Assembling Uramata
He suddenly remembered someone calling him a homeless bum not long ago.
He couldn't recall when, or who it was, but they must have had real foresight.
Now he'd have to scrape by on the streets.
Without a shred of hope.
Tears welled up and spilled over.
Go Cheolmin wiped them away with his sleeve, then exploded in curses. The sleeve was caked in his own vomit.
Wiping my eyes with that?
Irritated, he grabbed a fistful of the papers piled high on the table. He crumpled them to wipe his face, and his eyes naturally fell on the writing.
"...What the hell?"
The guild master's eyes were still sharp, even after three months drowned in booze. He recognized it immediately.
It hit him like a splash of cold water—his hangover vanished in an instant.
It was a summary report on the B-rank Busan Dungeon raid.
Go Cheolmin himself had tanked that raid, so the moment he read it, the scenes replayed vividly in his mind.
The report's contents were astonishing.
It pointed out the tanker's limited field of view—a problem he'd agonized over—and criticized how slow improvisation from the tanks had amplified casualties.
It even suggested organizing multiple tanks into a dedicated sub-team for large-scale raids.
A fresh, brilliant idea.
Go Cheolmin devoured the report in a daze. Only then did he realize what the stack of papers on the table was.
"Son of a... "
Three months ago, right before the Devils Day catastrophe, he'd given Kim Jun an assignment as guild master: analyze seven hundred raid files firsthand and write reports on them.
And here were the results, right in front of him.
Fresh tears surged up.
"...That little shit."
His hand instinctively reached for the liquor bottle on the sofa.
Go Cheolmin glared at it, then shot to his feet and hurled it into the trash can.
It was still half full.
He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, chugged it, sat back on the sofa, and picked up another report to read.
* * *
Yeom Sang-taek puffed out his chest and strode into the guildhouse.
"Hello?"
He'd come after hearing about a guaranteed 500 million won annual salary, but instead of a warm welcome, he shrank under a fierce glare.
A man sat on the sofa right by the iron staircase, reading something. He glanced at Yeom Sang-taek, then went right back to his paper.
"...This is Uramata Guild, right?"
"Yeah."
"I heard you're recruiting buffers."
"What level?"
"...Seven."
"Bullshit."
"Pardon?"
Yeom Sang-taek's face twisted.
"You're eight."
"...How did you know?"
Yeom Sang-taek was stunned.
He'd thought himself a low-end level 8, close to 7, but his official rank was 8. Even in his old guild, Yuseonghoe in Daejeon—which had vaporized three months ago—no one knew.
"Don't need liars. Get lost."
The man never looked up.
Yeom Sang-taek realized this wasn't your average crew.
Raiders needed the right guild master. No matter how talented, bad management could ruin you—and plenty had been ruined that way.
"Um, don't you need a level 8 buffer?"
"Three thousand."
"Pardon?"
"Three thousand annual."
"W-wait, even so... that's..."
"No? Then beat it."
Yeom Sang-taek clenched his jaw, eyes shut.
Even if level 8 and 7 were worlds apart, slashing 500 million to 3 million? He turned to leave, but his eyes caught a pretty woman.
"What's your attribute?"
Yoo Min-jeong asked.
"Death attribute."
"Five thousand? Includes incentives. Pass."
Yoo Min-jeong didn't wait for an answer and walked off inside.
50 million won was plenty to live comfortably—he figured he'd stick around for now. But he wondered about the man still reading and the woman tossing around 50 million like it was her house. Scammers, maybe? Father-daughter duo?
Not father-daughter.
No way that toad was dad to a beauty like her.
His urge to bolt clashed with wanting another look at her. Recalling a shady joint where he'd once gotten bloodied, he turned—and spotted a massive bear of a man. He yelped, stumbling backward.
"What?"
"...I-I'm a level 8 buffer here to apply."
"Oh yeah?"
"N-not really feeling it, so I was heading out."
"Can't have that."
The bear grabbed him, and Yeom Sang-taek couldn't budge as he was dragged deeper into the guildhouse. He yelled, but passersby ignored him.
The woman sat on a red velvet sofa.
Reading a thick book, she looked elegant and stunning. That haughty poise, those piercing eyes—Yeom Sang-taek pegged her as a dealer for sure.
Offensive magic suited women well; that's why so many top dealers were female.
The bear who'd dragged him was obviously a tanker.
Strength like that in real life? In a dungeon, he'd shrug off any attack.
Tank, dealer... now buffer. They could raid. The guy by the stairs reading must be the carrier.
Veteran carriers sometimes hated awakeners for no reason.
A newbie raider's salary beat a lifetime of their hard work—fair enough.
"Old guild?"
The bear asked.
"...Yuseonghoe in Daejeon."
"From Daejeon, huh?"
"Yes."
"Age?"
"Just turned twenty."
"Same as me. Yoo Min-jeong over there too."
The bear pointed at the pretty dealer.
"...Really?"
"Weird? Wanna see ID?"
"N-no need."
"Choi Muhyun."
The bear extended a hand.
Yeom Sang-taek shook it, figuring he'd get decked otherwise.
Choi Muhyun grinned and headed to the workout gear, launching into reps that made eyes bulge.
His body was a muscle showcase, every fiber popping.
Left alone, Yeom Sang-taek sat on a nearby bench.
What now? Right—the guild master would show soon. Explain training, pick upcoming dungeons for raids, all the details.
Then a guy his age walked in.
"Hey, you the buffer?"
Kim Jun asked.
"...Yeah."
"Finally!"
Kim Jun rushed over and hugged him tight.
Yeom Sang-taek figured no way this kid was guild master.
"Level 8."
Yoo Min-jeong said, flipping a page.
"Eight? Eh... eight's not bad."
It was Kim Jun.
"From Daejeon."
Choi Muhyun said, mid deadlift.
"Oho, from the city with an S-rank dungeon? Must be something special. Looking forward to it."
Kim Jun beamed at Yeom Sang-taek.
Choi Muhyun chimed in again.
"Same age as us."
"Yeah?"
"We're buddies now."
Choi Muhyun again.
Yeom Sang-taek, who'd agreed to no such thing, shot him a glare but looked away.
"Kim Jun."
Kim Jun offered his hand.
Shaking it, Yeom Sang-taek replied.
"...Yeom Sang-taek. You the guild master or something?"
Yoo Min-jeong dropped her book. Choi Muhyun's barbell crashed to the floor.
"I'm a carrier with Uramata Guild."
Kim Jun introduced himself.
"...A carrier?"
Contempt flickered in Yeom Sang-taek's eyes.
A carrier daring to offer him a hand? He wouldn't have touched it if he'd known.
A huge, meaty paw clamped his head. Go Cheolmin, report in his left hand.
"Everyone's here. Up to the master room."
"What? You carrier scum!"
Yeom Sang-taek shoved the hand away.
"Me? You talking to me, you timid little buffer punk?"
"Y-yeah. So what?"
Yeom Sang-taek quailed at the bulk but bristled at "timid."
Buffers got stereotyped as introverts—tanks and dealers openly looked down on them sometimes.
"Oh, forgot to introduce myself. I'm Go Cheolmin, guild master of Uramata Guild."
Yeom Sang-taek was speechless.