The fire burned steadily.
Flames crackled and snapped, sending sparks upward into the frozen night. The smell of cooked meat hung thick in the air, warm and greasy, clashing with the sharp cold that crept in from the surrounding forest. Snow reflected the firelight faintly, turning the clearing into a ring of dull orange surrounded by endless white.
The hunters sat in loose groups around the campfire.
Laughter broke the stillness. Someone passed food. Another leaned back, boots stretched toward the heat, steam rising from damp fabric. Their voices overlapped, relaxed—too relaxed for a Red Gate.
Sung Jin-Woo stood slightly apart.
The ice bears were gone.
All of them.
Their bodies lay scattered deeper in the forest, cut down cleanly and efficiently. The danger that had loomed earlier had vanished, leaving behind an illusion of safety.
An illusion that won't last long.
Frey's POV
Everything is the same.
The same campfire.
The same laughter
.The same careless relief.
Just like the main storyline.
Frey's eyes drifted over the group, watching the way hunters leaned into the warmth, the way their shoulders loosened, the way tension slipped off them now that the immediate threat was gone.
Yet his mind wasn't here.
It circled back.
Followers of the Corrupted One.
The phrase surfaced again, uninvited.
Anomalies like you.
His fingers flexed slowly at his side.
According to the mission, these followers were anomalies—like him—but still connected to this world.
That distinction mattered.
Connection.
It implied roots.
He began sorting thoughts carefully, one at a time, resisting the urge to force conclusions.
Possibility one.
These anomalies came from other worlds.
Not like him.
Not as new identities.
They hadn't entered this world as outsiders with blank slates. Instead, they had been forced into roles that already existed—characters native to this world, lives that already had histories, names, and places within the flow of events.
That would explain the connection.
Why they belonged here in a way he never fully could.
They wouldn't stand out as foreign elements. Their bodies, their records, their pasts—everything would align perfectly with this world's logic.
Only the mind inside would be different.
Only the choices would deviate.
That would make them harder to notice…
And far more dangerous.
Possibility two.
They were originally from this world.
But they had come into contact with something they shouldn't have. Fragments. Discarded parts. Knowledge that didn't belong to them.
Knowledge of the future.
The thought settled uncomfortably.
That would make them dangerous in a different way.
Frey's gaze lowered to the snow near his boots. Melted patches glistened faintly, water seeping into the ground beneath.
What defines an anomaly?
Power from another world?
Knowledge of what shouldn't exist yet?
Or both?
His jaw tightened.
Then another question surfaced—quiet, persistent.
How am I different from them?
From their perspective, he wasn't a savior.
He was an intruder.
An apostle of something unknown.
Something Nameless.
A breath escaped him, slow and controlled.
"…Damn it," he muttered.
The thought looped back again.
Why am I here?
From the start, he had focused on getting stronger. Every decision had been shaped by that single goal.
But the reason behind it had never been clear.
To change the story?
To survive?
If everything followed the original storyline, then things would eventually work out anyway.
So why did it feel like something—subtle, persistent—was pushing him to deviate?
His body felt… distant.
His thoughts felt sharp, but detached.
This isn't me.
He knew himself well enough to recognize that.
Is it the template?
Nameless.
Maybe.
He didn't have answers.
But he had a direction.
If these anomalies exist, he thought, then they have answers.
Whether willingly or not.
He glanced up.
The hunters were still laughing.
Unaware.
A shout shattered the moment.
"YOU ALL!!"
The voice tore through the clearing like a blade.
Frey's head snapped up.
Kim Chul stood at the edge of the firelight.
His armor was battered. Cracked. His breath came uneven, fog bursting from his mouth in harsh bursts. His eyes were hollow, sunken, burning with something raw and unstable.
"MY SQUAD WAS FIGHTING THOSE DEVILS," he roared, "AND YOU'RE ALL HAVING FUN?!"
The laughter died instantly.
Silence fell heavy.
Kim Chul staggered forward.
"We lost," he said, voice breaking into something thin and empty. "My team was toyed with… then butchered."
His fist clenched so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"And you're eating," he spat. "Laughing."
His gaze snapped to the supplies.
"We would've won if we had this."
His expression twisted.
Then hardened.
"There's no way you all hunted monsters here," he growled. "Which means someone hid these supplies."
He drew his weapon.
Metal scraped softly.
"WHO WAS IT?!"
The blade leveled at Park Hee-Jin.
She stumbled back, breath catching.
"It was you," Kim Chul snarled. "You're high-ranking. You went with them. You must've hidden it from my team."
Logic had left him.
Only rage remained.
A blur moved.
A sharp crack echoed.
Kim Chul's eyes widened as pain exploded at the base of his neck. His body went limp, collapsing into the snow.
The last thing he saw was Sung Jin-Woo's back as he walked past.
"I'll kill you," Kim Chul rasped—then darkness took him.
Relief swept through the group.
Too early.
Sung Jin-Woo stopped.
His voice cut through the clearing, flat and calm.
"So," he said, "he brought guests with him."
Confusion rippled through the hunters.
Frey's body reacted before thought.
Aura flowed through his legs, coiling tight, ready to release.
Park Hee-Jin stepped forward. "Mr. Sung Ji—!"
Something screamed through the air.
An arrow stopped inches from her face.
Her world shrank.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
I'm going to die.
A hand closed around the arrow.
Metal didn't bend.
The arrow didn't move.
Park Hee-Jin stared.
Then looked up.
Sung Jin-Woo held the arrow in an iron grip, gaze fixed elsewhere.
Following his line of sight, she saw them.
Figures clad in bone and hide. Pale blue skin. Pointed ears. Weapons gleaming faintly in the firelight.
"Ice elves," someone whispered.
Their leader stepped forward.
Baruka.
Two daggers rested easily in his hands. Every step pressed down on the air itself, dominance radiating outward.
He spoke, voice sharp and alien.
"HAHAHA. At last, we have our prey."
His gaze swept over the group.
"It was a good idea to let the last one live. Now…"
His grin widened.
"…the hunt begins."
Only two understood him.
Sung Jin-Woo.
And Frey Starlight.
Frey's POV
The scenario is starting.
Frey moved quietly to the back of the group.
Balerion slid into his hand, its weight familiar, grounding.
Jin-Woo would handle this.
He knew that.
But if an anomaly was here—among the ice elves, or worse, among the hunters—
If they had a system.
If they acted now.
This would be the end.
Frey inhaled deeply.
Cold filled his lungs.
Shadow stirred.
He prepared himself.
Unaware that this battle—
This moment—
Would become one of the most decisive turning points of his life.