The Hunter’s Gonna Lay Low

Chapter 293

This death didn’t hurt. Or… maybe it didn’t.

Uijae floated in a dark void—a place devoid of anything. He opened his hands and looked at them. Good. If he could see his hands, that meant his vision had returned. His fingers traced over the scar on his palm, where golden chains shimmered faintly.

The contract was still intact. Both he and Lee Sa-young were alive.

“……”

But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t open his inventory, summon the system window, or move his body freely. All he could do was drift aimlessly through the void. In the end, Uijae had no choice but to confront the thoughts he had been avoiding.

‘It seems staying close to Lee Sa-young saved me from a complete death, but…’

Truthfully, he had believed that dying would return him to his original world. This was the Memorial Dungeon, after all. A place where the memories of the dead came to an end. Yet, here he was, not returning but wandering aimlessly in this strange space.

‘Is this a glitch?’

Was I supposed to die here all along? Last time, didn’t I meet Hong Yeseong in a place like this?

‘He probably won’t come…’

The thought of Hong Yeseong’s last moments left Uijae feeling uneasy. He curled up and closed his eyes. What was Lee Sa-young doing now? He hadn’t shown himself until the very moment Uijae was overwhelmed by monsters and took his last breath. He must have watched the entire process.

‘So cold-hearted…’

…

He missed Lee Sa-young.

It had been too long since he last saw his face. Just touching him wasn’t enough. He wanted to see him—really see him—with his own two eyes…

In that moment.

Tick, tick. The sound of a clock’s hands echoed through the void. Uijae’s head snapped up. A massive clock materialized in the black emptiness, identical to his broken wristwatch. The hands began spinning rapidly. Instinctively, he understood.

‘Time…!’

It was rewinding. Golden light consumed the void. Uijae closed his eyes.

When he opened them again.

White ash swirled in the air.

Uijae blinked slowly. Before him stretched a vast, barren white wasteland. The sight was all too familiar. He held up his hands.

The scar was gone.

Frantically, he touched his face. A smooth mask covered it once more.

And then, a voice pierced through the silence.

“This kind of rift is a first.”

It was a familiar voice. One he hadn’t forgotten. Uijae turned toward it. A short-haired Hunter with a bow was crouched on the ground, brushing her fingers through the ash.

“There’s absolutely nothing here. No ecosystem at all.”

The short-haired Hunter had always been fascinated by the ecosystems inside rifts and dungeons. Before the world turned into this, she had worked for the Forestry Service. She was endlessly curious about the unique environments found in different rifts and dungeons.

A muscular Hunter approached her and asked, “Maybe the advance team already cleared it out?”

“Hah, you don’t get it, do you? Nothing could survive in an environment like this. No water, no food sources, not even a single blade of grass.”

“Then the advance team…”

“They’re probably dead. We shouldn’t stay here long, either. We’d starve to death.”

Her blunt conclusion left the group in silence. Uijae clenched his trembling hands. His mind may have forgotten, but his body remembered.

This was exactly what it had been like upon entering the West Sea Rift.

‘I don’t want this.’

“And the retreat path has disappeared…”

‘I don’t want this!’

“We should move as quickly as possible, J.”

‘I don’t want this…’

But his mouth moved on its own.

“Understood.”

Their official mission was to search for and rescue survivors, but their true objective was body retrieval. J had known this from the beginning. He just hadn’t abandoned his last shred of hope.

Though even that was eventually buried beneath the white ash.

A firm arm wrapped around J’s shoulders.

“But hey, we’ve got J on our side!”

The muscular Hunter specialized in manipulating the earth—specifically, digging. Despite being a B-rank Hunter, his ability wasn’t directly related to combat, so he often worked with construction companies. He had once jokingly referred to himself as a "human shovel."

J turned around. The entrance they had used to come in had vanished without a trace.

There was no way back. No escape.

“So… what do we do now?”

All eyes turned to him. It was time for an answer, time to take responsibility for everyone’s lives. His voice, distorted yet steady, flowed naturally. His body remembered—the words, the actions, everything he had done before.

