That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”I DON’T WANT TO DIE! LET ME LEAVE HERE!”

”I am going to die! I am going to die! I am going to die! Oh god, I am going to die!”

”IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT! WHY DID YOU MAKE ME JOIN THIS RAID?! IF IT WASN’T FOR YOU, I WOULD BE HAVING DINNER WITH MY FAMILY RIGHT NOW!”

”Ahhh... please, I don’t want to die!”

”I’m sorry... I’m so sorry, but I have to leave you here...”

While Kim Min-Jun was tearing through the city, moving as fast as his S-Rank agility could carry him toward the D-Rank gate, the situation inside the Double Dungeon had rapidly deteriorated into a waking nightmare. It was worse than anyone on the outside could possibly imagine.

The raid party was trapped. They were locked inside a colossal, ancient temple, completely at the mercy of an unreasonable, god-like entity that viewed them as nothing more than insignificant toys. The towering stone statues that lined the walls were not mere decorations; they were executioners. No one could escape their gaze. The moment a Hunter broke the rules or gave into their terror and bolted for the heavy stone doors, they were obliterated. Bodies were cleanly dismembered by invisible forces or scorched to ash by crimson beams of light.

The cavern echoed with the sickening crunch of bone, the smell of burning flesh, and the agonizing screams of people realizing that all their strength, all their magic, and all their desperate prayers were entirely meaningless.

They were all destined to die. This cold, blood-soaked stone floor was going to be their grave.

”Everyone, bow down! Stop running! Follow the instructions, and we can live!!”

In the epicenter of that bloody chaos, Sung Jin-Woo—the weakest Hunter in the world—somehow found the clarity to decipher the temple’s sadistic puzzle. He screamed over the panic, giving everyone a fragile lifeline. As the remaining survivors dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the cold stone, the grotesque, colossal statue towering at the end of the room finally stopped its rampage. Its terrifying, carved lips stretched into a cruel, mocking smile, as if it were highly amused by the humiliation of these mortals, waiting to see how the rest of its twisted game would play out.

They had no choice. Even if the chance of survival was thinner than a single thread of spider silk, they had to grab it. They swallowed their pride, their dignity, and their terror, and followed Jin-Woo’s desperate commands.

I have no choice, Jin-Woo thought, his entire body trembling as he kept his face glued to the floor.

In a situation where their lives could be snuffed out on the mere whim of a stone god, obedience was their only shield. Yet, even as Jin-Woo stepped up to lead, demonstrating a commander’s sharp intellect to guide the remnants of the party out of the slaughterhouse, he knew the bitter truth: he was the most terrified person in the room.

If only I had swallowed my pride... If only I wasn’t so arrogant...

Regret gnawed at his insides, sharp and unforgiving. If he hadn’t been so stubbornly fixated on proving he could stand on his own two feet, he wouldn’t be here. Min-Jun had practically begged him to join the Hunters Guild. He had offered Jin-Woo a stable, safe desk job with a high-income paycheck. If he had just said yes, he would be sitting in a comfortable, air-conditioned office right now, completely safe from this slaughter.

Instead, he was bleeding out in a forgotten temple, surrounded by the mutilated corpses of his peers.

He knew screaming for Min-Jun to save him was useless. They were deep within an anomalous gate; cell signals were dead, and the spatial isolation was absolute.

Isn’t there anything I can do?

He was too weak. He was famously, pitifully weak. Yet, despite his broken body and lack of mana, the primal instinct to survive screamed in his blood. He didn’t want to die!

But as the final trial at the altar began, and the blue flames ticking down their time started to extinguish one by one as the other Hunters cowardly abandoned him, a chilling acceptance began to wash over him.

If I die here... it should be okay.

At the very least, he had one absolute certainty in this world: Kim Min-Jun. Even if Jin-Woo didn’t make it out of this temple, he knew Min-Jun would take care of his family. He would ensure his mother’s hospital bills were paid. He would make sure Jin-Ah was safe.

Jin-Ah really needs to move faster, though, Jin-Woo thought, a bitter, sad smile touching his lips amidst the despair.

As an older brother, he wasn’t always the best at expressing his own emotions, but he was incredibly perceptive when it came to his little sister. He knew exactly how deep Jin-Ah’s feelings for Min-Jun ran. But Min-Jun was an S-Rank Hunter—a superstar. He stood at the pinnacle of society. The media constantly paired him with Cha Hae-In, the beautiful and fiercely strong Vice Guild Master of the Hunters Guild.

Min-Jun always brushed off the rumors, claiming it was just marketing hype orchestrated by the Guild Master and that he and Hae-In were strictly friends. But Jin-Woo knew the reality. How could his ordinary, high-school-aged sister compete with an S-Rank woman who could actually stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Min-Jun on the battlefield? What could Jin-Ah possibly offer him?

Yet, Jin-Ah was the one who had stayed by Min-Jun’s side long before the fame, back when he was at his lowest point. Min-Jun was fiercely loyal; he would never abandon her.

