Episode 37 – "The Familiar Bond"
The Hunter Market was not a place one simply visited. It was a layered, breathing city of its own, tucked beneath the urban bones of a much older world. Officially, it was designated as "Zone C-9, Strategic Resource Exchange," a na so dry it might as well have been assigned by a retired civil servant. But among Hunters, veterans, and the black-market whisperers that circled the industry, it was always just called "The Market."
And that na carried weight.
As Kim Do-hyun (김도현) stepped through the reinforced sliding gate, escorted by Manager Han Jin-woo (한진우), a curious sensation brushed over him. Not wind. Not magic. It was the weight of history. Like stepping into a mory that had outlived its original purpose. The air slled faintly of old copper wiring and the scent of deep-fried gimbap being sold at the corner stand. Concrete pillars towered like support beams for an underground cathedral, and every stall buzzed with an energy that was equal parts capitalist and supernatural.
Even though this market had been operational since the early days of the Hunter era, it had changed drastically. So of the old charm was still here—handwritten signs, dusty corners, peculiar vendors who knew more about spiritual residue than national taxes—but it was clear that corporations had begun to take over.
Neon signs blinked overhead, advertising chain brands like DragonMart, PhoenixCore, and Heavenly Armory Co., Ltd. These weren’t mom-and-pop hunters anymore. They were polished, predatory, and efficient. They didn’t just sell equipnt; they sold ecosystems. Weapon bundles, skill enhancent subscriptions, mana insurance. You could buy anything here... for the right price.
Do-hyun kept his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his eyes scanning the landscape with a kind of nervous professionalism. He wasn’t just browsing. He was hunting — not for monsters, but for the kind of power that let you survive in a world that didn’t forgive.
Manager Han walked beside him, dressed less like an agent and more like an off-duty detective. His expression was calm, but his eyes were always moving.
"You see that guy over there?" Han asked quietly, nodding toward a corner stall shaped like a food truck but with glowing sigils etched into its panels. "He used to sell only fire-based talismans. Now? Corporate sponsorship. Half his stock is imported from China. Mass-produced. Weak as hell."
Do-hyun frowned. "So we’re buying fake gear now?"
"No. We’re not. That’s why we’re going sowhere else. Follow ."
They cut across a row of food vendors—deep fried rice cakes, skewered at, mana-infused soy drinks—and arrived at a quieter, older section of the market. The air changed again. Here, there were no advertisents. No flashing signs. Just wooden booths with weathered paint, run by vendors with hands calloused from real battles. This was the legacy section. For old hunters, by old hunters.
Their destination was a store with a na carved into dark wood, painted over in faded gold ink. It read: HERITAGE. Nothing more. No subtitle. No slogan. Just that single word.
As the sliding paper door creaked open, a soft chi rang out—not from electronics, but from a wind bell hanging above the door. The interior was dim, lit by hovering lanterns made of glass and mana. Shelves lined the walls, filled with glowing orbs, sealed scrolls, ancient charms, and strange artifacts that humd quietly to themselves.
The shopkeeper didn’t greet them. She simply nodded once and disappeared into a back room, leaving them to browse in silence.
Do-hyun exhaled slowly and took it all in. He wasn’t just here to shop. He was here to evolve.
The orbs pulsed softly, each radiating a distinct aura. So were cold and prickly like frost, others warm and heavy like a hearth fire. A few even emitted faint sounds—whispers, echoes, or the cry of distant beasts. Each one was a skill waiting to be claid. But it was the orb on the middle shelf that caught his attention.
It glowed with a pale, silvery hue, almost like moonlight trapped in crystal. When he leaned closer, he could see a faint image inside—sothing that looked like an eye, half-open, floating in a sea of mist.
A small plaque sat beneath it.
> "Familiar Link – Rank C
Grants the ability to share vision, hearing, and limited tactile sense with one summoned creature or construct.
Extended use may cause ntal fatigue.
Recomnded for spiritual tars and clone-type abilities."
Price: 129,000 credits.
Do-hyun stepped back and blinked. "One hundred twenty-nine thousand?" he muttered. "What the hell..."
Manager Han sighed. "That’s a decent price, to be honest. You’re paying for the compatibility."
