CHAPTER 2

Chapter 2

The salty breeze of the ocean washed over me as I reached the shoreline, the rhythmic crashing of waves against the sand the only sound breaking the eerie silence. My breathing was ragged, my body battered and exhausted beyond measure, but I was alive. Against all odds, I had survived.

I scanned the horizon, half-expecting to see another survivor, but there was no one. The realization settled like a weight in my chest—I was the last one left. The others had either evacuated or perished in the hellish battle that had turned Jeju Island into a graveyard. My hands trembled as I reached for the communication device still strapped to my belt, its surface slick with dried blood. With a deep breath, I activated it and sent out a distress signal.

The response was immediate.

The moment my voice reached the Korean Hunter Association, chaos erupted on the other end. Their strongest S-Class mage, declared dead and mourned in silence, had just called for extraction. The panic, disbelief, and sheer confusion were palpable even through the static-laden response.

"Choi Jong-In?! Is that you?!"

A weak chuckle escaped my lips, though it was more from relief than amusement. "Yes," I managed, my voice hoarse. "I'm alive. I need immediate extraction."

The stunned silence stretched for a moment before the operator stammered out a reply. "Understood! We're sending a team now—hold on!"

The wait for the rescue team felt both agonizingly long and shockingly brief. Time had lost its meaning after what I had endured. I remained seated atop a mountain of ant corpses, my bloodied sword planted into the earth, my chin resting on its hilt as I listened to the distant thrum of helicopter blades slicing through the air. The sight I must have presented was almost laughable—a mage, draped in torn and blood-soaked attire, seated on a throne of his fallen enemies with a sword in his grasp. It was no wonder that when the rescue team arrived, they were struck speechless.

Their expressions ranged from pure shock to muted horror. Their disbelief was almost tangible, their eyes flicking between the field of slaughter and my solitary figure. One of the military officers finally broke the silence, his voice thick with emotion.

"You… survived?"

The words were spoken in disbelief, as if he could hardly trust his own eyes. I pushed myself to my feet, every ache and wound protesting the movement, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"Yes," I said quietly. "Thankfully."

A beat of silence passed before they rushed forward, checking for injuries, speaking rapidly into their radios, confirming over and over that I was real, that I was alive. They guided me to the helicopter, but just before I stepped inside, I turned back, my eyes lingering on the battlefield one last time. The broken land, the remnants of the battle, the blood-soaked soil—it was all etched into my memory.

I clenched my fists.

"I will come back to this place," I murmured. "For revenge."

With those final words, I boarded the helicopter, leaving behind the battlefield that had nearly become my grave.

The journey back to Korea was a blur. Between the exhaustion and the medical treatment I received mid-flight, I barely registered the worried voices of the Association members, the shocked murmurs of the pilots, the frantic radio transmissions confirming my return. When we landed, the world seemed to explode around me.

News of my survival spread like wildfire.

The Korean Hunter Association had kept my supposed death a secret, fearing it would crush the morale of the hunters and citizens alike. Now, with my return, the secrecy was shattered, replaced with overwhelming curiosity, relief, and speculation. The moment I set foot in Seoul, I was met with an avalanche of questions.

"Choi Jong-In, how did you survive?!"

"Did you escape from the monsters, or did someone save you?"

"Is it true that you fought off the ants alone?!"

The media swarmed like vultures, their cameras flashing, their voices overlapping as they fought to get answers. Hunters, Association officials, and civilians alike watched in stunned silence, their eyes filled with awe and confusion. But amidst the chaos, I had already decided what to say.

I couldn't tell them the truth.

That I had awakened in a new body, that I had retained knowledge of this world far beyond what I should have, that my survival was more than just luck—it would be too much. Instead, I gave them something they could understand.

"I reawakened," I stated simply. "As a Fighter-Class."

A hush fell over the crowd.

Reawakening was rare, but not unheard of. However, a second awakening that changed a hunter's class? That was unprecedented. And for an S-Class mage to transform into a hybrid Fighter-Mage? It defied logic.

The media ran with the revelation. "The Miracle of Jeju!" they called it. "The Hunter Who Defies the System!" The speculation was endless. Was I now stronger than before? Had I truly changed classes, or was I a never-before-seen anomaly? The Association, despite their initial skepticism, stood by me, eager to see just how far this new development would go.

But I cared little for their speculation.

I had a goal—to ensure that when I returned to Jeju Island, I would be strong enough to erase every last remnant of the nightmare that had unfolded there.

Thus, I trained.

The first few months were grueling. Despite my newfound physical prowess, I was unaccustomed to fighting as a melee combatant. My swordsmanship was raw, my footwork unrefined, my strikes inefficient. But I adapted. Day after day, I pushed myself beyond my limits, training relentlessly, refining my technique, and strengthening my body to match the power that had been granted to me.

I fought against veteran swordsmen, honing my skill in live combat. I practiced magic control, ensuring that my spells were sharper, faster, and more devastating. I blended my magical knowledge with my new fighting style, creating a seamless fusion of sword and spell that caught even the most experienced hunters off guard.

Slowly, the fragile mage I had once been faded into memory.

I acquired a new weapon—a sword forged specifically for me, capable of withstanding the immense pressure of magical and physical combat. Its design resembled the katana wielded by Yamamoto from Bleach. It became an extension of my will, each strike infused with purpose, each swing carrying the weight of my resolve.

Gone were the flowing robes that once signified my identity as Korea's strongest mage. Instead, I adopted a new attire—an all-black ensemble: a long-sleeved shirt, fitted pants, and polished leather shoes. Simple, yet practical. I also obtained a specially enchanted robe, enhancing my defenses while allowing my mana to regenerate-acceleratingly.

Chapter End.