Infinite Evolution Hunter [NOVEL] - chapter 22
I was too spent from the brutal fight to even think about pushing the Twin Head off; I just lay there for a moment.
“Mr. Jiseok! Are you okay?!”
Nayoung rushed over and tried to heave the Twin Head aside, but there was no way she could move a corpse that had to weigh over a ton.
“I’m fine. Please step back.”
I shoved the body and flipped it over. With the level-up my Strength had ticked up again—now fifty. Lifting one or two tons was easy.
“Your body… it shrank back.”
She averted her reddening face. Looked like I was half-undressed again, my clothes shredded to rags.
“Burned too much energy, so the upkeep dropped. Could you grab my pack?”
“Okay.”
I pulled on spare clothes and we split some rations.
“I was shocked a Twin Head showed up.”
“In a gate, anything can happen.”
“Thanks to you, my level shot up, too.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m ten now.”
“Already?”
So that’s what they call “getting bussed.” She just laid down curses and her level climbed. Slower than mine, sure, but still fast. Of course, levels and stats aren’t an absolute measure of strength—some hunters hit way above their sheet.
“I also got a new skill. Corruption.”
She sounded a little deflated—another curse. Getting extra skills at all is rare, and to have it be yet another hex… I’m thrilled, but I can see why she isn’t.
“New skill’s great. What does it do?”
“It rots and corrodes the enemy, draining their life over time.”
Lovely. How are all her skills like this? Blind + Corruption equals mass kill—steal their senses and let them rot on their feet.
“Perfect. We’ll practice with it later.”
A shiver ran up my back at the memory of my last life, but I kept my tone gentle.
Today I planned to spend time on armor.
I hadn’t cared when I was solo or running with Sangheon, but one trip with Nayoung and I realized I should at least dress the part. Cheap protective suits got torn to ribbons every time, and proper armor wouldn’t help my skill growth.
So I needed something special—and I knew a master craftsman from my past life.
I didn’t know exactly where he was, but right now he should be working as a porter.
“Boss, I’m looking for a porter. Name’s Park Jae-in, late twenties,” I said, calling Sangheon’s father, President Yang. Nobody hires day labor like he does.
“For personal use, Mr. Lee?”
“Something like that.”
“Why that person in particular?”
“Heard good things. I also have a favor to ask.”
“Understood. Give me a moment. When do you need him?”
“Today if possible. I don’t mind the cost.”
An hour later, an unknown number lit up my phone.
“Hunter Lee Jiseok? I heard you needed a porter.”
“Yes. I’ll text you the address—please come by.”
I’d picked a neighborhood café. A short, slight man stepped through the door.
“Over here,” I said, raising a hand. I knew that face.
“Uh… Hunter Lee?”
“Yep. Please, sit.”
“This isn’t a gate…”
“I’ll pay a day rate. Have a seat.”
“Well… as you wish.”
“I’m starting a project and need a man. Tell me about your skill, Mr. Park.”
“My skill? It’s useless in combat…”
“That’s fine. Let’s hear it.”
“Uh… I’m an Elementalist. I can raise fire and wind, or control water and earth.”
On paper, that’s amazing—but his expression wasn’t.
“The catch… my range is basically arm’s length.”
He dropped his gaze. For a caster, that’s a fatal flaw. Maybe you could make it work, but a timid guy like him getting within arm’s reach of a monster? And even if he fixed his nerves, if his defense was typical of a ranged class, one mistake and game over.
“How long as a porter?”
“About two years.”
“And before that?”
“Grad student in chemistry.”
Bingo.
“Do you take long-term contracts?”
“…How long?”
“Five years.”
“Five years?!”
“I’ll pay double the porter day rate. That’s about two hundred million won a year. Monday to Friday, eight hours a day, full benefits, paid leave, and sick days. Plus bonuses.”
Porter work isn’t steady and sick days don’t pay, so this is really way more than double.
“W-wait, why me?”
“I have my reasons for needing an Elementalist. Your choice.”
