Skill Gamble (1)

Zhang Owin.

He was of Joseonjok descent.

After awakening as an Ascender, he had crossed paths with his compatriot Wang Ochun and clawed his way up to an executive position in Burning Tower.

A trait that could measure the mana density of any target. There was no one better suited to the Proof of Qualification education business that Burning Tower had rolled out.

Those rich in mana received free training—because, as it happened, those with the highest reserves of mana were the very ones who earned top grades in the Proof of Qualification.

It was a pyramid scheme in everything but name, and through it, Burning Tower's business flourished beyond measure.

And Zhang Owin had seen countless Ascenders pass through that process. Several times over, he had even watched people who now climbed the 3rd through 6th floors, blazing their names as super rookies. Every one of them had carried mana that set them apart from the crowd from the very beginning.

'B-but then... what in the world is that guy?!'

By his own assessment, Hajun had been an utterly ordinary Ascender. No—not even ordinary. The absolute bottom of the barrel. His mana reserves barely scraped past the level 10 threshold. Nine times out of ten he should have pulled a Normal grade card, or with luck only the most extraordinary, a Rare.

'A Mythic grade?! Is that even possible?'

There was no remarkable presence or aura radiating from Hajun either, and nothing about his equipment to write home about. Which was why Zhang Owin had concluded that pulling a Mythic-grade skill was pure, blind luck.

That, at least, was what he had firmly believed.

And then—the moment he witnessed that presumed-Mythic Fireball, a shiver of gooseflesh swept across his entire body.

'H-how can he control mana particles as if they were alive?'

He had seen it—the mana particles of the Fireball Hajun conjured, as they swept down upon his subordinates. He had seen them graze past the men's bodies at a slant.

It had been deliberate mana control, calibrated precisely so as not to deal them fatal wounds. Hajun's mana reserves might have been meager, but his ability to command that mana felt as though it had brushed the very domain of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a god.

'Even Arjun Patel, whom I saw before, never showed mana control like that!'

Arjun Patel. One of the Seven Celestials. Known by the epithet Great Archmage, he was an Ascender who had achieved unmatched accomplishments in the magical arts. And yet even he had never demonstrated the razor-fine mana precision Hajun had just displayed.

'A m-monster...'

Zhang Owin's vision of Hajun began to shift. What the man lacked now was nothing but mana. No—perhaps even that apparent lack of mana was itself the product of deliberate control. The possibility was more than likely.

If Hajun kept growing and reached a level rivaling the Seven Celestials, even Arjun Patel would be no match for him. The thought flickered through Zhang Owin's mind: maybe I am witnessing the birth of a legend who will write a new myth.

After Hajun obtained a Mythic-grade skill in the Proof of Qualification and vanished, a sizable storm broke out across the Ascender Community.

'Hoo.'

Watching Zhang Owin walk ahead of me, an old memory stirred.

My mother, clutching me to her chest as she wept. Seizure notices plastered across every piece of furniture and appliance in the house.

The memory of when my mother had been swindled. After my father left claiming he would become an Ascender and vanished without a trace, she had struggled desperately to fill the empty space he left behind. But her efforts came back to her in the shape of a scam, and it tore our family to shreds.

'Even just remembering it makes my blood boil.'

They had since disappeared from sight, but they had been a colossal multi-level fraud ring that spawned countless victims. Ever since then, the mere sight of con men had set my teeth grinding on reflex.

A voice thick with tears. When I glanced over, Ellaon was gazing at me with brimming eyes, one blink away from spilling over.

What's with you, Ellaon? That's so unlike you. So this guy was a closet softie, huh?

His unexpected display wrung a laugh out of me despite myself. Well, well. Kind of cute, actually.

'My mom...'

The moment I opened my mouth to answer Ellaon—

"We've arrived."

Zhang Owin announced that we had reached our destination.

'A proper bandit camp, huh.'

A long barricade of lashed-together logs stretched out before us. Their hideout brought to mind the lair of mountain bandits.

"Master Zhang Owin?"

"Y-yeah, it's me. Open the gate!"

"Who's behind you?"

The men who looked to be sentries questioned who I was.

Hmm. So I can't slip past easily, then? I'd been hoping to meet the boss quietly and settle things with words. I slowly narrowed my brow—

And at that—

"O-open the gate already, you idiots!"

Zhang Owin suddenly barked in a panic.

What, was that because of my expression?

Oh? He's been watching me? Was that Mythic-grade Fireball really that intimidating?

Either way, it worked out well for me.

Screeeech—!

The gates swung open, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and the camp's interior came into full view. Inside the barricade, hand-hewn wooden huts and makeshift canvas tents were packed together wall to wall.

"Th-this way, please. I shall escort you to the Chairman."

Chairman, was it. Hearing con men use a title like chairman made my blood boil all over again.

Anyway. I was following Zhang Owin's lead toward the hut at the very center when—

BANG—!

The hut's door flew open, and a man towering well over 190 centimeters stepped out. With that long beard ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swallowing half his face, he truly looked like a bandit chieftain you'd believe on sight.

"Ch-Chairman!"

"Zhang Owin! You dare betray our organization?"

"N-nothing of the sort, sir! Th-this one wished to beg an audience with the Chairman—"

"Silence!"

The Chairman didn't bother hearing him out.

FLASH—! KRRRUMBLE!!

"GRRAAAAAGH!"

The 2-Star lightning spell the Chairman conjured—Lightning Ball—charred Zhang Owin pitch black.

