Patterns in the Simulator
A suppressed voice.
“Then get in the simulator.”
“The Socrates team hasn’t all arrived yet. And I heard the leader went straight to the dungeon.”
“You don’t all need to enter the simulator.”
“Is that so?”
It was news to him.
They always trained as a full team. He figured individual training could be done alone outside.
“Follow me. I’ll show you.”
It was rare for the guild master to personally explain simulator usage and such. Choi Muhyun could feel Go Cheolmin’s consideration for his debut today.
As they descended the stairs, Go Cheolmin called out to Kim Jun.
“You too, get in.”
“Where?”
“There.”
The simulator resembled a silver-gray cockpit.
Ten of them lined the sterile simulation room. Up to ten people could dive into the virtual world at once to practice raid tactics.
Rumors had it that Jushin’s simulation room boasted a hundred simulators, but Go Cheolmin figured ten was plenty. Financial constraints had played a role in that decision.
“Me too?”
“Yeah. Hurry up.”
To connect to the system, they had to don special suits.
The tight, aerobics-like outfits had them exchanging grins.
“First time for you?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a blast. Feels just like a VR game—totally immersive.”
Choi Muhyun flashed a toothy smile.
Once they were inside, Go Cheolmin fiddled with the settings.
This simulator system had cost the Dungeon Association billions, but its usability was a nightmare—infuriating every time.
Eighty percent kickbacks, with the rest scraped together for production, no doubt.
“What monster? Wyresaurus sounds good. That thing’s got insane power. Location—here.”
Settings locked in, he hit start. A piercing whine filled the simulation room.
Go Cheolmin settled in front of the massive monitor.
The screen displayed the simulation feed. Black for now, but vivid imagery would bloom any second.
Finally, a familiar scene materialized.
“How’s it feel?”
Go Cheolmin thumbed the mic button.
“...This is the guildhouse.”
Choi Muhyun’s voice crackled through the speakers.
“Here we go.”
Go Cheolmin mashed the attack button.
Kim Jun scanned the hyper-realistic backdrop, forgetting he was in a simulator.
The bench by the entrance, iron stairs to the master room, workout gear, even the simulation room itself—perfectly replicated. Unbelievable.
He turned and spotted Choi Muhyun, who looked right at home.
Choi Muhyun scanned his surroundings with razor focus.
Kim Jun slipped behind him. Carriers always stuck to the tanker’s shadow. The tanker was a living wall; the carrier huddled safe behind it, emerging only after battle for cleanup.
Thud. Thud. Echoes reverberated.
Choi Muhyun dropped into stance.
Light poured from his body—he’d summoned his inner power to bolster defense.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor beneath his feet.
He was gathering tremendous force.
The monster bursting from the parking lot was a Wyresaurus.
It weaponized its rock-hard forehead for devastating charges. No buffers to help meant it was perfect for Choi Muhyun.
The Wyresaurus snorted and barreled in like a bull.
A shield of light erupted from Choi Muhyun. The beast’s forehead slammed into the glowing barrier.
A thunderous boom.
His feet skidded back, but Choi Muhyun held firm.
At this moment, a main dealer’s barrage would’ve dropped it.
The Wyresaurus recoiled, then charged again.
Straight-line, repetitive. Choi Muhyun met it the same way each time, repelling the impacts with fresh shields.
After three assaults, the Wyresaurus faded slowly.
Overtraining could backfire, so Go Cheolmin cut the sim short.
Standing watch behind Choi Muhyun, Kim Jun recalled the monsters he’d seen up close in Bukaksan Dungeon. Gelusauruses and Pyrosauruses were blindingly fast, but their attack patterns were simple—purely linear.
What if the expedition tailored responses to each pattern?
For chargers like this, no need for the tanker to burn energy. The whole team sidesteps in unison, dealers hammering the rear or back simultaneously? Or move as one with the tanker, flipping it onto its side? Dig pits ahead of time, lasso the legs with heavy rope?
Way more efficient takedown.
Of course, it’d demand flawless team synergy.
The simulation ended.
After showers, Go Cheolmin was waiting.
“How was it?”
“A world better.”
Choi Muhyun grinned wide.
“Best of luck.”
Go Cheolmin extended a hand.
“We roll out in thirty. Rest up.”
“Yes, Master.”
As Choi Muhyun headed to the lounge and Kim Jun moved to tidy the sim room, Go Cheolmin called him back.
“What’d you see in there?”
“Pardon?”
“Tell me what you saw.”
Go Cheolmin was dead serious.
“A guildhouse so real it rivaled the actual thing.”
“And?”
“First time realizing a Wyresaurus charges that fast.”
“And?”
“...Choi Muhyun’s defense... incredible.”
“That’s it?”
Go Cheolmin’s expression soured.
Kim Jun racked his brain—what else?—then cautiously shared the idea that had sparked.
Even after the explanation, Go Cheolmin stayed silent.
