The 7th-Run Regressor Collects Calamities - Chapter 27

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 27. Ryu Jin (2)
Once the storm had passed and the workshop settled into stillness.
Ryu Jin steadied his ragged breathing and set the weapon on the work table, then peeled away the black cloth wrappings one by one with trembling hands.
“Ah….”
What revealed itself before Song Ji-hu was a blade.
Black and silver interweaving across a slender edge.
Longer than a short sword, shorter than a greatsword—a single-handed weapon optimized for practical combat.
What stood out was the silver liquid flowing like mercury along the centerline of the blade.
Like blood coursing through veins, it seemed alive within the steel itself.
The guard bore an engraving: a compass pattern, the cross-shaped compass that pointed to all four directions.
“I’ve completed it, but….”
Ryu Jin’s voice was calm, yet tinged with dissatisfaction.
“To be honest, I’m not satisfied with it.”
He ran his hand along the blade.
“It’s the best I can draw out with my current skill, but my vessel is still too small—I feel as though I couldn’t fully capture all of you, Hunter Song. If you say so, I understand if you entrust your weapon to a better blacksmith later, but if the opportunity arises, there is a way to strengthen that blade further.”
The spiritual depth Ryu Jin had sensed through Soul Resonance Forging was fathomless.
With his current skill, he could not hold such vast will entirely. It was like a vessel overflowing.
“Later, should you take your weapon to another, better blacksmith… if the chance comes, there is also a way to strengthen this blade further.”
Song Ji-hu reached out slowly and grasped the weapon.
The leather grip adhered snugly to his palm.
The weight settling in his hand, the balance of the hilt, the faint vibration felt at the blade’s tip.
The compass in his breast resonated gently, trembling in sympathy.
Whoosh—
Song Ji-hu cut lightly through empty air.
Not the sound of cleaving air, but the sensation of space sliding past—silver afterimages lingered for a moment where the blade passed, then scattered.
And in that instant, the blade’s potential became clear.
“Hmm….”
As Song Ji-hu turned the sword over in his hands, studying it from every angle, Ryu Jin’s shoulders tensed.
“It certainly feels unfinished.”
“Ah….”
But the incompleteness Song Ji-hu spoke of was not a flaw—it was possibility.
The regret Ryu Jin felt at not fully capturing his craft in the weapon was simply empty space waiting to be filled as Song Ji-hu grew stronger.
“It’s sufficient.”
Song Ji-hu examined the blade and spoke quietly.
“No—it’s beyond my expectations.”
“But I still feel there’s a lack to it….”
Ryu Jin tilted his head.
He had said he wasn’t satisfied, yet the blade’s owner said it exceeded expectations.
“This blade will grow alongside me. It doesn’t need to be perfect right now.”
Song Ji-hu gazed at the silver liquid flowing within the blade and continued.
“I’m not perfect yet either.”
Song Ji-hu gave the blade a light flick as if inviting a response, and it began to sing—a resonant hum.
“How….”
Ryu Jin’s eyes widened. That was the essence of Soul Resonance Forging—a weapon that grew with its wielder’s spirit, resonating in harmony.
As the master grew stronger, the weapon grew stronger; as the master awakened, the weapon awakened.
This man had grasped the very core of his weapon philosophy, the heart of his skill, at a single glance.
“Have you decided on a name?”
“…I named it Nachimp.”
Ryu Jin answered somewhat sheepishly.
“Throughout the forging, the image of a compass wouldn’t leave my mind.”
A subtle shift crossed Song Ji-hu’s expression.
Of course Ryu Jin knew nothing of Song Ji-hu’s compass, yet in the process of making the weapon, he had unconsciously read that very image.
“…It’s a good name.”
Song Ji-hu hung the Nachimp at his right hip, balancing it with the short sword he already wore on his left. As the weight aligned, a strange sense of stability settled over him.
Then he looked directly at Ryu Jin.
“Ryu Jin.”
“Yes, speak.”
“What I said to them earlier wasn’t empty talk. I’ve founded a guild called the Zero Point Guild. Would you consider joining us?”
Ryu Jin’s mouth fell open in shock.
That he had received a weapon commission at all, that his value had been acknowledged—it was already more than enough.
