Chapter 1 : The Miner

The air in the cavern was thick, tasting of ozone and crushed stone. The only light came from glowing moss patches on the walls and the headlamps strapped to the miners' helmets, cutting beams through the gloom to illuminate swirling motes of dust. A fifth light, slightly bobbing, came from a tiny helmet-shaped rig strapped to the head of a creature following Bae Si-eun.

It was a human-sized, bipedal lizard, its scales a dull, metallic gray. It walked on two feet, its posture like a miniature, cuter Godzilla. This was Jung, Si-eun's Armonster, a Metalizard. The metallic lizard sniffed the air, let out a soft, chittering croon, and nudged Si-eun's hand with its snout, then pointed its head towards a particular section of the cave wall.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You're hungry. We're working on it," Si-eun said, absently scratching Jung under the chin. He turned to the others. "Alright, Jung says the good stuff is over here. Less digging, more finding. You know the drill."

The team moved to the spot Jung indicated. Kim Bo-gum ran a scanner over the rock and nodded. "He's right. Concentration is 30% higher here. Good boy, Jung."

Jung preened under the praise, then butted Si-eun's hand again.

"After we mine it, you can have the crumbs," Si-eun promised. "No eating the paychecks."

Han Maru swung his pickaxe, and the motion was awkwardly restricted. The stiff suit jacket bunched up at his shoulders, and his tie—loosened but still there—swung forward and slapped him sharply across the face.

He stopped, exasperated, grabbing the offending tie and glaring at it. He was coated in a fine, gray dust that stuck to the sweat on his neck, trapped by his stiff collar. He looked around at the other miners—a group of people and one lizard covered in filth and straining against rock, dressed in identical, now-ruined business suits. Jung had a tiny tie knotted loosely around his neck.

The sight was utterly absurd.

"G-guys," he finally stammered, the words fighting their way out of a throat that never quite worked right anymore. "We l-look ridiculous. And it's h-hard to move. C-can't we at least lose the jackets? We'd be l-less... out of place. And we could actually b-breathe."

From a few feet away, where she was carefully examining a mana-seam in the wall, a soft voice piped up. Bae Onjo didn't look at him, her focus seemingly entirely on the rock, but her ears were tinged pink.

"Maru-ssi," she murmured, almost too quietly to hear over the mining sounds. "You should... you should buy a tie pin. Or just... just put your tie inside your shirt pocket. So it doesn't... do that."

Bae Si-eun burst out laughing. "See? Even Onjo's giving you fashion tips! The man's a menace to himself!" He patted Jung's head. "At least my guy doesn't complain about the dress code."

Han Maru blinked, momentarily stunned out of his frustration by the practical, simple advice. "O-oh. R-right. I... I'll do that. Th-thanks, Onjo."

One of the other miners, Kim Bo-gum, chuckled, hefting his own tool. "He's not wrong about it being stupid. But protection is the only reason we're still alive to complain. Even if we look like a failed corporate retreat."

Han Maru's shoulders slumped. The memory of primitive leather armor that did nothing against monster claws flashed in his mind. "...Yeah. I-injury was daily."

"Precisely," Bo-gum said. "This is annoying, but it's better than bleeding out. So suck it up, Maru. Survival over style." He grinned, nodding at the weapon on Han Maru's hip. "Besides, you've got your pop-gun if things get real."

Han Maru's hand instinctively touched the grip of his mana pistol. He let out a resigned groan. "F-fine." He adjusted his tie for the hundredth time, not taking it off, and picked up his pickaxe again, the very picture of a miserable, overly formal miner.

Bo-gum turned to Si-eun. "Though I still say you're crazy not to use Jung's armor form down here, Si-eun. It's safer."

Si-eun didn't even look away from the rock he was mining. "And miss this face?" he said, giving Jung's scaly head an affectionate scratch. The lizard leaned into the touch with a contented rumble. "Nah. What's the point of having a friend if you just turn him into a piece of equipment? I love petting Jung."

As Maru raised the tool for another swing, he muttered a quiet, desperate command under his breath—a ritual he performed a hundred times a day.

"Status window."

A screen, visible only to him, flickered to life in his vision. But unlike the clean, blue holographic displays other Hunters described, his was a mess of crimson static and glitching text. It was a broken thing, a constant, painful reminder that he was wrong.

He quickly scanned the familiar, pathetic stats:

[Status Window]

[Name: Han Maru (Awakener type designation : Earth)]

Privilege Ability: —

Mana Core Rank: —

Mana type: —

Stats:

STR: F+

MAG : —

AGL: F+++

END: F

MAG END: F

A shaky sigh of relief escaped him. The mundane failure was still there, a comforting familiar misery. But his eyes, as they always did, were drawn to the bottom of the screen. To the corruption. The text writhed and fractured, a digital wound that never healed, spelling out a truth he desperately tried to ignore:

[Ň!9hþMøŕs Awakening : Hollow Heart Lion]

His blood ran cold. He wasn't an Awakener. Not really. He was something else now. Something that should not exist.

The memory, sharp and brutal, tore through his mind without warning:

The cave tunnel shaking. The emergency sirens blaring from their Braces. "NIGHTMORS! RUN!"

His foot catching on a rock, the sickening snap in his ankle. The searing pain. The rest of the team scrambling past him, faces pale with terror.

His own voice, shaky but resolved: "G-go! I'm right behind you!" A lie. He was buying time.

The shadow falling over him. The Lion Nightmors, its form a blur of darkness and rage. Not a claw swiping, but digging, piercing into his chest with brutal, surgical precision. The agony. The cold. The world fading to black.

And a final, fragmented image: the monstrous lion-like creature above him, a single, glistening tear tracking through the dark fur on its cheek before it vanished.

He'd woken up in a hospital bed. His coworkers were there, then Si-eun clapping him on the shoulder, faces full of relief. "You're one lucky son of a gun, Maru!"

But all he could see was the red, glitching screen where a blue one used to be.

"Hey, Maru! You zoning out on us again?" Si-eun's voice cut through the nightmare memory.

"Status window close!" Han Maru gasped, the crimson display vanishing. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He forced a weak smile. "J-just... checking my stats. Still... still nothing."

"Don't worry about it," Si-eun said, turning back to his work. "You've got other skills." But as Han Maru gripped the handle,the memory felt less like a dream and more like a recent shift in the mine he was still trying to navigate.

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