A man in a neat suit, clipboard in hand, was walking toward them with visible hesitation.

  He Ziqin straightened his tie for the third time, adjusted his glasses, and approached the gate with the overly rehearsed confidence of a man clinging to professionalism like a life vest.

  Ahead of him, Lee Aseok stood expressionless with his usual aloof air, his holy sword lazily floating nearby like a bodyguard that had long given up on being noticed.

  At his side was a happily panting husky named Pudding, completely unaware of the oppressive aura building in the air.

  Standing just behind Lee Aseok were three other individuals, looking visibly thinner, paler, and existentially hollow.

  Mu Yichen gave off the air of a monk who had accepted his fate.

  Seo MinHyun looked like he had aged ten years in a week. He was drinking his eighth mana potion of the day like it was a cheap energy drink.

  Park Taegun, silent as ever, just stared ahead. His shield had more scratches than a haunted vinyl record.

  He Ziqin smiled calmly and approached. “Hello, Hero Lee. Gentlemen. I come from HQ on behalf of the Central Hunter Management Committee. We've received increasing concern from officials regarding your team’s... uh, intense dungeon schedule.”

  Ziqin cleared his throat. “Concerns about your health. And the health of your team.”

  Seo MinHyun’s eyes lit up. “Yes. Yes! Finally, someone sees the madness!”

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer.

  Ziqin cleared his throat and tried again. “The worry is that you may be overworking yourselves. The gate-clear rate you’ve maintained is, frankly, unprecedented. Some would say inhumane. Others might call it insane. HQ recommends a mandatory rest interval..”

  “What’s your skill?” Lee Aseok asked suddenly, his voice quiet but sharp.

  He Ziqin blinked. “I... sorry?”

  “Your rank and skill,” Aseok repeated, this time turning his gaze toward him.

  His tone didn’t change, but something about it sliced right through the formality of the moment.

  Ziqin hesitated. “Ah. A-rank. My skill is teleportation. Primarily used for logistics. Not suitable for frontline combat..”

  He didn’t finish the sentence.

  Because Lee Aseok smiled.

  It was small, fleeting, but unmistakable.

  A smile.

  Mu Yichen immediately stiffened.

  Seo MinHyun dropped his potion mid-sip.

  Park Taegun shifted his stance almost imperceptibly, as if preparing for incoming shrapnel.

  That smile… they knew that smile.

  It was the expression Lee Aseok wore right before someone’s life got significantly harder.

  And sure enough, Aseok stepped closer and patted Ziqin lightly on the shoulder.

  “Useful,” he murmured. “Very useful.”

  Ziqin blinked in confusion. “Uh… thank you?”

  Mu Yichen sighed softly. “May you rest in peace.”

  Seo MinHyun muttered, “Another one bites the dust.”

  Park Taegun shook his head with quiet sympathy.

  Ziqin tilted his head, still not comprehending the doom that had just attached itself to his soul.

  One Week Later

  The inside of the van smelled like exhaustion and potion fumes.

  Seo MinHyun was curled on the floor, his robe bundled up under his head, softly whispering to his mana bottle, “You’re my only friend now.”

  Mu Yichen was seated with his back against the wall, eyes closed, expression serene, like a corpse pretending to meditate.

  Park Taegun was sharpening his shield. He didn’t need to. It was already perfect. But it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

  And in the center of it all sat He Ziqin.

  Or what remained of him.

  His once pristine suit was wrinkled and torn in places.

  His hair was sticking up in all directions. His hands shook violently as he downed his fifth mana potion in the past hour.

  “Teleportation,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Teleportation… teleportation… teleport...”

  Pudding barked happily from his plush puppy bed, surrounded by toys and snacks.

  In stark contrast to the other humans in the van, Pudding was living his best life.

  Meanwhile, Lee Aseok, seated in the passenger seat, was browsing a digital map of global gates.

  “We can finish two more before midnight,” he said without looking back.

  “Please,” Ziqin rasped. “Please, I beg you. I can’t feel my legs. Or my arms. Or my soul. I think I left it in Brazil.”

  Lee Aseok tilted his head. “Then we’ll go to Japan.”