A guild offer, on top of everything else?
Moreover, that guild housed Eun Seo-jin, the S-Rank Hunter who had just chased away the Heukcheone Guild before his very eyes, and Song Ji-hu, the spiritual contamination healer who had set the entire world abuzz.
“Someone like me without even a rank… can I really join such a prestigious guild…?”
Ryu Jin’s voice had grown small. A blacksmith without a rank, daring to dream?
The inferiority that had dogged him his entire life seized him by the ankles.
Song Ji-hu smiled, tilting his lips at an angle—a gesture unimaginable from Ryu Jin’s past self.
“Do I look like someone who extends guild invitations to just anyone?”
At that single remark, Ryu Jin’s bowed head snapped up. Song Ji-hu was looking straight at him.
“What do you think of his abilities?”
Eun Seo-jin gazed for a long moment at the residual aura lingering on the workbench and the Nachimp hanging at Song Ji-hu’s waist.
Then she nodded and spoke directly to Ryu Jin.
“Would you perhaps be able to craft a sword for me as well?”
Ryu Jin’s mind went blank. A commission from an S-Rank Hunter.
And not just any S-Rank, but Eun Seo-jin herself entrusting him with a weapon.
A blacksmith without rank, without name, without a soul to seek him out, toiling in an underground forge.
Ryu Jin nodded, half-dazed. Song Ji-hu seized the moment and drove the wedge deeper.
“Excellent. Then, you’ll handle the enrollment process with Director Yun here.”
“Pardon? Oh, enrollment?”
Ryu Jin tried belatedly to grasp the situation, but Song Ji-hu had already moved forward.
“Just hold out here for three or four more months. Once our guild headquarters is completed, we’ll set up a dedicated forge for you there. We’ll transfer you at that point.”
Ryu Jin stared at Song Ji-hu, mouth agape.
Had he just joined the guild? Him? When? Was a nod considered consent?
While Ryu Jin remained in shock,
Yun Young-soo had already pulled out his tablet and was setting up the enrollment documents. An elite secretary’s efficiency left no room for Ryu Jin to deliberate.
“Blacksmith Ryu Jin, I’ll need your signature here, please.”
“Ah, yes? Yes… yes.”
Swept up in the whirlwind of the moment, Ryu Jin signed the papers Yun Young-soo extended without fully regaining his wits.
Observing the scene unfold, Song Ji-hu hardened his expression and traced back the disturbance that had just occurred.
Heukcheone Guild. The Abyss’s network. Ryu Jin.
‘Why Ryu Jin? And specifically Ryu Jin as he is now?’
Why would the Abyss want a blacksmith without rank? Was it merely for his technical skill? Or did Ryu Jin’s ability serve some other purpose?
In his previous life, Ryu Jin had appeared ten years later, his entire body covered in horrific burns.
His personality had warped into something paranoid and cantankerous, and to the very end, Song Ji-hu had never learned who had done that to him.
‘But now I see…’
If Heukcheone was targeting Ryu Jin, it meant the Abyss was targeting him. And behind the Abyss stood an Abyss Lord.
Before that Abyss Lord began operating in earnest.
‘I need to look into this.’
Song Ji-hu felt the weight of the Nachimp at his waist.
‘This time will be different.’
***
March 21st. Still in the early hours before the dawn fog had lifted.
Song Ji-hu rose early and stood before the mirror, adjusting his attire. On the stand beside it rested the Nachimp and the Short Sword that Ryu Jin had dismissed as a failed attempt.
And finally, deep within his chest pocket—the substantial, worn-smooth weight of a Brass Compass, its surface polished by the oils of his hands, pressed against his heart.
‘What a ridiculous fate this is.’
Song Ji-hu gazed quietly at his own face in the mirror. The future had never once been kind to him in life.
Not even if you stripped away the grandiose labels—butterfly effect, immutable history, or whatever else.
With each Regression, the world twisted around him as if mocking his calculations. It wasn’t merely that predetermined events unfolded as expected.
There were countless obstacles thrown in his path—beginning with the Abyss Lord’s subordinates.
Even the Mutation at the Incheon Gate that would occur today fell into this category. In his previous life, he had attempted to preempt it—clearing the Gate the moment it opened.
The result had been catastrophic.
