Exploration Preparations

“Hey, Hajun.”

“Yeah?”

My sister paused for a moment, looking a little flustered. Then she spoke carefully.

“I get why you’re doing this. Why you became an explorer and why you go into dungeons as a Necromancer. But I came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠across some data the other day.”

“Data?”

“Yeah. The ratio of new explorers deployed versus those who returned over the past two years.”

The moment I heard that, I knew exactly what she was trying to say. And it wasn’t just any time—this was right after I’d gone to hunt goblins, lost my entire party, and come back alone.

“The ratio’s gotten way worse than before. Sure, the number of new explorers has increased, but even accounting for that, the death rate has shot up. It’s already over fifteen percent.”

So many of the newcomers had already died. She must have been worried sick. It had been a full two years since I started working as an explorer, but I was only just now starting to act like a real one. I was finally at the level where I could move beyond simple errands and dive properly into dungeon exploration.

But with rookies dropping like flies right now, there was no way she wouldn’t be concerned.

“Quit being an explorer,” Seoha noona said.

“I’m not saying quit forever. It’s just too dangerous right now… You know that, right? Something’s off around here. It feels like things are happening that didn’t used to. I’m not an explorer so I don’t know the details, but… I can still tell. It’s dangerous right now.”

It seemed like she wasn’t just telling me to stop because it was risky. She had thought this through.

“I talked to the guild master, and he said he’d help you find a job. You’re a Necromancer, after all. You could find plenty of other work. Take a year off, catch up on your studies. You’re good at writing too, right? Help out at the guild. Please, Hajun?”

I didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand. The recent Goblin Nest raid had featured events I’d never seen in Dungeon Overseer. Like the one where a goblin shaman and an orc warrior appeared together. That was something my game knowledge couldn’t cover.

That was why I’d lost my comrades.

Something was happening that fell outside the scope of my foreknowledge. Continuing to enter dungeons like this was dangerous. I'd survived this time thanks to luck, but there was no guarantee I'd be as fortunate next time.

But paradoxically, that was exactly why I had to go back into dungeons even faster.

The fact that things were happening that I didn't know about meant my foreknowledge was reaching its expiration date. If I waited too long, I'd drift even further away from the world of Dungeon Overseer and end up facing completely unpredictable events.

Right now, I still had usable game knowledge left. I didn’t have a year to waste playing around.

“I’m busy, noona.”

“Hajun…”

“I barely know any necromancy as it is. There’s nothing else I can do. Learning is way faster in dungeons anyway. And if I helped with guild work, we’d have to split the salary. Would that be okay? Aren’t you a rich girl, noona?”

Seoha noona crossed her arms. She clearly didn’t like my answer.

“You’re really going to keep going into dungeons?”

“I need to make money.”

There was no way two people could split the measly pay from cleaning corpses at the guild. An explorer should act like an explorer and go into dungeons. The weight of her dissatisfied gaze was too much, so I couldn’t sit there any longer. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I scarfed down the slightly overcooked noodles and stood up.

Still, it was a good noodle place.

“The food was great, noona.”

From behind me, I heard Seoha noona’s faint voice. I pretended not to hear it and kept walking.

Now that I’d eaten, I stopped by the smithy to see if there was a weapon I could buy to replace the saw blade that had broken last time.

The smithies were lined up on the outskirts of the city. As expected of an explorer town, they were always busy forging weapons ordered by explorers. Various weapon smiths and armorers hammered iron with flushed faces.

The blacksmith uncle calling out to me was one of them.

“Uncle.”

I think his name was Docheol. He was a rare blacksmith who knew how to make saw blades, so we’d exchanged a few greetings. While the citizens of the city hated Necromancers, the blacksmiths were close with explorers and didn’t openly ignore or curse at me. Especially Docheol, who made necromancer gear and knew quite a few Necromancers.

“Heard you came back yesterday?”

The rumor had already spread.

“Labi came by this morning. Said he found something interesting in the report?”

“Huh?”

“The higher-ups gave you a nickname. Hahahahaha. ‘The Necromancer Who Calls Death.’ You’ve gotten a bit famous, huh?”

What? The Necromancer Who Calls Death?

…The reason for such an obvious nickname left me speechless. It was simple. Just that I was ridiculously unlucky. Since I kept sending all my dungeon comrades ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠straight to the grave, that was the nickname I got.

To be precise, it was ‘The Necromancer Who Calls His Comrades’ Deaths.’

It sounded like the title of a Crayon Shin-chan movie. Fuck. This was a complete blacklist.

“They say if you go into a dungeon with him, you don’t come back alive? There are plenty of guys who die from bad luck, but you’re the first person I’ve seen with such terrible luck in my life. Is it because you’re a Necromancer? Hahahahat. Oh, if you get even more famous later, make sure to tell everyone you bought your weapon from my shop, okay?”

Docheol seemed to really like the weird nickname stuck to me. He kept chuckling to himself, lost in strange thoughts.

Ha. Life.

But what the hell was so funny that this uncle was giggling like that? It was starting to piss me off. So I threw in a line.

“Then next time I go to a dungeon, I’ll bring your wife along too. It’ll be good in many ways.”

After hearing my lame joke, Docheol widened his eyes before bursting into loud laughter.

“Kuhahahahat! That’s a great idea! Then I’ll pack a lunchbox and see you off!”

I’d said it to annoy him, but he was enjoying it way too much. They say people change when they get married. Maybe it was true.

Anyway.

“Why did you call me?”

Docheol stroked his short-trimmed beard and said,

“There’s a new item that came in.”

“A new item?”

Not something he made, but a new item had arrived. When an item came into a smithy, it was usually one of two cases.

First. The item’s quality was so low it couldn’t be resold at the market, so it had to be melted down into scrap. Most defective goods flowed into smithies and were turned into new weapons. But there was no reason for Docheol to try selling me junk.