“Let’s secure the area and establish a base camp here. Once the camp is set, we’ll begin our search. First, we’ll split into two teams.”

He called out the names of those under his care. Before entering the rift, he had memorized every name.

Scenes flooded his mind like a panorama. Memories that had once been riddled with holes, chaotic and jumbled fragments, resurfaced one by one—memories he had locked away himself.

Their first meal together had been noisy. “Let’s do our best, finish this quickly, and get out of here,” they had said, clinking glasses and exchanging awkward smiles. That night, J couldn’t sleep amidst the rustling, the tossing and turning, and the snores.

The search began in earnest the next day.

One day. They found nothing. It was fine—they had time.

Two days. Still nothing. It was fine—they had time.

Three days. Nothing. It was fine—they had time.

A week. Still nothing. It was fine—they still had time.

Two weeks. Nothing. It was fine… for now.

Twenty days. Still nothing. It was fine.

On the thirty-fifth day, they found the remains of the additional team sent in. No survivors. Supplies were running low. There was no way out.

There was no time to grieve the loss of those they cared about. J couldn’t grieve. He had to lead, to take responsibility. Perhaps he lacked the courage to face the death of his aunt head-on.

They had found remains, but not the master of the rift. At this rate, they wouldn’t escape with the remains—they’d die trapped inside. Each passing day, people spoke less. They reacted sharply to the smallest things.

At some point, their mission shifted from searching for survivors to surviving. They dug through the white ash in search of anything edible—a single blade of grass, a drop of water. Even the ample supplies they had brought wouldn’t last forever.

Someone must have thought it.

There are too many people for the amount of food we have.

One day, someone claimed to have found the sea. J, along with four others, went to see it. They found a beach covered in white ash and a sea with ash floating on its surface. They cleared the ash and drank a sip of the water. J, too, turned away and took a sip beneath his mask. It had no smell, but the taste was awful. Someone gagged. The short-haired Hunter shook her head.

“This can’t be used as drinking water.”

Someone made a joke.

“If you gave it to a dead person, they’d jump right back up.”

A dull, bitter laugh rippled through the group. Someone muttered.

“Well, I guess we could use it for laundry.”

J thought he saw something swimming beneath the ashen sea. It was probably just his imagination. Nothing could survive in this dead sea.

The food ran out. Rations were no longer distributed evenly. J reduced his portion, but it still wasn’t enough. Someone had to go hungry. They decided to take turns.

Screams broke out. “You call yourselves human beings?!” The muscular Hunter grabbed someone by the collar and shook them. That day, a team of four left and returned with only three. One person was missing.

Awakeners had a sharp sense of smell. The scent of roasted meat and blood, smells they hadn’t encountered in a long time, hung heavy in the air. It was nauseating. Someone cried out.

“We had no choice! I don’t want to starve to death doing nothing!”

J. Before another victim falls…

A heavy voice called his name. J nodded. Bloodshot eyes glared at him. A glistening mouth screamed at him.

“What’s the point of being a hero? A hero doesn’t feed us…”

That day, J stained his spear with human blood.

Mealtime was silent. The only sound was the scraping of spoons against cans. J calculated the remaining food and water. They wouldn’t last much longer. He was certain today’s events would repeat. What should he do then? Stain his spear with blood again? The stench of roasted meat clung to his nostrils.

He missed his aunt. He missed the boy.

Cha Uijae lowered his head.

He wanted to go back. Home.

The white monsters appeared.

They killed them.

The food shortage worsened.

After a long discussion, they decided to eat the monsters. It was better than eating their comrades. The emaciated short-haired Hunter said weakly, “Everyone’s eaten a monster at least once, right? It might not be so bad.”

“Do you think we can drink its blood? It’s not red—it’s translucent.”

“I don’t know. We’d have to try.”

The blood had no taste. It was drinkable, just barely.

The white monsters appeared.

They killed them.

The food shortage worsened.

They decided to eat the monsters. It was better than eating their comrades.

One day, J went to the dead sea to wash the blood off his spear. He stirred the white ash away and saw his reflection in the rippling water.

Gray hair.