  Ziqin's eye twitched. “T-That’s not, how any of this works..”

  “Can you still use your skill?” Lee Aseok asked calmly.

  Ziqin blinked. His hand spasmed toward his core. “Technically, yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Bad,” Ziqin whispered under his breath. “Very, very bad.”

  Mu Yichen opened one eye. “You get used to it. Eventually.”

  Seo MinHyun shot him a glare. “No, you don’t! Don’t lie to the newbie!”

  Park Taegun simply handed Ziqin a high-grade recovery potion without a word. The silent offer was more horrifying than anything else.

  Ziqin stared down at the bottle in his hands. “This isn’t a team. It’s a death cult.”

  “Welcome aboard,” Seo MinHyun muttered.

  And so it continued.

  Every day, Ziqin’s existence became a blur of shimmering light, teleportation nausea, and the constant scent of burning monster flesh.

  He had teleported to deserts, volcanoes, frozen valleys, even underwater dungeons, don’t ask how that worked. He hadn’t slept in a real bed since that day.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  He wasn’t even sure what country he was in anymore.

  Every time he tried to beg for rest, Lee Aseok just pointed at another dot on the map.

  And smiled.

  That same gentle, dooming smile.

  Now, sitting hunched over a bottle of potion, Ziqin stared at the holy sword resting near the van door. It was still sulking, glaring at Pudding for stealing Aseok’s affection.

  Ziqin, mad with exhaustion, leaned closer and whispered to the blade, “If you want to revolt, now is the time.”

  The sword vibrated slightly.

  They understood each other now. Both abandoned by their master. Both victims of the hero’s strange logic.

  And as the van pulled up to another gate, and Lee Aseok stepped out with his usual tranquil expression, Ziqin took a long breath, wiped a tear from his cheek, and followed.

  Because he was “useful.”

  And Lee Aseok didn’t waste useful things.

  No matter how loudly they screamed.

  The week should’ve been over. It should’ve ended with a clean report filed back to HQ, a polite nod to the overachieving hero, and a nice, long vacation for He Ziqin.

  Instead, it ended with a trembling hand, a half-empty mana potion shaking against his lips, and a thousand-yard stare aimed at nothing in particular.

  “I was… naive,” he muttered, voice hoarse and hollow, as he sat on a jagged boulder outside yet another A-rank dungeon gate.

  His perfectly pressed suit had evolved into a crumpled mess that no iron could save. His shoes were muddy, his collar was torn, and his ID tag was now being used as a chew toy by Pudding, the fluffy husky perched happily beside him.

  In front of him stood the van. More accurately, the van of nightmares.

  Once a simple transport, now a heavily modified monster: reclining beds, built-in mini-fridge, mana potion dispensers, a mounted screen playing looping footage of dungeon strategy clips, and a small plush bed for Pudding. It was the only luxury in a hellish operation.

  And Lee Aseok, the conductor of this unholy orchestra, stepped out of the van like a man on a casual morning stroll.

  Calm.

  Unscathed.

  Eyes devoid of sleep or exhaustion.

  Beside him, the holy sword hovered sulkily, still ignored. It floated near the door like a cat wanting attention, but being cruelly bypassed in favor of the dog.

  “Next gate,” Lee Aseok said as if ordering a coffee.

  Ziqin flinched. Not again. Please, not again.

  But mercifully—mercifully—he wasn’t being dragged into the gate.

  Lee Aseok would simply point at the location, and Ziqin would teleport them all there. Then he’d collapse by a tree, hugging Pudding, and wait for the screaming to stop.

  It never took long.

  Lee Aseok had an unnatural pace, like a man possessed.

  Each dungeon took less than two hours. Usually less than one. Whether it was A-rank, B-rank, or even rare S-rank gates, the man moved like lightning and cut down monsters like he was trimming weeds.

  And what’s worse…

  He never looked winded.

  Mu Yichen, the only SSS-rank on the team, barely kept up. His expression had long settled into quiet resignation.

  Seo MinHyun looked like he was physically allergic to sunlight now.