"You lot! What are you doing? Clear away the corpse."

The other underlings who had gathered around swiftly hauled up Zhang Owin's fallen body and carried it off.

'This man shows no mercy whatsoever in his methods.'

Even for the sake of argument, that was a subordinate who had trusted and followed him—and he didn't even grant him a chance to explain before having him carted off like garbage. My eyes narrowed further. This man in front of me clearly could not be left alone.

"Now then, shall we resume our conversation? What business does our esteemed Ascender have with me?"

The Chairman, Wang Ochun, lowered himself onto a chair his underlings had brought and leered at me.

"I came to tell you to stop fleecing innocent Ascenders and shut down the business you're running."

"What? KHAHAHAHA! Oh, this is rich. What a hilarious fellow. Did you come here expecting us to go 'Yes sir, right away sir' and fold up shop just because you say so?"

Right. Well. Of course it would go like this. I'd never harbored the slightest illusion that I could reason with these people.

"I'm terribly curious what Mythic-grade skill you pulled. That's what you're banking on right now, isn't it, this Mythic skill of yours? Very well. I'll make you an offer. Join me, and I shall hand over the third seat in our organization. How about it?"

At those words, I grinned and nodded.

"Oh! So your appetite IS tempted. KHAHA! Wise choice—"

The instant color bloomed across his face, I struck first, unleashing Thunderbolt without warning.

KRRRRRUMBLE—!

FLASH.

CRACKAAAKAKAKAK—!

Unbelievably, my Thunderbolt—which he should never have been able to block—was stopped dead by a shield that materialized out of nowhere.

Aw, too bad. So close.

"Y-you little—!"

Wang Ochun's eyes had gone round as saucers. He was clearly taken aback. From the looks of it, one of the artifacts he carried automatically deployed a shield.

'Now that's a drool-worthy item.'

An automatic defensive artifact like that was a must-have for mage-type Ascenders.

"Get him!"

At Wang Ochun's shout, Ascenders came swarming at me in a tide. There had to be well over thirty of them inside the camp. All of them looked to be mid-level 10 or higher—in ordinary terms, a number that a freshly-minted level 11 like me could never beat.

"Break his limbs but keep him breathing! We're throwing him to the wild dogs outside the camp!"

Yeesh, spouting brutal lines without a shred of hesitation. He spoke as if my capture were a foregone conclusion—but there was one thing he had gravely overlooked.

Did he really think I'd come here alone without a plan?

"Entangle—!"

"Hold!"

Binding-type spells came flying at me from every direction.

Some of the spells I blocked outright with the Sage's Tome's Status Ailment Resistance—

"Dispel!"

—and the rest I unraveled with Dispel.

"Wha—!"

"No way?"

They flinched, thrown into disarray. In that sliver of an opening, I conjured Thunderbolt on the spot and delivered it to them as a gift.

KRRRRRRRUMBLE—!

"GRRAAAAAGH!"

"GRRRAAAAH..."

"GAAH."

The chain effect fired, and in an instant, over half of them were down for the count.

"Th-that's insane."

"Wh-what the hell."

They say momentum wins fights—and with that one move, the tide surged entirely to my side. They staggered back in confusion, and that fleeting gap was more than enough time for me to conjure Thunderbolt once more.

KRRRRRRRUMBLE!

"GRRAAAAAGH!"

"GRRRAAAAAAH!"

In just two casts, I had suppressed more than thirty Ascenders.

"Th-this can't..."

Wang Ochun was on his feet at some point, scrambling backward with a stricken expression.

"WAAAAAAAH!"

He shrieked as he fled, pitiful as a puppy with its tail on fire. Not a trace remained of the swagger he'd shown me moments ago.

"Shadow Binding."

I cast Shadow Binding at him.

SHLRRRRRIP!

Black hands erupted from his shadow and seized him.

"U-UUURRAAAAAGH!"

He bellowed loud enough to shake the whole camp.

I approached him with a placid expression. And in that moment—

Ellaon's warning cracked through the air. I was already recoiling a step on pure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reflex—because a sinister surge of mana had erupted from the ring on the man's finger.

KWAAAAAAAAM!!

A monstrous force crashed over the ground. It was no ordinary mana.

'This is...'

Revulsive, viscous black mana. Its true nature was miasma—the aura of the demon race.

The demon Wang Ochun conjured hardly looked threatening at a glance. A round, pudgy body. Small tusks poking from its jaw. Its height barely scraped 70 centimeters, if that.

And yet the small horn jutting from its head and the pair of scale-textured wings on its back announced its identity as a demon beyond any doubt.

'An imp?'

I'd heard of them. A representative of the lesser demons, a low-tier species of the Demon Realm. Even as a lower species, they were said to pack far more combat power than other races of the same level.

The thing's eyes raked over me from head to toe. Then its mouth corners curled upward in a revolting smirk. It was underestimating me, clearly.

While the two of them haggled, I finished preparing a Mythic-grade Fireball in secret. And on top of that, Sage's Aura as well.

It was a shame Spirit Amplification was still on cooldown and unusable, but with this much—surely even a demon would take serious damage, no?

The instant the imp's haughty patter reached my ears—

I hurled the Mythic-grade Fireball straight at its face.

KUUUUNG—!!

The Fireball tore through the air, scattering emerald sparks. The moment the imp laid eyes on it, its two eyes bulged wide as lanterns.

Along with the creature's frantic cry—

KWAAAAAAAAAM!!

Emerald flame swept through the entire camp.