Chapter 5: The Forgotten Ones

Three days had passed since the confrontation with Hwang Ji-yeon, and the Association had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Jin had expected immediate retaliation—S-Rank hunters, specialized kill teams, maybe even one of the legendary SS-Ranks if the Association was truly desperate. Instead, there was nothing. No footsteps in the tunnels, no hunting parties, no trace of pursuit.

It was unnerving.

He'd used the time productively, hunting the deeper regions of the Seoul Underground where gate energy accumulated in pools of dimensional instability. The creatures there were stronger—Boss-class entities that would have required full hunter teams to defeat—but Jin's inverse nature turned them into power sources rather than threats.

Level -42. Then -45. Then -47.

Each level lost felt like gaining a new dimension of existence. His senses had expanded beyond human parameters; he could feel the pulse of reality itself, the subtle vibrations of dimensional barriers that kept the world stable. Colors had shifted into spectrums that shouldn't exist, and sounds came to him from distances that defied physics.

He was becoming something other than human.

The thought didn't frighten him as much as it probably should have.

On the morning of the fourth day, Jin decided to risk a return to the surface. His supplies were running low, and he needed information about what the Association was planning. The underground hunting forums he'd used before should have updates—rumors, at least, about the failed suppression operation.

The exit point he chose was a forgotten maintenance shaft in an abandoned industrial park east of Seoul. Jin emerged into gray dawn light, squinting at a sky he hadn't seen in almost a week.

The world looked different through his enhanced eyes. Brighter, sharper, more detailed. He could see the individual threads of gate energy that wove through the atmosphere, invisible to normal awakeners. He could sense the level signatures of people moving through nearby buildings—low numbers, unawakened civilians going about their ordinary lives.

And he could sense something else.

A cluster of awakeners, maybe fifty meters away, their levels ranging from single digits to mid-teens. Not hunters—the signatures were too weak, too unstable. Failed awakeners, maybe. Defectives like he'd been labeled.

Curiosity got the better of caution. Jin moved toward the signatures, keeping to shadows that bent around his form naturally now, welcoming.

The awakeners were gathered in an abandoned factory, huddled around burn barrels and makeshift shelters. Jin counted seventeen of them—men and women, young and old, all bearing the distinctive marks of failed awakenings. Glitched level displays that flickered between numbers. Unstable abilities that manifested unpredictably. The hollow eyes of people who'd been discarded by a society that valued only power.

One of them noticed Jin approaching. A young woman, maybe twenty, with a level display that couldn't decide between 3 and 7. She raised a hand that crackled with uncontrolled electricity.

"Stop there. This is Forgotten territory. We don't want trouble with—" She froze, her eyes locking onto Jin's level display. "Negative... forty-seven?"

"Forty-seven," Jin confirmed. "I was -1 when I awakened. Defective, they called me."

"But that's—" The woman lowered her hand, electricity fading. "That's not possible. Defective levels don't change. They're stuck, just like ours."

"Apparently not." Jin stopped at what he hoped was a non-threatening distance. "I heard you call this Forgotten territory. What does that mean?"

The woman studied him with something between suspicion and desperate hope. "You really don't know? You're a defective who's been... un-defecting... and you don't know about us?"

"I've been underground. Literally. I'm a bit out of the loop on surface developments."

A murmur ran through the gathered awakeners. Someone emerged from behind one of the larger shelters—an older man, maybe sixty, with a level display that read a stable 12 but flickered with error codes around the edges.

"I'm Baek Sung-joon," he said. "I lead the Forgotten, or what's left of us. Who are you?"

"Jin Seong-ho. Former defective awakener, current negative-level anomaly." Jin paused. "I'm being hunted by the Association. If you don't want trouble, I should probably keep moving."

"Hunted?" Sung-joon's expression sharpened. "The suppression force. We heard rumors—a massive operation in the underground, multiple casualties, an A-Rank mage forced to retreat. That was you?"

"That was me."

The murmur became something closer to excitement. Sung-joon raised a hand for silence, then gestured for Jin to come closer.

"Come inside. We need to talk."

---

The interior of the factory had been converted into a makeshift living space. Sleeping areas separated by hanging tarps, a communal kitchen around a cluster of camp stoves, even a medical corner with salvaged supplies. The Forgotten had built a life here, hidden from a world that had discarded them.

Sung-joon led Jin to what passed for an office—a partitioned space with a desk, two chairs, and walls covered in pinned notes and newspaper clippings. Jin scanned the clippings: reports of failed awakeners disappearing, editorials about the "defective problem," Association statements about "population management initiatives."

"We've been watching you," Sung-joon said, settling into one of the chairs. "Since your awakening made the news. A negative-level awakener—first ever recorded. The Association called it an error, a glitch, nothing to worry about. We knew better."

"Better how?"

"Because we've seen errors before. Glitches. Awakeners who don't fit the System's neat categories." Sung-joon's eyes were hard. "And we've seen what happens to them when the Association decides they're too unusual to ignore."

