Dungeon & Commander (142)
“Everyone's dying to know your score.”
Sa Yeonggyo whispered.
At that moment, the ceiling erupted in light.
An examinee who hadn't stood out until now came down from the Awakening Seat with a furrowed brow, stepping heavily on the stairs.
“Examinee Lee Taeseop, Awakening score: 74 points.”
Not only the announcer Lee Dong-ju, but most of the examinees were stunned into silence.
As the shock subsided, the examinees began murmuring about who Lee Taeseop was... which academy he was from.
Kim Jun wasn't all that surprised.
Excluding Sa Yeonggyo, Lee Taeseop had shown the most efficient movements. He'd defended like an iron wall for five full minutes, then seized a single opening to drop his opponent—without a hint of glee even in victory.
“A dark horse has appeared.”
Sa Yeonggyo's eyes sparkled as she watched him.
“Examinee Kim Jun.”
Lee Dong-ju called.
It was finally Kim Jun's turn.
He walked forward, climbed the stairs to the Awakening Seat, and sat down.
Feels just like going to the dentist.
Light enveloped his body. The chair tilted back. The light shot toward the ceiling.
In that instant... the light vanished.
The ceiling was pitch black, without even a faint glimmer.
A commotion stirred below. Two staff members were talking with Lee Dong-ju.
The Awakening Seat returned to its original position.
As Kim Jun came down, he sensed the heavy atmosphere.
Lee Dong-ju approached. Turning his back to the examinees, he grinned at Kim Jun.
A face dripping with mockery.
Standing beside Kim Jun, Lee Dong-ju shouted.
“Examinee Kim Jun's Awakening score is... 3 points!”
Kim Jun's legs wobbled. A score of 3 points was no different from an average office-working adult male with zero training.
The examinees froze. None of them had imagined Kim Jun failing the Awakening Seat test. Hadn't he gone toe-to-toe with Sa Yeonggyo, who scored 79?
Lee Dong-ju planted himself in front of Kim Jun.
“That's why they say a chick chasing a stork gets its legs torn off.”
The words barely registered.
Kim Jun couldn't believe it. All the effort he'd poured in—grinding his teeth, dancing on the edge of life and death—boiled down to... 3 points?
Every other examinee in the room had scored 30 or higher. All passed.
Everyone except him.
His breathing grew ragged.
Then Sa Yeonggyo stepped forward.
“Proctor, I request a retest for Examinee Kim Jun on the Awakening Seat.”
“...What?”
Lee Dong-ju scowled.
“I second the request.”
It was Kang Hyeonseong.
Other examinees chimed in one by one.
He wanted to shut it down flat, but Lee Dong-ju knew exactly who Sa Yeonggyo was.
“Since Examinee Sa Yeonggyo insists, fine. I'll grant the special request.”
Owing a favor to the Association President's granddaughter might pay off someday.
“Get back up there.”
Lee Dong-ju was certain a retest wouldn't change a thing. Unlike the flawless Awakening Seat, its interpretation system could glitch—but never to something as absurd as 3 points.
Best case, maybe 10 points.
Kim Jun nodded gratefully to Sa Yeonggyo, steeled himself, and climbed back onto the Awakening Seat.
The light enveloping his body rose to the ceiling.
Kim Jun closed his eyes.
“Ah!”
“It's beautiful!”
“As expected!”
Kim Jun opened his eyes at the examinees' reactions... and beheld a dazzling spectacle of light filling the ceiling. Brighter than ever—stronger even than Sa Yeonggyo's test.
Descending, Kim Jun stood before a shaken Lee Dong-ju.
Lee Dong-ju glared at the staffer.
“You sure about this? No mistake?”
“Checked it three times.”
“...Impossible.”
Sa Yeonggyo approached the head-shaking Lee Dong-ju. Glancing at the result, she gasped in surprise.
“We'll need to run another test.”
Lee Dong-ju said.
“We still have to announce it first. Even if we retest.”
Sa Yeonggyo pointed out.
Grudgingly, as if he had no choice, Lee Dong-ju stood beside Kim Jun and spoke.
“Examinee Kim Jun's Awakening score is... 92 points.”
The examinees froze again. This time, from the sky-high score.
From 3 to 92!
“Possible error, so one more test.”
Lee Dong-ju sent Kim Jun back up.
The third test: 84 points.
Fourth: 12 points.
Fifth: 69, then 35, 78, 18, 54, 89—the scores kept swinging wildly.
In truth, Awakening scores naturally fluctuated with each measurement. The issue was the range. A swing from 34 to 36 or 33 was acceptable. Even 3-4 points wasn't unheard of.
But Kim Jun's rollercoaster? Unprecedented.
Eventually, the Exam Management Committee reconvened to decide Kim Jun's pass/fail.
“We should use the lowest score. Dungeons are unpredictable—you never know what might happen. A Raider has to be reliable even if a monster ambushes them suddenly. 3 points? That's ridiculous.”
Lee Dong-ju spat, flecks of saliva flying.
“92 points surpasses even Lee Hwan, the top Raider today, and rivals Association President Sa Gyeongbaek's historic potential. Failing a talent like this would make the committee history's sinners.”
Shim Sun-hee shouted.
“Committee Member Shim Sun-hee, that's a big change from earlier. Scared because Uramata Guild is pushing hard?”
“W-what are you saying? I'm just stating my principled opinion!”
The debate raged fiercely. Both sides had logic; both had merit.
The chairman stepped out briefly and called someone empowered to decide.
