Global Descent: I Alone Can See Hidden Evolution Paths

Jun-ho did not take his eyes off the tracker’s glass eye. The rain was steady now, dropping straight down from the gray sky and turning the loose dirt around his rubber boots into a thick, dark soup. The glare from the three truck lights made his shadow stretch out long and thin behind him, reaching all the way to the blue storage bins where Eun-bi was hiding.

He held the black iron wedge low, the weight resting easy against his hip. To the four enforcers walking forward, he just looked like a broke vanguard who had found a piece of scrap metal to use as a stick. They didn’t see the silent text box that had just opened across his vision.

[Combat Mode Active.]

[Multiplier logic applied to target pool.]

[Calculated experience bonus: 100x.]

"The boy is frozen," the man with the scar on his nose said. He gave his heavy grey club a casual turn in his palm, his breastplate clicking against his belt. "Hey, rookie. Drop the bar before I have to clean your teeth out of the mud."

Jun-ho took a short breath, letting the vast ocean of mana behind his ribs spread out into his arms. He didn’t speak. He just waited for them to bridge the gap.

The four men moved together. They weren’t stupid; they kept their grey steel shields up, forming a short wall as their boots squelched through the wet dirt. They were used to breaking small-time hunters who tried to skip out on guild contracts. To them, a Tier 1 vanguard without a shield was just a five-minute chore before breakfast.

The leader lunged first. He didn’t swing for the head; he drove the blunt end of his grey club straight toward Jun-ho’s ribs, aiming to knock the wind out of him.

Jun-ho didn’t drop into a defensive block. He took one step to the side, his right boot sliding smoothly through the mud. The movement was fast—too fast for a Tier 1 hunter. The enforcer’s club hit nothing but empty air, the force of the swing pulling the big man forward until his balance wavered.

Jun-ho brought the flat side of the black iron wedge down. He didn’t use his shoulder. He just snapped his wrist, cutting the force by more than half, exactly the way Gyeong-su had shown him at the anvil.

The sound wasn’t the sharp ring of sword steel; it was the dull, massive crack of stone hitting stone. The flat iron blade slammed directly into the side of the enforcer’s breastplate. The grey steel didn’t bounce the blow off. It buckled inward instantly, the rivet lines popping out like tiny metal seeds as the man was thrown sideways into the mud, his club flying five meters into a pile of old car doors.

The other three enforcers stopped dead, their boots sliding in the dirt. Their mocking smiles vanished.

[Target Neutralized: Tier 3 Enforcer.]

[Experience Gained: 15 XP.]

[Applying 100x Multiplier...]

[Total Experience Gained: 1,500 XP.]

[Level Up!]

[You have reached Level 4.]

[You have received 5 Unassigned Attribute Points.]

Jun-ho didn’t look at the text box. He didn’t allocate the points either. He just shifted his grip on the black handle, the rough scale of the unpolished weapon dry against his fingers despite the rain.

"What kind of strength stat is that?" one of the remaining enforcers muttered, his voice shaking under his visor. He looked back at the tracker in the long leather coat. "Sir, the boy’s signature is wrong. He’s not a Tier 1. The mana density around his hands is too high."

Chang-sik didn’t move from the truck door. His glass eye spun rapidly in its socket, making a series of sharp, clicking noises as it analyzed the air. "His class registration is forged. He’s suppressing a high-density reserve. Don’t trade blows with the tool. Use the chain nets."

The three enforcers dropped their clubs. From their back belts, they pulled out three heavy, weighted mesh nets lined with small iron barbs—standard tools for catching rogue runners without killing them. They spread out in a half-circle, trying to corner Jun-ho against the rusty side of the storage container.

From behind the bins, Eun-bi’s face popped out for a second. Her yellow rain jacket was covered in red mud. "Jun-ho, the nets have a mana-lock weave! If they touch your skin, you won’t be able to move your arms!"

Jun-ho didn’t move back. He watched the man on the left throw the first net. The mesh unfolded in the air like a large, gray web, spinning fast as it dropped toward his head.

Instead of dodging, Jun-ho lunged forward. His large rubber boots tore up two huge chunks of mud as he drove his body straight under the arc of the falling net. His speed was over two hundred now; to the enforcers, he didn’t look like a running man—he looked like a gray blur moving through the drizzle.

He appeared right in front of the second enforcer before the man could even drop his hands. Jun-ho didn’t use the edge of the sword. He just drove the blunt, square butt of the iron handle straight into the center of the man’s steel breastplate.

The enforcer didn’t just fall; he left the ground completely, his body flying backward into the grill of the lead SUV. The fiberglass bumper shattered into dozens of white pieces, and the radiator let out a massive hiss of white steam as the man crumpled into the dirt, completely unconscious.

[Target Neutralized: Tier 3 Enforcer.]

[Total Experience Gained: 1,500 XP.]

[Level Up!]

[You have reached Level 5.]

[You have received 5 Unassigned Attribute Points.]

The remaining two enforcers dropped their nets into the mud, their hands trembling so hard they couldn’t draw their side daggers. They backed away toward the second truck, their boots slipping continuously as they looked at the two shattered breastplates on the ground.

"Tracker," the scar-faced leader choked out, his nose bleeding from the shockwave alone. "We can’t hold him. This isn’t a rogue vanguard. This is a monster."

Chang-sik stepped away from the car door. He reached into his coat and pulled out a long, thin rod made of dark bone, its tip carved into the shape of a small hound’s jaw. His blue crystal eye stopped spinning, locking its focus entirely onto the center of Jun-ho’s chest.

"You’re fast, kid," the tracker said, his voice flat like dry gravel. "But a high mana pool doesn’t save your limbs from a blood-lock curse. You have Sang-woo’s essence all over your jacket thread. That’s all the anchor I need."

The bone rod began to glow with a dark, greasy purple light that smelled like rot.

Jun-ho stopped five paces away, his rubber boots sinking into the wet gravel. He didn’t try to stop the tracker from casting. Deep inside his chest, the new Tyrant’s Retaliation passive was waiting, perfectly silent, a cold machine that had nothing to do with the city rules.

He didn’t need to speak, and he didn’t need to explain his screen to anyone. He just wanted to see if the black iron from the Tier 4 gate could handle what was coming next.

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