“It looks like they’re heading out past the barrier…”
Next to Roy, Kim Chan spoke in a gloomy voice.
Around the contestants, staff members carrying cameras were constantly filming.
A staff member with a camera followed close behind Roy and his group as they ran together.
At first, Roy would freeze up awkwardly whenever he saw one of those black camera rigs.
But after a few encounters, he got used to it and started acting like he didn’t even see the cameras anymore.
“This way, please! Stay inside the area marked with red flags!”
A gaping hole had opened in the center of the barrier—just large enough for someone to pass through.
Technically, it was still the same island.
But the scenery beyond the translucent shield felt like a completely different world, untouched nature in its purest form.
Just as the staff had said, small red flags, no bigger than a hand, had been stuck into trees at regular intervals.
They fluttered gently in the wind.
“Everyone, move out one at a time!”
The production crew guided the participants out through the barrier one by one.
Those who arrived late grew increasingly anxious, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
The mission was to rescue a total of 28 contestants.
In other words, each person only needed to save one other contestant for the mission to succeed.
As with any survival audition, there were rewards for completing missions—more screen time, and a better chance of gaining an advantage in the next round.
“H-H-Hyung… Um…”
Meanwhile, Kim Chan was bouncing anxiously for another reason.
He had spotted a swarm of monsters just beyond the barrier.
“I really hate bugs…”
His wide eyes filled with tears.
He looked like he was about to cry.
Roy quietly shifted his body to block the camera’s view of Kim Chan’s face.
Hic.
Lee Hajun, who was standing to Roy’s left, let out a hiccup.
He had his hands over his mouth and nose, but his face—uncovered just enough—had turned red like a ripe tomato.
“Aaaahhh!”
A scream rang out from ahead.
A Level 1 monster, about the size of six adult fists put together, with a single huge eyeball the size of a clenched hand.
“It’s a Giant Eyeball Spider!”
Its eight hairy legs moved constantly, like rolling eyeballs skittering across the ground.
“The weak spot is the eye. They look scary, but they’re actually timid. As long as you don’t attack first, they usually won’t touch you.”
Seeing his teammates panicking, Roy stepped up to lead.
Even though the monster had a different name, Roy recognized it from his time on the continent of As.
It had the same appearance.
People feared it more for its grotesque look than its actual abilities.
“This way, please enter now!”
Roy gently patted Kim Chan and Lee Hajun on the head, then stepped into the thick underbrush.
“D-Don’t come near me!”
“Mom…?”
Most of the contestants were either under twenty or had just barely turned twenty.
They had awakened as Hunters but hadn’t joined any guilds yet—driven instead by their dream to become Hunter Idols.
Being Level 0 was the main requirement for this survival audition show.
So even though the monsters were just Level 1, it wasn’t surprising that the contestants panicked when facing one in person for the first time.
They had to complete their missions alone, so they were all spread out.
Still, they tried to stay within visual range of each other, keeping a cautious distance.
***
Shhhh—
Amid the chaos, Roy walked calmly, brushing aside a low-hanging branch.
A camera followed him closely, intrigued by his calmness.
It focused on his every movement with keen interest.
“Help me—!”
A contestant was dangling precariously from a tree branch over three meters high.
His name tag, stuck to his stomach, read: ‘Han Jihoo.’
His glasses were about to fall off the tip of his nose, and his messy brown hair—tinted faintly with gray—wobbled like antennae as he dangled.
Despite his loud cries for help, Jihoo’s face was oddly calm.
Even as a Giant Eyeball Spider crawled across his chest, he showed no fear.
“Hmm…”
Roy glanced around Jihoo’s surroundings.
In addition to the one on Jihoo’s chest, three or four other spiders were clinging to the tree trunk, silently watching Roy.
“Hey, are you good at landing safely from falls?”
“Landing…?”
Jihoo’s narrow eyes widened.
He had assumed Roy would first get rid of the spiders to save him—but instead, Roy asked a completely unexpected question.
“Well… I have jumped from about this height before…”
Jihoo swung his unbound leg back and forth, gauging the drop.
“When I count to three, I’ll cut the rope. You think you can jump down safely?”
Roy flipped a dagger between his fingers like a magician’s coin, staring up at Jihoo.
Despite his calm expression, the dagger spinning in his hand gave off an unsettling sound.
A staff member watching their exchange began to sweat nervously.
Even though it was a beginner’s dagger, it was sharp enough to pierce flesh if thrown incorrectly.
Yet neither the person holding the dagger nor the one dangling in the air seemed concerned.
It was as if the staff member was the only one nervous.
‘Am I the weird one here…?’
Unaware of the staff member’s inner turmoil, Roy took a deep breath and prepared to throw the dagger.
“Three… Two… One.”
Whoosh.
The dagger flew with a sharp sound, slicing cleanly through the rope tied around Jihoo.
“Whoa—whoa!”
