Disaster. This is the term the Hunter Association uses to designate an 'abnormal phenomenon' that affects a wide region and is predicted to cause severe casualties. And right now, Korea was facing a new Disaster.

The Labyrinth Dungeon.

The Labyrinth Dungeon is a unique type of Disaster. Multiple dungeon gates open across a wide area, and unlike normal dungeons, they don't disappear even after the boss is defeated. They remain fixed in place. And hidden within only one of them is the portal to the labyrinth itself.

To end the Disaster, we had to enter the portal, defeat the Labyrinth Dungeon's irregular boss, and make all the other gates vanish. If we failed to kill the boss in time, monsters would pour out from every open gate, unleashing a massacre.

Korea had already endured two Labyrinth Dungeons.

The first was twelve years ago: a grade-2 Labyrinth Dungeon that opened in Daegu. It was cleared in just two days.

The second was six years ago: a grade-3 Labyrinth Dungeon that enveloped Seoul and the surrounding Gyeonggi Province. The path to the Boss Zone was discovered in a mere thirty minutes. The government immediately announced it would dispatch licensed hunters to end the threat, but players across the country rose up in protest.

They had spent weeks preparing to make a killing; what were they supposed to do if the whole thing was over in half an hour? With the players on the verge of a full-blown riot, the government relented, postponing the boss raid for five days.

Those five days were pure chaos. Every player in South Korea swarmed Gyeonggi Province, tearing through dungeons as if to quench a years-long thirst for the hunt. Countless players grew stronger during that time. The number of new licensed hunters registered that year shattered all previous records, and countless stars of the hunting world were born.

People called them the "Labyrinth Generation."

The event not only elevated the status of Korea's hunter community but also flooded the market with high-quality mana stones. Exports boomed, and our mana stone processing technology became the best in the world, making us the envy of the world. For a brief, shining moment, the Labyrinth Dungeon had ushered in a golden age for Korea's hunters.

And now, another one was about to open.

This time, it was a grade-4, and its projected range covered most of South Korea.

The entire nation was in an uproar. The Labyrinth Dungeon was all anyone could talk about, and the attention of the entire hunter world was focused on the impending Disaster.

Naturally, the Magic Tower couldn't afford to miss such a momentous occasion.

I was in the first-floor lobby, studying the books I'd brought from the Great Library, which were spread out across a large table. Maps were pinned to boards around the room, where Ea and Bora were deep in discussion.

"Shouldn't this area be excluded, then?" Bora asked.

"We need to expand the projected range to here," Ea replied, her tone clinical.

The atmosphere was charged with concentration. Just then, Seojin descended from the second floor, laptop in hand.

"Tower Master, I have a report. This is a summary of all the information we've gathered."

"Ah, perfect."

Everyone crowded around Seojin's laptop as he clicked the mouse, opening several windows.

"First, I searched for precedents of Labyrinth Dungeons on the continent of Erendel, but the number of cases was overwhelming."

"I figured as much."

It was the same on Earth. Labyrinth Dungeons were a global disaster, not just a Korean one.

"When applying Erendel's disasters to Earth's, the only reliable data point we have is 'mana coordinates.' And since those coordinates aren't fixed by terrain and tend to fluctuate, the search took some time."

He delivered his explanation, then took a quick sip of the perilla leaf mojito Ea had made before continuing.

"So, I based my calculations on other disasters that occurred in Korea around similar periods. This is the most likely candidate."

He had calculated the range of a labyrinth disaster from Erendel's records, rendered it as a circle, and superimposed it onto the Korean peninsula.

"Wow…!" Bora gasped.

"Hmm," Ea hummed in acknowledgment.

The circle covered nearly all of South Korea, even including parts of Gangwon Province in the North and Ulleungdo Island. Only the southernmost regions and Jeju Island were excluded.

"This has to be it," I said. "The range is identical to the one the Hunter Association released."

"I agree," Seojin said.

"Then can we estimate the location of the portal to the labyrinth? That's the most important piece of the puzzle."

Seojin adjusted his glasses. "Unfortunately, the Erendel records weren't specific, only mentioning that it was near the 'fief of Karillas.' Roughly applying that area to Korea gives us this."

A new red circle appeared on the map. We all leaned in, our eyes wide.

"So, somewhere in the Gyeongbuk region," I noted.

"Correct. It's a line connecting Mungyeong, Andong, Yeongju, Yeongdeok, Pohang, Yeongcheon, and Gumi."

"Can we narrow it down any further?"

"The records only say 'the vicinity of the Karillas fief.' Any further reduction would be unreliable."

There was no choice, then. I nodded. "Alright. We'll lock in this area for now. Our goal is to find that portal by hitting every dungeon we can."

