Chapter 7: Awakening (3)

“An upfront payment of 2.5 billion won?”

“Yes. It’s highly unusual for a support team, not even a raid team, to be offered such a large contract.”

No matter how little interest I had in support roles, I knew the ballpark figure for contracts.

Among supporters, it’s rare for anyone to receive a contract exceeding 100 million won.

But 2.5 billion?

That’s lottery-winning money. Let me think about my current assets.

Basic monthly salary for a center trainer: 2.5 million won.

There might be special risk allowances during training, but compared to Hunters, it’s pitifully low.

“The reason we’re offering such a large amount upfront is that we absolutely don’t want to miss out on you. You know how hard the Fighting God Guild is struggling to break out of perpetual second place, right?”

I know all too well. They’ve been pouring money into it so much that I honestly don’t know where it’s coming from.

Thanks to that, the gap with the Doryul Family Guild is widening.

Here’s the problem.

What’s the benefit of having high-ranking Hunters?

Naturally, Hunters explore Dungeons and split the profits they earn.

Guilds auction off the profits Hunters create, then distribute the remaining revenue as per contracts.

Then why not just go solo?

There are Dungeon Mining Rights.

The immediate danger and unpredictability come from the Gates.

Once a Dungeon Core is implanted in a Gate, the Dungeon tries to expand its territory.

But once it’s blocked, it won’t attempt further growth.

It focuses solely on developing within the area it has already consumed.

Once stabilized, each Guild attempts mining operations.

The government allows free hunting in Dungeons for a fee.

But hunting efficiency is generally low.

That’s because regular Monsters rarely drop Magic Stones.

At least Rare-grade Monsters are needed; they harbor magical energy and sometimes possess special items.

If you’re really lucky, you can even get CDs or USBs containing skills. Those sell for exorbitant prices.

So, which Guild gets the mining rights?

Obviously, for national interest and tax collection, the Guild that bids the most is favored, but to prevent excessive competition, a cap is set.

Instead, the Guild chosen must be capable of safely closing the Dungeon.

Thus, the more A-rank or higher Hunters a Guild possesses, the better its chances at bidding.

Because of this distorted structure, weaker Guilds usually subcontract to major Guilds unless they stumble upon unlisted Dungeons by chance.

Enough unnecessary explanation.

In other words, my existence is essential to elevating the Guild’s prestige.

But 2.5 billion won upfront? Is that because I’m a supporter?

No, even I said it myself: Korea’s top supporter has only a 45-slot inventory.

There’s an inventory system even in another world. So I roughly understand how it works.

Back when I was a hero, I probably had only 10 slots.

A difference of five slots is significant.

Small weapons take up one slot. Large weapons consume two or three.

Just six two-liter bottles of water already fill one slot.

Sometimes in the Dungeon, you have no food or water and have to fight monsters while starving.

Unlike in games, you can’t just use a teleport scroll to return.

Without that, when water runs out, you have to resort to squeezing moss or drinking urine—disgusting but true.

“By the way, do you know how my stats came out?”

At my words, the Fighting God Guild representative smiled faintly.

“Your stats are high.”

I thought only noble classes like healers received contracts over 2.5 billion at the intermediate level.

“Hunters or Awakened Hunters who have stat evaluations over 100 right from the start are rare.”

The reason they offered that money is because you’re the best Porter in Korea with an unparalleled inventory, and your basic abilities are outstanding.

‘I thought it was because my hidden Status Window wasn’t visible.’

Judging by their reaction, my concealed Status Window is still not detected.

No way to confirm it here, no matter how curious I am.

“So, what do you say?”

“Is 2.5 billion your minimum offer?”

Most people would jump at 2.5 billion won and sign immediately.

2.5 billion. It’s a huge amount. Especially for someone like me living in a rented room.

“This is the maximum amount I can decide on for now.”

“Then it’s better to expand the scale.”

I said that as I stood up.

For a moment, the Fighting God Guild representative’s face froze in embarrassment but quickly recovered.

“Expand the scale?”