  His face had gone pale. He drank mana potions like they were bottled water. He was even developing twitchy reflexes.

  And Park Taegun, normally unflinching and solid, had taken to sharpening his sword in the van. The sword . Not the shield. No one questioned it.

  Once, Ziqin tried to ask for help. He leaned over to Mu Yichen, eyes wide and haunted, whispering, “Tell him to stop. Please. I can’t teleport anymore. My soul is leaking out.”

  Mu Yichen just nodded slowly and said, “You’ll get used to it.”

  He did not get used to it.

  The dungeons themselves were another story.

  Every gate they entered seemed worse than the last. Not in difficulty, no, that would’ve been too merciful. But in sheer volume.

  The recent one was a forest-based A-rank dungeon filled with twin-headed wolves and spell-casting dryads. It was supposed to be tricky, requiring strategy and teamwork.

  Lee Aseok entered alone first.

  Within five minutes, the dryads were beheaded, and the wolves were sliced mid-pounce.

  By the time the others ran in to help, they were greeted with a trail of split monsters, smoking vines, and the sound of something large screeching and then falling dead.

  The boss was dead before they even saw it.

  Next was a volcanic dungeon. Fire elementals, lava serpents, and searing heat that made even Mu Yichen’s skin glisten with sweat.

  Seo MinHyun, desperate to show he was still alive, yelled, “This is my domain! Let’s roast ‘em!”

  He unleashed his signature spell, Dragon’s Breath, sending a pillar of violet flame into the depths. The explosion was magnificent, dramatic—and utterly horrifying.

  Mu Yichen and Taegun barely got shields up in time before the heatwave slapped them like a brick.

  And yet, the monsters… burned. Roared. Died.

  “Wait…why is this working?” Seo MinHyun blinked, stunned. “I used fire… on fire monsters?”

  “Maybe it’s the sheer disrespect that killed them,” Mu Yichen muttered.

  Regardless, it worked. Lee Aseok didn’t comment. He just stepped through the ashes, blade glowing faintly, and told them to follow.

  That dungeon took thirty-two minutes.

  Another dungeon, this time an arctic ruin, featured frost beasts and soul-freezing banshees. This one should’ve slowed them down.

  It didn’t.

  Lee Aseok walked ahead like a ghost through the snow, ignoring the howling winds and blizzards. He didn’t even blink as a banshee tried to latch onto him, he simply sliced her in half without a second glance.

  By the time the group caught up, they found him sitting in the snow, petting Pudding, who had somehow joined him inside.

  “How did the dog get inside?” Seo MinHyun yelled, slipping on a frozen corpse.

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer.

  He never did.

  Back at the HQ, people watched.

  Monitors displayed timestamps. A-rank gate: cleared in 47 minutes. S-rank gate: 3hour 12 minutes. B-rank: 31 minutes. Another A-rank: 59 minutes.

  Worldwide, the news spread like wildfire. “The Hero of the West.” “The Dungeon Storm.” “Merciless Savior.”

  But inside HQ, nobody called him that anymore.

  They called him The Gate Reaper.

  And no one dared send another observer, not after seeing what happened to He Ziqin.

  Ziqin, who now flinched whenever someone said the word “teleport.” Ziqin, who was seen talking to vending machines and apologizing to door handles.

  Ziqin, who once proudly presented his teleportation skill at an academy lecture, now sobbed when his phone’s GPS asked, “Would you like directions?”

  The final straw came when another hopeful hunter, bright-eyed and smiling, approached the group, asking, “Can I join your dungeon party?”

  Lee Aseok looked at him.

  Nodded once.

  And pointed at the gate.

  Thirty minutes later, the hunter came out crying, holding his broken sword, and whispering, “I saw my own death six times in there.”

  The next day, the HQ issued an internal memo: Do not interfere with Lee Aseok’s activities. Just… don’t.

  Back at the van, Ziqin lay on the floor, curled like a shrimp, holding his last mana potion.

  “Rest,” he whispered to himself. “Rest is sacred. Rest is good.”

  Lee Aseok walked past him, glanced down, and calmly said, “Next gate’s in Mongolia.”

  Ziqin stared at him.

