Under everyone’s shocked eyes, Aseok landed a heavy pouch on the massive gate.

  The sound was like breaking glass, but far heavier, a shattering of steel and stone that seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet.

  The massive Hell Gate trembled.

  A deep vibration ran up its surface, the red and black patterns rippling violently, as if disturbed by some invisible force.

  Everyone froze, staring in stunned silence.

  Lee Aseok’s hand remained steady, his palm glowing brighter as the core energy responded, feeding into his will.

  The gate cracked again, this time a deep, ragged fissure splitting its lower half.

  Seo MinHyun staggered back, half-shouting, half-laughing. “Okay, so he’s not just crazy, he’s crazy talented!”

  He Ziqin nodded, though her face was pale. “I didn’t think it was possible… but it seems like he’s actually breaking the gate without the holy sword.”

  Kang Juwon smirked, folding his arms with a mixture of amusement and grudging respect. “Well, that’s one way to tell the sword to sit this one out.”

  Mu Yichen’s jaw clenched, eyes burning with anxiety as he kept his sword ready, prepared to step in if this gamble went south.

  “Don’t underestimate the gate,” Mu Yichen warned quietly, voice low but tense. “It’s not just a door. It’s a barrier holding back nightmares.”

  Lee Aseok gave no answer. His expression was unreadable, detached but focused, as if this wasn’t a fight for survival but an inconvenient chore he had to get through.

  The holy sword hovered nearby, its light flickering uncertainly, almost sulking as it watched the gate crack under Lee Aseok’s unholy energy.

  It was a silent argument between old tradition and raw power.

  The others exchanged glances, a strange mix of hope and dread swirling in their eyes.

  Seo MinHyun finally broke the silence with a sarcastic grin. “Well, I suppose if the hero won’t use the holy sword, he’ll just use his ‘ energy punch.’ That’s new.”

  He Ziqin laughed nervously. “I just hope that punch doesn’t come with a ‘backfire’ bonus.”

  Lee Aseok’s smirk deepened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, voice deadpan, “I’ve got questions for the final boss.”

  A silence fell again.

  Questions. The final boss.

  The Hell Gate. It was clear that Lee Aseok was far from finished with the mysteries locked behind this monstrous door.

  The gate groaned, the fissure growing wider with each pulse of Lee Aseok’s core energy.

  Mu Yichen stepped closer, eyes sharp. “Be careful, Aseok. This isn’t just about brute force.”

  Lee Aseok shrugged, as if that was the least interesting thing in the world. “Brute force is often the only language monsters understand.”

  He kept punching without holding back, the shockwave nearly made He Ziqin take a few steps back.

  Another crack echoed, louder this time, shaking dust from the surrounding rock.

  And then, with a grinding roar, the massive Hell Gate began to slowly part, as if reluctant to yield, yet unable to resist the strange new power that defied all precedent.

  Everyone gawked and shuddered. The indestructible gate of the Hell Gate, the same one legendary hunters had once failed to scratch, was now reduced to debris by a man who looked like he should be modeling for underweight clothing catalogs.

  Seo MinHyun’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “That… that’s not normal.”

  Kang Juwon tilted his head slightly, smiling in that unsettling way of his. “Oh, it’s normal. For him.”

  Mu Yichen didn’t comment, his jaw tightening as if bracing for whatever chaos was coming next.

  Because one thing was certain: nothing ever went according to plan when Lee Aseok was present.

  Aseok dusted off his hands as if he’d just swatted a fly instead of dismantling a structure older than most countries.

  Without a hint of excitement, he turned to the group and said a single word.

  “Follow.”

  Then, to He Ziqin: “Wait.”

  He Ziqin stiffened. The tone wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of a boulder. “Yes, sir,” he said instinctively, before realizing he wasn’t even technically under Aseok’s command.

  Lee Aseok walked inside without another word.

  The others exchanged glances, half resignation, half silent prayer, and went in after him.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The unspoken agreement was clear: if Aseok was in front, they had no choice but to follow.

  He Ziqin stayed behind, shifting uncomfortably. His role had always been to teleport the team to and from the battlefield, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to peek inside.

  Unfortunately, the way Aseok’s eyes had pinned him a moment ago made him feel like one wrong move would erase his existence.

  He decided, for the sake of his lifespan, to remain exactly where he was.

  Inside the gate, the team came to an abrupt halt.

  And for the first time, it wasn’t because of immediate danger.

  It was because the sight in front of them was… strangely peaceful.

  They stood in the middle of an expansive grassland, the blades swaying gently in a warm breeze.

  Verdant hills rolled into the distance, dotted with clusters of wildflowers.

  Birds, actual birds, fluttered overhead, and somewhere far away, the sound of a flowing stream reached their ears.

  “This… is the Hell Gate?” Seo MinHyun asked, lowering his weapon slightly. “Are we sure we didn’t just walk into some kind of countryside vacation package?”

  Park Taegun scanned the surroundings, his military-trained eyes narrowing. “Don’t be fooled. The prettier the place, the faster it kills you.”

  Kang Juwon crouched and plucked a blade of grass, twirling it between his fingers. “Still, it’s quite convincing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was the perfect place for a picnic.”

  “That’s because you have no survival instinct,” Seo shot back.

  The rest of the group scanned the surroundings, their steps slow and deliberate.

  “Peaceful,” Seo MinHyun muttered, eyes darting left and right, “but in a creepy, I’m-about-to-be-eaten kind of way.”

  “Stay alert,” Park Taegun said, his voice low but firm.

  “Alert? I’m already five seconds away from shooting the grass just to be sure,” Seo shot back.

  Kang Juwon was kneeling a few steps away, inspecting a clump of flowers. “Hm. No poison traces, no magical residue. Smells nice, actually. Maybe we should—”

  Seo pointed his weapon at him. “Stand up before something swallows you whole.”