The calamity that didn’t erupt in Incheon burst forth in downtown Seoul, or in areas with even higher civilian density.
The total magnitude of the predetermined calamity never diminished.
Block one, and the pressure would inevitably rupture through some other, more fragile point.
That was what he had learned.
Some calamities were better left to unfold, then resolved.
Like the C-Rank Gate now before them.
“Should I begin the morning briefing?”
Song Ji-hu withdrew his gaze from the mirror and entered the living room.
Yun Young-soo was already seated on the sofa, scrolling through his tablet, while Eun Seo-jin stood by the entrance, inspecting her sword.
“Yes.”
“4:17 a.m. A Class-C Gate has been confirmed on the coastal road near Yeounan Wharf in Incheon. The Hunter Association has dispatched a standard Class-C exploration team, and they’re currently engaged.”
A mundane Class-C Gate. The sort that spawned by the dozens each week—utterly unremarkable. Under normal circumstances, Song Ji-hu would have had no reason whatsoever to pay it any attention.
“Sir, I have to ask—why are you taking an interest in this particular Gate?”
It was a fair question.
“Your health isn’t optimal at the moment, and you still have Ollie Buckley’s second treatment to oversee, plus guild matters. Your schedule is already packed.”
Song Ji-hu’s answer came not in words but in the compass he drew from his breast, which he turned over thoughtfully in his fingers. Then he met Yun Young-soo’s gaze and offered a thin smile.
That was precisely when it happened.
“What—what—!?”
Yun Young-soo lurched upright, tablet in hand. A red breaking-news banner was streaming across the screen.
[BREAKING] Class-C Gate in Incheon exhibits abnormal behavior before entry. Gate size expanding rapidly.
Yun Young-soo’s fingers flew across the screen. The real-time updates poured in relentlessly.
[URGENT] All deployed Hunters evacuated successfully.
[URGENT] Gate coloration shift detected. Changing from blue luminescence to crimson. Size expansion: threefold. Estimated Class-A.
Yun Young-soo’s fingers raked across the display frantically. Every fresh update that materialized spoke only of catastrophe.
“This can’t—what is this—!”
[URGENT] Class-A Mutation confirmed. Hunter Association emergency mobilization order issued. Emergency evacuation order for Yeounan Wharf vicinity in effect.
The color drained from Yun Young-soo’s face.
“It’s a Class-A Mutation…! The Gate—!”
“The Hunters who went in initially—they all got out, didn’t they?”
“Yes, sir. All of them made it out safely.”
“That’s a mercy, at least.”
A Gate’s Mutation was far more than a simple bump in classification. What mattered was the simple fact that the Gate had undergone Transformation.
Mutated Gates had to be treated as one rank higher than their final measured classification, and if a Breach occurred, the entire surrounding area could be reduced to ash.
In other words, at worst, the vicinity of Yeounan Wharf in Incheon would become a hellscape equivalent to an S-Rank catastrophe.
Yun Young-soo stared at the freshly arrived notification, his expression now carved from ice.
“All available Class-A and higher Hunters are being mobilized immediately. Civilian evacuation procedures are underway, and containment cordons are being established at the five and ten-kilometer perimeters.”
Yun Young-soo lifted his eyes from the tablet toward Song Ji-hu.
Now the puzzle pieces fell into place—now he understood why Song Ji-hu had been armed and ready since before dawn.
The question erupted before thought could shape it: How could you possibly have known?
But there was no time for answers.
“We move now.”
Song Ji-hu emerged with his weapon in hand, while Eun Seo-jin, her twin blades already strapped at her waist, gave a curt nod from the entrance—silent confirmation that she was ready.
“I’ll have everything prepared for immediate departure.”
Yun Young-soo gripped his car keys and bolted from the room.
The Seventh Return: A Collector of Disasters
Author
: Song Tan
Created
: July 13, 2026
Publisher
: ACES Media Inc.
Editor
: ACES Media Editorial Team
Address
: 10F Urban Bench Building, 325 Teheran-ro, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
Email
: [email protected]
※ This work is published by ACES Media Inc. under contract with the copyright holder.
No part of this work may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means without the express consent of the publisher and author.
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UCI
: G720:N+A129-20260709064

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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