We traveled by truck.

    In the cargo bed, besides Baek Seung-hyun and me, there were three other hunters: Bang Jae-hyuk from the 15th graduating class, who had injured his knee; Ha Tae-hoon from the 11th class, who refused to be called “senior”; and Cheon Young-jae from the 18th class, who had joined us midway.

    They didn’t speak, nor did they seem inclined to.

    Since I also had nothing particular to say, I simply observed the cityscape as it slowly passed by.

    The streets were a stark blend of pre-war splendor and post-war decay, where corpse-like people gathered in groups of two or three, casting soulless stares at the passing truck.

    Their malnutrition was apparent.

    Here and there, I could spot individuals so emaciated that they seemed nothing more than skin and bones.

    “There are a lot of people here,” I remarked, breaking the silence.

    Baek Seung-hyun, who was inspecting his firearm beside me, glanced briefly at the crowd before turning his attention back to his weapon.

    “They’re barely keeping themselves alive,” he said.

    Bang Jae-hyuk, who had been silent until now, let out a scoff and spoke.

    “Since the bigwigs all fled to Jeju Island, Seoul has turned into nothing more than a human farm.”

    He was checking a large-caliber rifle similar to Baek Seung-hyun’s.

    On the stock, tally marks indicated the number of mutations he’d killed—easily over a hundred, by my estimation.

    It was impressive.

    Even with his damaged knee, supported by a steel brace, he had managed such an extensive kill record.

    He must have been an exceptional marksman, though his demeanor seemed as twisted as his injured leg.

    “Some fish farms grind up dead fish into feed for the others. This place is probably the same,” he said, voicing a grotesque analogy without hesitation.

    “Surely they’re not feeding people human meat,” Ha Tae-hoon finally spoke up.

    His weapon of choice was unusual—a Blader, a close-combat armament that launched multiple small blades.

    Designed with safety mechanisms to prevent accidental detonation from monster abilities, it could scatter sharp, dagger-sized blades like shotgun pellets, making it effective against medium-sized monsters. However, its poor penetration had rendered it an unpopular choice, leaving surplus stock.

    According to those who had used it, it worked decently against zombies.

    “No matter how morally bankrupt the times are, the government wouldn’t go that far,” Ha Tae-hoon added, checking the blades with practiced precision.

    “There’s a factory,” Bang Jae-hyuk muttered, not even looking at him.

    “You read that on Failnet, didn’t you? Ninety percent of the stuff there is rumors and lies. Don’t take it seriously,” Ha Tae-hoon retorted, setting the Blader aside and twirling a dagger in his hand.

    “Even the thing we’re hunting now—how many lies were spread about it?”

    Listening to their exchange, I turned to Baek Seung-hyun.

    “What’s this thing we’re dealing with? Are there any special precautions we need to take?”

    A shadow crossed Baek Seung-hyun’s face.

    “It’s the thing that chewed through three hunter teams.”

    The creature’s name, like many mutations, was derived from its color: Red.

    That was the name of the monster I was tasked with killing.@@@@

    Though it was hard to believe, this monster was reported to possess sensory abilities similar to those of certain Awakened individuals. Through these abilities, it could detect the location and movements of its opponents without relying on sight.

    “At least there’s no report of it generating shockwaves, so it’s likely below Level 5,” Baek Seung-hyun said.

    “I see. But are we headed the right way?” I asked.

    What Baek Seung-hyun hadn’t mentioned was Red’s territory.

    The area it inhabited was a zombie zone.

    As we entered the zone, the chorus of zombie moans greeted us.

    “So, this area has become a zombie zone too?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

    It seemed this place, once a human settlement, had fallen.

    “Civil war, winter—too many people died. Those people turned into zombies,” Baek Seung-hyun explained.

    A short while later, the truck came to a halt.

    “I’ll wait here. You folks go on ahead,” the driver said.

    The combat team consisted of me, Baek Seung-hyun, and Cheon Young-jae, who hadn’t said a word until now.

    Bang Jae-hyuk and Ha Tae-hoon stayed behind to guard the truck and support our retreat if needed.

    As if sensing our arrival, the pitch of the zombie moans shifted.

    They were likely waking up their dormant brethren.

    “This is messier than I imagined,” I said, half-joking, casting a sharp glance at Baek Seung-hyun.

    He avoided my gaze, muttering, “Sorry. I should’ve told you earlier.”

    If he’d given some flimsy excuse, I would’ve berated him, but his candid admission left me with nothing to say.

    Now that I was here, going back empty-handed wasn’t an option.

    “That building, right?” I asked, pointing at Red’s supposed lair, which I had seen in the photos—a half-collapsed domed stadium.

    I didn’t care much for baseball, but I recognized it as a professional team’s home ground. The mascot statue at the entrance, decapitated and peeling, confirmed it.

    The collapsed dome had exposed steel beams that jutted out like the bones of a human skull, their rusted, blood-red appearance lending the place an eerie, macabre atmosphere.