Jin thought of Hwang Ji-yeon's words: *My job isn't to capture you—it's to end you before you become a threat.* "They're deleted. Corrected."

"Exactly. The Association doesn't handle anomalies—they eliminate them. Anyone who doesn't fit the System's parameters is a bug to be fixed, one way or another."

"Then why are you all still here?" Jin gestured to the factory around them. "You're defectives. Anomalies. Why haven't they come for you?"

Sung-joon laughed, the sound bitter. "Because we're not threats. Our levels are too low to matter. Our abilities are too broken to be useful. The Association doesn't waste resources on people like us—they just let us fade away, forgotten by a society that only values the strong."

"The Forgotten," Jin murmured. "That's where the name comes from."

"That's where it comes from." Sung-joon leaned forward. "But you—you're different. Your level is negative, but it's not static. You're growing, changing, becoming something. The Association noticed, which is why they sent that suppression force. And when you beat them..."

"They stopped coming."

"They're afraid of you." Sung-joon's voice carried a weight that made Jin pay attention. "For the first time in ten years, the Hunter Association is afraid of a single awakener. An anomaly. A defective. One of us."

Jin considered the implications. The Association's silence made sense now—not retreat, but regrouping. They were studying him, analyzing the failed operation, trying to understand what they were dealing with before making their next move.

"What do you want from me?" Jin asked. "You didn't bring me in here for a history lesson."

Sung-joon's expression hardened. "I want you to help us."

"Help you how?"

"We're tired of being forgotten. Tired of hiding while the Association decides who's worthy of existence and who's a bug to be deleted. There are thousands of us, Jin—failed awakeners across the country, living in shadows because society has no place for people who don't fit the System's mold."

"You want me to... what? Start a revolution?"

"I want you to give us hope." Sung-joon stood, gesturing to the newspaper clippings on the wall. "Look at these. Every month, more reports of defectives disappearing. The Association calls it 'population management.' We call it genocide in slow motion."

Jin scanned the clippings again, seeing them differently now. Names, faces, stories of people who'd vanished without explanation. Each one a life cut short because they didn't meet the System's standards.

"You're asking me to go to war with the Hunter Association."

"I'm asking you to be what you already are—a sign that the System isn't perfect. That anomalies can be powerful. That defectives deserve to exist." Sung-joon's voice softened. "You're Level -47 and climbing. Every day you survive, every level you lose, you prove that the Association's classification of 'defective' is a lie. That's more valuable than any battle."

Jin was silent for a long moment. He'd been focused on his own survival, on reaching -999 and discovering what the System was hiding. The idea of becoming a symbol, a banner for others to rally around—that was something he hadn't considered.

But looking at the desperate faces of the Forgotten, at people who'd been told their lives were worthless because they didn't fit a predetermined mold, Jin felt something shift in his chest. Not quite compassion—he'd been hurt too many times for easy empathy—but recognition.

He'd been one of them. Would still be one of them, if his inverse nature hadn't given him a different path.

"I can't promise revolution," Jin said finally. "I can't promise victory. The Association has S-Ranks, SS-Ranks, resources I can barely imagine. Going to war with them directly would be suicide."

"Then what can you promise?"

Jin thought about it. About his abilities, his trajectory, the question of what waited at Level -999. About the truth he was beginning to suspect: that the System itself was the enemy, not just the Association that served it.

"I can promise to keep descending. To keep proving that negative levels work, that anomalies can be powerful, that the System's classifications mean nothing." He met Sung-joon's eyes. "I can promise that when I find out what's at the bottom—at -999—I'll share it with everyone. Every defective, every glitch, every awakener who's been told they're worthless."

"And if what you find is dangerous?"

"Then I'll share that too." Jin smiled grimly. "The truth is always dangerous. That's why the System tries so hard to hide it."

Sung-joon studied him for a long moment, then extended his hand. "Then we have a deal. The Forgotten will support you however we can. Safe houses, information, supplies. In return, you descend. You survive. You become the proof we need that the System isn't absolute."

Jin took the offered hand. "I'm going to need that safe house soon. The underground is getting too hot—the Association knows my hunting grounds now."

"We have places. Secret locations that the Association doesn't know about." Sung-joon released his grip. "Rest here today. I'll have locations ready by tonight."

"Thank you."

"Thank you." Sung-joon's eyes glittered, suspiciously bright. "You're the first good news we've had in years. Don't die on us."

---

Jin spent the day among the Forgotten, learning their stories.

There was Lee Min-ho, a teenager whose awakening had granted him invisibility that never fully worked—he flickered in and out of visibility at random, unable to control when he was seen. The Academy had expelled him. His family had abandoned him. He'd been living on the streets for two years.

There was Choi Ha-na, a middle-aged woman whose healing ability worked in reverse—she could cure diseases, but only by transferring them to herself. She was dying slowly of cancers she'd absorbed from grateful patients who'd then forgotten her.

There was Kim Dae-jung, an old soldier whose combat abilities had manifested with a cruel twist—every skill he used drained his own life force. He was Level 4 now, down from 67, each fight bringing him closer to death.

