Dungeon Infiltration Incident
Click.
Click.
Click.
Cheon Seong’s measured footsteps echoed down the long corridor that led to the sparring grounds, bouncing off the walls on either side. Each stride kept a ruler-straight interval and resonance, weaving an atmosphere of quiet dread. At the center of that dread, Cheon Seong’s face wore a cold, frigid mask utterly unlike the expression he had shown Yuna and the others only moments before.
The corridor stretched longer than it looked. In a stretch of time that felt as if every second had been shattered into dozens of sluggish fragments, Cheon Seong walked in silence, clenching his fist until the knuckles whitened.
A single bead of sweat slid down his cheek.
That drop, and the damp sheen already soaking the hand that gripped so tightly, told the truth of his condition.
Tension.
That was the name of the emotion gripping him now.
It had nothing to do with the sparring match ahead.
Separated from Yuna’s side, his attention scattered, he was terrified that if a dungeon erosion struck he would be unable to protect her. His body trembled with the thought.
Stay calm, Lee Cheon-seong. Always assume the worst. You’ve always done that.
Assume the worst, wherever and whenever, and move accordingly.
That motto had made him who he was and kept him alive.
He planned every action around the worst possible outcome, and the instant that outcome threatened to become real he moved faster still, already calculating the next worst case so he could contain the disaster.
Right now the worst case was Yuna’s death. From this moment on he had to prepare for dungeon erosion while holding the death of the woman he loved in his mind as a living possibility.
The best outcome would be that she escaped with nothing worse than injuries.
Even he could not perfectly shield Yuna from a dungeon erosion that struck without pattern or warning.
Beatrice would have teleported her to safety in an instant, but his own skill could never pierce the academy’s defensive magic the way Beatrice once had.
He would have to pour every scrap of demonic energy and every shred of will just to crack ordinary security wards. The academy’s barriers, designed to block even highest-tier spatial magic, were something he could never break even if he died and came back to life.
At the very least he would need to reach the Highest rank, double his current mana, and empty every last drop just for a single, maybe-successful attempt.
His present level remained stuck at Upper. If he added demonic energy he could temporarily exceed Highest, yet demonic energy and mana repelled each other; he could not cast magic while using it.
Magic belonged solely to mana. Demonic energy rejected it.
He could force a breakthrough to Highest right now if he pushed himself, but the strain on his body would be enormous and nine-tenths of his mana would vanish in the process. Even if he succeeded, the resulting mana shortage would only lower his chances of protecting Yuna.
So he had to do everything his current strength allowed.
He would use any means, sacrifice himself if necessary, and keep Yuna safe.
Even if that choice rotted him from the inside, he was used to it.
Please… let this whole incident end with me alone.
Two cadets stepped onto the sparring floor.
As Cheon Seong’s match began, Yoo Hwa-young propped her chin on one hand and watched him, then turned to Yuna sitting beside her.
“Yuna, he’s obviously going to win, right?”
“I think so. Cheon Seong is strong.”
Yuna answered with a bright, unhesitating smile that radiated absolute trust. Hwa-young’s expression soured for some reason she could not name; she stared hard at Cheon Seong as he swung his staff.
“Yuna. Can I ask you just one thing?”
“Hm? Of course. What is it?”
Still watching Cheon Seong, Hwa-young finally voiced the question that had been burning inside her.
“Earlier… when you were stroking your stomach. That was with him, right?”
“Wh-what?! W-why would you suddenly ask something like that…?”
It was a blunt, rude question Hwa-young would never normally have asked. She always charged ahead without thinking, yet she had always kept a minimum line. The words that left her mouth now were so direct that Yuna’s face flushed scarlet and her voice stumbled into incoherence.
Hwa-young herself knew it perfectly well.
She knew the question was nothing like her usual self, and she had no idea why she had asked it.
It was rude and it put Yuna in an awkward spot, yet the heavy, tangled knot that had sat in her chest since earlier would not loosen unless she asked. She had no choice.
If Yuna said she did not want to answer, Hwa-young would drop it. Still, she desperately hoped for the truth.
She kept her eyes on the sparring match and waited. Time stretched. Just as she was about to give up, Yuna nodded and answered in a tiny, almost crawling whisper.
“Y-yes… that’s right.”
So that was it after all.
They loved each other far more deeply than she had imagined.
“…I see. Thank you for telling me. I hope things go well for both of you.”