In my past life, Park landed a grandly named Elementalist class and dreamed of hunting, but his absurdly short range and timid nature kept him a porter until he lost both legs. After a long slump, he ended up doing odd jobs in a crafter’s workshop—where his talent bloomed. He became the best craftsman in Korea.
“Can I think about it?”
“Sure. Take today’s pay and the contract. You’ve got one day.”
Suspicious as he was, he tucked both away.
His reply came in less than a day. I brought him to my home.
“If I sign, my job’s secure for five years?”
“That’s right.”
“But… is this contract even right? I’m not a craftsman.”
The contract said he’d make items from materials I provide.
“You’ll be one now.”
“I—how? I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“Start as an apprentice. I’ll give you a workshop for practice after hours.”
With zero experience, materials alone wouldn’t cut it; I paid a well-known crafter a fat fee to take him on as an apprentice.
“You’re paying, so I’ll try—but don’t blame me if it fails,” he said, signing.
After two years of portering, you’re thirsty enough to drink poison. I know. And this isn’t poison. He’d have read every line overnight.
While he apprenticed, President Yang sourced ogre hide, tools, and recipes. The man’s well-connected; he gets things done.
I also called a builder and started putting up a real workshop on the lot next to my house.
“When you craft, try using your skills instead of tools. Use fire magic for heat, water control for quenching. It’s hard at first, but far more efficient later.”
In my last life, Park made his name by marrying elemental skills to crafting.
“I’ll… give it a shot.”
Maybe old habits from grad school—he followed directions well.
“This… works…”
I was actually enjoying a rare vacation at home when Park showed up with his first piece: armor made from ogre hide.
A few days of apprenticing, then tinkering in the temporary workshop—and he already had a finished piece. It was a simple recipe, sure, but turning out something this solid so fast? Not ordinary.
Ogre-hide chestguard: a D-rank item, way tougher than my bargain F-rank suit. I didn’t need the defense, but pumping Park’s understanding and skill mattered, so I kept feeding him recipes and materials.
“Next up: armor from fairy wings. I’ll keep the materials coming—keep practicing.”
“Okay…”
He took the bundle of wings and headed back to the shop.
“Mr. Lee, we can’t get fairy wings. What should we do?”
“Huh? Why?”
I’d asked President Yang to buy in bulk.
“Foreign guilds are cornering the market for ‘research.’ Prices skyrocketed. We’d pay if it were just price, but they’re contracting directly with hunters and won’t sell to us at all.”
“Then we’ll do it the hard way.”
I pulled up the Hunter app and searched gates and subjugation postings.
A mission along what used to be North Korea reported large numbers of fairies. I signed up.
“I’ll be gone a few days. Keep working—the materials will keep flowing.”
“Okay…”
Park’s face had gone ashen in just a few days.
“Mr. Park… your shift is eight hours. Why do you look wrecked?”
“I… found it fun. I think I can make something even better than what I just finished, and I can’t stop.”
He was a researcher at heart. Give him materials and a workshop, and he poured himself into it.
“…Good work.”
I felt a little guilty—maybe I’d hired future top talent too cheap—but seeing him so happy eased my mind. I’d make sure the bonuses were fat later.
During the original Gate Break, the North collapsed. You’d think Korea or China would scramble to seize the empty land, but neither had the capacity.
North Korea’s mountains and forests made reclamation costly in hunters; that difficulty played a big part. The funny thing was, China had even less spare capacity than Korea—too busy wrangling their exploding gates and their own hunters.
So the Korean government pushed north from the 38th parallel in periodic operations, reclaiming land bit by bit.
My subjugation request fit that pattern.
We’d push the line and establish a new defensive belt.
“Assault Team, First Wave—form up at sector A4.”
At the soldier’s order, hunters moved. I headed to A4.
“As briefed, advance one kilometer while maintaining this formation. Do not break ranks.”
From the command room, the controller piped orders through our in-ears. In a human war this wouldn’t fly, but monsters can’t jam or spoof comms—so it works beautifully.