A Cradle to Avert Apocalypse C8

Chapter 8

Supporting Kwon Haeju’s growth from behind. Then, by staying close to him during the period when he would eventually take his own life, avoiding the worst possible outcome—that would be enough.

Obtain his weapon earlier than in the previous timeline. Save his younger brother. If he could also help Epic Guild grow, that would be even better. The more precious and numerous the things one had to protect, the heavier the weight of one’s own life became.

Having sorted out his thoughts, Nam Shinhoo stood up and brushed the dust from his clothes. Judging by the fading aura seeping through the boss map door, the subjugation seemed to be over. Considering it was a new dungeon, the clear speed was remarkable.

As expected, Epic Guild members soon emerged one by one from the boss map. There were injured Hunters, but none in critical condition.

Kwon Haeju came out last. He looked no different from when he had entered—right down to the vaguely irritated expression on his face.

“Gathering team, please assemble. The external exit portal will form shortly. We’ll check headcount and withdraw.”

An Epic Guild member called out. As names were checked and people lined up, a portal leading outside materialized. Nam Shinhoo blended into the line as well. The eyes of those standing before and behind him trembled noticeably, but he kindly lifted his gathering tools and gave them a small shake. The brand-new tools, unmarked by even a speck of dirt, gleamed silver.

An Epic Guild member checking the list approached him.

“Y-You’re… Hunter Nam Shinhoo? You’re listed as a D-rank herbal gatherer… Is that correct?”

“That’s right.”

“My goodness…”

The guild member murmured softly, then looked Nam Shinhoo up and down with wide eyes before politely gesturing toward the exit.

“You’ve worked hard.”

“N-No, not at all. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“By the way, I have a question.”

Nam Shinhoo stopped the Epic Guild member and, patting the startled Hunter reassuringly, asked in a low voice.

“It felt like the boss was taken down unusually quickly for the dungeon’s rank.”

“Well… it actually was a bit strange. The boss was weaker than we expected. It was hard to believe it was from a B-rank dungeon—only slightly stronger than the regular monsters in the previous maps. There might be a reason, but since it’s a new dungeon, we don’t know the details yet.”

“Is that so?”

The boss had simply been weak? Did such cases even exist? In Nam Shinhoo’s memory, dungeons only grew stronger over time. He recalled struggling against bosses that exceeded the dungeon’s listed rank—but never the opposite.

Had there been some kind of variable?

After patting the guild member who had shared the information, Nam Shinhoo stepped outside. The Hunter he touched flinched and bowed deeply, the ear visible beside the back of his head turning bright red.

Outside, Nam Shinhoo checked his wristwatch. The hands pointed to 1 a.m.

At an hour like this, a pitch-black night sky should have greeted him.

“…Well, that’s something.”

Instead, the world beyond the dungeon was burning red, glaringly bright.

A crack.

A sudden fissure that forms around the area where a dungeon appears—an anomaly that allows monsters meant to remain inside the dungeon to spill out into the field.

“G-Guild Master! This is bad!”

An Epic Guild member who had been waiting outside dropped to his knees before Kwon Haeju, his face pale with distress. His legs had given out completely.

“A massive crack formed near the dungeon just moments ago, and monsters poured out. The personnel outside couldn’t respond in time—”

“I understand the situation.”

Kwon Haeju fastened the buttons of the combat uniform he had loosened. He tightened the straps on his gloves and took up his weapon.

“Where is it happening?”

“Multiple… directions. It happened too suddenly to control properly. I—I’m sorry.”

At those words, Nam Shinhoo frowned. This was a mess. He knew Epic Guild was essentially being held up by Kwon Haeju alone—but he hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

If they couldn’t stop the crack, they should have at least properly attached tracking teams. That was why personnel were left outside in the first place. In Saint Guild, this would have warranted immediate disciplinary action.

“Keep the squads as they are. Squad One, stay here and protect the dungeon entrance and the gathering team.”

Orders followed swiftly.

“Squad Two, head west. Squad Three, south. I’ll cover the north and east—keep checking your communicators.”

“Wait.”

Nam Shinhoo grabbed Kwon Haeju, who was about to rush off alone toward the north.

“So I just stay here the whole time?”

“…”

Kwon Haeju bit his lip—clearly a habit. At the same time, he quickly grasped the meaning behind Nam Shinhoo’s words. Realistically, Nam Shinhoo was too valuable a combat asset to leave unused. But asking for help would wound his pride.

