He tried on the prototypes to his heart’s content.

He had to do exactly that.

No matter how good a suit was, if it felt uncomfortable when worn or broke his existing routine— then it would be worse than not wearing it at all. It must not cause even the slightest discomfort.

He kept changing into various suits, linking Carapace Transformation and testing for almost three hours.

It took quite a long time, but neither Kang-hoo, who tried them on, nor Kim Shin-ryeong, who watched, showed any sign of boredom.

It was because the process itself, when Kang-hoo hardened the suit with Carapace Transformation, was so fascinating.

Right then.

“This one. I’ll go with this.”

Pointing at the suit he had just worn and finished testing with Carapace Transformation, Kang-hoo spoke.

“How is it—does it feel good?”

“There isn’t a single uncomfortable spot. And I like that the top has a fair number of storage pockets.”

“Isn’t it a bit too sci-fi? I felt like it was too ahead of its time even while making it.”

“That makes me like it even more.”

With a satisfied look, Kang-hoo looked again at his reflection in the mirror.

It was a suit whose functions were concentrated in the upper garment. Neither too thin nor too thick.

In particular, the chest and abdomen, shoulders and arms were prominently protected—a structure that guarded the core areas.

He liked the pockets along the left–right lines of the torso. They were good for storing Mad Solarkium or Gaksinhwan.

“This is a bit… something I made on impulse, you know? I slapped on multiple pockets and poured a ton of effort just into reinforcing the upper body.”

“Once linked with Carapace Transformation, the synergy is enormous. Lower-body defense isn’t important for me anyway.”

“I didn’t intend it, but somehow it turned into a perfect match, right?”

“Yes. I really like the design. I definitely want to purchase this prototype.”

In Kang-hoo’s eyes, shining more than ever, a strong desire for the suit was plain to see.

Although Kim Shin-ryeong had yet to finish her explanation, there was even space to stash spare daggers at the waist and hips.

It wasn’t a prototype made with Kang-hoo in mind, but as a result it turned into a suit tailored to him.

“This only has the frame set. It needs functions added. As it is, it’s just a suit that looks good on the outside.”

“What functions are you thinking of adding?”

“I’ve prepared all the compartments. It just needs the inlay… I’m thinking of making it maintain self-reinforcement constantly.”

“Mana-stone inlay?”

“Right. By my calculations, swapping in a new mana stone about once a month should be fine.”

“You mean in peacetime?”

“Yeah. If you end up in combat in the middle, the replacement interval will get shorter. Instead, I’m planning to add a blink/status device so we can check mid-way.”

“Sounds good.”

“Give me three days. Then I can transfer it to you as a finished product right away.”

“How much is it?”

“Free. In exchange, just share usage data periodically. Nothing major—just come by for checkups. I want to look at damage and wear.”

“That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

“It’s win-win. I’ll accumulate valuable data about suits too. That’s the price.”

“Great. Let’s do it.”

As long as things didn’t sour between them, Kang-hoo wanted to keep relations with Kim Shin-ryeong as good as they were now.

He had no reason to refuse her request, and he also wanted to help her research.

After that—

Measuring Kang-hoo’s body sizes, Kim Shin-ryeong began the work of refining it more decisively into a custom fit.

With a satisfied look, Kang-hoo took in the suit that, though still a prototype, fit him perfectly and pleased him.

He liked that the color didn’t stand out—black—and, as she said, the subtle SF vibe also appealed to him.

It wasn’t an “item,” but it might deliver effects beyond an item—a full-body reinforcement suit!

He hoped it would be shipped back as a finished product soon. This time, the waiting would feel especially long.

----------------------------------------

At that hour— unprecedented torrential rain was pouring down on the Fukuoka Liberation Area.

The lower-lying places had long since filled with water, to the point you couldn’t tell ground from waterway.

Bang!

A gunshot cut through the rain between buildings draped in deep darkness.

“Gahk!”

