Chapter 3: The Weight of Flame
The morning haze hadn't lifted yet when Sang-Hyun stepped out into the crisp chill of dawn. His breath fogged the air, but his skin felt warm—unbothered by the bite of cold. The flame within him pulsed faintly, not wild or searing, just steady.
A reminder.
Today, he had something to prove—not to the world, not to any monster—but to himself.
He returned to the quiet alley behind his apartment, stretching his arms with a grunt. Concrete underfoot. Rusting fire escaped overhead. No distractions. Just space, solitude, and the System's demand echoing in his mind.
[Daily Quest: Temper the Flame]
Objectives:
– 100 push-ups
– 100 sit-ups
– 100 squats
– 2 km run
– 5 minutes of flame meditation
He dropped into a push-up without ceremony.
By twenty, his arms were trembling.
By forty, his breath came in gasps.
By sixty, the burn in his shoulders was matched by a deeper ache—one beneath the muscle. Like his body wasn't just training, but being reforged.
He grit his teeth and kept going.
The sit-ups weren't easier. Neither were the squats. The System hadn't scaled this to his ability—it had set a standard and expected him to meet it.
It hurt. Gods, it hurt. But it also focused him.
No thoughts of fear, or doubt, or monsters. Just motion and flame.
When he stumbled into the last stretch—his 2km jog—he thought he might collapse.
But the moment he started running, something strange happened.
The flame in his chest pulsed—like it recognized the rhythm. His breath evened. His legs didn't stop hurting, but the pain became distant. Manageable.
Not gone. Just... tempered.
When he finally returned to the alley, shirt soaked with sweat and legs trembling, he collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the cloud-washed sky.
"…I'm alive," he whispered with a hoarse laugh.
Then came the final test.
Flame Meditation.
He closed his eyes and let the world fade.
The breath slowed.
In. Out. In. Out.
And then, it wasn't just breath anymore.
It was heat. Rhythmic. Resonant. Alive.
He felt the flame not just in his chest, but in his spine, his hands, his teeth. It expanded behind his eyelids, illuminating darkness.
And within it—a flicker of something else.
Not a voice. Not an image. Just… a presence. Watching.
The flame rippled. Uneasy.
A new line of text blinked into his mind's eye.
[Unstable Flame Signature Detected – Source: Unknown]
Then it was gone.
Sang-Hyun opened his eyes, blinking sweat away.
Whatever that was—it wasn't part of the training.
But it was waiting.
[Daily Quest Complete]
+3 Stat Points
Status Effect Removed: Fatigue
Status Restored: Full Recovery Achieved
"The flame endures those who endure."
The warmth in his limbs surged, washing away the strain like it had never been there. Bruises faded. Lactic acid vanished. He sat up, blinking in surprise at how fresh he suddenly felt.
He glanced at the quest panel again.
The objectives faded out one by one… until his eyes caught something odd.
Push-ups: 101/100
He blinked.
"…Huh."
He hadn't meant to. Maybe he miscounted. But still, something about it tugged at his mind.
A few seconds later, a new prompt appeared.
[Rewards Accepted. Quest Closed.]
It felt oddly deliberate. Like he had just chosen to lock something in.
He shook his head and stood, wiping sweat from his brow.
One extra push-up.
It didn't seem like much.
But maybe—just maybe—it meant something.
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Later that morning, after a quick shower and a half-hearted breakfast, Sang-Hyun stood in front of a squat gray building tucked between a pharmacy and a parking garage.
The sign above the automatic doors read: SEOUL HUNTER ASSOCIATION – DISTRICT 9 BRANCH
It didn't look like much. Concrete walls. Flickering lights. A couple of cameras perched above the entrance like lazy vultures. But this was where it started—the divide between ordinary life and the Hunter's path.
He stepped inside.
Cool air and the sterile scent of processed paperwork greeted him. A few other applicants sat quietly in rows of molded plastic chairs. A bored-looking receptionist, a young woman with short black hair and bags under her eyes, glanced up from her tablet.
"Here for registration?"
Sang-Hyun nodded.
"Name?"
"Lee Sang-Hyun."
