Master! My Skill Got Upgraded!
“Master! My skill got strengthened!”
“I know, Pao. I’m the one who strengthened it.”
“Ah? Oh! Yeah.”
Han Ji-woo watched Pao nod as if struck by some great epiphany, then fell deep into thought.
Should I try enhancing the Prison Key one more time?
But he quickly decided against it. Enhancing someone else’s skill came with a limit of ten uses. He’d already spent three on Lucy’s Paws of Pressure and one on the Prison Key, leaving just six. Who knew if his pets might develop even better skills later? Better to save them.
Suddenly, it occurred to Han Ji-woo how nice it’d be if this skill worked on Os Gillro too. Strengthening Os Gillro’s Master Architect skill would make life in Hidden Space way more comfortable.
Regrettable, but impossible. He shelved the idea and focused on the task at hand.
“Os Gillro. Got nothing to do right now?”
“What am I supposed to do without materials?”
“Then how about finishing the mansion roof while I pop over to Dungeon Prison?”
“The roof? That’s the toughest part. Won’t be done in a day. …Wait, what’d you just say? You’re going to Dungeon Prison?”
Han Ji-woo explained the situation to the baffled dwarf.
“You can go back and forth to Dungeon Prison with Pao, eh? Then why don’t I go instead? It’d be easier to gather crafting materials that way…”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re great in every way, Os Gillro, but you’ve got one fatal flaw.”
“Hah! Never thought I’d hear that from a dwarf fanboy. As if I’d have any flaws!”
“Where’s your conscience… Never mind. Your temper’s too damn hot. No guarantee you’d just grab materials and behave.”
He’d obviously stir up trouble at every annoyance. If he were like Turkan, left grazing by the river, Han Ji-woo might trust him with it. But this hothead was a walking time bomb.
“How dare you! My temperament’s as gentle and benevolent as they come! Do you even know me? Back in my village, I was renowned for my—”
Ignoring Os Gillro’s explosive denial, Han Ji-woo turned to Pao.
“Let’s head to the prison. Quick.”
“Got it!”
Prison Key
The moment Pao’s skill activated, the two vanished from Hidden Space.
“Where do you think you’re slinking off to! You can’t just light a fire in a man’s chest and run!”
Os Gillro bellowed, shaking his fist furiously. Then a black shadow loomed behind him.
Sensing danger, he spun nimbly—only to find Seibier glaring down at him, with Lucy perched on the dragon’s head.
Qrurrk!
Nyaang!
The pets’ faces were twisted in uncharacteristic fury. Looked like they’d heard him mouthing off at their master.
“Can’t I even get mad? Can’t I say what I think?”
Os Gillro shouted back louder. Then—
Hisssss—
Black smoke leaked from Seibier’s maw. A prelude to its corrosive breath.
“…Fine! I’ll let it slide this time!”
For all his fire, Os Gillro knew better than to throw his life away.
* * *
As the Prison Key skill triggered, the surroundings crumbled and reformed into an unfamiliar forest.
Han Ji-woo scanned the area, a mix of emotions crossing his face.
“It’s only been a few days, but damn, feels like forever.”
“Master! Orc Village close from here.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep! I remember. Returned to Hidden Space from here.”
From Pao’s words, Han Ji-woo gleaned one key fact: the Prison Key teleported the user to their last location in Dungeon Prison.
“I go check farm. See if doing good.”
“I’ll come too. Been a while—say hi to Turkan.”
“Okay!”
Pao led the way, Han Ji-woo following. Soon the forest ended, revealing a sight that stunned him.
The empty plain that once held only Orc Village was now lush fields of crops. And monsters—orcs included—were diligently farming on their own.
“Didn’t expect them to follow my orders this well.”
Until leaving Dungeon Prison, Han Ji-woo hadn’t fully trusted the monsters. Orcs had sworn loyalty, sure, but the others? Debatable. Pao’s updates helped, but vague reports like “fields way bigger now” didn’t paint the full picture.
Now he saw the truth. Pao had spoken straight facts.
“No slacking! Work hard, queek! You, Minotaur! Slack off today and it’s nose ring again! Queeeek! Don’t forget Ogre King behind me! Queeeeeek!”
Turkan was the perfect image of a fox flaunting a tiger’s might—borrowing an ogre’s power to strut.