Members of the Hayabusa Guild, who had been tracking the “target’s” position while holding their breath, flinched and dove prone.

Their target was Ayane.

She had once signed a mercenary contract with the Hayabusa Guild and shared the same pot of rice, but now she had become their enemy.

Whatever the higher-ups thought, the guild members who had to meet her on the battlefield felt like dying.

It was one thing to seize on the fact that she had worked as a merc on the opposite side of the Hayabusa Guild— but they should either have taken proper revenge or firmly broken her in…

Failing to do either, they only drew pointless aggro, and the lower-rank guild members were the ones dying in droves.

Meanwhile—

“Five left?”

Cooling the overheated barrel with a mana-stone cooling device, Ayane counted the remaining Hayabusa guild members.

The difficulty kept rising.

Like testing the waters, they were dispatching people of ever higher caliber; now the competent ones were coming.

Ayane’s objective was the master of the Hayabusa Guild, but there were a few gates she had to pass first to get there.

“……”

Ayane looked at the photo of Kang-hoo she took from her inner pocket.

Her smartphone had long been powered off; this was a Polaroid print she had prepared separately in advance.

Though the downpour lashed down, thanks to keeping it in the dry inner pocket in front of her chest, at least the photo wasn’t wet.

She’d always wondered why, in war movies, soldiers looked at a lover’s photo before going into battle.

Doing it herself, she understood.

It warmed her desolate heart. Even an ice-cold battlefield felt warm for a moment.

“Let’s change positions.”

The longer you hold a single sniper point, the more dangerous it is.

The Hayabusa members, tempered by countless fights in the Liberation Area, weren’t so trivial in their experience.

Before her position was pinned down, Ayane sensed she likely needed to shift to another sniper point once more.

But then—

“……”

As she rose and quietly moved sideways, a single red dot tracked her exactly.

“Damn.”

Her sniper point was found.

Someone had a bead right on her windpipe.

And at that moment—

Bang!

A gunshot rang out.

----------------------------------------

After finishing with Kim Shin-ryeong, Kang-hoo returned straight to the villa.

Today, aside from exchanging a greeting at the entrance with Hwangbo Hye, there was no Moon Hyeong-seo, and Master K wasn’t there either.

Since the Celestial Assassin and Ju Haemi hadn’t returned yet, the villa was so quiet he could hear breathing clearly.

So he took care of his backlog of calls.

The first person he tried was Lars Abel.

Whether by coincidence or inevitability, Lars Abel happened to be just about to call Kang-hoo as well.

In short, he said there would soon be an official mercenary request.

He said it wouldn’t take longer than a week at most, which meant he had essentially picked up a job.

If there was a single hitch, it was that—like last time—he requested the participation of a “gunner” hunter like Ayane.

Right now, even Kang-hoo couldn’t reach Ayane, so he couldn’t guarantee she would join.

But with a week left, he didn’t bring that up specifically with Lars.

A week was enough time for many things to happen and end. One way or another, it would reach a conclusion.

Next was the Groo Guild.

They said they’d finished arranging a dungeon in South Africa; with China, discussions were still ongoing.

For Kang-hoo, it meant he was over 90% of the way toward the remaining set items of the Corruption series, and his heart began to pound.

If he acquired additional set items from two places, he would obtain the truly unified set effect.

If he called each piece a “Phase-1 item” until all set items were gathered—

then once the set was complete, the difference in feel would be such that you could call them “Phase-2 items.”

Of course, conquering the remaining two dungeons wouldn’t be easy, but now that they were within reach, he felt thrilled.

Also, of the two partnership chances from his contract with the Groo Guild, he used one now.

Apparently, among the Groo-owned dungeons on Jeju-do, there was one where progress had stalled.

It was practically certain he would be contacted within a week for this as well, which meant another job was added.

The push into Western Australia, coordinated with the Rikou Guild, still needed to wait.

On the other hand, on Emilia’s side, they said the dungeon setup would finish quickly and asked him to move within three days.

