Global Descent: I Alone Can See Hidden Evolution Paths

Nobody talked as they reached the final corridor. The stone beneath Jun-ho’s sneakers was uncomfortably hot, the kind of heat that made the rubber soles smell like a burning tire. Up ahead, the two massive iron plates blocking the boss chamber didn’t move smoothly. They parted with a high, screaming screech of ungreased metal that made everyone cover their ears.

Sang-woo didn’t look heroic. He was sweating through his silk cloak, his fingers trembling as he tried to trace a geometric shape in the air to prime his fire spell.

"Move in," Sang-woo barked, his voice cracking slightly. "Jun-ho, center line. Now."

Jun-ho walked through the gap first. The room inside was large, shaped like a sunken amphitheater, and the air was thick with the smell of old charcoal. In the middle of the dust stood the Flame Hound. It didn’t look like a proud mythical beast; it looked like a starved, hairless mastiff, its ribcage pulsing with a sickening, orange internal light that leaked through its skin.

"Hold the stance!" Min-ah yelled from three paces behind him. Her hands were already raised, the pale green light of her wind magic flickering around her knuckles.

The hound didn’t roar. It let out a wet, rattling hiss and lunged. It moved with an awkward, terrifying speed, its front paws tearing up chunks of the dry dirt floor as it aimed straight for Jun-ho’s chest.

Jun-ho planted his feet. He didn’t drop into a defensive crouch. He just raised his cracked iron shield, keeping his arms loose.

The impact didn’t feel like a monster strike. It felt like a solid wall hitting him. The rusted iron plate of his shield shrieked as the beast’s skull slammed into the center, the hairline fracture down the middle widening into a gap that let the orange heat blow right past his face, singeing the collar of his jacket.

To Sang-woo and Min-ah, it looked like he was finished. His boots slid back an inch, leaving two black tracks in the dirt.

But inside Jun-ho’s chest, the gray subtitle text did its work without a single sound.

[Tyrant’s Retaliation triggered.]

[Absorbed 84 points of physical kinetic damage.]

[Multiplying force by 500%...]

[420 points of kinetic force stored.]

The energy coiled deep in his right shoulder, turning into a tight, vibrating mass that made his skin prickle. He could feel the hound’s hot breath against his knuckles, but he didn’t strike back. He just held the position, waiting.

"Now! Sang-woo, now!" Min-ah screamed.

Sang-woo didn’t cast his big spell. Instead, he reached into his pouch, pulled out a small, glowing red crystal—the dungeon core they had come for—which had somehow spawned early on the altar behind the beast. He had never intended to fight the boss to the end. He just wanted the loot.

"Got it!" Sang-woo yelled, his face twisted into a greedy grin. "Min-ah, clear out! The ceiling is dropping!"

Jun-ho didn’t turn around, but he heard the sudden, sharp rush of wind behind his shoulder blades. Min-ah didn’t use her magic to pull him back. She didn’t even try to make the lie look good anymore.

The green light of her Gale Impulse slammed directly into the small of Jun-ho’s back. It wasn’t a rescue spell; it was a concentrated blast meant to knock him forward into the hound’s jaws, buying her and Sang-woo the four seconds they needed to reach the corridor.

"Sorry, Jun-ho," her voice drifted back, thin and cold over the sound of the crumbling rock. "You were just too expensive to keep around."

The wind blast shoved him hard. Jun-ho let his body go with the momentum, stumbling forward right over the hound’s back as the beast lunged past him toward the escaping party.

He rolled on the dirt, coming up on one knee near the exit.

Min-ah and Sang-woo were already through the threshold, their boots clattering on the outer tracks. Sang-woo grabbed the emergency iron lever on the wall, slamming it down to lock the automatic bolts from the outside.

"Lock it!" Sang-woo panted, his face white with fear. "Lock the trash inside!"

The iron plates began to close, the gap narrowing to a foot, then six inches. Through the sliver of space, Min-ah looked back one last time to make sure he was dead.

She didn’t see a bleeding corpse.

Jun-ho was standing right by the closing gap. His face was completely clean, his eyes dark and steady. The right sleeve of his jacket was torn to shreds, revealing his bare arm, which was glowing with a faint, terrifying outline of stored kinetic energy.

Right next to the outer lever, Eun-bi was standing with her utility cart. She didn’t look panicked. As Sang-woo tried to force the iron handle all the way down, Eun-bi calmly jammed the thick steel blades of her trauma shears right into the gear mechanism behind the wall plate.

The gears jammed. The closing iron doors stopped with a violent shudder, leaving a three-foot gap wide open.

"What’s wrong with this piece of junk?!" Sang-woo screamed, yanked the lever until his knuckles bled. "Why isn’t it locking?!"

"Public infrastructure," Eun-bi said, her voice dropping into that flat, bored public-sector drawl as she leaned against her cart. "The maintenance budget was cut last winter. I told you the tracks were uneven."

Jun-ho stepped through the three-foot gap, his boots crunching calmly on the stone threshold. The hound was behind him, trapped by the broken geometry of the room, but Jun-ho was looking straight at Min-ah.

The stored 420 points of kinetic force were buzzing in his knuckles now, a vibration that made the dust on his skin dance.

Min-ah staggered back, her sweet mask completely disintegrating as she looked at his face, then at the glowing, unbroken skin of his right arm. "Jun-ho... how are you... your shield broke..."

"The shield was cheap," Jun-ho said, his voice quiet, sounding like a regular guy talking about the weather. He took one step forward, his fist dropping by his side. "But the delivery is free."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!