malice of countless enemies.
But then he considered the shield that Baekho's name could provide. A hunter tied to both the Association and Baekho would be untouchable by most, a force guarded on two fronts. Smaller guilds would not dare approach. Even the major ones would hesitate. With Baekho beside him, the petty troubles he feared might never arise.
It was, in truth, a chance to claim security and influence while sacrificing little.
Seong-jun remained silent, hand to his chin, weighing the scales. The path ahead was dangerous no matter the choice. Yet perhaps, just this once, taking a step into the public arena would mean more than mere risk—it could be the beginning of reshaping the very balance of power in Korea's hunter world.