Reward

A blue-haired woman in a sleeveless top lay on the bed.

Cheong Haerin.

Guildmaster of Cheonghae ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Guild, the number one guild in South Korea, she turned the day over in her mind.

…I really survived.

Early that morning, Cheonghae's advance party had entered Floor 50. They had already been making regular attempts to clear it, and part of the point this time had been to test the power of the Fireball she had learned from the grimoire.

A hidden boss, on Floor 50. I never saw it coming.

A natural disaster in the flesh, its conditions for appearing still unknown. Cheong Haerin's party had been helpless against it. The tank holding the front line, and even the magic swordsman who served as their main dealer, went down in an instant, until only she—the supporter—and the healer were left.

Fleeing all the way to the exit with the vanguard gone was impossible.

So, grasping at whatever straw she had left, Cheong Haerin fired her one and only attack spell, Fireball - FinalRealRealRealRealLastWrapUpFinalVersion—

With that message, the awakened Cheong Haerin brought the hidden boss down.

…That sensation is still vivid.

Something about the Fireball's power had been wrong. Mana efficiency and output applied exactly as the numbers said, and yet—how was she supposed to put it?

The structure of the skill itself was different.

An intricate, immaculate architecture she could not begin to understand. A formula so perfect the word rose on its own. That Fireball seemed to declare that every skill Cheong Haerin had ever used, and every skill she had ever seen with her own eyes, was a counterfeit.

She clenched her fist tight and worked her mana.

So much cleaner.

The awakened state was not limited to the moments she cast Fireball. The very feel of handling mana had grown vastly sharper.

…That grimoire. What is it?

Cheong Haerin recalled the message that had appeared when she used it.

Creator.

The System had said it, plain as day.

Which means…

The grimoire might not have been some lucky find that had simply appeared in the Tower.

A production class.

If there was a person who could craft grimoires with no slot restriction—grimoires that rewrote your very constitution just by being used…

I have to secure them. Whatever it takes.

She set her mind and did not let it move. The one who could save South Korea now might be that person, and no one else.

I kept browsing the gallery.

I looked through the other posts after that, but most of them amounted to the same thing. How stupidly broken Cheong Haerin was, and the Fireball along with her. And, at the very end, curiosity about who I actually was.

…So this is my chance to get close to Cheong Haerin?

It would probably work. If I revealed I was a Grimoire Maker, the support would come pouring in. They'd flip my life around in no time.

But.

It could get dangerous, too.

The moment I showed my face, countless people would come after me. Obvious. Coming clean now would cost me more than it paid. I already had plenty of money. I didn't need anyone's backing.

For now, I lay low.

I locked that decision in. The next day, I went to the nearest Hunter Association and finished registering as an awakened.

If the word grimoire ever got out, someone might tail me someday. So when I registered my class, I fudged the class name and the skills a little.

They're not even gonna check.

High-rank hunters might be another story, but low-rank hunters got a sloppy mana-grade reading and were waved on through.

Anyway.

About time I went and picked it up.

I looked at the magic blueprint I had been eyeing since yesterday.

A slash skill you wanted from the name on down.

I'm learning this. No debate.

Clear the tutorial through Floor 5 and you hit level 2, and the blueprint unlocks. Word was that Floor 5 usually coughed up a few goblins and zombies and then it was over. It shouldn't be that hard.

Brimming with confidence, I headed for the Tower.

Enter.

White light wrapped around me.

A weapon window came up first. There were weapons of every kind, but my choice had been settled from the start. The strongest piece of gear that had stood guard over my house for a long time.

A silver bat settled into my hand.

Perfect fit.

Until now I had been using whatever I farmed off the side of the road. This one closed into my grip like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a weapon made to be mine. At this rate, goblins would be easy.

The message dropped me into a forest.

"Krrrk...!"

A goblin was coming in from far off.

"One?"

A strangely unrealistic number. The goblins of Hwaseong City usually roamed in twos and threes. Every proud citizen of Hwaseong has a memory of getting jumped and beaten senseless by them.

…Or not. Whatever.

Better wrap Floor 1 up quick.

No point wasting magic. I put it down easily, up close.

After that, I did more of the same. Drop a goblin, cave its skull in, move on to the next floor.

"Kiek—!"

When I reached Floor 4, three goblins threw themselves at me, fully prepared to die. Clang. Clang. But before me—a metal-bat owner just as prepared to die—they simply died, as equals.

Easy.

At this rate, even the boss on Floor 5 looked simple. People said it showed up based on what you had done across Floors 1 through 4.

However high it scales, a hobgoblin at best.

A hobgoblin was a top-end D-rank monster. In front of a Fireball this busted, it wouldn't matter at all.

I was waiting for the boss with that light a heart when—

An orc with four arms was striding straight toward me.

What the hell is that.

A lunatic four-armed monster, holding an axe, a greatsword, a shield, and a spear, one in each hand. An enemy that blew straight past anything I had pictured.

B-1?

Fortunately, that meant the very bottom of B-rank. Even so.

That is not a bastard that belongs in a tutorial.

Tense, I watched it.

The Four-Handed Orc was a pure stat-stick, a one-trick monster. No special abilities, so it was simple enough to read. But.

Didn't they call it the biggest piece of shit in history?

Stay far and it runs you through with the spear. Step in and it knocks you aside with the shield, and if you try to contest it for strength, the axe and the greatsword split your skull. The kind of monster that drags a curse out of you just for being the one who has to fight it.

Not that any of that applied to me right now.

Melee was never going to work in the first place.

I had farmed those goblins without mercy, sure. But the moment you can even sit at the same table as trash mobs like that, you're already disqualified. B-rank monsters are a different dimension.

So Fireball is all I've got?

I steadied my pounding heart and spread my mana.

"..."

The formula's school was elemental. The element at its center would be flame. The element I would use to give the magic its shape would be earth.

Mana rushed as I wove it fast and laid the formula open. After that, blend each part of the formula with precision, and shape the magic into something concrete. The spell would manifest across an area. I held the image of the formed magic bursting wide and swallowing everything around it, and then the formula began to tremble along with that image. I realigned my mana at once.

The rush evened out. A single unified form settled into place, and stability returned.

The same messages as last time.

Fwoosh! A massive ball of flame burned straight through the system window and showed itself.

Mana.

Tang! The mana I snapped off like a bullet launched the fireball. It flew true, straight at the Four-Handed Orc—

Boom! Its body was swallowed in flame.

…Next spell. Fast.

A B-rank monster was not going to die from this much. I was opening the distance, about to ready another cast, when—

Ding!

The Tower was cleared.