And there were others. Seventeen in this factory, but connections to hundreds more across the city. A network of forgotten people, clinging to survival in the cracks of a society that had discarded them.

Jin listened to their stories, and with each one, his anger grew.

The System wasn't just hiding something at Level -999. It was actively destroying anyone who didn't fit its parameters. The Association served the System, eliminating anomalies and managing the "defective population" like they were pests to be exterminated.

He'd been running, hiding, thinking only of his own survival and his own descent. That wasn't enough anymore.

When evening came, Jin found Sung-joon in the office, preparing a list of safe house locations.

"I've changed my mind," Jin said.

Sung-joon looked up, concern in his eyes. "About the deal?"

"About the approach." Jin sat down across from him. "You're right—I'm a symbol. The negative-level hero, the anomaly who beat an Association suppression force, the defective who keeps getting stronger. But symbols don't change anything by hiding. They have to be seen."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that instead of hiding while I descend, I do it publicly. Let the world see what a negative-level awakener can do. Let other defectives know that their labels mean nothing. Let the Association understand that trying to suppress me only makes me stronger."

"That's... dangerous." Sung-joon's voice was cautious. "The more visible you are, the more resources they'll dedicate to stopping you."

"I know. But it's also more useful. Every attack they throw at me is an attack they're not throwing at the Forgotten. Every resource they spend hunting me is a resource not spent on 'population management.' And every time I survive, every time I beat whatever they send—" Jin smiled grimly. "That's proof. Proof that the System is wrong, that the Association is wrong, that everything we've been told about how power works is a lie."

Sung-joon was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"You'll get yourself killed."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'll find out what happens when a negative-level awakener dies."

"And what if that's the end? What if death for you works exactly like it does for everyone else?"

Jin thought of the notification he'd seen during his awakening—the one about Level -999 and the unknown beyond. He thought of the inverse rules that governed his existence, the way every negative turned into a positive.

"Then at least I'll have shown others that it's possible to fight back. That defectives don't have to accept their labels. That anomalies can be powerful." He met Sung-joon's eyes. "That's worth dying for."

Sung-joon exhaled slowly. "You're either the bravest person I've ever met or the most insane."

"Probably both." Jin stood. "Now, about those safe houses. I'll need somewhere to operate from while I plan my next move."

"What is your next move?"

Jin glanced at the newspaper clippings on the wall, at the reports of E-Rank hunter gangs targeting vulnerable awakeners in the outer districts. Gang activity, the Association called it. Something they'd deal with eventually. Not important enough to prioritize.

The same gangs, according to the articles, linked to defective disappearances.

"Those hunter gangs," Jin said. "The ones in the Incheon area. What do you know about them?"

Sung-joon's expression darkened. "They're called the Crimson Wolf Pack. E-Rank hunters, mostly, with a few D-Ranks at the top. They operate in areas the Association considers low priority—industrial districts, abandoned zones, places where defectives tend to gather."

"And they're connected to the disappearances?"

"We think so. We've lost seven people in their territory in the last month alone. No bodies, no evidence, no official investigation."

Seven people. Gone, presumably dead, and no one cared because they were just defectives.

"Then that's my next target," Jin said. "The Crimson Wolf Pack. I'm going to find out what happened to those seven people, and I'm going to make sure no one else disappears."

"You're going to take on a hunter gang? Alone?"

"I'm going to take on a hunter gang publicly." Jin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "The whole world is going to see what happens when you hunt the Forgotten."

Sung-joon stared at him for a long moment. Then he reached for a drawer in his desk and pulled out a folder.

"Everything we know about the Crimson Wolf Pack. Locations, members, known associates. We've been gathering intelligence for months, hoping to find a way to stop them." He handed the folder to Jin. "Be careful. Their leader is Level 89—E-Rank cap. He's not as strong as that A-Rank mage you fought, but he's vicious. Rumors say he's connected to someone in the Association itself."

Jin took the folder and began flipping through it. Names, faces, addresses. A structure of cruelty that preyed on the most vulnerable awakeners.

"Then I'll find out who he's connected to," Jin said. "And I'll add them to the list."

He left the factory as night fell, moving through shadows that curved around his form. The Crimson Wolf Pack's main territory was twenty kilometers away, in the industrial wasteland of outer Incheon.

**[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]**

**[NEW QUEST DETECTED]**

**[QUEST: HUNTER'S JUDGMENT]**

**[OBJECTIVE: ELIMINATE CRIMSON WOLF PACK]**

**[REWARD: ???]**

**[FAILURE: DEATH OF FORGOTTEN]**

**[NOTE: THIS QUEST WAS NOT ASSIGNED BY THE SYSTEM]**

**[NOTE: IT WAS CREATED BY THE ANOMALY]**

Jin read the notification and felt something new in his inverse existence—the ability to create his own objectives, to define his own missions, to operate outside the System's predetermined parameters.

Another broken rule. Another step toward whatever waited at the bottom.