The problem was, one of the nearby spiders—its eyes gleaming—had suddenly swung forward on its web and smacked Jihoo’s back.
Thud.
“Are you okay?!”
“Ugh…”
Jihoo was supposed to land in a straight line—but instead, he crashed straight onto Roy’s head.
Roy had sensed something was off and tried to step back, but his body moved slower than expected.
A sharp pain shot through his nose as Jihoo’s knee hit him squarely in the face.
It reminded Roy of the moment he first arrived in this world.
‘Back then… I landed on Kim Chan’s head too.’
Han Jihoo was clearly over 180 centimeters tall.
On top of that, he seemed to take good care of his body—he had one of the best builds among the contestants.
That weight had just slammed into Roy’s face.
His skull rang, and dizziness followed.
Roy blinked in confusion, pinching his nose.
“[H-Hero…]}”
Earth’s trembling voice rang in his ears.
Roy slowly wiped beneath his nose.
His jet-black eyes stared blankly at his blood-soaked palm.
“First, let’s stop the bleeding!”
Han Jihoo was just as flustered.
The calm composure he had maintained—even while dangling from a rope—was now completely gone.
He urgently balled up the shirt he had just taken off and pressed it under Roy’s nose.
In an instant, the cloth turned red.
“Um, I think we should head to the medical booth…”
The production crew, who had been filming nearby, stepped in.
One of them grabbed a walkie-talkie and quickly reported the situation to headquarters.
‘How much has my physical condition deteriorated…?’
Roy hadn’t fainted like this since his days wandering the continent with his master.
***
“Roy hyung! I heard you passed out!”
“Hyung… Are you okay?”
After regaining consciousness in the medical booth, Roy headed to where the contestants were gathered.
Kim Chan, Lee Hajun, and Lee Doha had wanted to rush over to him but had been stuck waiting for filming to resume.
As soon as they saw Roy, they hurried over.
“We’re starting again! Everyone, please return to your positions!”
Seeing Roy join the group, the production team began organizing the contestants according to their groups.
“Those who succeeded in the mission, please come this way!”
“Roy hyung… we both failed…”
Of the three who had taken on the mission, Roy was the only one who had succeeded.
He gave each of his worried friends a pat on the shoulder before walking over to the group of successful contestants.
Thanks to the recovery potion provided by the production staff, Roy’s nose was already healed.
“Hey, I heard you were hurt. Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
One of the contestants, who had a gentle and friendly appearance, asked Roy how he was doing.
But it seemed like he was more interested in getting camera time—he kept glancing toward the lens rather than showing genuine concern.
“Everyone, attention please.”
Kim Hanbom appeared on a platform just big enough for one person to stand on.
“Did everyone complete their missions successfully?”
“Yes!”
Everyone looked like a mess.
Of them, Roy—having received medical treatment—was actually in the best shape.
Some looked like they’d rolled through dirt.
Their training outfits were so grimy that their original colors were unrecognizable.
“There are seventeen contestants who successfully completed the mission.”
The total number of people who needed to be rescued had been twenty-eight.
That meant eleven were left behind.
“Of course, those who succeeded deserve a special reward, don’t you think?”
The contestant standing next to Roy swallowed nervously.
Everyone was exhausted, but their eyes were sharp, focused intently on what Kim Hanbom would say next.
“The reward is… the right to choose your teammates for the first performance!”
“Wow!!”
The announcement sparked loud cheers from the contestants.
It was only natural.
Hunter Idol wasn’t just about being a hunter—it was about being an idol too.
And idols don’t perform solo.
Group performances mattered.
Choosing your teammates was crucial.
Especially for the first stage, which could set the tone for your entire public image moving forward.
‘Choose your Hunter Idol!’—nicknamed Huntdol—was a survival show.
Viewer votes were directly linked to whether a contestant stayed or got eliminated.
Some of the contestants already had a fanbase online even before the show began.
But even they weren’t safe if they messed up the first stage.
The right to choose teammates… It was a massive advantage.
“Contestants who succeeded in the mission, please step up here.”
A small platform unfolded next to Kim Hanbom—just large enough to hold around a dozen people.
“Please stand on a spot marked with a sticker.”
Roy stood somewhere near the middle.
The platform was high enough that he could clearly see the contestants gathered below—their faces and names easily visible.
“Please stick the performance grade stickers you received yesterday—dance and vocal—next to your name.”
The contestants with gold rankings looked pleased.
Meanwhile, those with bronze rankings wore gloomy expressions.
Given the chance to pick teammates, it was only natural to choose those with high grades.
For those waiting to be picked, it was a nerve-wracking experience.
Roy glanced at Kim Chan and Lee Hajun, who were staring at him with eager eyes.
He gave a subtle nod.
He’d rather form a team with people he knew than risk being stuck with strangers.
“But just picking teammates like that would be too boring, right?”
‘Wait—what did that mean now?’
The action part just really short -.-