The moment she heard the answer, the crushing weight that had pressed on her chest simply vanished.
The murky unease was gone. The question had been the cure, just as she expected.
Then what was this emptiness?
She had needed the answer to free herself from that heaviness, and the heaviness was truly gone—yet instead of relief, a colder, more painful hollowness had taken its place.
What are you to me that you can do this?
I thought we were just friends. So why are you making it this hard?
—Why don’t you just take him for yourself, Hwa-young? I rather like that boy.
The words Yeom-hwa had spoken earlier flickered through her mind.
Ha… fine. I’ll admit it.
I still don’t know whether I actually like Lee Cheon-seong, but I do think of him as special. So what am I supposed to do about it?
No matter how she felt, he already had Yuna—the woman he loved—and their love ran deeper and thicker than she had ever guessed.
What could an outsider like her possibly do between two people who left no gaps?
Ha… what else? Just stay friends the way we are.
Friends and lovers were only a single step apart, yet once that step went wrong the relationship became worse than friendship.
At best they would become awkward acquaintances. At worst they would avoid each other’s eyes forever.
Whatever she felt, he was a good friend, and so was Yuna.
Was she really supposed to shove herself between them and ruin everything?
And if she lost them both, then what?
She did not want a single reckless choice, a single mistake, to drive them away.
They were good friends, and she wanted to keep it that way.
That was all…
Perhaps it was resignation. The noisy chatter around her faded until only silence remained.
In a white, glowing haze she felt as if she alone had been left behind—an oddly comforting solitude.
That was what she thought.
“…Huh?”
Then why are you running toward me with that look on your face?
“Yoo Hwa-young!! Get out of the way—!!!”
KRA-KOOM, CRACK—BANG!!!
The air itself shattered. A flood of white light erupted behind Hwa-young, and Cheon Seong stretched out his hand toward her.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The moment the sparring match began, Cheon Seong had already pushed his senses far beyond their limits. The instant those senses caught the anomaly he poured every prepared enhancement and defensive spell toward Yuna.
With that much protection she could survive even a high-rank monster once. He was about to move when the scene reflected in his eyes froze him for a single, fatal heartbeat.
“…Shit!!!”
Realizing his mistake, he spat a curse and sprinted for the spectator seats.
“Hey! What the hell are you doing in the middle of a match?!”
“I don’t have time for the likes of you! Get lost!!”
BOOM—!!!
“Guh—!!!”
His opponent, still unaware of the disaster unfolding across the academy, tried to block him. Cheon Seong no longer cared about holding back. He swung the staff with raw force, sent the boy flying, and kept running—straight toward the seats, straight toward Hwa-young.
The dungeon erosion that had once struck the academy.
The incident that left Yuna and countless others dead or maimed came in two forms.
One was the Erosion-type: without any warning the dungeon simply swallowed the surrounding area and turned it into more dungeon. The other was the Devouring-type: a dungeon suddenly appeared and dragged people inside.
Devouring-types gave a brief, visible omen at the very end, so people could flee and casualties stayed low. Erosion-types gave nothing; the world simply became dungeon in the blink of an eye, and the death toll was catastrophic. He had therefore prepared for an Erosion-type.
He had been wrong.
The academy disaster that claimed hundreds of lives had been a Devouring-type.
Cracks spider-webbed through the empty air behind Yoo Hwa-young. Between those cracks a pure white light—ominous beyond words—began to leak out.
Most of the spectators felt the wrongness of that light and fled in a collective panic, putting distance between themselves and the splitting void. Among them, thankfully, were Ha-jin and Hae-sol, who had grabbed Yuna and pulled her clear. Yet for some reason Hwa-young alone remained frozen, staring blankly ahead.
What the hell is that idiot doing instead of running?!
If nothing changed she would be swallowed alone.
Dungeon difficulty scaled with the people inside it. Alone, even a monster of talent like Hwa-young would almost certainly die.
The academy was enormous—essentially an entire island. Its sparring grounds were built with aftershocks in mind and dwarfed any ordinary arena.
That distance was too great.
At this speed I’ll be too late. Faster—I need more speed—!
He would never reach her before the dungeon fully opened.
He gathered every scrap of mana into his legs.
He slammed one foot into the ground, detonating the mana, then gathered more into the next foot and repeated the cycle. The waste was enormous, the mental strain brutal, but anything less would be too slow.
“Yoo Hwa-young!! Get out of the way—!!!”