“I think my value is even higher than that.”

I said and left the room.

It’s not that I dislike the Fighting God Guild and am rejecting them outright.

If conditions were the same, I’d probably join another Guild instead of Fighting God.

It’s definitely not because I’m timid.

Maybe it’s because the person in charge lacked basic courtesy in the interview.

For a candidate, the first impression of a company is the interviewer, after all.

And that was exactly the feeling I got.

First, there’s Dual Awakening.

Right now, I’m almost certain it will happen.

Then I need to know under what conditions it will be unlocked, but there’s not a single hint.

“The condition for Awakening is when you crave what you need, and the System responds.”

Or it grants you the abilities you currently require.

In other words, as you keep exploring Dungeons, another chance at Awakening will come.

“The blond guy still hasn’t come back. Should I go back in?”

He surely didn’t cause trouble, right?

Our blond guy has changed. He wouldn’t do that.

I gave him so much love and attention for that.

At that moment, I heard the center staff’s panicked shouts.

Something was clearly happening, and it was hectic.

“Somebody’s dead! There’s been a murder!”

“Dead? Who?”

Dead? Murder?

No way. Our blond guy has changed.

I’d already filled my quota.

Kim Taeyang was resting for a moment.

Looking around the respawn points, he saw people struggling to hunt.

But Taeyang hadn’t even broken a sweat while killing Lesser Goblins.

Pathetic.

‘I think I can try fighting stronger monsters.’

The Anyang Amusement Park Dungeon has three floors.

The first floor is famous for being full of weak monsters, used mainly for training rookie Hunters.

According to stories from Guild seniors, someone at my level could probably solo up to the second floor.

My trainer, Lee Hyunbin, had told me I was a promising prospect for the Hwarang Guild.

‘Coach’s not here anyway. Maybe I’ll go down a floor.’

The thought crossed Taeyang’s mind but was quickly discarded.

If I got caught, I know exactly what he’d say.

-Ah, our Hunter is bored? That’s because your body’s lazy. Time for training.

-What are you looking at, Hunter Kim Taeyang? That’s just my afterimage.

-Too slow, Hunter Kim Taeyang. You’re slow even at falling down.

Recalling past training made Taeyang shudder and shake his head.

At first, I laughed it off.

Normally, trainers are former Hunters.

Think about it: what could someone who’s never driven teach you about driving?

Or someone who hasn’t been to the military teaching about special forces? They’d be dismissed.

But Lee Hyunbin was different.

Though he hadn’t awakened as a Hunter, he knew a lot about Hunter abilities.

Status Windows, how to use and apply them — it was like he had extensive experience with the System’s UI.

No matter how much manual you read, it’s hard to picture it so clearly in your head.

Not only that, he was sharp about fighting Monsters.

He knew each Monster’s traits and attack patterns, combat styles, and survival skills needed urgently inside Dungeons.

Most importantly, his PvP skills were impressive.

When Awakened, all abilities improve compared to before Awakening.

It’s like your body is enhanced.

But Lee Hyunbin, who hasn’t Awakened, was insanely strong.

No attack went through without retaliation.

After two weeks of special training under Lee Hyunbin, Kim Taeyang acknowledged their relationship.

He wasn’t someone he could challenge.

Acknowledging that brought peace to his mind.

‘Maybe I’ll try a little more.’

Taeyang went back to the respawn point he had left earlier.

But someone else had already claimed it.

“I-I can do this!”

“Do it with guts! Huh?”

A skinny boy was trembling as he faced a Lesser Goblin.

Seeing that, Taeyang didn’t look back and searched for another path.

He found an empty spot, but unfortunately, a Fighting God Guild member was there.

Kang Seonsu and Kim Inho glanced sideways at him.

Taeyang lightly nodded in return and entered the hunting ground.

Only one Monster ever spawns per respawn point, limited to the first floor.

The Lesser Goblin that had already spawned eyed Taeyang warily and raised its crude weapon.

Seeing those shabby weapons didn’t make Taeyang nervous at all.

