In a world where monstrous threats lurked beyond every shadow, humanity clung to survival by the thinnest thread. Then came an enigmatic phenomenon—the sudden appearance of the first gate.
Scientists studied it obsessively. Religious leaders hailed it as divine intervention. Theorists spiraled into speculation. The whole world watched, breathless with curiosity.
But curiosity turned to horror when the gate—once still and dormant—cracked open in an eruption of blinding light and unleashed a swarm of monstrous entities.
They came with one singular, unrelenting purpose: to destroy.
Attempts to communicate failed. Peace was never an option. Humanity teetered on the edge of annihilation.
And just when all seemed lost… came the hunters.
From the shattered gates emerged awakened individuals—chosen at random—granted strength beyond comprehension, reflexes that defied physics, and powers that bent the very laws of nature.
With their emergence, humanity found its answer. The tide turned. The monsters that had breached our world were driven back, one by one.
The world later named these strange portals Hell Gates—a name born not from imagination, but from the destruction they brought.
As hunters began to explore these gates, they learned something critical: defeating the monsters within delayed further gate fractures. It was the only way to stop more horrors from spilling into the world.
In response, the government established the Association, a global regulatory body for all hunter activity. Guilds were formed under its authority—tasked with tackling every threat the gates unleashed.
Slowly, the frequency of gate breaches diminished. A fragile peace returned.
Hunters became heroes—revered, worshipped even. Statues were raised in their honor. Children aspired to be like them.
But as the saying goes:
With great power comes great corruption.
The awakening process was random—completely indifferent to the character of those it chose.
And so, it wasn't long before some awakened beings turned their backs on their duty. They rejected the fight against monsters and instead preyed on their own kind.
Drunk on power, they believed themselves above the law, above humanity. They became monsters in human skin, spreading terror for their own selfish gain.
Ash pedaled through the crowded city streets, weaving between traffic after completing a delivery. He slowed to a stop beneath a massive billboard, its digital screen flashing with breaking news about a rogue hunter's arrest.
His brows furrowed.
He couldn't understand what kind of darkness could make someone turn against innocent people. If he had powers like that… he was sure he'd never use them to harm others. Not with so many Hell Gates still festering across the city, ready to vomit forth creatures that could wipe out entire districts.
It was because of the hunters—those brave enough to enter the gates—that civilization still stood.
But among those heroes lurked parasites. Awakened beings who abandoned their purpose, trading duty for destruction.
Ash's grip on his bike's handlebars tightened until his knuckles whitened. He couldn't forgive people like that.
Fortunately, the rogue hunter in the news had been captured by the Iron Fist Guild—the city's strongest and most active team of awakened fighters. Their leader, the legendary S-rank hunter Yami Ivankiel, had taken him down.
Yami was famous for solo-clearing an A-rank Hell Gate and playing a pivotal role during the early monster invasions. Ash admired him more than anyone.
He longed to be like him—but such dreams felt as unreachable as catching starlight in a jar.
After all, he was just a regular human. One couldn't choose to awaken. You were either selected by fate—or left behind.
His gaze drifted back to the billboard, where Yami's confident, battle-worn face loomed large.
Ash let out a wistful sigh. But just as he began to daydream—
Bzzt bzzt.
His phone buzzed violently in his pocket.
Groaning, he fished it out and glanced at the caller ID.
Aaron.
With a resigned breath, Ash answered—just in time to hear his brother's voice explode through the receiver.
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I NEED HELP IN THE SHOP!"
Ash winced, pulling the phone away from his ear. "You don't have to yell. I'm on my way."
"Bullshit! You're probably just standing there, gawking at some billboard about hunters again!"
Ash blinked. "What—how'd you know?"
"I don't have to be there to know. Now get over here. Five minutes, or you're dead."
"Jeez, I already have a ruptured eardrum. If I die, it'll be from hearing loss."
"You little shit. Are you back-talking me?! I'll kill you!"
"Seriously? You sound like a mob boss."
"You—"
Ash hung up with a sigh before Aaron could finish.
He started pedaling again, his mind drifting to the past.
Their parents had been killed during one of the first large-scale gate outbreaks. Slaughtered by the monsters that poured through a Hell Gate without warning.
They weren't alone in that. Countless children were orphaned in those early days. Ash and Aaron had survived a brutal orphanage—cold beds, colder meals—before finally clawing their way out.
Aaron had been Ash's shield. His rock. He worked himself to the bone at every job he could find—janitor, courier, dishwasher—until he'd saved enough to open a tiny coffee shop.
He'd even picked up cake-making skills from his time at a bakery, and added them to the shop's menu.
Ash knew he owed Aaron everything. He could never repay that kind of debt.
"If only I could awaken…" he muttered.
The tiniest gem pulled from a Hell Gate sold for thousands. And deeper inside? The real treasures waited—spellbooks, runes, monster cores, and enchanted gear.
But only hunters could claim them. Regular humans didn't stand a chance.
Ash sighed again as he locked his bike in front of the shop. The scent of coffee hit him instantly as he stepped inside.
Aaron was nowhere in sight.
On the television, a news anchor reported the sudden appearance of a new gate.
Ash sat beside an elderly regular and watched with quiet interest.
"Another damned gate," the old man muttered.
"What rank?" Ash asked.
"A-rank," the man replied, shaking his head grimly.
Ash whistled. "Yikes."
High-rank gates were rare. And dangerous. Monsters inside weren't just threats—they were calamities.
Usually, the Association summoned multiple guilds to cooperate on such missions. But Ash figured the Iron Fist Guild could handle it. After all, their leader had soloed one before.
Lost in thought, Ash barely noticed the man creeping up behind him until an arm locked tightly around his neck.
"Late again, and watching TV like you've got nothing better to do?" the voice growled.
"Ugh—brother—I'm dying!" Ash choked.
"Let the kid go," the old man said, chuckling. "He's just a boy."
"He'll be nineteen next month," Aaron retorted, releasing his grip just as the doorbell chimed, signaling a new customer.
"You're lucky," Aaron muttered. "Saved by the bell."
"We've got customers. Get to work."
Ash coughed dramatically. "I've been working all morning…"
"You can rest when the shop closes!"
"You'll give yourself hypertension if you keep screaming like that."
Aaron raised a fist, but Ash slipped away toward the counter, approaching the new customer.
The man wore a cloak, but Ash caught a glimpse of polished boots and reinforced armor beneath it.
"No way… a hunter?" Ash whispered.
As the man turned to face him, Ash's eyes widened.
He recognized him instantly.
Not just any hunter—one he'd seen standing beside Yami on TV.
"What the hell… Why is he here?"