    “There are two objectives: kill the creature and secure its corpse, then retreat safely,” Baek Seung-hyun said, glancing back.

    Around the truck, the other hunters were setting up barricades.

    “But no one’s ever made it past the first step,” he added grimly.

    Though the stadium dominated the landscape, the battlefield offered little advantage to us.

    “When I give the signal, attack,” he said, directing his words to Baek.

    As he passed me, Cheon glanced my way, his sly smile lingering.

    That enigmatic expression—it was hard to tell if it was a challenge or an expression of confidence.

    What mattered was that this cursed 18th-class hunter had volunteered for the most dangerous role.

    The weapon Baek Seung-hyun carried was a 21st-pattern large-caliber hunter rifle.

    The name sounded sophisticated, but in reality, it was a bolt-action rifle modified to fire 12.7mm .50 caliber machine gun rounds.

    A crude adaptation of an old design.

    Although originally developed for hunting monsters, it was later overshadowed by more efficient weaponry, relegating it to mutation hunting. Yet, for that purpose, it was exceptionally effective, capable of delivering fatal blows to mutations impervious to 5.56mm rounds.

    Even with such a powerful weapon, the challenge wasn’t killing the chimpanzee mutation—it was retrieving its corpse.

    Cheon Young-jae’s decision to take the bait role left me in an unexpected position: idle.

    Originally, I was supposed to act as bait while Baek Seung-hyun took the shot.

    While it was a relief not to be in immediate danger, a strange unease gnawed at me.

    “Should I really not go?” I muttered.

    Perhaps it was inevitable.

    As a team leader, I had always taken on the riskiest roles.

    Whenever someone else took on the dangerous tasks, an inexplicable anxiety would creep over me—especially since I’d seen teammates die in my place before.

    Even after retiring, the same unease returned.

    Maybe it was an occupational hazard, this compulsion to believe that no one else could handle it but me.

    “Don’t worry. That bastard can die for all I care—he’s insufferable,” Baek Seung-hyun said, only after Cheon had walked far ahead.

    “His skills are top-notch, but his attitude... If even Kim Daram didn’t take him on, you know he’s got serious personality issues.”

    “Are you saying he’s S-class?”

    “Absolutely.”

    An S-class designation wasn’t determined in Korea. To earn it, one needed to prove exceptional skill in battle and pass a rigorous test administered by the International Hunter Standards Organization in the United States.

    China reportedly had a similar designation called Special Class.

    I had encountered a Special Class hunter before. Their prowess had been undeniable.

    Watching Cheon Young-jae through my binoculars, I couldn’t help but wonder how his abilities compared to the old standard of S-class.

    The range of a mutation’s sensory ability varies by individual, but there’s an average range.

    Typically, it’s around 50 meters, though with focus, it can extend up to 150 meters.

    As someone without sensory abilities—or even mutation affinity—I couldn’t truly grasp what it felt like. Sensory ability users described it as seeing living creatures within their range as stains on their consciousness.

    In other words, if you were within a sensory ability’s range, you couldn’t escape detection.

    Baek Seung-hyun had based his plan on the assumption that Red’s sensory range was 150 meters.

    While this made Cheon Young-jae’s role the most dangerous, it was also optimal for luring out and killing the mutation.

    But then, trouble appeared: zombies.

    A dozen or so of them began to push aside a wrecked car, rushing toward Cheon Young-jae.

    I watched his reaction carefully.

    Unfazed, he jogged backward, matching their speed, his movements deliberate.

    As if performing a clumsy but effective dance, he dispatched the first zombie with a clean machete strike to the head, then gained momentum, cutting down the next in the same manner.

    Effortlessly, he wiped out the zombie horde.

    “Ever seen someone kill zombies like they’re doing manual labor?” Baek Seung-hyun asked in awe.

    “No,” I admitted.

    I’d never seen someone handle them so nonchalantly, as if it were just another task.

    It was efficient, though.

    “If Jang Ki-young saw this, he’d lose it,” Baek added.

    He was right.

    My mentor wouldn’t have stood for such a lack of flair. While I’ll never know exactly what he envisioned a hunter to be, one thing was clear—he valued style.

    When Cheon Young-jae finished off the last zombie, he waved his hand dramatically.

    The prey had appeared.

    But to us, there was nothing in sight—not in or around the domed stadium.

    Suddenly, Cheon sprinted toward us at full speed.

    Then, from the collapsed roof of the stadium, a crimson figure leaped into view.

    A massive primate.

    A chimpanzee mutation, towering at nearly 2 meters, stood atop the debris, glaring down at us.

    And then I saw it.

    “...Shit,” Baek Seung-hyun muttered under his breath.

    There was a reason for his curse.

    That Red bastard—

    It was armored.

    Plates of armor covered its entire hulking body, its massive frame fully encased in protective gear.