The Bear Cub Returns to the Master
“You bear of a man, what brings you here?”
“It's been a while, Master.”
Go Cheolmin set his bag down beside him and bowed deeply toward the old man.
“What the hell happened to your body?”
The old man suddenly lunged forward, shoving his head right up to Go Cheolmin's.
Go Cheolmin tried to dodge with Mokhonbo, but the old man was faster, matching him step for step.
The moment their foreheads collided with his chest, a massive shockwave sent Go Cheolmin flying backward. He plummeted thirty meters down from the rocky cliff, crashing into the dense forest below.
If he weren't a raider—if he were a dealer or buffer instead of a tanker—that single blow might have killed him.
Groaning, Go Cheolmin pushed himself up and spotted the old man already standing in front of him.
“You quit, didn't you?”
“...I'm a guild master now. It's been over ten years since I stopped raiding.”
“Why didn't you say so earlier?”
“......”
Go Cheolmin was at a loss for words.
“You've always been slow. That's why you've taken so many losses in life. Follow me.”
The old man walked off with his hands clasped behind his back.
He unfolded Mokhonbo and in an instant, slipped out of the forest, ascending the rocky cliff as casually as strolling across a flat courtyard.
Go Cheolmin's jaw dropped.
He's gotten much stronger since back then.
He barely managed to stand, but his solar plexus and ribs throbbed fiercely. Back in his prime, this would've been nothing.
“You planning to squat there forever?”
The old man shouted down.
“...No, sir. Coming up.”
Go Cheolmin swallowed the pain and clawed his way up the cliff.
The pot bubbled away.
Pork neck simmered invitingly amid miso paste, chili, onions, green onions, and even coffee.
Yet there wasn't a single ember in the hearth.
The old man was just hovering his hand over the lid, swallowing hard repeatedly.
“You didn't drag your ass all the way here just because you're bored. Spill it.”
“There's a contaminated kid.”
“Contamination? Haven't heard that word in ages. Go on.”
“The source is a Raiposaurus.”
The old man's eyes sharpened at that. The pot rattled as if the balance of power had shifted, greasy water splashing out.
“And?”
Now he stared straight at Go Cheolmin.
“Please help him, Master.”
“They call me the Partones who devours clients.”
“...I know that's not true.”
“How would you know that?”
“At the very least, when you taught me Mokhonbo, you were strict—Spartan, even—but that's when I learned the most.”
“You ran away three times.”
“And you dragged me back every time.”
“Tsk tsk. Yeah, I did.”
A faint smile tugged at the old man's lips.
He was reminiscing about the old days, when the greenhorn Go Cheolmin would claw his way up until his nails splintered, only for the old man to kick him right back down the cliff.
He was fun to teach. The kid had real grit.
The old man lifted the lid to check the pork. Not quite there yet. It needed more time to get that tender, melt-in-your-mouth bossam texture.
“What's his rank?”
A sign he might take the job if the talent was there.
“W-well, he's a carrier.”
The old man's eyes widened. His face twisted, wolf-like fangs bared.
“...What?”
It felt like a beast growling.
Go Cheolmin, sensing he might end up in an ambulance if he misspoke, quickly recounted the Gwanghwamun Dungeon incident from Devils Day.
The rage slowly subsided.
“So you're saying a carrier got contaminated by a Raiposaurus?”
“Yes.”
“And you came all the way here for a carrier.”
“...Yes.”
“You wanna die?”
Killing intent exploded from the old man. A gale-force aura swept outward, kicking up grass and dirt.
Go Cheolmin hurriedly pulled out the test results and handed them over.
The old man snatched the papers while radiating menace, skimmed them, and flung them away. They shredded into pieces upon touching the invisible aura swirling around him.
“This looks like grade disturbance.”
“...That's what I thought too.”
“From 12th Grade to 6th Grade?”
The old man showed genuine interest for the first time.
“His recovery stats are even more astonishing.”
Go Cheolmin held out another set of results.
“Hm.”