Second. The item was fine, but he couldn’t find a buyer at the market. The item was so unusual that he’d rather sell it to a blacksmith for scrap value. Some class-specific weapons fell into this category, and there was only one weapon Docheol would mention to me.

“You know about the Necromancer with ten fingers, right?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“That guy. He died yesterday.”

I’d heard the name. In Dungeon Overseer terms, he was around level 5. With a max level of 10, level 5 put him in the mid-tier explorer category. A level 5 Necromancer was just starting to get seriously strong. And he’d died.

The reason Docheol had called me became clear.

“I’ll sell you his belongings cheap. Take it.”

“I don’t have any money, though.”

I pretended to be uninterested for now. I played dumb. If it was equipment used by a level 5 Necromancer, it had to be high quality. It wouldn’t be ragged or rusted. At full price, a scrub like me couldn’t even dream of it.

“I’m giving it to you cheap.”

“Well, I mean…”

Docheol had obviously assumed I’d be interested. When I pushed back, he looked visibly flustered. He made good stuff, but he had no talent for bargaining.

“Hey. Do you even know what this is? That guy paid a full 1000 ron to have it made. I’m telling you, this is something a Necromancer like you will never get in your lifetime.”

“Come on. It’s probably just a saw blade anyway.”

“Isn’t it about time you changed weapons?”

Just from that little probe, the bite was insane. I kept acting uninterested so I wouldn’t show I liked it. If I acted too eager, he’d jack up the price.

“How much are you asking?”

“500 ron.”

Not bad. Buying something worth 1000 ron at half price would be a steal. But judging by the uncle’s expression, I felt like I could haggle a bit more. Let’s try.

“That’s too expensive.”

“Hey, you little shit. I told you it’s originally 1000 ron. I’m giving it at half price. Half.”

“But isn’t this too high-end for me? You said it yourself. It’s so good I wouldn’t even get to see it. Why would a single saw blade cost 500 ron?”

At that, Docheol’s already red face twisted into a scowl.

“Just wait right there.”

He stomped into the smithy and soon came back carrying a large saw blade. Even at a glance, it looked incredibly well-made. It was definitely something he could be proud of.

“What do you think?”

He held the saw blade out with a triumphant look. His face asked, You’re not going to pass this up, are you?

I took the saw blade from him and drew it from its sheath. A low-level explorer like me couldn’t accurately judge how good it was. I’d probably just think it was good because it was expensive. But I had the Status Window.

As expected, it was a high-grade item far beyond what someone at my level could normally obtain. My level was in the late 2s… so roughly level 3. A weapon with 15 damage was overwhelmingly powerful. The rusty saw blade I used before only had 4 damage. That meant my attack power had basically quadrupled.

And then there was the price. The system valued the Steel Saw Blade at 1600 ron. Yet the uncle was willing to sell it for 500.

If I didn’t have the system, I never would’ve known any of this. It was a bit of a loophole, but surviving in a roguelike game without these little tricks was impossible.

After checking the detailed information, I was certain. I had to buy this.

“It’s nice.”

When I praised it, Docheol’s face lit up with a wide grin.

“Hahahahahat! Of course it is! Who do you think made it? Just pay 500 ron and take it!”

If I had the money, I would’ve taken it without another word. If I had the money.

But where the hell was I supposed to get money? I’d returned from the Goblin Nest mission halfway through, so I didn’t even know how much I’d get paid. I wasn’t haggling because I wanted to. I had no choice.

“It is nice, but…”

I laid down some bait to slip away. The uncle’s face darkened again.

“What’s the problem now?”

“I’m not sure if I’ll have any use for it right away even if I take it now.”

“What? Kid, of course you’ll have a use for it!”

“Well, yeah, but… You know, I saw some data the other day?”

“Data?”

Docheol looked confused as he repeated the word.

“Yeah. It was about the mortality rate of new explorers over the past two years. Apparently it’s gone up to fifteen percent for explorers like me.”

“…”

“The guild’s telling me to be more careful too… It really is a great item, but… it’s expensive…”

Docheol’s body trembled.

“Then how much would you pay?”

“Around 300?”

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

I was. And he was sharp enough to notice. Docheol looked utterly stunned. It was a miracle he didn’t collapse on the spot. Asking for a 1000 ron sword for 300 ron.

But that number wasn’t actually unreasonable.

First. I wasn’t actually planning to get it for 300. Unless the uncle had lost his mind, he’d ask for more than that.

“450.”

See? He’d already cut 50 ron on the spot.

“350?”

“You… you little swindler. Are you a Necromancer or a con artist? Do you even have a conscience?”

“Uncle, how much money can a Necromancer make anyway? Even 350 is pushing it for me.”

Second. No one else would buy it. This wasn’t baseless confidence.

The key point was this: [*This weapon was used by a Necromancer. It carries the Smell of Death.]

Only a Necromancer would buy it. And in this city, the only low-level Necromancer was me. In the end, he could either sell it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to me or hold onto it until another buyer appeared.

“Ugh…”

The usually bold and generous Docheol didn’t seem like he had that kind of patience. And sure enough, he quickly raised the white flag.

“400 ron. Take it or leave it!”

He’d cut another 100 ron. The money I’d received after clearing the Unclaimed Cemetery last time was exactly 400 ron. Perfect.

“Deal.”

When I smiled and held out my hand, Docheol twisted like he was about to foam at the mouth. Even though it was used, I’d bought a good weapon cheap.

Before leaving the smithy, I said goodbye to Docheol.

“I’ll come again.”

In just a few minutes he seemed to have aged years. He nodded weakly.

The timing was awkward to head back to the guild. I should stop by the explorer office first. As much as I hated it, it was time to meet my supervisor.