Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: How the Rank 1 Hero Saves the World
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“What? Not just once or twice?”
“Yeah.”
Lee Woo-yeon looked at me like I was the weird one for even asking.
He scanned me over carefully before continuing.
“It happens sometimes. Especially after getting caught in a spontaneous Dungeon Break and clearing it... You’ve never seen it before?”
“Never once.”
I stated firmly.
No joke—this was a message I’d truly never encountered in the past ten years.
Even when I first returned to Korea and entered a dungeon, the System Message had output the keyword “chaos,” but it hadn’t been a garbled mess like this, failing to even form proper sentences.
The only somewhat recognizable word in this message was “fate force.”
Fate force was a term often used by Tartarus priests who believed the trials there were fates bestowed by the gods.
Priests described anything that seemed impossible for human power alone as the gods’ will or fate force.
Things like matters of life and death, natural disasters, or even the System.
They believed carrying out that fate according to divine will awakened “holy power.” Holy power was said to be the gods’ will descending upon humans, allowing miracles permitted by the divine...
But why had the word “fate force” appeared here on Earth? That was the real mystery. There weren’t even any priests around.
Or was I just unaware?
Lee Woo-yeon dismissed my doubts outright and added his own take.
“And honestly, I’ve never paid much attention to System Messages.”
“How could you not? It’s so suspicious.”
“The System itself isn’t normal to begin with—what’s more suspicious about it? I figure it’s not weird if something incomplete or erroneous pops up.”
That was a perspective I’d never considered.
I’d always thought the System was brimming with malice toward humanity, but never that it might be incomplete. And I’d assumed Korea’s System was fundamentally the same as Tartarus’s up until now.
“Incomplete,” huh. The System?
Why did Lee Woo-yeon sense that?
“And it’s just an error message I’ve seen too many times to care now. I get caught in spontaneous Dungeon Breaks a lot on my own. At least once every few months or so...”
His words snapped me out of my thoughts. My mind cleared in an instant.
What was that supposed to mean?
“What? No, how do you keep getting caught in spontaneous Dungeon Breaks so often?”
He’d mentioned seeing weird System Messages frequently earlier, but I hadn’t realized it meant he personally got dragged into Dungeon Breaks all the time.
Spontaneous Dungeon Breaks—called divine punishment in Tartarus—weren’t exactly common occurrences.
Getting caught in them repeatedly was like drawing the single dud from a barrel with 99 winners and 1 loser, a hundred times in a row.
In other words, impossible under normal circumstances.
“How should I know?”
Lee Woo-yeon seemed to recall his own experiences with Dungeon Breaks, responding a bit curtly this time before catching himself with a regretful expression.
Not exactly the gentlest personality. No surprise there, so I pressed on.
“Anyway. And then?”
“Hm?”
“After seeing that message? Did you notice anything unusual?”
Lee Woo-yeon’s face finally turned serious at my question.
“Sounds like it’s a pretty big deal if you’re asking like this. Sorry, but I didn’t see anything. The message popped up, and then you suddenly collapsed and started convulsing.”
“How long?”
“Roughly five minutes?”
It had all happened in a surprisingly short time. Subjectively, it felt like ages to me.
To sum up: Lee Woo-yeon only saw the broken System Message, meaning Optatio was a hallucination visible only to me.
The System had said it was “correcting an error.” In other words, Optatio wasn’t supposed to appear in the first place.
So the real question was this:
Why had that error occurred at all?
I’d never really pondered what the System even was, so it still didn’t quite click.
But it was a problem I had to solve.
I needed to rescue those kids.
I clenched my fist tight, then slowly released it.
“Thanks for the answer. It helps.”
“Huh, that’s it for the favor?”
“One more thing.”
“This must be the tough one, saved for last. Shoot... Oh, hold on.”
Lee Woo-yeon’s phone on the living room table lit up. He glanced at me for permission.
He hesitated a moment before picking it up and answering.
“Professor Sook-ja? What’s up? I’m a bit busy right now...”
- Woo-yeon.
The house was empty aside from us, so quiet that I faintly caught the voice on the other end. A low, husky woman’s voice rumbled through the phone.
Professor Sook-ja? The Kim Sook-ja who’d been announced as Rank 3?