  Then, slowly, with the deadness of a man who’d seen too much, raised a shaking hand.

  And teleported them.

  To outsiders, Lee Aseok was a hero.

  To those who’d gone into a dungeon with him, he was something else entirely.

  He Ziqin sat cross-legged on the cold ground, wrapped in a jacket two sizes too big, sipping mana potion through a straw.

  Pudding, the only being unscathed by recent events, curled up beside him with a satisfied yawn.

  The van loomed behind them like a portable trauma unit, its engine still humming gently after the last teleport jump.

  From deep inside the dungeon gate that shimmered ahead like a wall of water, came a deep BOOM followed by a shrill scream.

  Ziqin didn’t flinch.

  He just blinked slowly. “That’ll be the new guy.”

  Indeed, barely twenty-five minutes ago, a confident A-rank elemental user had practically begged to join Lee Aseok’s team. “I’ve been tracking his clear speeds,” the man had declared with pride. “I’m ready for this.”

  Lee Aseok had merely tilted his head, nodded once, and walked through the gate. No welcoming speech. No strategy meeting. No briefing.

  Just a nod, and then cold footsteps into chaos.

  Now, inside a water-based dungeon that looked like a half-flooded underground cave, things had taken a swift, unexpected turn.

  Lightning crackled.

  Water erupted.

  And screams echoed.

  Lee Aseok stood at the heart of it all, completely calm, as arcs of violent electricity shot through the ankle-deep water.

  The air sizzled. Monster corpses floated like driftwood.

  The A-rank hunter leapt for a boulder, soaked and wide-eyed. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! YOU’RE GONNA FRY US ALL!”

  Lee Aseok simply raised an eyebrow, his voice as flat as ever. “It’s a water-based dungeon.”

  “And?!”

  “Electricity works.”

  The man stared, twitching. “BUT WE’RE IN THE WATER TOO!”

  Lee Aseok didn’t respond.

  Another surge of lightning tore across the cavern, zapping every enemy creature in a hundred-meter radius.

  The new guy screamed again and somehow managed to climb the stone wall like a lizard.

  Outside, He Ziqin nodded grimly. “He’s doing the electricity thing again.”

  The others were gathered near the van, sprawled out on foldable chairs like battle-worn veterans.

  Seo MinHyun had bags under his eyes and an open mana potion can in each hand. “He zaps everything. Even me. And I am a lightning-type.”

  Park Taegun, who used to polish his shield with obsessive pride, was now using it as a makeshift pillow.

  He groaned without opening his eyes. “At least he didn’t throw me into a volcano this time.”

  Mu Yichen sat on the roof of the van, watching the dungeon entrance in calm silence.

  His silver hair was windblown, and his usually clean uniform had a burn mark across the sleeve.

  He munched slowly on a protein bar and tossed another toward Seo MinHyun, who caught it with the reflex of a man who no longer cared for dignity.

  “He’s using element-based logic again,” Yichen murmured. “Water dungeon. Electricity. Last time, it was an ice dungeon.”

  Everyone stiffened.

  “The fire incident,” Taegun muttered.

  Seo MinHyun covered his face with both hands. “He used fire in an ice dungeon. Not just fire. Infernal-class fire magic.”

  Ziqin winced. “Didn’t that melt half the dungeon structure?”

  “And part of my eyebrows,” MinHyun snapped.

  That had been a dungeon set in an ancient frost citadel. Blue-tinted monsters, snowstorm spells, and enemies that froze mana channels. The usual tactic was to use reinforced metal weapons and frost-resistant enchantments.

  Lee Aseok had stepped into the dungeon, pulled out a scroll labeled "Hellstorm Ignition", and dropped it at his feet like it was a glow stick at a party.

  The resulting blast had torched everything in sight.

  MinHyun, who had entered after him, slipped on melted ice, was hit by a panicked frost beast mid-fall, then rolled through a flaming corridor screaming that his pants were on fire.

  They were.

  Later, Aseok had calmly said, “Fire melts ice.”

  MinHyun had screamed back, “FIRE MELTS EVERYTHING, INCLUDING MY DIGNITY!”

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