At his shout Hwa-young finally turned. The ominous white light was already crashing over her, locking her body rigid. Cheon Seong stretched out his hand.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
“Ugh—what’s going on… ugh! My head…”
Swept away by the white light, Hwa-young came to when something cold struck her face. A crushing headache made her clutch her skull as she looked around.
“Where am I?”
“Where do you think? A dungeon.”
Even in the unfamiliar darkness of what looked like a cave, Hwa-young stayed calm and tried to orient herself. From behind her came a cold, familiar voice.
“Huh? Cheon Seong, why are you here?”
Leaning against the dungeon wall, Cheon Seong frowned and answered.
“Because some idiot stood there like a statue while a dungeon erosion was happening. Why else would I be here?”
“Ah, so what I saw wasn’t a hallucination… Wait a second. Hey! That ‘idiot’ you just mentioned—that’s me, isn’t it?!”
For a moment she had been moved that he really had come running for her. Then the insult registered and she shouted. Cheon Seong ignored her completely and asked,
“What the hell were you so focused on that you didn’t even notice a dungeon erosion?”
A Devouring-type always gave a clear omen right before it opened. Anyone with working eyes and ears would have seen it. Even without that, anyone who possessed mana would have felt the wrongness and reflexively moved away. Hwa-young was exceptional in every way, yet she had only noticed when he yelled at her to dodge. That meant every scrap of her attention had been locked on a single thing.
Genius talent aside, Hwa-young’s personality made it almost impossible for her to focus properly on anything. He genuinely could not imagine what had held her so completely.
Not that it mattered right now; he was simply curious.
“Your face looks a little red.”
“W-what are you talking about? You’re imagining things. Why are you even asking?”
Maybe he was just exhausted and seeing things. He answered honestly.
“I was just wondering what could hold your attention that hard.”
“……”
“You’re turning red again.”
“I-it’s your imagination.”
Even before the regression he had never seen her concentrate like that. He was truly curious, yet her face kept flushing and she kept insisting it was his imagination. He narrowed his eyes and stared; she turned her head to escape his gaze.
She was clearly hiding something, but it was not important right now. He let it go.
“A-anyway, this is a dungeon, right?”
“Yeah. No idea what kind yet.”
Because the academy was Korea’s premier hero-training institution, the full details of the dungeon erosion that produced so many casualties had never been made public. Only the fact that it was a dungeon erosion, the number of dead and injured, and their names had been released. Everything else was buried.
If the whole truth had come out he would have known whether it was Erosion-type or Devouring-type. Instead the academy’s reputation would have been dragged through the mud for letting a mere Devouring-type slaughter so many people.
The higher you climbed, the more people there were who valued money and prestige above everything. He could understand that. Understand—nothing more.
His mood was still foul, but that did not change the priority: figure out the dungeon they were trapped in.
An erosion that struck Korea’s top hero academy would be at least as difficult as the Seoraksan Dungeon.
Hwa-young kept glancing left and right. Cheon Seong spoke.
“If you’re looking for an exit, don’t bother. In a Devouring-type, anyone who gets pulled in can only leave by clearing the dungeon.”
Dungeon erosions were not permanent.
An Erosion-type was like a game wave: clear the waves and kill the boss and the dungeon would not vanish instantly, but monsters would stop spawning and the whole thing would gradually fade.
A Devouring-type rarely trapped many people because of the warning omen, yet it was never zero. Its disappearance condition was simple: clear the dungeon.
“So if nobody goes in, you can’t get rid of it?”
“No. If no one enters, after enough time it triggers a dungeon break and the monsters pour out. Kill every last one of those monsters and the dungeon disappears.”
“What? Then can’t we just sit here and wait?”
Cheon Seong gave her a look of pure pity. Hwa-young bristled and demanded to know why he was staring at her like that.
“The shortest time for a dungeon break is one full month with zero entries after the dungeon appears. We’re already inside, so the only way out is to clear it. Even if that weren’t true, we couldn’t survive a month without food.”
Higher ranks could go longer without eating, but a month was still impossible.
“Even if we barely moved, two weeks would be the absolute limit—and we can’t guarantee the monsters wouldn’t find us before then.”
“Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Fine! Then let’s finish this fast and get out of here!”
Even facing the grim reality she forced brightness into her voice. Cheon Seong let out a short snort of laughter, pushed himself to his feet, and answered,
“Yeah. Let’s do that.”