Ju Shin Raider Kim Se-wi didn't pick up. Three tries, all to voicemail.
The message was clear: You failed this time—don't call again. Maybe he'd even deleted the number.
Arrogant prick. Calling a guy like that the saint of dungeons? I'd love to smack him, but he's too filthy.
The chairman dialed Choi Sun-seok, head of Guild Management Division 2 in the Dungeon Association's Dungeon Management Bureau.
Arriving at the deputy bureau chief's office for a report, Lee Wan-yeol spotted the secretary in coat and bag.
“Heading out?”
“Yes.”
Her beaming smile unnerved him.
“...And the deputy chief?”
“Left an hour ago. Important appointment.”
“Was it on the schedule?”
“No. Sudden call came in; I connected it, and then he mentioned the appointment.”
“Got it.”
Turning away, Lee Wan-yeol inwardly cursed Deputy Chief Son Ki-yun. What could be so crucial?
Yelling at the secretary wouldn't help. He pulled out his phone and called the deputy chief.
After persistent ringing, the voice came through.
―What's up, Director Lee?
“Urgent issue. Exam Management Committee requested our interpretation. It's about Carrier Kim Jun—his Awakening scores are all over the place...”
The deputy cut in.
―You're a director and still can't handle this? Tsk tsk.
“Sorry, Deputy Chief. But this is hugely important...”
―I'm busy. Handle it yourself.
The call ended abruptly.
Lee Wan-yeol unleashed a torrent of curses. A passerby glanced his way.
He knew Son Ki-yun's game. Deciding thorny issues meant owning the fallout. With Kim Jun in the media spotlight, better not get burned.
Damn it.
Lee Wan-yeol immediately called Section Chief Park Myeong-seop and convened a meeting.
The meeting room was deathly quiet.
The three section chiefs exchanged glances but none spoke first. They all grasped the stakes.
Whoever opined on the interpretation... bore the responsibility.
“Section Chief Park Myeong-seop.”
Lee Wan-yeol said.
“...Yes, Director.”
Park Myeong-seop, who'd botched the written exam fiasco, swallowed hard.
“I'm very curious about your thoughts. As you know, Kim Jun's scores swung from 3 to 92 points and everywhere in between. Pass him? Fail him? Which way, and why? Speak.”
“......”
Park Myeong-seop pitifully eyed Section Chief Choi Sun-seok of Guild Management 2 and Kim Sang-rok of Guild Management 3.
Both looked away, pretending not to notice.
“As the senior chief, no thoughts at all? You've got extra reason to step up.”
Pressure from Lee Wan-yeol.
Finally, Park Myeong-seop spoke.
“...H-how about averaging them? They ran ten Awakening Seat tests. Use the average for pass/fail. It'd be smooth.”
“Oh ho, brilliant idea.”
Lee Wan-yeol's face lit up. Obvious suggestion, over-the-top praise.
“As expected of Section Chief Park!”
Choi Sun-seok chimed in.
“Senior chief's got that edge!”
Kim Sang-rok even clapped.
“Thought this'd drag on, but thanks to Chief Park, we're done quick. Perfect. Meeting adjourned. Kim, don't forget the minutes. Choi, contact Exam Management.”
“Yes, Director.”
The two replied in unison.
Lee Wan-yeol patted the bowed Park Myeong-seop's shoulder and left.
The CF dragged on forever.
Standing before the wall-mounted TV, Yeom Sang-taek yawned.
What a grueling day. Training was routine, but mentally exhausting. Hearing Kim Jun got disqualified for cheating had blacked him out. Luckily a mix-up; Kim Jun passed the practical too.
“Still going?”
Choi Muhyun approached, toning his arm muscles with a sandbag.
“Meeting's running long, I guess.”
“More drama?”
The written exam had cheating chaos. In the entire practical tournament, only two got carted to the hospital unconscious—both Kim Jun's opponents.
Ads ended.
Queen & King resumed, zeroing in on the second news item.
With detailed results pending, experts speculated how Kim Jun beat Jo Nam-sik and Siuba based on footage.
Retired Raiders with "expert" titles claimed he exploited gaps with his signature speed. Clips of Kim Jun played alongside.
“I could say that too.”
Bored Choi Muhyun. How many times had he heard the same spiel, seen the same footage?
Skyla appeared as a panelist. Yeom Sang-taek spoke up.
“Skyla looks better on screen than in person.”
“Makeup magic. She doesn't bother usually. With coordi and artists, boom—total glow-up.”
“Think I'd look better on TV too?”
“Hm... dunno.”
Choi Muhyun chuckled. Neither he nor Sang-taek could pull off Skyla's polish. Original stays original.
“Results out?”
Yoo Min-jeong walked up.
A tiny fireball hovered over her palm. Micro-fireball training to extend duration.
“Not yet.”
Choi Muhyun answered.
Hwang Myeong-su brought food: kimbap, sundae, tteokbokki for snacks; fancy sushi or Korean lunchboxes too. Pick your poison.
Everyone spread food on the guildhouse floor, eating while glued to the TV.
The heated debate dragged on. Neither side budged.
The chairman, armed with Association guidelines, stepped in.
“No existing pass criteria matches Examinee Kim Jun's case. As chairman, here's my interpretation: Ten tests, ten results. Average: 47 points. Using that as the benchmark to pass him seems best. Thoughts?”
Not full buy-in from either side, but they saw the logic for now. Plus, they knew the timid chairman wouldn't decide solo—someone higher had pulled strings.
“Then we'll announce.”
The chairman stood.