"I’m not even sure it’ll work with my clone system."
"It should," Han said quietly. "Clones aren’t technically familiars, but the system treats them like summoned constructs. If this orb is calibrated right, you’ll get full sensory overlap."
Do-hyun hesitated, then looked at him sideways. "But I don’t have that kind of money."
Han raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I was wondering when the negotiation would start."
Do-hyun didn’t smile. Not exactly. But the corner of his mouth twitched. "Let’s say I deepen our partnership. That benefits both of us, doesn’t it?"
Han stared at him for a mont, then rolled his eyes.
"You sneaky bastard," he muttered. "You want an advance."
"Just a loan," Do-hyun said innocently. "Twelve-month installnts. No interest, if possible. Maybe even a grace period of thirty days..."
Han groaned and rubbed his face. "You’re the worst kind of broke genius."
"Co on. If everything works out, I’ll make ten tis that amount back."
"If it works out," Han echoed, then muttered sothing under his breath. "Alright. I’ll talk to the agency. I can probably squeeze out fifty million credits as an equipnt advance."
Do-hyun’s eyes lit up. "No way. You serious?"
Han nodded reluctantly. "Don’t make regret it."
Do-hyun grinned and gave him a mock salute. "Wouldn’t dream of it."
Minutes later, the purchase was made.
---
Back at his apartnt, the city night stretched far and wide beyond the narrow window. Lights twinkled in the distance, each one representing soone else fighting to survive this crazy world of contracts, monsters, and system nus.
Do-hyun sat cross-legged on the floor, the familiar skill orb resting in front of him like a glowing egg of potential.
The instructions were written in formal system-speak, but the essence was simple.
> "To activate: Apply mana, or if mana is unavailable, press the embedded activation node while maintaining direct contact."
He touched the orb with his right hand. Beneath his fingertips, a small indentation clicked, and the orb began to hum softly.
A joystick popped up from the side—an absurd, almost comical modern addition to such a mystical object. He shook his head in disbelief.
"Modern magic..." he muttered. "Feels like I’m setting up a ga console."
Then he pressed the button.
The orb pulsed. Once. Twice.
Then it detonated in a burst of harmless light.
A wave of dizziness struck him like a rolling tide. For a mont, his eyes flickered, vision hazing into static and then clearing again. He blinked rapidly, his body swaying slightly as his brain adjusted to a second stream of sensory data.
Then the system spoke.
> [Familiar Link successfully acquired.]
[Please select synchronization target.]
[Eligible candidates: Clone No.1, Clone No.2.]
Do-hyun exhaled slowly. His heart was beating just a bit faster than before, not out of fear—but anticipation.
He whispered aloud. "Number One. Let’s try this."
In the next mont, the world bent slightly. His vision split—not like two screens, but like suddenly having a second set of eyes open sowhere else. He was still seeing his room. But at the sa ti, he saw sothing else—the hallway outside his door. Lit dimly, quiet, but definitely real.
"Over here!" he called.
A figure stepped into view.
Number 1.
Wearing the sa matte-black armor from the market, sleek and modern, looking sowhere between an urban ninja and a futuristic riot officer. A black face mask concealed most of his features, but his eyes burned with the sa silent intensity. On his hip, a newly-forged blade sat sheathed in carbon plating. He looked like a shadow from a sci-fi movie.
"Number Two," Do-hyun called again. Another figure appeared, dressed similarly but with a different posture—looser, more relaxed, with a hoodie drawn up over his head.
The clones stood in perfect synchronization, each one ready, their movents now part of his expanded consciousness.
He could feel them.
Not just see them.
He could feel the tension in their muscles, the subtle ache in their joints, the way the armor fit against their fras. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t easy. But it was there.
He grinned.
"This... looks kinda cool, my own ninjas."
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Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading! If you’re enjoying this and want more episodes like this, your support ans everything. Every like, comnt, gift, and vote helps this story grow and helps continue writing full-length, imrsive episodes like this one.
This episode took ti, care, and a lot of love. So if you’re still here, still reading, then know you are appreciated more than I can say. Let’s keep building this world together!
— Your grateful author 😎
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