  Lee Aseok wasn’t listening to any of it. His gaze stayed fixed on the silver circle in the sky. And as he stared, memories from another lifetime rose up like ghosts.

  In his past life, this was exactly how it had started.

  The first time they’d stepped into the Hell Gate, they’d all been just as baffled by the scenery.

  A grassland, rolling hills, nothing overtly hostile.

  They’d searched, found no enemies, and eventually stumbled across an exit, a shimmering doorway that transported them to the next stage.

  That stage had monsters.

  High-ranking ones. A-level at the weakest. At first, they’d treated it like any other gate: kill the monsters, move on. The next stage? More monsters. Stronger ones. Kill them, advance.

  It was simple… until it wasn’t.

  Days passed, and the pattern didn’t break. There was no boss stage, no “final” monster to mark the end.

  The enemies just kept coming. Dozens a day. Hundreds. Their supplies dwindled.

  Even S-rank stamina had its limits, and exhaustion became their deadliest opponent.

  By the second week, the joke was gone from their voices.

  And through it all, the silver circle had been there. Above every stage. Never moving, never changing.

  They’d noticed it, of course.

  They even discussed it once or twice. But because they couldn’t feel any mana from it, they dismissed it as meaningless and focused on what was in front of them.

  That had been a mistake.

  Aseok remembered the moment, much later, when they’d realized the truth, that the circle wasn’t scenery.

  It was the core of the gate. The lock.

  Now, standing here again, he knew better.

  He didn’t intend to play by the same rules this time.

  Behind him, Seo MinHyun was still muttering. “I’m telling you, this grass is suspicious. It’s too green. What if it’s carnivorous? One wrong step and—”

  “It’s just grass,” Park Taegun said.

  “That’s what they said about the vines in the last dungeon, and then they—”

  “Both of you, shut up,” Mu Yichen cut in, his voice as cold as his expression. His eyes, too, were fixed on the silver circle. “That thing… it’s important, isn’t it?”

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer right away. He just tilted his head slightly, considering.

  In his past life, they hadn’t realized what the silver circle was until it was far too late.

  They’d ignored it and focused on the endless grind of killing monsters and finding gates to pass through.

  It was only after days, weeks, maybe, that someone noticed the faint movement along the edge. The silver markings weren’t static; they were shifting, like the hands of a clock.

  And when it made a full rotation… The nightmare began.

  The number of gates they had to clear multiplied. If they’d been on track to clear fifty, now they had to clear a hundred.

  And if it happened again? Two hundred. Then four. The numbers climbed like a sadistic joke with no punchline.

  In that life, Lee Aseok had been nothing more than an F-rank with the holy sword as his only crutch.

  He’d fought without rest, without support, without the luxury of stopping to breathe.

  His body had been a constant battlefield, skin burning from wounds, muscles tearing with every swing, bones screaming in protest. And still, he’d fought.

  By the end, he wasn’t even sure if he was alive or just stubborn enough to fake it.

  That memory faded now, leaving behind only the clarity of someone who had survived the worst and was looking at it again, this time armed with knowledge the others didn’t have.

  His eyes sharpened as he stared at the silver circle.

  Around him, the others had finally noticed it too.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” Seo MinHyun squinted. “Looks like a fancy dinner plate.”

  Park Taegun gave him a flat look. “A dinner plate in the sky.”

  “I’m saying, it’s decorative. Probably just a gate theme.”

  “Or it’s a trap,” Kang Juwon said mildly. “Which would make it your type, MinHyun. Shiny and likely to get people killed.”

  Seo scoffed but kept looking at the circle, clearly curious despite himself.

  Lee Aseok didn’t bother explaining. To them, it didn’t look like a clock at all.

  The slow rotation was too subtle for the untrained eye, and the inscriptions looked more like some grand, meaningless magical design than time’s executioner.

  Only Mu Yichen’s gaze lingered on him rather than the sky. The man had been watching him since they stepped into this gate—eyes sharp, expression unreadable.

  “What’s the plan?” Mu Yichen finally asked.

  The question drew every gaze to Aseok.

  Lee Aseok didn’t answer Mu Yichen’s question.

  Instead, his gaze slid sideways, locking onto Seo MinHyun.

  And then, he smirked.

  It wasn’t a friendly smirk. It wasn’t even an “I know something you don’t” smirk.

  It was the kind of smirk people gave before they flipped the table, set the room on fire, and politely asked if you wanted marshmallows.

  A cold shiver went through the group.

  Kang Juwon tilted his head, amused. “Oh. This should be good.”

  Park Taegun gave a short exhale and muttered, “Poor bastard.”

  Even Mu Yichen’s normally unreadable eyes flickered with mild interest.

  Seo MinHyun noticed all of it. His expression tightened, shoulders hunching instinctively. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that? Did I step on your precious grass or something?”

  Lee Aseok said nothing, still wearing that faint, infuriating curve of his lips.

  Seo took a slow step back, his voice dropping into a nervous growl. “I’m warning you, Lee Aseok… If you do something to me, I’ll— I’ll hunt you down after I become a ghost. I’ll haunt you forever. Your dog, too.”

  From somewhere behind, Kang Juwon whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear, “He’s already planning his funeral speech.”

  But Lee Aseok finally spoke, his tone as calm as it was merciless.

  “Your magic ability is useful. Very useful.”

  The word useful landed like a heavy brick on the group.

  Author Note:

  Every “OH MY GOD ASEOK STOP” gives me the strength to write the next disaster.

  Mon ? Wed ? Fri

  (Yes, I too question my life choices.)

  https://www.patreon.com/c/LithutheBloom

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