Chapter 57: Everyone can be the next victim

No one questioned the recommendation, and Lee Nari nodded at him in agreement obediently. Thankfully, since it included Cheon Areum’s safety, she didn’t retaliate, even though not even her own family could convince her to come back to them and leave Korea.

“For the second skill, it appears to be a domination-type control ability. It seizes the target’s body while leaving the mind fully conscious.”

A few people stiffened. These types of skills were the most bothersome, after all.

“Han Kakta and I have both experienced it firsthand. It isn’t as overwhelming as mind corruption—but even so, there was a moment when I struggled to regain control of my own body.”

His gaze swept the room, making sure everyone was listening as he explained carefully.

“Under this skill, you can be fully aware of your surroundings and still be unable to move, speak, or signal for help. Your mouth can be forcibly sealed. Consciousness alone doesn’t mean safety.”

“You can assume that silence does not equal consent—and that awareness does not equal control.”

“The last two are informed guesses,” Cheon Areum said calmly, continuing.

“The first is a replication-type skill—one that allows him to create copies of himself, each carrying energy comparable to an S-Class awakener.”

“The second is a mind-nullification skill—one that instantly erases mental burden, emotional overload, and psychological backlash.”

He didn’t elaborate further. Cheon Areum could stand by that conclusion. He had deliberately omitted certain details—what he had done to Kihyun inside the dungeon, how far he had pushed him, how little resistance there had been in the end. He’d only shared what was necessary. As for the ability to create copies, he wasn’t fully certain yet. But uncertainty didn’t mean improbability.

“And until proven otherwise, we should operate under the assumption that he has access to all four.”

He concluded evenly, leaning back in his seat. The conference was being recorded. Several analysts along the side wall were already compiling every detail discussed, organizing it into an official threat profile. On the large screen at the front of the room, his full legal name appeared:

Cho Kihyun.

A series of photographs followed—clear frontal shots, side profiles, older identification images, and recent surveillance captures. For public safety reasons, the information would be released in a controlled statement. His identity, abilities, and threat level would be shared nationwide. Alerts would be issued to airports, ports, and major transportation hubs. From this moment forward, Cho Kihyun was no longer a new awakener yet to register. He was officially declared a national-level threat.

“We don’t know when, but Cho Kihyun will definitely make his next move sooner or later. For that reason, we’ve developed something as a precaution.”

Choi Yuna stepped forward and activated the display screen behind her. A sleek black smartwatch rotated in holographic projection as she began explaining its purpose.

“This device will be issued to every hunter present. Once worn, it continuously monitors two things—your heartbeat and your energy output.”

The screen shifted to a live demonstration, showing fluctuating vitals and energy levels.

“It draws minimal power and sustains itself by converting residual hunter energy. However, if either your heartbeat or energy levels drop significantly outside a dungeon gate, an automatic alert will be broadcast to all registered devices.”

A low murmur spread through the room among the hunters.

“We ask that the nearest hunter respond immediately to the transmitted location. Outside the gates, there is no natural reason for a hunter’s energy or heartbeat to collapse, which means any abnormal reading should be treated as a hostile encounter.”

She gestured toward the seats.

“A box has been placed in front of each of you. Please wear the watch at all times until Cho Kihyun is apprehended.”

The hologram zoomed in on the device.

“There is also a manual SOS button. If you encounter Cho Kihyun directly, press it. The signal will override all other notifications and broadcast your location instantly.”

For once, the Central Bureau had proven capable of urgency. In just a matter of days, everything had been prepared, manufactured, and distributed without delay. A worldwide search would also be launched under their authority. International guilds had already been notified, and border surveillance was tightening by the hour. It was only a matter of time before Cho Kihyun was caught.

Cheon Areum reached for the box in front of him and removed the watch inside. Unlike the prototype displayed earlier, his was white—sleek and minimal. He fastened it around his left wrist. The moment it locked into place, the strap adjusted automatically to his skin temperature and pulse. A faint hum of synchronization followed. Then, slowly, the white surface darkened. Color bled across it in a smooth gradient until it turned completely black—the same shade as his energy. The device had calibrated itself and claimed its owner.

As most of the major announcements concluded, the rigid atmosphere of the hall gradually loosened. Hunters began examining the watches on their wrists, testing the interface, murmuring to one another in low voices.

Then—

A voice rose from the middle rows.

One of the hunters presently listening asked a question directed at Cheon Areum.

“If Kihyun had lost consciousness for most of the dungeon, does that mean Cheon Areum cleared the gate by himself? Is that even possible? Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Cheon Areum, but the previous S+ Class gate had four bosses of the same class, so it’s a bit unbelievable to me.”

The hunter was a member of the Voidwalkers guild, sitting with the newly appointed master of their guild—and they of all people should have known. After all, during the previous S+ Class raid, Cheon Areum had personally eliminated three of the four bosses by himself.

The room fell silent again. Not hostile—but expectant. Eyes shifted toward Cheon Areum, waiting to see whether he would take offense—or simply answer.

Since Cheon Areum had never disclosed that his core was currently damaged from that gate clearance, the sight of him sitting there—calm, composed, and seemingly unscathed—was nothing short of shocking to most of the hunters present. He had single-handedly cleared an S+ Class gate. While pregnant.

That last fact was something everyone in the room was fully aware of, which only made it more unbelievable. Whispers, though subtle, were inevitable. There were likely a few in that hall who suspected he was lying—who believed Cho Kihyun must have assisted him and that the story had been conveniently altered due to Kihyun’s disappearance. After all, with Kihyun absent, there was no one who could confirm—or deny—his participation. It was the perfect gap in testimony.

“The monsters go fairly easy on me sometimes. This time, they didn’t attack me at first. I only had to deal with three of the bosses. I sealed them into my cards before they had the opportunity to cause any real damage.”

“Why would the monsters go easy on you?”

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