The old man tossed the papers aside after reading and fixed Go Cheolmin with a stare.
Go Cheolmin felt like a massive wave was crashing toward him.
“What do you want from me? Even if he's contaminated, handing a carrier over to me—he won't last a day. I don't do 'gentle.' You know that better than anyone.”
“Just give him three days. If he can't survive that, I'll take him back myself.”
“This place would be his grave. What would you tell his parents?”
“I'll stay by his side those three days and watch over him.”
“What do you want from him? A carrier's a carrier, no matter how hard you try. These results won't sway the Dungeon Association. He'll never get raider awakening certification.”
The old man's tone was gruff as ever, but to Go Cheolmin, it sounded like gentle persuasion.
“Master, do you remember what you said to me the last day you taught me Mokhonbo?”
“Of course not. If I remembered every damn thing I've said in my life, my head would've exploded by now.”
Now he was even cracking jokes in his usual style.
“You talked about the commander.”
The old man's eyes narrowed. Wrinkles deepened around them, tension tightening his jaw.
“...You still remember that?”
“The seed you planted—it's time to let it sprout. That's what I think.”
After hearing about the commander from the old man, Go Cheolmin had drawn ideas from strategy games and more, piecing together his own vision of the role.
“You think that kid could be a commander?”
“I do.”
“Carriers can't be commanders! Even raiders struggle with it! And you know that better than anyone.”
“Kim Jun isn't just any carrier anymore. The test results prove it, don't they?”
“A carrier's still a carrier. Who'd accept one as a leader?”
“You've changed, Master. You used to despise all the Dungeon Association's rules and regulations. You told me to become a raider who breaks them. So why treat carriers like carriers? Isn't that just a tradition raiders made up?”
“Getting old's made you all talk.”
The old man lifted the lid. Steam billowed out as he plunged his hand into the still-boiling water and fished out a thick slab of pork neck.
“Mmm, smells damn good.”
Go Cheolmin quickly set out makgeolli and kimchi.
Soon, the two sat with the sun dipping low over the sea, sipping makgeolli and digging into bossam.
A bonfire crackled between them, casting a hazy glow.
After a long silence of eating, the old man wrapped some bossam in kimchi, popped it in his mouth, chewed, and spat out:
“Dungeon sickness?”
Go Cheolmin dropped the meat from his chopsticks.
“...How did you know?”
Only a handful knew about this.
“Nothing but death or dungeon sickness could've dragged you out of that cutthroat world.”
“You're right.”
Go Cheolmin gave a bitter smile.
Dungeon sickness—a word more terrifying to raiders than death.
No one knew why. But once it hit, a raider's abilities slowly faded until one day, poof—gone. Just a healthy civilian left behind.
In Go Cheolmin's case, it was progressing. He could still use tanker arts, but not for many more years.
Dungeons were off-limits now. No, he couldn't go. It would worsen the sickness and endanger his team if he couldn't tank properly.
“This fondness for that Kim Jun kid—never thought it might tie to your sickness?”
“...You're as sharp as ever, Master. Now that you mention it, yeah, it probably does. If a guy like him can pull it off, maybe I can live out my days with some meaning too.”
“You know how I feel about carriers.”
“Like cockroaches.”
“I'd see that kid the same way. And if he acts like one, I'd squash him flat.”
“He doesn't know the meaning of quit. He'd rather die.”
“Idiot.”
It was praise.
The sun sank below the sea, but its lingering light danced beautifully across the rippling waves. A fishing boat cut through them.
As darkness fell, the bonfire burned brighter.
“If I say no, you'd camp out here till I change my mind, huh?”
“You know me too well, Master.”
“Bring him.”
“Master!”
“If the kid dies, you'd get buried in the raider world. Just like me.”
“If that happens, I'll pack my bags and come live here with you.”
The old man casually extended a hand. The instant it touched Go Cheolmin's chest, he flew back off the cliff.
Splash.
Go Cheolmin screamed as he hit the sea, but the old man just yawned and headed into his hut.
The guildhouse was empty.
