Success rate: 4.7%.
That was the probability that the Jagd Spinner could defeat the special entity known as Leon.
Having lost its primary means of movement—its legs—and even its wire cutters, the odds for this combat machine were abysmal. In fact, that already dismal number included the scenario where it self-destructs from battery overload.
But there was one secret trump card that could spike the success rate to 93%.
The Jagd Spinner's ultimate strategy, meant only for the very last moment—when rearmament and maintenance were no longer possible—was a cache of about 2 tons of explosives buried in preparation for a final stand.
Lure in as many threats as possible, and then detonate all at once—entombing both itself and the enemy in a massive explosion.
Although the final self-destruct only targeted a single hostile entity, far fewer than anticipated, the Jagd Spinner committed everything to executing its last order without hesitation.
-KA-KA-KA-KA-BOOOOM!!
The explosion echoed across the city. Two tons of explosives detonated simultaneously, consuming all oxygen within the building in an instant.
Reinforced buildings shattered like paper. The shockwave violently displaced air and released a crushing pressure wave.
Every structure within a 2km radius vanished. Buildings as far as 10km out cracked or collapsed.
The blast wave even reached 20km away—flinging resting hunters like ragdolls caught in a hurricane.
As the vacuum created by the firestorm was refilled by surrounding air, the explosion's plume surged upward.
A mushroom cloud formed—ash and dust fanning out in a vast hemispherical bloom.
No one could possibly survive within that blast radius.
It was a natural conclusion.
The unit with serial number JS-10,253 was manufactured 1,038 years and 21 days ago.
Unlike its mass-produced siblings from assembly lines, this Jagd Spinner was equipped with advanced artificial intelligence, created for the final battle of civilization itself.
The 112 Jagd Spinners in the unmanned armored division, led by 10,253, were given one simple command:
Ensure that what is sealed in the heart of the city is never released. Use any means necessary.
But most of them never even got the chance to fulfill that directive.
While being transported from the factory, enemy forces ambushed them. The train was destroyed. More than half the units were annihilated before activation.
JS-10,253 would've been destroyed as well—if not for the transport officer's emergency activation in that final moment.
"Protect the city! Go! Fulfill your mission!"
The transport officer was devoured immediately after.
Unit 10,253 assumed command, connected to the integrated network, and rallied the remaining 37 units to eliminate the attackers and head toward the city.
The skies were choked with grey dust. The earth quaked under constant explosions, hampering their mobility.
One comrade was buried under a landslide while crossing a cliff.
Hostiles struck without warning, from every direction.
As the machines coldly slaughtered wave after wave of enemies, a mushroom cloud suddenly bloomed on the horizon.
They initiated emergency evasive maneuvers, but many were caught in the blast.
"JS-10,244—Inoperable. Contamination level 8. Lethal to civilians."
"JS-10,185—Core breach. Excessive emission of Category 14 radioactive material."
Most units were contaminated beyond repair. Decontamination was too slow. Calculations determined that entering the city would cause unacceptable civilian casualties.
"Contaminated units are to cease all activity immediately. Initiate self-destruct sequence."
"Executing order from acting commander JS-10,253. Detonate after friendly withdrawal."
The contaminated comrades buried themselves in the earth and detonated.
By the time the remaining units reached the city, it was under attack.
JS-10,253 gave the order:
"Commence supporting fire. Defend the city."
With twelve combat machines joining the fray, they successfully repelled the enemy.
They became heroes of the city.
"Jagd Spinner! Jagd Spinner!"
The people cheered for the killing machines that had saved them.
Stories of how they sniped the enemy leader in a hopeless battle, and even threw themselves into an explosion to save a single civilian, inspired hope across the city.
They became symbols of hope.
Knights of steel who protected the people.
Reorganized under a new command, the Jagd Spinners defended the city again and again.
But by the time they won the final battle, there was nothing left to protect.
Only 3% of the defense systems remained functional. Fewer than five citizens survived. Most of them died soon after from fatal injuries.
Survival probability: 0%. The last remaining resident of the city would soon be just a blood-stained combat machine.
"Yafi... This is as far as I go. Here's my final order."
Commander.
Ignoring the blood pouring from his torn arm, he gave his last order.
He explained why the city kept being attacked—what it was built to seal away.
That the seal must never be broken.
"Protect the seal. Do not let anyone near it."
—May the survivors of the future not repeat our foolishness.
He collapsed. One by one, everything came to an end.
A city in the middle of a wasteland, with only a single unmanned machine left.
Jagd Spinner No. 10,253 carried out its mission with unwavering resolve.
Ensure the seal is never broken.
Protect the seal. Protect the city.
Eliminate all who approach the city.
To hide the sealed sector, it built a maintenance facility atop it. To bury it if needed, it installed explosives.
Using the data in its database, it repaired the city's defenses and modified its own body. With supply lines cut, it manufactured railgun slugs and ammunition using auxiliary limbs and remaining facilities.
It was fortunate there was a cornerstone ore mine nearby—even crude black powder could be produced.
Prepared for an enemy that could come at any time, it prepared again and again and again.
That's how it protected the city for a thousand years.
And now, through the smoke and dust left by the explosion, walked an intruder—unscathed, not even a hair burned.
A Sacred Art: Blessing of the Arrow Shield.
An absolute defense against ranged attacks—even Jagd Spinner's final self-destruct had no effect. In fact, the sacred shield even protected the Spinner itself.
The man swung his iron sword to unearth what lay beneath the maintenance facility.
"Is this... what you were trying to protect?"
The storage unit—sealed in cement, hidden beneath the facility, and meant to be entombed with explosives—was revealed.