Kim Jun’s stomach dropped. Sure, Go Cheolmin was mellow, but he was still a former awakener—a legendary tanker. Maybe he’d bruised the man’s pride with idle chatter.
Go Cheolmin crossed his arms, amplifying Kim Jun’s dread.
“Here’s your homework.”
“Pardon?”
“Forget heading home early from now on.”
“Ah, yes, sir.”
“Most clear out by eight. Plenty of time for a drink. You finish cleaning, then hit the sim. Review every raid Uramata Guild’s ever run—one by one. Note monster behavior patterns, expedition counters, pros and cons, improvements for our teams. Write reports. On my desk every morning. I’ll register your print for access. Start tonight.”
Kim Jun nodded wordlessly.
Simulators were awakener training gear.
Carrier involvement was just a final prep check. It wasn’t exaggeration to say carriers gleaned zero tactics from them.
Yet here he was, tasked with raid reports.
Finding expedition and team strengths and flaws.
“Raid files—around seven hundred total.”
Go Cheolmin tossed out the line and headed upstairs to the master room.
One per day meant two straight years.
More than the grind, Kim Jun inwardly cheered at the chance to study raids deeply, systematically.
If he’d known this resource existed, he’d have begged—rudely if needed.
Even for a carrier’s minor role, grasping the big picture meant better execution.
Departure time hit. Yoo Jae-il, the manager handling guild ops, drove Choi Muhyun, Kang Jin-gu, and Kim Jun toward Gwanghwamun Dungeon.
* * *
Gwanghwamun Dungeon’s entrance lay underground. From the sky, it looked like a tiny door.
Jushin led this raid too.
Korea’s undisputed top guild brimmed with big and small teams. Today wasn’t Hangang from Bukaksan—it was Nakdonggang leading the charge.
Tankers up front at the gate, dealers and buffers behind, carriers last. Kim Jun was learning firsthand how vital experience was. Thanks to Bukaksan, he felt no jitters.
“Your turn today.”
“Got it.”
Last time, Kang Jin-gu handled all core extractions. Today, after diligent practice on searching, digging, and taking, it fell to Kim Jun.
“Just don’t rush.”
“Yes, Section Chief.”
Excitement to re-enter dwarfed any fear-tremble.
Kim Jun realized he liked this alien, deadly world. He got why climbers obsessed over Everest’s barren, snow-capped peak.
Broadcast cameras meticulously filmed the expedition awaiting the dungeon’s opening.
Spotlight fell on Jushin’s Nakdonggang leader, Jo Dong-gun.
Jo Dong-gun: TF3 fire-attribute Level 3 tanker.
Still in his twenties, expectations ran high for a Level 1 breakthrough.
Where Lee Hwan drew fans with flashy offense, Jo earned praise for bulldog reliability in clears.
High-end raiders like him rarely touched low dungeons. Last year’s Bukaksan grade shift had been abrupt—if not for zero casualties, he wouldn’t lead an E-rank.
The door swung open.
“Advance.”
Jo Dong-gun’s voice stayed steady.
The expedition eased inside. Moments later, the gate slammed shut behind with a boom.
Buffers and dealers’ light orbs banished the enveloping dark instantly—but beyond fifteen meters, pure void reigned. Darkness felt tangible, like you could grasp it.
“Today’s goal: five monsters per team. No breakthrough. Safety first. Secure five cores, form defensive line, fire signal flare.”
Jo Dong-gun addressed each team leader.
Split happened on cue. Teams fanned out to hunt; Nakdonggang would regroup and extract—that was the plan.
On the move, one of two tankers front, the other rear: double-tanker formation. Naturally, Choi Muhyun took Socrates’ rear guard.
He spotted Kim Jun and forced a smile—more grimace than grin.
No room to slack, not for a second.
“Incoming. Goldisaurus, looks like.”
Buffer Park Hong-sik.
Goldisauruses were expedition favorites.
Fierce and risky like any, but no magic barrages. Their cores packed ultra-pure gold—huge demand.
“One—no, two.”
Park Hong-sik yelled.
“Formation: reverse triangle!”
Gwon Jun-sang barked.
Rear-guard Choi Muhyun slid to Gwon’s side like he’d been waiting; Park Hong-sik dropped back.
Park mainly handled ally attribute buffs, but doubled as semi-tanker here.
Self-buff let him tank a Goldisaurus hit or two.
The golden dino charged, front claws gleaming.
Gwon Jun-sang’s intangible barrier flung it back. In that instant, Han So-young’s arrow shower turned it into a pincushion. The one that shook Choi Muhyun’s shield fled into the dark.
Five minutes’ wait, then the leader called advance.
Gwon and Choi Muhyun passed the fallen Goldisauruses; Han So-young skirted them.
Kim Jun’s turn at last. Gripping the spike rod forged from dungeon metals, he dashed to the first Goldisaurus.