When a guild was assigned a new dungeon, everything from clearing it to post-processing fell under that guild’s responsibility. Asking Nam Shinhoo for help now would be an admission that Epic Guild had been insufficient in its handling of the dungeon—an awkward evaluation for a guild master.

“Then…”

Watching Kwon Haeju waver between pride and reality, Nam Shinhoo smiled bitterly. He really was still young—his thoughts were written plainly on his face.

Kwon Haeju wanted to protect his guild’s pride, but stubbornly clinging to it at the cost of civilian casualties would go against his nature. If Nam Shinhoo stayed silent, Kwon Haeju would eventually swallow his pride and ask for help.

Before he could, Nam Shinhoo spoke first.

“Ah, right. You told me to do nothing and behave myself. In that case, it seems only proper to listen to the leader.”

“…”

“Like a proper herbalist. Right?”

Kwon Haeju closed his mouth, biting his lip once more. His expression was one of frustration. Nam Shinhoo avoided his gaze and looked around instead.

“Why not take the rest of your guild members with you as well? Leaving them here feels awkward—like they’re being watched.”

“…What?”

“I’ll stay here, so don’t worry about this place.”

Kwon Haeju hesitated, clearly doubting whether he’d understood correctly. In his mind, Nam Shinhoo was the sort who would lord it over him and demand credit the moment he was asked for help.

Another explosion thundered from the north, flames rising with black smoke.

“You sure you don’t need to go?”

“…We’ll change the plan. Squad One, move east instead of guarding the dungeon. I’ll go check the explosion myself.”

“Yes, sir!”

Once the orders were revised, the guild moved out in perfect coordination. Before leaving, Kwon Haeju turned briefly toward Nam Shinhoo and offered a small bow of acknowledgment—then disappeared.

Caught off guard by the unexpected gesture, Nam Shinhoo brushed his lips lightly.

Not bad.

If Nam Shinhoo hadn’t intervened, Kwon Haeju would have asked him for help. He could have stubbornly maintained his pride as a rival guild leader—but at a critical moment, he knew how to lower his head.

Kwon Haeju was only twenty-four. Anyone could see he was destined for greatness. It really was a shame.

Not just because he might be the savior from the quest—Kwon Haeju was a loss on a human level as well. It would have been better if he had settled into life properly. He would have been a tremendous asset in the future.

Watching the Hunters quickly disappear, Nam Shinhoo found a suitable rock near the dungeon entrance and sat down.

The people who had been watching the two of them from nearby had eyes shining with excitement. They had seen the most famous Hunter in the country in person—and even witnessed the two of them acting together. With explosions and monsters raging around them, curiosity outweighed fear.

Nam Shinhoo gestured toward a small cave near the dungeon entrance.

“Everyone, go inside the cave and stay there. Don’t come out—it’s dangerous outside.”

“Yes, yes. Understood.”

“It’ll be fine. Cracks happen all the time.”

In truth, cracks chaotic enough to set the outside world ablaze were rare. Judging by earlier reactions, boss-class monsters seemed to have escaped through the crack—this was no small matter.

Even so, Nam Shinhoo spoke lightly for a reason. As far as he remembered, there had been no major civilian casualties from dungeon cracks around this time.

If Epic Guild’s mistake had caused damage to residential areas or civilians in his previous life, Saint Guild—ever watchful for Epic’s missteps—would never have let it slide. They would have tipped off the media immediately, turning it into a major scandal.

Reviewing his memories, no such incident came to mind. That meant this situation, too, would be resolved without major issue.

Still, I hope they wrap this up quickly.

Nam Shinhoo’s real business would begin after the dungeon was cleared. The sooner this was resolved—preferably before dawn—the easier it would be to seek out Han Wooyeon.

Maybe I should’ve just handled it myself.

The thought passed briefly, and he shook his head. This was enough. Helping at this level—without bruising Kwon Haeju’s pride—was just right.

Nam Shinhoo slowly closed his eyes and sharpened his senses. He listened to the tremors of the ground through his feet and inhaled the scent of ash carried on the wind, monitoring the situation. Hearing distant sounds of battle, he resisted the urge to rush in immediately.

It would be nice if Sei were here right now.

Seiros—the Hunter support AI program. If Sei were here, he would already know where and what kind of battles were happening. Being unable to grasp the situation at a glance, as he once had, was frustrating.