"Oh, but Yusin!" Bora piped up. "What's the reward for finding the portal again?"

"Ten million dollars just for discovering it, even if you don't clear the boss yourself."

A collective gasp went through the room.

"We may not have the exact location, but we're still several steps ahead of everyone else. We have to find it."

"You bet we will! Ten million, here we come!" Bora cheered.

"Tower Master," Seojin began, "if we do find the portal, what are your plans for the boss monster inside?"

"I'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I'd fought an irregular boss in a grade-2 lava cave dungeon before, but jumping straight from that to a grade-4 was a huge leap. 'Could I even put up a decent fight?' Irregular monsters possessed unquantifiable strength; I had no frame of reference. For now, just finding and reporting the dungeon would be a massive win. I decided to stay flexible. I picked up my phone and made a call.

"Ms. Shin, it's me. Yes, that's right. I'm calling to ask about party composition."

* * *

This was a national-level disaster, and the scale of the hunt was unlike anything before. The government formed an "Emergency Disaster Response Committee" headed by the president himself. The Hunter Association, in turn, established a revolutionary system that drafted every player in South Korea—excluding those unfit for combat—into a massive "raid force."

With nearly ninety percent of the peninsula inside the disaster zone, the cooperation of ordinary players was just as crucial as that of licensed hunters.

Any player with a record of hunting rank-2 monsters or higher could form a party. After registering with a local district office, they gained access to the Association's command center web service. The command center would identify the location and rank of newly opened dungeons and assign them to suitable parties. After clearing a dungeon, each party was required to check for a portal to the labyrinth and report their findings.

Successful raids earned reward money, which would be paid out after the disaster concluded. And, of course, all mana stones and monster byproducts belonged to the hunters who collected them.

The entire hunter community was buzzing. For provisional players aiming for a rank 5 license, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Hunter supply shops saw their profits soar as their stock flew off the shelves, while guilds and management agencies poured all their resources into training new talent. Even ordinary citizens were getting in on the action, working as "scavengers" to process and store monster corpses for a cut of the profit.

[Chinese Authorities Have Announced Plans To Dispatch 209 Hunting Teams to Korea.]

[Seven European Nations Have Pledged Their Support for the Labyrinth Dungeon Operation…]

[This Is Tokyo. A Long Line of Players Has Formed Outside the Association, Hoping To Volunteer for the Korean Dispatch.]

The World Hunter Pact stipulated that in the event of a national disaster, support would pour in from across the globe. But for the Korean government and the Association, it was a massive headache. And for good reason.

—We barely have enough dungeons for ourselves. Why are we letting foreigners in?

—I hate these leeches trying to get a piece of the pie. Go hunt in your own damn country.

—Stop dragging diplomacy into our hunts. Are we just going to let China walk all over us forever?

—If the government approves this, they'll lose all public support. See if I ever vote for the ruling party again.

Public opinion was vehemently against foreign support. The prevailing sentiment was that outsiders were stealing what was rightfully theirs, and the online criticism was scathing. I couldn't help but smile bitterly as I skimmed the comments.

'The world really is a strange place.'

An era where a supernatural crisis—monsters that literally kill people—had become a valuable, coveted resource. Stating that the world has changed so much is an understatement.

Ultimately, facing overwhelming public pressure, the government announced a limit on the number of foreign hunters. Several countries, including China and Japan, expressed their strong regret, arguing that providing aid was a moral duty to prevent casualties, not something to be restricted based on profit and loss.

But with an election looming, public sentiment was paramount. The decision stood.

I was scrolling through the news when the time floating above my smartphone screen snapped me back to the present.

'Time to get going.'

I was in Mungyeong. Our party planned to sweep through the Gyeongbuk region, covering Yecheon, Yeongju, and Andong.

'Right, who are the other members again?'

I pulled up the file CEO Shin Nara had sent me.

[Licensed Rank-5, Yang Heejong.]

[Licensed Rank-5, Jo Yoonji.]

'Ugh, she put together a seriously stacked party.'

I had left the entire composition to the agency, never imagining they'd assign two rank-5 licensed hunters.

'This means I'm in for an earful.'

Bracing myself, I headed to the meeting point in a park parking lot. The city was a ghost town, evacuated due to the disaster, and the lot was eerily empty. It made my team easy to spot.

A man sat in front of a large trailer while a crew of technicians fitted him into a high-tech suit. He was on the phone, his expression serious as he reviewed what looked like a dungeon briefing.

"Hunter Yang, suit power function check."

"Please check the spear-manifestation function as well."

That had to be Yang Heejong. To have his own dedicated tech team meant he was getting the same treatment as a hunter from a major guild.

Just then, he looked up from his suit inspection, and his eyes met mine.

"Ah, you must be with team H-D1, right?"

* * *

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