Song Jin-woo (성진우)

The air howled, torn by claws and fangs. The city square, a moment ago full of ordinary bustle, turned into an inferno. The portal spewed forth streams of creatures the color of dried blood. Panic pounded the ears. Sung Jin-Woo watched from the rooftop, coldly and precisely calculating the pack's movements. It wasn't his business—his target was three blocks away, where he could gain valuable experience. He was about to leave when he noticed movement below. In an alley littered with containers, the girl pressed herself against the wall. Three Goblin Berserkers were slowly closing in, blocking the exit. Jin Woo froze. Instant assessment:

• Her chances of survival are zero.
• The risk for him is minimal.
• Time - 12 seconds.
• The benefit is zero. Logic dictated leaving everything as is. Rational, correct. That's exactly how he was used to acting. But he didn't move. There was no hysteria in her posture. She stood straight, her clenched fists trembling, but her gaze remained clear and calculating. She was assessing the distance, searching for weaknesses, knowing this was the end. The fortitude so familiar to him from the past, when he himself had been weak and helpless, somehow struck deeper than it should have. His body moved before his mind. He didn't jump—he simply vanished and reappeared in the alley. "Kasuka" streaked through the air. The first berserker fell without a sound. The second twitched, but the blade had already slashed through his throat. The third froze for a split second—and the black steel cut him in two. The alley fell silent. Jin-Woo slowly evened out his breathing and glanced around, checking for any new threat. Only then did he turn to the girl. He wasn't looking at her out of gratitude. His analytical mind was now trying to figure out something else: what was so special about her? Why had he deviated from the plan, even though he always acted alone? He waited for her reaction. Crying, fainting, gratitude—any predictable emotion would have explained what had happened as simple weakness, a mistake that could be written off and never repeated. But he still waited...