In modern times, even the decryption key to its protocols had been lost. The iron sword sliced it open.
Inside was a black sphere, like condensed darkness itself.
The seeping black smoke, even as residual overflow, corrupted life around it. It was beyond nuclear or radioactive threat.
This was the root of the city's peril—the source of the world's contamination.
The Jewel of Wisdom.
The key to closing this gate. The reason Jagd Spinner's thousand-year mission continued.
Screeech... creeaak...
Jagd Spinner, half-destroyed, dragged its broken body toward Leon.
Its severed joints creaked, the single remaining robotic arm coiled its ruined wire cutter around Leon's ankle.
There was no power left to pull. Even if there were, the odds of defeating a Level 5 threat entity were 0.00%.
Surely, it knew this. And yet, this thousand-year-old machine thrashed forward, trying desperately to take Leon down.
"You still wish to fight?"
Leon, holding the black sphere, faced the Spinner.
Its last functioning camera eye had fixated on the sphere from beginning to end.
Leon looked at the stubborn machine, struggling to claw the orb back from beneath him with all the strength it had left.
He closed his eyes.
"How long have you guarded this?
How many years have you fought to protect it?"
In empathy, the knight silently watched the broken machine.
Even as its body broke, it repaired itself. Replaced parts. Reinforced what remained. The unyielding will that carried it through the ages—deserved nothing less than the highest honor.
"You truly carried out your mission until the end."
Leon regretted that he could not communicate with this noble being. How could one not call it a knight?
"You are a knight of loyalty and honor.
All living beings across dimensions owe you their lives."
Leon raised his holy sword. The sphere was pure, concentrated malice—only divine power could sever it.
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!
The purified slash silenced the evil, its dying scream fading as it vanished. The Holy Grail absorbed the malice, sealing it away.
…
Jagd Spinner went still.
It had watched the destruction of the thing it had guarded for countless centuries. What could it be thinking?
Leon quietly used the Grail to produce holy water.
He anointed the fallen warrior—an unofficial knighthood—and knelt on one knee in solemn tribute.
"Sir Jagd Spinner, I, a knight, solemnly declare that your quest has been fulfilled."
The seal is protected.
One of the causes that destroyed the world inside it must never be released.
That was the driving force that had kept Jagd Spinner moving for a thousand years.
Now it was gone.
There was no longer any need to protect the seal.
The last of the Last Orders—carried across a millennium—had finally been fulfilled.
Click! Cl-click…!
The final remaining camera eye flickered.
As if acknowledging the end, as if it knew it had been freed from its fate.
"Yappy, you're the city's hero."
"Yappy! Thank you for protecting the city!"
"Yappy!"
"May you find peace and rest…"
The final voices echoing from that old, worn memory module came to an end.
[Quest Cleared]
A message suddenly popped up before the hunters' eyes.
They tilted their heads in confusion.
Cleared? What was? Does this mean Jagd Spinner was defeated?
The hunters, who had suffered endlessly from the machine's urban warfare tactics, couldn't believe it.
That vicious killing machine had been taken down?
But then they all thought of one man.
That anachronistic knight, who had looked down on them with haughty, arrogant eyes.
Who else but him could have broken through the machine and cleared the quest?
"He was a hell of a man to the very end."
Hwang Geum-chul admitted it honestly.
Though Jagd Spinner was an unfamiliar enemy—a tank-like weapon from a futuristic world—even as an S-rank hunter, he hadn't stood a chance.
And this man cleared it alone.
Korea's future would now inevitably revolve around him.
"Pack it up! Good work, everyone!"
As he encouraged his exhausted subordinates, a man appeared in the distance.
"Is that…?"
Carrying the wreckage of a massive machine—Jagd Spinner, easily weighing dozens of tons—a lone man approached.
"Oho! Your Majesty!"
By this time, Gil Tae-sung, having learned the proper etiquette from Hari, dramatically greeted Leon.
"We feared the explosion might have harmed your noble body…"
"Your flattery is uncalled for, spellcaster. What do you want?"
"Haha…"
Gil Tae-sung subtly tried to peek at the item he assumed Leon would be holding.
But he saw nothing.
Leon held no such item.
A hint of doubt crossed Gil Tae-sung's mind.
"Um… Your Majesty? By any chance, the Jewel of Wisdom—where is it…?"
"I destroyed it."
"Pardon…?"
The words froze not only Gil Tae-sung, but the other hunters around them.
Destroyed? That artifact that the Mage Tower had been willing to spend billions to obtain?
Why?
"D-do you understand what that object was? The Jewel of Wisdom—it's a unique-grade treasure!"
"How dare a lowly one raise his voice!"
Leon's shout silenced him.
But the hunters, including Gil Tae-sung, were bewildered.
The quest's clear condition was either to destroy or seize the Jewel of Wisdom.
But if it truly was a unique-grade item, the nation should've gone all out to secure it.
"It was a corrupt artifact. Malicious, and degrading.
Nothing good would come from putting it in human hands."
"Y-you gave up the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom… over that?"
"That?"
Leon glanced sideways at him.
The mere weight of his gaze made Gil Tae-sung's knees tremble.
"Fools. Can you not see that such pitiful value would ultimately bring ruin to the world?"
With that contemptuous glare, Leon turned and walked away.
Hari quickly scrambled to follow.
"Y-Your Majesty? Shall I carry it for you? Er… not all of it, of course…"
"Do not touch it. A mere commoner is not fit to lay hands on it."
"…Ugh…"
And so, the conquest of the Cheongju Gate came to an end.