Choi Muhyun parked the jeep in the lot and headed inside, just calling out to his teammates on a whim.
“Kim Jun!”
No response, naturally.
Kim Jun had gotten a call from the master and headed south. He didn't seem to know what it was about either.
“Yoo Min-jeong!”
Yoo Min-jeong had portaled to Ecuador and was probably soaking in volcanic heat near an active volcano with fire-attribute raiders from around the world.
“Yeom Sang-taek!”
Only a faint echo answered. Yeom Sang-taek was shadowing Crazy Buffer Yang Hee-seon. If he was lucky, he might be picking up intermediate spells.
“Choi Muhyun!”
He'd impulsively called his own name.
“Just me, huh.”
Master Go Cheolmin was being a real jerk.
His teammates were around, but the guild master was MIA. Thinking about it, even if Go Cheolmin were holed up in the master room, it wouldn't change much.
He knew nothing about Moon Shadow Diamond Heart Technique or Sky-Splitting Gong.
No matter how stellar a tanker Go Cheolmin had been in his prime, he could offer tactical advice at best—but nothing on growing as a tanker.
His dad was off scouting a soon-to-open dungeon with the Dungeon Exploration Team. It was a Dungeon Association request, but knowing his father's personality, he'd volunteered anyway.
He was truly alone.
No one to ask questions, no one to lean on.
Mood souring, Choi Muhyun cranked up some upbeat latest hits. He changed in the locker room, then hit the pitching machine room until sweat poured off him.
He dove into the simulator alone, grinding defense drills. Surrounded by three Wirelessaursuses, he timed how long he could hold the barrier. He logged it daily.
Today: seven minutes.
He ran laps on the track in between. He couldn't match Kim Jun or Yoo Min-jeong's speed, but he poured time into it so he wouldn't drag them down.
“Not feeling it.”
Deep in thought, Choi Muhyun printed life-size images of Yoo Min-jeong and Kim Jun extracted from simulator footage.
He called, sent the files, and less than an hour later, full-scale posters arrived at the guildhouse.
Sticking them on the wall made it feel like Yoo Min-jeong and Kim Jun were right there with him.
Yoo Min-jeong looked captivating even in the photo. Kim Jun... still got under his skin.
“Better than nothing.”
Choi Muhyun ran again.
That's when someone entered the guildhouse.
“What the hell is this?”
“Dad?”
Startled, Choi Muhyun ran toward his father, Choi Min-su.
Fresh scars marked his cheek and jaw—proof of the dungeon's brutality.
“What are you doing here?”
His father stood with hands behind his back.
“Training, obviously.”
“Training? Hilarious.”
Choi Min-su smirked.
Choi Muhyun wanted to snap but held back, knowing where his dad had just come from.
“What's that?”
His father's eyes gleamed as he walked toward the wall posters.
“...Nothing.”
“That's Yoo Min-jeong. Don't tell me you like her?”
“I said no.”
Choi Muhyun tensed.
“Kid, forget it. Min-jeong would never go for a bear like you. Say heaven smiles on you and it happens anyway—you'd spend your life drowning in inferiority. She'd rocket through 5th Grade, 4th, even 3rd in no time. You'd never escape her shadow.”
“Why won't you listen? I said no!”
Choi Muhyun ripped down today's poster and crumpled it. But Kim Jun's still hung on the wall.
“Isn't this the carrier?”
“...Yeah.”
“Why's he up there? Don't tell me he's your rival?”
“Th-that's ridiculous.”
“Good. It should be.”
Choi Min-su flicked his hand. Invisible claws shredded Kim Jun's poster to ribbons.
Choi Muhyun inwardly regretted it. Stupid move—drawing his father's attention to Kim Jun like this.
“Muhyun.”
“...Yes, Father.”
“Don't disappoint me.”
“......”
His fists clenched involuntarily. His jaw locked. His eyes glared at his father. “Don't disappoint me” meant “You already have.”
“Come on.”
Choi Min-su walked out of the guildhouse.