Ah... why does everything become so vividly clear only when you’re about to die?

If he hadn’t been so foolish, none of this would be happening.

But, fortunately... at least I can save them.

Through his sheer stubbornness and quick thinking, the heavy stone doors to the temple had finally locked open just enough. But someone had to stay behind to keep the altar active.

”Jin-Woo, you too! Hurry up and leave! We can make it!”

”No, I can’t! If I step off now, the doors will shut, and all of us are going to die! You two need to leave! Hurry up!”

”I... I can’t just leave you!”

”JUST GET THE DAMN OUT OF THIS PLACE! DON’T WASTE THE CHANCE I’M GIVING YOU!”

The veteran mage, Song Chi-Yul, ground his teeth together so hard he tasted blood. An intense, suffocating wave of frustration and self-loathing crashed over him. He was supposed to be the leader. He was the highest-ranking Hunter here. Yet, he was entirely useless. With tears blurring his vision, the old man lowered his head in utter defeat. He hoisted their unconscious, traumatized healer, Lee Joo-Hee, onto his back and sprinted through the threshold, leaving Sung Jin-Woo alone in the dark.

”Ah...”

The moment they crossed the boundary, the heavy stone doors began to grind shut. Chi-Yul collapsed onto the dirt outside the gate, the blue portal swirling ominously behind him. He dropped to his knees and wept. He wailed like a lost child, the sheer horror of the dungeon and the crushing guilt of abandoning a young man to die breaking his spirit completely.

”I have to return—”

The desperate thought of running back inside to save Jin-Woo flared in his mind, but it was instantly extinguished by the paralyzing memory of the statue’s crimson eyes.

I can’t do it...

Even if he went back inside, what could he possibly do? He would only add his corpse to the pile.

”Do you know a Hunter named Sung Jin-Woo?”

”Ah?!”

Chi-Yul flinched violently, snapping his head up. Standing just a few feet away from him was a young man.

When did he get here?

Chi-Yul was a C-Rank Hunter and a seasoned master of Kumdo. His sensory perception was highly trained. Yet, he hadn’t felt even a whisper of this young man’s presence until he spoke. It was as if the air itself had simply coalesced into a human figure.

”I am asking you a question, old man,” the young man said, his voice terrifyingly calm, though his eyes burned with a suppressed, violent intensity.

”H-He is inside!” Chi-Yul choked out, pointing a trembling finger at the swirling blue vortex of the gate. ”The doors... they shut!”

”Okay.”

The young man stepped past him, walking directly toward the gate.

”What are you doing?! Stop!” Chi-Yul screamed, panic seizing his chest all over again. ”Don’t enter that place! You’re going to die! It’s a massacre in there!”

Chi-Yul had seen far too many people die today. He couldn’t bear to watch another young life throw itself into the meat grinder.

”That might be true for you,” the young man said without looking back. ”But not for me.”

Kim Min-Jun raised his hand. In a flash of blinding, azure light, a magnificent, highly-arched bow materialized in his grip. Within his mind, the Manager instantly went to work, calculating the exact resonant frequency of the closing spatial fracture.

[Targeting the weakest point of the dungeon’s spatial barrier. Lock confirmed.]

The gate was already sealing itself off from the outside world, rejecting any new entries. But Min-Jun didn’t care about the rules of spatial magic. He would just tear the fabric of reality apart himself.

He planted his feet and drew the bowstring back. He didn’t nock a physical arrow. Instead, the surrounding atmosphere violently warped as a terrifying amount of raw, crackling mana condensed onto the string. The sheer pressure of his aura forced Chi-Yul to press his face into the dirt, struggling just to breathe. The muscles in Min-Jun’s arms bulged, veins straining against his skin as he pulled the string back with apocalyptic force.

”W-What is this magic...?!”

Chi-Yul stared up in absolute, paralyzing horror. The overwhelming aura, the blinding bow, the flawless, terrifying confidence. There was only one person in the entire country who fit that description.

”The strongest archer...” Chi-Yul muttered, his voice barely a whisper against the roaring winds of gathered mana.

Min-Jun released the string.

The mana arrow erupted forward like a screaming comet. It slammed into the swirling vortex of the gate. Instead of passing through, the sheer kinetic and magical force gripped the spatial tear and violently ripped it wider, accompanied by the deafening sound of shattering glass.

For a split second, the gate stabilized, bleeding raw energy into the air.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Kim Min-Jun stepped through the chaotic tear, plunging into the darkness before reality snapped back into place and the dungeon sealed shut once more.

Outside, the silence of the alleyway returned. Chi-Yul was left slumped on the ground, staring blankly at the fading blue light. He finally understood the insurmountable, god-like chasm that separated lower-tier Hunters from the absolute apex predators of the world—the S-Ranks.

How strong...

But inside the gate, Min-Jun cared nothing for the old man’s awe. His eyes were already locked on the blood-stained temple ahead. His goal was finally right in front of him.

---

It’s a long Chapter.

Yeah.