I’d seen internet posts where people argued over her skills compared to Monami.
The conversation dragged on for a while, too muffled for me to catch details. But judging by Lee Woo-yeon’s increasingly grave expression, it wasn’t trivial.
“Ga-18? That’s the one next to Sinchon Hospital, right? What about the conditions... Ah, got it. Yeah. Let’s talk there. Time? I’m at home... Yes, Gwanghwamun. Ten minutes is plenty. On my way.”
Lee Woo-yeon hung up without so much as a goodbye.
From the snippets, it sounded urgent enough to rush over, but once off the phone, he paused, lost in thought.
“What’s going on?”
Only then did he turn to me.
“Not sure on the details, but the clear condition for an A-Rank fixed dungeon just changed. Right as the raiding party entered.”
As he spoke, his translucent black eyes studied me intently.
Like he was testing something.
Whatever he was probing for, it wasn’t my concern.
More importantly, I had a question.
“If the clear condition changed mid-raid, that’s bad.”
“Yeah, and it was already classified A-Rank.”
“What about the people inside?”
“They’re probably in danger. I don’t have the full story, so I need to head there and hear it...”
I stood up. Lee Woo-yeon, still seated, looked up at me.
To him gazing up, I said simply,
“I’ll come too.”
Lee Woo-yeon’s expression went blank for a moment, unreadable. But he didn’t waste any more time.
He rose from his chair to follow me.
“Fine. I’ll say you’re a new hunter I scouted.”
No further questions, no hesitation. His quick wits were handy in situations like this.
He started toward the balcony but paused, turning back with a grin.
“If I carry you there, you gonna say no?”
“Yeah.”
Nymph’s Wind’s active time had increased quite a bit anyway. Sinchon wasn’t far, and I could easily keep up.
As if expecting that answer, he opened the window.
“Right. You go on ahead then. Hurry up.”
I watched him spread his wings and soar out the open window without a second thought.
On the table behind him sat two untouched, pretty coffee cups—we’d both left them as they were.
He said nothing about it, nor did I comment.
Doubts still lingered between us.
That was the reality.
...Following him wasn’t some impulsive decision born of worry for the trapped hunters. My main reason for seeking him out in the first place was dungeon access.
The most pressing issue right now was boosting my pitiful stats.
Sure, I had the Cloak Honoring the Hero, a joker card of sorts, but the risks were too high. Only for true emergencies.
Methodically clearing dungeons the normal way was out.
My level was already high, requiring massive achievements to level up, but I lacked the capabilities to rack them up.
Soloing an S-Rank Monster should’ve been enough, yet no level-up in sight.
Only one option left.
Leverage my class correction.
Classes were System judgments based on one’s actions, and mine was Hero.
From past experience over the years, the Hero class responded to my will in facing given situations—sometimes boosting stats independently of level-ups.
Especially in situations befitting a Hero...
When I did what the System deemed “heroic.” Those moments usually arose inside dungeons.
Particularly tough ones.
But Korea’s government tightly controlled access to high-grade dungeons—no entry without national exam rank certification or escort by an S-Rank or higher hunter.
Hence, Lee Woo-yeon.
This situation was exactly what I’d hoped for.
Someone else’s misfortune was my opportunity.
Before leaping from the balcony, I equipped my gear and a question surfaced.
“...Why, exactly?”
What in me had the System judged worthy of the Hero class? Unfathomable.
I activated Nymph’s Wind and jumped. Wind battered my plummeting body.
In that instant, Ariadne’s words flashed in my mind.
Whenever I wavered or suffered, she’d say this:
“It’s okay. Even if you lose your way and wander sometimes, I’ll help you find the path and reach where you want to go.”
Those words lifted me up.
So I’d engraved them into my player name, to never forget—making her words my guiding principle, always in view.
As long as I remembered Ariadne’s words, I vowed not to waver, having pledged to fight with my life on the line.
I might foolishly lose my way again, but I wouldn’t give up.
Just before hitting the ground, I kicked off hard.
The wind buoyed me up from the brink, then I fell again, kicking off with the other foot.
The scenery blurred away in seconds.
Yes, if this path’s end leads to you all—even if it’s hypocrisy, whatever it takes.
I could do anything.