The dungeon spit Jae-sung out like rotten food.
One second he was falling, beasts snarling below, the next—*whoosh!*—reality folded and he tumbled onto cold stone outside the rift entrance. His shoulder hit first. *Crack!* Pain shot through his arm like lightning.
"Gah!" He rolled, clutching his shoulder, vision swimming. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, warm and sticky. His crude war hammer—salvaged steel welded to a rebar handle—was gone. His friend was gone. Everyone was—
Screams. Faint, from inside the rift. Then nothing.
Jae-sung tried to stand. His legs shook like a newborn deer's. "What... what the hell just happened?" His voice came out raw, confused. The rift shimmered behind him, mocking. Silent now.
A group of scavengers nearby—three rough-looking people sorting through salvaged metal—stopped to stare. A woman with a patched jacket spat. "Another one coughed out. Dungeons been acting weird all week."
"Think he's got cores?" a younger man whispered, eyeing Jae-sung's pack.
The third, older, with a scar splitting his lip, shook his head. "Leave him. Look at his eyes—seen some bad stuff. Not worth the trouble." 'Kid's haunted. Whatever's in there, it's getting worse,' the old man thought, turning back to his work.
Jae-sung's hands trembled as he checked his pack. Empty. The cores—gone. The 200k job—a death trap. His friend's laugh echoed in his memory, then cut short by beast roars.
'The baby.'
That thought punched through the shock like a fist. Yoo. Alone with the neighbor woman. Jae-sung forced himself up, legs wobbling. "Gotta... gotta get back." Each step felt like walking through mud, but he moved.
Behind him, the woman scavenger muttered to her companion, "Fifth one this week. Something's definitely changing in there." The younger man nodded, nervous. "Heard the beasts are getting smarter. Laying traps now." 'Should we even keep going near these rifts?' he thought, fear crawling up his spine.
---
Underground Sanctuary Gamma-7 – Medical Ward.
Dr. Choi's hands shook as he stared at the scan results for the third time.
The baby—the quiet one the neighbor woman brought in yesterday because "something felt off"—his readings made no sense.
"His cellular density is abnormal," Choi muttered, adjusting his glasses. "These markers... they're similar to hunters, but the pattern is wrong."
His assistant, Su-bin, leaned over his shoulder. "Maybe the scanner's busted? Should I run diagnostics?" Her voice tried for casual but came out nervous. She'd seen weird things since the surge, but babies with hunter-like physiology?
Choi shook his head slowly. "I ran it three times on different machines. Same results. His bone structure—look." He pointed at the holographic display. "Normal infants have soft cartilage. His bones show early calcification with unusual density patterns."
Su-bin's face went pale. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know." Choi leaned back, rubbing his temples. "Could be a mutation from all the dimensional energy in the air. Could be something else entirely."
"Should we report this?" Su-bin asked quietly.
Choi was silent for a long moment. The government was barely holding together. Hunter guilds were scrambling to organize. If the wrong people found out about an anomaly... "Not yet. Let me run more tests first. Quietly."
'Just What are you, little one?' Choi thought, watching the baby sleep peacefully on the monitor feed. 'And should I be protecting you or studying you?'
Su-bin shifted uncomfortably. "Doctor, what if... what if more babies start showing these markers? The surge affected everyone."
"Then we'll deal with it when it happens," Choi said, but his voice lacked confidence. 'One problem at a time. That's all I can handle right now.'
---
The Slums – Neighbor Woman's Tent
Ji-hye rocked baby Yoo gently, humming an old lullaby her grandmother taught her. The tune was older than the apocalypse, older than the floating cities, older than all this mess.
Yoo's eyes were open, watching her. Not crying. Just... watching.
"You're a quiet one," Ji-hye whispered. She'd raised three kids of her own. Two died in the first wave. Her youngest, Min-jun, was out there now, trying to make something of himself as a hunter. Every day she worried he wouldn't come back.
This baby was different from her children. They'd cried, fussed, demanded attention. This one just observed, like he was thinking about things no baby should understand.
'Stop it,' she scolded herself. 'He's just a baby. A quiet baby.'
A shadow fell across the tent entrance. Ji-hye looked up sharply. "Who's—"
"Easy, Auntie." A man stepped in—mid-twenties, wearing a grey cloak. Information broker. One of those vultures who'd started selling secrets after the world fell apart.
"What do you want, Han-sol?" Ji-hye's voice hardened. She knew his type. Knew what they did to people who had valuable information.
Han-sol smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just checking in on the neighborhood. Heard there was an unusual baby here. Medical scanners picking up strange readings."
Ji-hye's arms tightened around Yoo. "He's just a baby. Nothing special."
"Of course." Han-sol's gaze dropped to Yoo, lingered. "Still, information is currency these days. Some people pay well for... anomalies."
"Get out." Ji-hye's voice was steel.
Han-sol raised his hands. "No need for hostility. Just doing my job." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, Auntie? Your boy Min-jun went into the eastern ruins today with that group. Heard there was some trouble."
Ji-hye's breath caught. "What kind of trouble?"
"The kind where not everyone comes back." Han-sol disappeared through the tent flap.
Ji-hye sat frozen, her heart pounding. Min-jun. Her baby boy. Out there in those death traps they called dungeons.
She looked down at Yoo, who stared back with those too-calm eyes. "What am I supposed to do?" she whispered to no one.
Inside Yoo's mind, Akasha Archive spoke: Information broker detected. Subject displayed reconnaissance behavior. Probability of return: 87%. Threat assessment: Low immediate, high long-term.
'Great. Already attracting attention,' Yoo thought. His tiny fists clenched involuntarily. 'Can't even move properly and people are already sniffing around.'
---
The Eastern Ruins – Three Hours Earlier
Mira's knuckles were raw and bleeding.
She didn't care. The training dummy—a log wrapped in old tires—swung back from her last punch. She hit it again. Thud! Her Gi flowed, but it stuttered, like a car engine misfiring.
"Damn it!" She kicked the dummy. Pain shot up her leg.
"You're forcing it." Ka-jin's voice came from behind her, calm and measured.
Mira spun around, breathing hard. The silver-cloaked hunter sat on a broken pillar, arms crossed. How long had he been watching?
"Easy for you to say," Mira snapped. "You're already Gold rank. Some of us are stuck at Iron, barely scraping by."
She turned back like she was about to leave.