Prologue
The world's end. In the Demon King's Palace teeming with countless monsters, the lone human, Jeonghyeon, cleaved through the neck of the final beast and rose to his feet.
All his fellow humans lay dead. Not a single monster remained.
In that instant.
"To come this far... impressive. What's your name?"
The Demon King Malekith materialized without even a throne, a sinister grin twisting his lips as he loomed before Jeonghyeon.
"The human who'll sever your neck and snuff out your last breath. That's all you need to know."
Despite the venomous glare that screamed murder, Jeonghyeon was little more than a husk clinging to life.
His shattered armor hung in tatters, the only thing left a single sword passed from a fallen comrade. Malekith scoffed at the sight of Jeonghyeon's desperate resolve.
"You've finally reached me after all that searching, and this is all you've got left? What a pity."
"Shut up!!"
Jeonghyeon unleashed his final strike, a desperate gambit that would wound even himself. The radiant burst from his sword stroke held enough power to pulverize the armor clinging to his body as it surged toward the Demon King.
BOOM!!
A colossal explosion of light erupted, engulfing Malekith's form.
"Ngh!"
A groan of pain escaped the Demon King, who had remained utterly composed until now. Just as Jeonghyeon thought it was truly over, Malekith snapped his fingers.
"Amusing. Jeonghyeon, was it? That Sword Master title isn't for show."
"...!?"
"To draw blood from me... well done."
Malekith traced a finger along the deep gash on his cheek, where blood welled up, then licked it clean. His mocking smile twisted into something feral and vicious.
"How do you know my name...?"
Clang.
Jeonghyeon collapsed to his knees, face blank with despair. It wasn't just the futility of expending his last strength for a mere scratch.
Malekith advanced leisurely, as if he knew everything—Jeonghyeon's name, his title, his very soul—overwhelming him with sheer presence alone.
To the Demon King, Jeonghyeon wasn't a worthy adversary in a life-or-death struggle. He was mere fleeting entertainment, a toy nothing more or less.
Before he knew it, Malekith was upon him, seizing Jeonghyeon's chin with elegant disdain and forcing his gaze upward.
"A shame to let you die like this."
"Kill me...! Just kill me!!"
Jeonghyeon longed to bite his own tongue, but the Demon King's mere existence pressed down with suffocating demonic energy, making even breathing a chore. His ragged gasps only deepened his sense of powerlessness.
"If you'd only come a little closer to your 'true essence'... things might have turned out differently."
Malekith's cryptic words fell on deaf ears, drowned by the irremovable self-loathing and rage churning in Jeonghyeon's chest. Amid the oppressive aura, he spat blood and roared.
"Kill me! Now! I'll come back in the next life, and the one after that, to end you!!"
"...Is that so? A promise, then?"
Malekith smiled at the outburst. Then he pressed a hand to Jeonghyeon's eye.
"Very well. I'll give you a special gift."
Jet-black mana surged from Malekith's palm, searing Jeonghyeon's eye with excruciating agony.
"Gaaahhh!!"
Jeonghyeon writhed on the ground, clawing at the floor in torment.
"My most powerful ability."
Malekith's voice echoed through Jeonghyeon's fading consciousness amid the pain.
"Next time we meet, make sure you end me. Jeonghyeon."
1. Field Porter (1)
A foul stench.
That was what assaulted Jeonghyeon first, stinging his nostrils with its acrid bite.
Ugh...!
Was he regaining consciousness while rotting away in a corner of the Demon King's Castle amid his comrades' corpses? Or was this some twisted human experiment courtesy of the Demon King's sadistic hobbies?
"Nngh...?"
The sight that greeted Jeonghyeon as he opened his eyes was a familiar yet alien gray ceiling.
"What the...?"
Stale, humid air thick with the reek of men's sweat-soaked bodies.
A concrete box without windows, lined with rows of simple bunks.
"This place...?"
All too familiar—a space more hellish than the Demon King's Palace. It was the field porter dormitory in Seoul Northern Field, where Jeonghyeon, orphaned from birth, had lived until awakening as an awakener at age twenty.
"A dream?"
Cognitive dissonance gripped him as he scanned the empty bunks, desperately piecing together the situation. His gaze caught his reflection in a mirror on one of the beds.
"Ha...?"
Staring back was his own face—achingly familiar, yet startlingly young.
[Regression].
The forbidden magic that defied time itself, said to be impossible even in theory.
For a split second, the thought Could this be real? sent chills racing down Jeonghyeon's spine.
That's when a rustling came from the door.
Who's there?! An enemy?!
Instinct kicked in; Jeonghyeon dropped into a combat stance, putting distance between himself and the door.
Thud!
The door flew open, revealing a burly field porter supervisor covered in deep scars.
Hwang Dooman!
The name from old memories stirred an unexpected warmth in Jeonghyeon.
If Hwang Dooman's still alive... that means at least ten years back?
Hwang Dooman had perished ten years ago after the "Great Transition Incident"—a tragic figure.
He and Jeonghyeon had shared a rough but genuine bond, full of grudges and affections.
"You get beat up yesterday and now you're slacking? You kids these days are soft as hell..."
Dooman grumbled briefly, then crooked a finger at Jeonghyeon.
"Get to work, punk. Move it."
Jeonghyeon rose at the command.
He had no clue how things stood, but if this was truly regression, he could rewrite history.
He scrambled after Dooman down the corridor.
The halls were empty; all the porters must have already headed out.
"Listen up, Kim Jeonghyeon. You're not the only one getting knocked around by hunters."
"Yeah..."
Jeonghyeon mumbled vaguely, racking his brain for the date.
I figured getting beat would jog my memory...
Well, he'd taken beatings plenty of times. After so many, they all blurred together—no help pinpointing the timeline.