“Damn, Turkan. Looking sharp.”
That voice—one he’d thought gone forever—snapped Turkan’s head around like it’d break.
Han Ji-woo stood there, grinning.
“Master!”
Turkan bounded over like an excited pup, face flushed, then prostrated himself.
“This Turkan missed Master so much! So very much! Queek!”
The other three hundred orcs bowed in unison.
Han Ji-woo smiled warmly at the scene.
“Enough. Get up. You’re scaring the kids.”
Warm words, harsh undertone. Turkan sprang up; the orcs followed, resuming work.
Han Ji-woo brushed dirt from Turkan’s body. Each touch moved the orc deeply.
“You’ve worked hard while I was gone. Never dreamed you’d turn this into such fine fields.”
“Pao helped lots. Queek! Without Pao, couldn’t do this.”
Pao puffed up at the praise.
“Yeah, yeah. You all did great.”
“But Master… how here…? Queek!”
“Pao brought me. Long story—don’t ask.”
“Got it! Queek!”
Turkan was perfect. Straightforward, respectful.
“Anyway, question: how big is Dungeon Prison, roughly?”
Turkan pondered, pointing south.
“Walk that way, soon big rock cliff. Queek!”
Then north.
“Walked long that way too. Dawn to noon sun, endless cliff. Queek. Followed cliffs. Queek!”
He gathered his thoughts.
“Night fell, familiar cliff with big rock. Queeeeek!”
Night meant full dark, around eight or nine. The big rock cliff was the southern end.
So Turkan had walked the northern boundary from noon, eight or nine hours to the opposite side.
“Walked more. Queek. Dawn, back at noon cliff. Queeeek!”
Another eight or nine hours back north.
Han Ji-woo pieced it together.
Orc Village is near southern edge. North end about six hours away.
Dungeon Prison was cliff-ringed, perimeter roughly eighteen hours’ walk. Not as vast as feared—good news.
“Turkan. Any good ore around? Need for weapons, armor.”
“Ore? Not sure. Queek! But monsters like ore. Queeeeek!”
Turkan glanced skyward. Flying monsters sprinkled fertilizer from buckets over fields.
Whiiiiistle—!
Turkan whistled sharply; one flyer descended swiftly.
A mid-grade griffin: lion body, eagle top. Massive, intimidating up close.
“This leader of griffins. Queek! Griffins love shiny things. Know ores, gems. Make good weapons, armor. Queeeeek!”
“Yeah?”
Han Ji-woo eyed it; a grumpy voice replied.
“Why should I help a human?”
Griffin tongue, auto-translated to Korean for Han Ji-woo. Turkan heard orcish, snarled instantly.
“Help Master or Ogre King’s club splits your skull! Queeeeek!”
“…Tch. Hop on.”
The defiant griffin suddenly offered its back.
Han Ji-woo climbed on, doubts swirling—would it drop him mid-flight?
“Pao. I’ll be back—do your thing.”
“Got it, Master!”
“Safe trip! Queeeek!”
The griffin soared, pets’ farewells fading.
“Whoa.”
Such blistering speed—like an amusement ride. Han Ji-woo gripped fur desperately.
Up, up, ears popping, until pressure peaked—then level flight.
Flap! Flap!
Massive wings propelled the beast forward.
“Ow, ears…”
Finally peering down, Han Ji-woo took in Dungeon Prison’s expanse: forests, plains, Orc Village fields, monster habitats.
Ahead loomed sheer cliffs, bottomless void beyond. Nothing past them.
He almost asked if it’d flown over, but no—escape would’ve happened.
“Where we headed?”
“That’s my question.”
“Huh?”
“Even if Turkan asked, I won’t reveal my secret spots lightly. Pick one: priciest gem stash. Most varied gems. Hardest gems. Or most special treasure. Choose.”
Han Ji-woo weighed options. Needed tough ore now, not fancy or varied. Diamond fit—Os Gillro’d forge killer armor.
But instinct said better existed. Note the word swap: “treasure,” not “gem.” And “special.”
Trap?
Unlikely—monsters weren’t that sly. Probably emphasized its favorite unconsciously.
“Most special treasure spot.”
“…Fine.”
The griffin banked sharply.
* * *
“Here. Where the most special treasure lies buried.”
The griffin set Han Ji-woo down.
The place: Dragon Tomb.