Fumbling for the sixth rib—sudden eye twitch. Jaws gaping with razor fangs lunged. On reflex, Kim Jun jammed the digger down its throat. As it thrashed, Han So-young conjured a magic blade and pierced its chest.
The monster went limp.
“You okay?”
Han So-young asked.
“Yeah, fine!”
“Felt it last time too—you’ve got killer instincts. Agile body saved you from two sure deaths.”
She returned to position.
Kim Jun exhaled, extracted the Goldium core. Just over five minutes. Solid for a first go.
“Good work.”
Kang Jin-gu stowed it in the storeback.
A low, ominous reprimand drifted from ahead.
The tanker—Choi Muhyun—should’ve confirmed kills by stomping the corpses. Skipping let the carrier nearly die. Gwon Jun-sang calling it out.
And the near-victim was his closest friend.
Choi Muhyun couldn’t lift his head.
“Focus now.”
Gwon Jun-sang’s words.
“Yes, Captain.”
Reverting to double-tanker advance, Choi Muhyun fell rear. He whispered to Kim Jun.
“Sorry. Spaced from nerves. You good?”
“Goldi was weak sauce. Not a scratch. Don’t sweat it.”
Kim Jun laced in humor.
Tension was essential here—but overdose turned toxic.
Just one raid under his belt, yet Bukaksan had taught volumes impossible in guildhouse drills. Hard-earned wisdom.
“Stronger than you, punk.”
Choi Muhyun cracked a laugh.
Kang Jin-gu thumbs-upped Kim Jun. He nodded back.
Socrates team pressed on.
As boredom set in, Park Hong-sik grimaced and shouted.
“Captain—big problem.”
“What?”
“Hard to believe, but... Nuclataurus.”
“What?”
Park Hong-sik nodded slowly.
Gwon Jun-sang raised a fist. Team froze.
“Silence.”
His whisper locked them like ice.
Kim Jun, untaught on this, eyed Kang Jin-gu. The veteran’s face drained white.
“Lights out.”
Park Hong-sik recalled the orbs.
Pitch black swallowed them.
“Damn it.”
Gwon Jun-sang muttered—just then, a red dot pierced the dark. It swelled rapidly. A flame-wreathed monster approached like a curious pup.
Gelusaurs hit five or six meters tall. Most monsters dwarfed humans.
This one? Calf-sized. The searing heat radiating from it clued Kim Jun in.
Killing a Nuclataurus yielded Nuclium—an absurdly pricey core worth billions each. Room-temp fusion fuel.
The catch: near-impossible to one-shot.
Expeditions reduced to ash trying weren’t rare. Hit it wrong, and it nuked—think mini atomic bomb.
Known from deep A- or B-ranks, no clue why in an E. Gwon Jun-sang couldn’t fathom.
Last year, Japan: five hundred raiders wiped chasing one. Legendary guild Genji shattered into fragments.
The Nuclataurus’ glow outlined Socrates team. Brushing it meant skin-melting heat.
Luckily, curiosity waned—it drifted away.
“Whew.”
Gwon Jun-sang slumped.
Dungeon anomalies had spiked late last year.
Scout teams vanishing routinely; powerhouse monsters in lowbies. Association experts called it temporary.
Gwon Jun-sang sensed the dungeons themselves changing. Insider gut feel—no deskbound analyst could grasp it.
He prayed that instinct wrong.
Grades saved lives. Tough dungeons got hundreds uniting.
Easy ones? Four-man teams.
Grades irrelevant?
Disturbances?
Unthinkable horror. Treat every dungeon A-rank, swarm with thousands.
“What now?”
Han So-young asked.
“Mm. Flare up.”
Nuclataurus sighting ended the hunt.
Han So-young drew her flare—Park Hong-sik yelled.
“Gelusaurus and Pyrosaurus closing simultaneous. One front, one rear.”
“Damn! Double-tank it!”
Two-pronged assault meant splitting tanks. Gwon Jun-sang took the flank-weak formation.
Choi Muhyun powered his legs, glaring ahead. Dash sounds echoed from the dark.
Park Hong-sik buffed Choi Muhyun anti-fire, Gwon Jun-sang anti-ice.
“...Huh?”
“What?”
Gwon Jun-sang snapped, irritated.
“They swapped! Gelu rear, Pyro front. Buffs reversed. Careful!”
Park Hong-sik bellowed.
“Clockwise shift. Formation right turn!”
Gwon Jun-sang called while repositioning rear.
Drilled endlessly, Choi Muhyun tracked front while moving.
“Dealer—Pyro first.”
Gwon Jun-sang blocked the surprise Gelusaurus chill with a bluish barrier.
Han So-young, hearing, loosed magic arrows at Pyrosaurus chest right after Choi Muhyun held. Five struck home; it toppled back.
As Han So-young wheeled to face the Gelusaurus targeting Gwon Jun-sang, Park Hong-sik’s face twisted.
“Gelusaurus flanking from the side!”