Dooman offered gruff consolation as they walked.
"Gotta get used to it. You're twenty now, aren'tcha?"
Tw... twenty?!
Jeonghyeon flinched. He'd died at thirty-five; regressing fifteen years to fresh-faced twenty was an incredible boon.
Dooman strode ahead, lecturing away.
"If it pisses you off that much, become a hunter yourself. Climb that tower fair and square! Yeah?"p>
"Sure... yeah, I'll do that."
Dooman paused, eyeing Jeonghyeon's unusually subdued response.
"Kid's gone all cold on me... Damn hunters anyway! Get a little power and they think they can beat on folks!"
Hwang Dooman was violent, sure, but he'd always looked out for the porters in his tsundere way.
Most porters were gambling debtors or orphans. Society "provided" jobs for the unwanted, but it was a sham—cheap labor cleaning up after hunters under the guise of employment.
No different from the orc slaves Jeonghyeon had encountered in Afraksas beyond the tower.
Escape routes for porters? Just two.
One: Awaken as an awakener.
Two: Pay 100 million won for freedom.
Past Jeonghyeon, an orphan, had endured as a porter most of his life until awakening granted liberty.
Perhaps that's why Dooman's encouraging shoulder pat carried a pang of pity.
Having watched lives rot in the gutter, even Dooman must have felt some unspoken compassion.
But this Jeonghyeon had already lived this life once.
I awakened exactly at twenty...!
Awakening was imminent. Freedom from this hell was close.
As they walked the corridor, Jeonghyeon asked Dooman,
"Hey... any signs lately of more hunters awakening suddenly or anything?"
Dooman stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm... yeah, now that you mention it. Porter earnings used to be around 50 million a month—now it's triple that."
"Ah... really?!"
Never mind the bullshit where porters earned peanuts despite the boom; Jeonghyeon was thrilled inwardly.
Perfect timing...!
Humans blessed by dragons' power—caught between boon and curse—were called awakeners. They cleared dungeons sprouting across Earth, amassing wealth and fame. Most registered as hunters.
Then one day, hordes of unknown dragons mass-awakened humans en masse.
Jeonghyeon had been among them.
Of course, that mass awakening was prep for the transition five years later...
Still, booming awakeners and hunters meant Jeonghyeon's turn was near.
"Gotta work hard today!"
"What? You planning a shooting spree on hunters or some shit? That crap only works on normies—F-rank hunters shrug it off. Got it?"
Dooman's chatter fell on deaf ears; Jeonghyeon's eyes burned with fervor.
This wasn't about awakening to build power against the Demon King.
Never thought I'd porter again. Fuck that. Hate it even postmortem. Good thing awakening's soon.
Life-or-death battles beat tailing arrogant hunters by a mile.
Porter life? Shorter the better.
***
No sane hunter or civilian lived near fields. Only porters did, bunked in safe zones for quick access.
"Go earn some cash."
Judging Jeonghyeon too battered from yesterday for heavy labor, Dooman waved him into the field without fuss.
"Thanks!"
"Oh, wait..."
Dooman tossed him an inventory pouch.
A leather bag shaped like a small drawstring pouch, yet holding volumes far beyond its size—an item inventory.
A perk usually for E-rank hunters or higher, but porters' hallmark too.
Jeonghyeon caught it.
"What's this?"
"Expanded your inventory space a bit. Hunters bitch about not fitting gear, so... and I sharpened that harvesting knife. Don't get beat so much. Alright? Do good. I'm out."
"Uh, yeah..."
Dooman vanished, slamming the door before Jeonghyeon could reply.
Damn guy. Secretly warm-hearted.
With a fond memory of his first human encounter in ages, Jeonghyeon stepped into the field.
Bright sunlight hit him, stealing his words momentarily.
"Whoa..."
Gentle breezes over lush green plains, hunters milling about chaotically, swarms of low-level goblins and slimes.
It was the Korea of old—the one he'd fought to protect.
Fifteen years from now, Demon King Army's main force would turn it to wasteland. Jeonghyeon gaped at the vibrant scene impossible in that future.
He'd truly returned.
Yet sorrow tugged too.
Soon, nine in ten here would perish.
Jeonghyeon took his first step into the reborn field.
Alive soil and grass, not decay-ridden ruins thick with demonic miasma.
"Dirt after all this time..."
Not just dirt.
Beyond the "field boundary post," modern skyscrapers towered.
Portals, fields, gates to other worlds—and yet Korea clung to its tech.
"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole!?"
A pig-slaughter squeal snapped Jeonghyeon around. In the safe zone corner, a scuffle had erupted from a bump.
"Hey, hey! Need a porter~? I'll harvest those mana stones like a pro~!"
This bustle, this chaos. The human clamor and vitality he'd yearned for.
Everything matched fifteen years ago.
Once mundane and dull; now, to the lone survivor who'd faced the Demon King, achingly nostalgic.
As he drank in the sights, a hunter party poked their heads out.
Obvious punks: one E-rank, two F-ranks, strutting with a slightly higher boss.
"Hey, porter. Got a job for ya?"
"...?"
Jeonghyeon stared blankly.
"What? No answer?"
"You guys... why...?"
"The fuck you say? You just go banmal on us?"
"Bro, bro! Let's go. He's retarded. Heard porters got more crazies lately."
"Hah... now even porter shits got balls."
The middle guy puffed his shoulders and backhanded Jeonghyeon's head.
Smack! Louder than expected; heads turned.
"Watch your ass in the field, got it?"
The E-rank glared, spat on Jeonghyeon, and stalked off. Jeonghyeon muttered low.
"This scene... I remember."
How could he forget?
One minute from now, he'd retaliate against the spitter—and awaken.