Screens consumed the dark forest.
Screams.
Unworldly.
Layered with something mechanical that didn't belong in a place this old.
Machines cutting through flesh.
Explosions.
Fire consuming everything that fire could reach.
---
Young-ho watched it all.
Sweat moving through his skin.
His eyes unable to hold the whole picture at once.
The chaos too large.
Too fast.
He didn't understand most of what he was seeing.
New lines forming on his face.
Small.
Permanent looking.
Where smoothness had been a moment before.
---
He looked at Gun-woo.
So calm.
So collected.
Standing in the middle of all of it like the noise belonged to someone else.
---
Young-ho moved toward him.
"How strong are you."
A pause.
"Really."
---
Gun-woo looked back at him.
Chuckled.
Small.
Genuine.
"What brought this question."
---
Young-ho didn't answer that directly.
Just waited.
---
Gun-woo's expression settled into something more thoughtful.
"Strength is a funny thing."
A breath.
"Let me tell you a small secret."
---
He continued, his voice lower now, more deliberate.
"There are people in this world with extraordinarily powerful skills. If you looked at the system readout for some of them, you wouldn't believe something like that could exist."
A pause.
"But most of them will never see the light of day."
His eyes drifted briefly toward the fire ahead.
"Many die young. Or die before they ever reach the level needed to use what they have."
---
"You see, skills exist on a spectrum. Low. Mid-low. Mid. Mid-high. High."
He counted them off easily, like reciting something memorized long ago.
"And then there are the rarest tiers. Skills themselves carry ranks too — Platinum at the top. Diamond below that."
A breath.
"We know these things exist because the system tells us. This — whatever it is. Whatever put this system here."
---
His voice grew more direct.
"But here is the truth most people never learn."
A pause.
"Powerful skills carry an enormous cost to activate. If you try to use a skill that exceeds what your level and your body can support — "
He paused, letting the weight of it land.
"You die. Instantly. No warning."
---
Young-ho stared at him.
---
"Another sad truth Hunters don't choose a skill they're given by the system."
Gun-woo's voice was almost gentle now.
"They chose the skill that grows with them. Steadily. Something easy to understand. Easy to control."
---
Young-ho looked at him directly.
"What skill do you have."
---
Gun-woo smiled.
Wider this time.
"From what I understand, it's called the Imperial Flame of the Phoenix."
---
He looked ahead.
Into the smoke and fire still clearing in the distance.
---
"We're getting close to the final boss now."
A breath.
"You'll see it in action soon enough."
---
His smile grew.
Patient.
Certain.