"ID?"
He slid his identification across the desk. She scanned it, tapped a few fields, and handed him a clipboard.
"Fill this out. You'll be called for your mana test once submitted. You'll be assigned a preliminary rank after. Anything over D requires combat trials."
Sang-Hyun took the clipboard, nodded, and sat. The form was straightforward: Name, age, background, reason for applying.
He paused at that last one.
Reason for Applying:
He stared at the blank space.
Because I need to understand what I've become? Because the flame is only going to grow?
He left it blank.
Ten minutes later, a soft ding and a voice called, "Lee Sang-Hyun."
A technician in a navy Hunter Association coat led him to a small testing chamber. At the center stood a mana resonance pillar—a smooth stone column glowing faintly with runes.
"Place your hand on the core. Don't move until it chimes."
Sang-Hyun nodded and pressed his palm to the pillar. The stone was warm, almost as if it recognized something in him. For a moment, nothing happened—then a dull hum filled the room.
The runes flickered white.
Then pulsed red.
The tech blinked.
"…Huh. That's a weird pattern."
He tapped his scanner. "Mana presence is confirmed, but… resonance is inconsistent. Fluctuates between F and high E, then drops again."
"What does that mean?" Sang-Hyun asked.
"It means you're a Hunter," the tech said, shrugging. "But barely. You're being filed under F-Rank. If something changes later, you can request re-evaluation."
Sang-Hyun nodded slowly.
F-Rank.
It was what he expected. Maybe even what he wanted. Something low. Unnoticed.
The system hadn't spoken up the entire time.
Good.
Maybe this way, he could walk the edge between the ordinary and whatever was coming.
At least… for now.
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The sun was climbing toward noon by the time Sang-Hyun stepped off the Association steps and into the bustle of the side street. The Hunter ID card now resting in his wallet felt both weightless and heavy.
F-Rank.
It meant access to gates, equipment, and training centers—but barely. He couldn't afford gear from the premium stores, and his wallet agreed. Whatever he bought had to be cheap, durable, and forgettable.
He made his way to one of the many street-side hunter supply alleys in the old market district, where booths and small shops competed with flashing signs and shouted sales pitches.
"Genuine beast-hide boots! Cheap!"
"Need a starter blade? No enchantments? No problem!"
"Hunter bundles! Discount kits!"
Sang-Hyun browsed quietly, ignoring the barking vendors. Most of the gear was junk—rusty, poorly maintained, or overpriced. He sifted through piles of scrap weapons until one caught his eye:
A short-bladed sword, old but clean. Iron teeth serrated its spine, and the leather-wrapped hilt looked like it had been rewrapped several times. No shine. No enchantment. Just… enduring.
When he touched it, the flame stirred.
Just faintly.
Like a breath.
[Compatible Weapon Found. Potential Flamebond Detected.]
He blinked. The System hadn't spoken all day.
A voice broke his focus.
"You've got an eye," said the shopkeeper, an older man with wiry gray hair and a heavy coat. "That one's seen some use. Didn't give up, though. Still got bite."
Sang-Hyun nodded. "How much?"
"Twenty-five thousand won. Scabbard included."
He handed over the cash. The shopkeeper wrapped the weapon carefully in cloth and tied it with a simple strap.
As Sang-Hyun slung it over his shoulder, he felt a small pulse of warmth—not from the blade, but from within. The flame liked it.
Or maybe… it respected it.
He picked up a basic Hunter starter kit as well: reinforced gloves, padded vest, small mana lantern, and first-aid gauze. No enchantments. Just essentials.
By the time he left the alley, he was lighter in cash, heavier in resolve.
He didn't feel stronger.
But he felt prepared.
And that was something.
[New Equipment Registered: Flame-Compatible Weapon]
[Item Sync: 0.3%]
He raised an eyebrow at the last line.
"Sync?" he muttered.
The System said nothing.
He glanced at the blade.
"Is that how it works?" he murmured. "Like stats for a weapon… or something deeper?"
He turned the sword slightly in his grip, studying the worn edge. It didn't look special. But the flame had responded. That meant something.
"Or maybe it's tracking how close we are."
