Seoul gleamed under the morning sun, its skyline a testament to human resilience. Skyscrapers pierced the clouds, their glass facades reflecting a city reborn from chaos. Five years had passed since Sung Jin-Woo reset the world, shattering the gates, silencing the System, and stepping back into the shadows of normalcy. No more dungeons. No more monarchs. Just a life he'd fought for—a life with his family.
In a modest apartment in Gangnam, Jin-Woo stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced hand. The aroma of butter and syrup filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of a radio playing K-pop. His black hair, still untamed, fell slightly over his eyes, which flickered with a faint purple glow when he wasn't paying attention. He caught it in the reflection of a spoon and sighed, willing the light away. Stay normal, he told himself. For them.
"Dad, you burned one again!" a small voice piped up from the dining table. Sung Su-Ho, his four-year-old son, perched on a booster seat, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. The boy's hair, a perfect blend of Jin-Woo's black and Cha Hae-In's blonde, stuck up in wild tufts.
Jin-Woo chuckled, sliding a golden pancake onto Su-Ho's plate. "Burned? This is artistically charred. Builds character."
Hae-In entered, her presence softening the room like sunlight after a storm. She wore a simple sweater, her blonde hair tied back, but her grace hinted at her past as an S-rank hunter. She leaned against the counter, smirking. "If character means eating charcoal, Su-Ho's gonna be a legend."
"Mom's right," Su-Ho giggled, drowning his pancake in syrup. "You're bad at this, Dad."
Jin-Woo feigned offense, clutching his chest. "Betrayed by my own blood. Fine, you cook next time, kid."
The moment felt fragile, perfect. Jin-Woo savored it—Hae-In's laughter, Su-Ho's sticky fingers, the absence of blood and shadow. After rewriting reality with the Cup of Reincarnation, he'd traded godhood for this: a life where his sister Jin-Ah could study in peace, where his mother was healthy, where Hae-In was his wife, not a comrade in battle. But deep down, a nagging unease lingered. The System was gone, yet he felt its echo, like a heartbeat in the void.
As they ate, Su-Ho tilted his head, staring at Jin-Woo's hand. "Dad, why do your eyes glow sometimes? Like… purple fire."
Hae-In froze mid-bite. Jin-Woo's fork paused. He forced a grin. "Too many video games, buddy. Makes my eyes weird. Eat your pancakes."
Su-Ho pouted but obeyed. Hae-In's gaze lingered, her hunter instincts sharp. She knew fragments of the old timeline—enough to sense Jin-Woo wasn't fully "retired." She didn't push, not yet. But her hand brushed his under the table, a silent We'll talk later.
After dropping Su-Ho at preschool, Jin-Woo walked the bustling streets of Seoul, Hae-In at his side. The city thrummed with life—vendors hawking street food, students rushing to class, neon signs flashing. Normal. Too normal. Jin-Woo's heightened senses caught every detail: the clink of coins, the pulse of footsteps, the faint mana residue in the air. Residue? His stomach tightened. Mana shouldn't exist here.
Hae-In noticed his tension. "You're doing it again," she said softly. "That hunter look. What's wrong?"
He hesitated. "Just… a feeling. Like something's off."
Before she could press, a scream split the air. Down the street, near a construction site, the ground shuddered. Pedestrians scattered as a crack formed in the pavement, glowing red like a wound. A gate. Small, barely C-rank, but unmistakable. From it slithered a single goblin—S-rank by its aura, with jagged claws and eyes like burning coals.
Jin-Woo moved before thinking. "Stay back," he told Hae-In, stepping forward. The goblin lunged at a fleeing worker. In a blink, Jin-Woo's hand shot out, shadow tendrils erupting from his palm. They wrapped the creature, crushing it to ash before it could scream. The gate flickered and closed, leaving only silence.
Onlookers stared, whispering. "Who's that guy?" "Did you see that? Like a shadow moved!"
Hae-In grabbed his arm, pulling him into an alley. "Jin-Woo, what the hell was that? A gate? Here?"
His jaw tightened. "It's not supposed to happen. The reset was final."
"Then why—"
A faint chime cut her off. In Jin-Woo's vision, a translucent panel flickered, like a ghost of the past:
[Eternal System Alert: Anomaly Detected. Dimensional Fracture Initiated. Evolution Required?]
Jin-Woo's blood ran cold. The System, or something wearing its face, was back. He dismissed the panel with a thought, but the words burned in his mind. Fracture. Evolution. And that goblin—it wasn't normal. Its aura carried a trace of something ancient, hungry. Something tied to a name he'd heard in dreams: Agnorath.
"We need to talk to someone," Jin-Woo said, voice low. "Someone who knows more than us."
Hae-In nodded, her hunter's resolve flaring. "Jin-Chul? Or Thomas?"
"Both," he said. "This isn't over."
By evening, they were in a dimly lit gym on the city's outskirts. Thomas Andre, once the Goliath of hunters, now ran a boxing academy. His massive frame loomed as he sparred with a punching bag, scars crisscrossing his arms. He grinned when he saw them. "Well, damn. The Sung family reunion. What's up, Shadow Monarch?"
"Don't call me that," Jin-Woo said, half-smiling. "Got a minute?"
Thomas wiped sweat from his brow. "For you? Always. Spill."
Jin-Woo recounted the gate incident, the System's return, the goblin's unnatural strength. Thomas's grin faded. "Sounds like trouble. Thought you shut that crap down for good."
"So did I." Jin-Woo glanced at Hae-In, who stood watchfully by the door. "There's a name in my head—Agnorath. Mean anything to you?"
Thomas frowned. "Nah, but sounds like bad news. You check with Woo Jin-Chul? Guy's a cop now, sniffing out weird shit."
"Next stop," Jin-Woo said. "But Thomas… if gates are back, I need you ready. Just in case."
Thomas cracked his knuckles, eyes gleaming. "Say the word, and I'm back in the game."
As they left, Hae-In squeezed Jin-Woo's hand. "You're not alone in this, you know. Whatever's coming, we face it together."
He nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. That night, in their apartment, he couldn't sleep. Su-Ho snored softly in the next room, Hae-In's breathing steady beside him. Jin-Woo slipped out of bed, moving to the balcony. Seoul's lights stretched endlessly, but a shadow moved in his periphery—formless, watching. He summoned Igris, his loyal shadow knight, who knelt silently.
"Master," Igris's voice rumbled. "The shadows stir. A presence beyond the veil calls. It hungers."
"Got a name?" Jin-Woo asked.
Igris's red eyes glowed. "It whispers… Agnorath."
Jin-Woo's fists clenched. The air grew heavy, mana pulsing faintly. He extended his senses, probing the city. There—on the edge of Seoul, another rift forming. Bigger. Stronger. S-rank beasts, multiple, clawing through.
The System pinged again:
[Trial of Evolution: Eliminate Fracture Beasts (0/5). Reward: Path to ES Rank.]
Jin-Woo's eyes blazed purple. "Guess retirement's over."
He glanced back at the apartment, at the life he'd sworn to protect. Whatever Agnorath was—X-rank god or worse—he'd face it. For Hae-In. For Su-Ho. For Jin-Ah, studying late at university, unaware of the storm brewing. For every hunter who'd fought beside him.
As he stepped into the night, shadows swirling at his feet, a single thought burned: This time, I end it for good.
Cliffhanger: Across Seoul, in a deserted alley, a larger gate pulses open. A figure steps through—not a beast, but a humanoid shadow with Jin-Woo's face, eyes glowing red. It smirks, whispering, "He's awake. Agnorath will be pleased."