11.11.2039, Seoul, Mapo-Gu

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a man”

  “Only one!?”

  “Is he alive?”

  “He’s breathing. Barely. Bring a medic, stat!”

  The man lay on the ground, bleeding from his mouth, eyes and ears. His red hair was filthy and messy, his uniform soaked through with blood, visible even against the black fabric. His eyes remained closed even as the ambulance carried him away.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “General, what happened?” The second lieutenant asked, rushing over.

  “We sent three hundred men into the Jujak-gate,” the general began, face drained of color, eyes wide with horror at the realization of losing the better half of the Seoul Hunter’s Association, “only one came out.”

  “Sir, the gate is not yet clos—” The lieutenant’s words were cut off as the ground began to rumble. The vermilion gate shuddered and started to seal shut.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck! We can’t let it close; men are still inside!” a soldier shouted, running toward it. The general stopped him with a firm hand to the chest.

  “If the gate is closing, the guardian has been defeated. No one else is coming out.” He turned to look at the shrinking opening one last time, then shut his eyes.