With so many parties reaching out, his schedule felt tight with no time to rest comfortably.

His body was tired, but he felt good that so many were seeking him out.

For a hunter, nothing is as fatal an indicator as indifference—which is to say, it means your skill is lacking.

“Then I’ll train with Master… and if I get open time, it might be better to swing by the Cheongmyeong Detention Center.”

He organized his thoughts about his schedule.

There were still six dungeons left at the Cheongmyeong Detention Center that Kang-hoo hadn’t “first-cleared.”

In terms of material rewards, the gains might be small, but skills were guaranteed—two per dungeon.

There was no better condition for skill farming, so he figured this was a good chance to go to Cheongmyeong.

Even if the skills he obtained turned out not to be very useful— he could combine skills using the “Creativity” constellation, so there were plenty of ways to make use of them.

----------------------------------------

The Celestial Assassin and Ju Haemi returned past midnight.

Perhaps because the pain had flared up again, the Celestial Assassin’s expression wasn’t good.

He said his mouth was fine, but the pain he couldn’t hide showed in his face.

Even for the stout-willed Celestial Assassin, the unfiltered pain his body sent him was beyond endurance.

“Have you returned, Master?”

“Weren’t you asleep?”

“I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Enough. I’m tired after traveling here and there with Haemi without sleep. Let’s train after I sleep.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’m sleeping. Don’t bother calling me.”

Climbing the stairs, the Celestial Assassin’s back looked unusually weary today.

When Kang-hoo glanced at Ju Haemi, she brushed her nose tip and turned her head.

He could see what looked like tear tracks; she must have shed tears a few times on the way here.

“Please rest.”

Ju Haemi also hurriedly left the room.

Ordinarily, Ju Haemi didn’t go so far as to turn her head extremely away from Kang-hoo, but today was different.

“……”

Soon, Kang-hoo was left alone on the first floor.

He gave it plenty of time and waited for tranquility to settle over the whole villa.

Even the various noises from Ju Haemi’s room soon sank into long silence, as if she had fallen asleep.

As for the second floor where the Celestial Assassin would be, not long after he went up it became quiet as a mouse.

Before going up to the second floor—

Kang-hoo checked once more.

‘Is it truly possible with this ability to cure the incurable disease of someone I hold dear?’

It was a question posed to the constellation, the Angel of the Battlefield. He wanted to get a proper confirmation.

【Of course. It consumes my sacred power, but it’s a strength granted to a contractor who deserves it.】

‘Thank you.’

【Only, I ask again—please liberate without exception the countless hybrids suffering in this world.】

‘I intend to do exactly that. I’m hurrying the schedule.’

Thinking of the Western Australia operation, Kang-hoo nodded.

With the Angel of the Battlefield confirming it directly, his heart felt far easier. At the same time, certainty returned.

Now, all that remained was to quietly strip away the vicious disease from his sleeping master’s body.

And a few minutes later—

“……”

Seeing the Celestial Assassin fast asleep in his room, the bridge of Kang-hoo’s nose ached with emotion.

His stiff, straight-edged master, who would react like a blade if he came even a little close…now didn’t stir even as he looked down at him from right up close, sleeping like a child in a deep slumber.

He had clearly fallen into near-fainting sleep under the sway of painkillers.

Even that seemingly fearless, iron-willed assassin was, before illness and medicine, nothing more than a mere “human.”

Soon, gripping the Celestial Assassin’s gnarled, tree-like hand tightly, Kang-hoo closed his eyes.

‘I still haven’t caught up to even a tenth of you, Master. Please survive and teach me more—so this greedy disciple can make even more use of you.’

He told himself, inside, words he didn’t mean—that he absolutely needed him as a mere “tool” to help his growth, so please live and teach more no matter what.

In doing so, Kang-hoo stubbornly denied the burning human warmth, mouthing what his heart did not say.

It was certainly a very awkward feeling for him. But at the same time, it was the truth.