The thought gave him pause.
He tightened his grip slightly.
"…You bond with the blade. And it bonds back."
No system reply.
But the flame was watching.
Waiting.
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With his new gear slung across his back and his Hunter ID tucked into his pocket, Sang-Hyun walked the city streets with no clear destination.
It wasn't far to his apartment, but something in him resisted the idea of going home just yet.
Instead, he walked. Not aimlessly, exactly—but following a subtle pull. A hum just under his skin. Like the flame was… leaning.
Drawn.
He followed.
It led him through quiet alleys and side streets until he reached a shuttered metro station long since condemned. The metal gates were chained. A warning sign, rusted and faded, read:
"Entry Prohibited. Structural Instability."
But as he stood there, staring through the fence at the cracked stairwell leading into darkness, he felt the flame stir—stronger this time.
Not eager.
Wary.
Like it recognized something. Something old. Something sleeping.
[Flame Resonance Detected – Instability Present]
Sang-Hyun took a step closer, gripping the fence. A soft breeze moved through the street, but the air here was still. Too still.
He could feel the heat beneath the concrete. Not literal heat. Resonance.
And then—
[Unstable Flame Signature – Source Nearby]
It wasn't an order. Not a quest. Just a notification.
The system wasn't pushing him.
But it was watching.
Waiting.
He stared for a long moment before stepping back.
"Not yet," he whispered.
He wasn't ready.
He could feel it in the tension of his limbs, in the weight of his barely-used weapon. Whatever was beneath that station—it wasn't something he should face just yet.
But soon.
He turned away and started walking.
The flame didn't protest.
It simply burned.
Quiet.
Patient.
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High above the city, atop a quiet rooftop overlooking the faded metro line, a woman knelt in the shadow of a broken billboard. Her cloak fluttered slightly in the wind, strands of ash-blonde hair drifting around a face hidden beneath a worn hood.
She watched as Sang-Hyun walked away from the fence, the faint trail of heat in his wake visible only to her eyes—embers suspended in the air, fading slowly, like memories resisting the wind.
He had felt it.
That much was clear.
But he'd chosen not to act.
"Cautious," she murmured. "Good."
Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of a blade strapped across her back. Its surface glowed faintly—dim, like a memory rekindled. A single vein of molten red shimmered near the crossguard, pulsing once before fading again.
"He's growing," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "The core is stirring."
She told herself she was only here to observe. But every time he walked away from the flame… a small part of her followed.
A second presence appeared beside her, emerging from the shadows like smoke made flesh. His cloak was stitched from darkness, and his face was hidden beneath a sleek black mask etched with thin silver lines.
He said nothing at first—just stood, arms crossed, watching as Sang-Hyun vanished around the far corner.
"He still doesn't know what he is," the masked man finally said, his voice quiet, but unnaturally smooth. Like silk drawn over broken glass.
"He will," she replied without turning.
Another long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft hiss of wind through rooftop vents.
Then, the man spoke again. "My Sovereign's interest is growing. He asks if you will intervene."
She let out a soft breath, not quite a sigh. "Then tell your master what you already know."
"And what's that?"
"The flame doesn't bow to shadows."
The man chuckled—low and cold. "It never did. That's why he watches. Closely."
"Still clinging to your oaths," she said, a trace of something old—resentment? respect?—hidden behind the words.
She didn't wait for his answer. Instead, she rose to her feet, her movements quiet and smooth. Her gaze lingered on the direction Sang-Hyun had gone.
"He chose to walk away. That's important. He's not ready—not yet."
"And if he never is?"
"Then he'll burn out." Her voice was quiet, but steady. "Like the rest."
The masked man stepped back, his form already fading into the shadows once more. "Let's hope he doesn't. The Sovereign hates wasting potential."
She waited until he was gone. Only then did she speak again, voice barely audible.
"So do I."
The flame in her blade flickered, casting a brief glow against the rooftop gravel. Her sword pulsed again, once—twice. In rhythm with something far below.
The flame knew.
The flame remembered.
And far behind them, beneath concrete and steel, something stirred.
Still dormant.
But not for long.
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