He walked lightly toward the Goblin, his weapons still in the inventory.

“Kyaek!”

Did the Lesser Goblin think I was mocking it because I didn’t draw my weapon?

It screeched and charged.

The little guy might have been really brave.

Taeyang lightly stepped aside, dodging the attack by a hair.

He evaded the attack with minimal movement, then subdued the opponent with the least effort.

He delivered a low kick to the Lesser Goblin.

Since the Goblin was so short, it felt more like a middle kick, and Taeyang felt a bit sorry.

The kicked Goblin dropped its weapon and flailed on the ground pathetically.

Taeyang didn’t finish it off but waited for the Goblin to get up.

His mind ran through simulations.

The combat style he mimicked was Lee Hyunbin’s fighting method.

To Taeyang, Lee Hyunbin was the perfect textbook.

The Goblin crouched pitifully, almost begging for mercy.

Its grotesque face and wheezing annoyed Taeyang.

But he waited.

As Lee Hyunbin taught him, Goblins are the epitome of treachery.

To defeat larger foes with their small bodies, they’d do anything—even like the rock they were secretly holding.

Suddenly.

“Kihhek!”

Swish!

A rock flew straight for Taeyang’s head.

He easily dodged.

The Goblin snatched up the dropped sword and charged as if the rock was not a deliberate attack.

Taeyang read the Goblin’s movements perfectly.

Anyone would see he wasn’t a first-time Dungeon entrant.

His mental state was steady as if he were inside a game.

Taeyang struck the Goblin’s wrist with the palm.

It let out a short scream.

As he prepared a straight punch, a cracking sound came suddenly.

Taeyang quickly moved backward to dodge.

Splash!

The Goblin’s crushed brain matter splattered toward Taeyang’s face.

Blood dripped from his chin.

Seeing that, Taeyang frowned deeply.

“Ah, sorry. I was trying to help.”

Kim Inho of the Fighting God Guild, a rookie Hunter, raised his hand apologetically.

The hand axe he had thrown shattered the Goblin’s head precisely.

Stealing someone else’s kill was one thing, but throwing weapons dangerously near people was reckless.

“Why are you laughing?”

Taeyang’s anger surged seeing Kim Inho laugh.

The Fighting God Guild trainer guarding Kim Inho had quietly slipped away.

“Ah, I naturally have a smiling face. Sorry.”

“A smiling face?”

He kept laughing.

Taeyang cracked his neck and approached Kim Inho.

If he had dodged a moment later, he’d have been hit by the axe.

When someone threatens your life, you don’t hold back—it’s foolish.

Even the coach would probably tell you to beat someone like that half to death.

“What’s this?”

“A fight?”

As the two rookie Hunters seemed on the verge of conflict, eyes gathered around.

Meanwhile, Kang Seonsu, who had slyly slipped away, smirked.

Kim Inho’s flashy first day lost the spotlight to the one trained by Lee Hyunbin.

Taeyang’s offensive power was definitely better.

But Kim Inho’s balance between offense and defense was overwhelming.

Besides, Kim Inho had plenty of useful skills.

Rookie Hunters often collapse from a single skill they haven’t figured out.

‘Since they’re同期 (same cohort), maybe it’s better to catch each other early than stick together.’

Kang Seonsu chuckled.

Fights might break out in the Dungeon, and serious injuries could occur.

If someone died, it would be a big problem.

Kang Seonsu deliberately avoided the scene, curious to see Lee Hyunbin’s expression if his protégé got wrecked.

About a minute after he slipped away,

a piercing scream echoed from the entrance.

It wasn’t Kim Taeyang’s scream.

‘What’s going on?’

Something was coming.

Kang Seonsu activated his inventory system and drew his weapon.

Goosebumps spread across his body.

Something unbelievable was unfolding.

Suddenly,

the screams stopped.

Footsteps approached down the alley.

“Hello.”

A well-groomed man in a pomaded hairstyle and a suit, carrying a bloodied briefcase, walked forward with a smile.