Dungeon Rampage (2)
Dungeon Rampage (2)
When something sudden strikes, the mind often freezes.
An event beyond comprehension erupts, and the mind, unable to handle it, briefly shuts down.
'A dungeon.'
I used to freeze up a lot, but for some reason, not now.
Maybe it was survival instinct—some part of me knowing that if I stopped here, I might die.
'An outbreak. No warning signs. This place has been swallowed. Is the dungeon's power pressing down on my spatial perception?'
A dungeon's consciousness fundamentally pursues indefinite persistence. No matter the situation, it acts to maintain itself.
That's why dungeons generate traps and spawn monsters to repel intruders. Outside enemies nearly always intend to destroy the dungeon.
Once a dungeon satisfies that goal of persistence, it turns its attention to something greater.
Indefinite persistence. Then, the will to expand.
When a dungeon persists long enough to accumulate surplus energy beyond a certain threshold, it erupts in an outbreak. That's why deliberate dungeon maintenance requires periodic subjugation.
'No warning signs?'
Surplus energy. A massive power, easy to detect.
The Tower of Observation constantly monitors the demon realm's frontlines. It detects monster movements aiming to encroach on inland territory and tracks the presence of high-rank monsters coiled deep within the demon realm.
With whatever bandwidth remains, it observes inland as well. It monitors high-risk villains and detects impending dungeon outbreaks in advance.
There was no warning. A sudden incident. A rare phenomenon—one that, after graduating from Siyoram, would become a daily catastrophe.
'Shit.'
Of all times... right when I'm here.
I suppressed the negative emotions. Bit down on my lip and reached out. I wrapped an arm around the waist of the child floundering beside me and lifted them up.
"...!?"
The child flinched in shock and thrashed. Unfortunately, I had no room for consideration right now. I adjusted my hold and kicked off the ground.
I circulated mana through my entire body. Body Reinforcement Technique: my legs, instantly strengthened, pushed off the ground and launched me forward.
Fierce wind pummeled my whole body. I opened my senses wide. This was no time for excuses about being bothered by it.
The wind carried countless sounds.
Terror-filled screams, the gruesome noise of flesh tearing and bone shattering, the crash of buildings collapsing and things exploding, monster cries...
Most of them were sounds I'd heard before.
I'd heard screams in that shitty house when I was young. I'd torn flesh and shattered bone killing monsters in dungeon practice. In the Tower of Growth, I'd even killed people, simulated though they were.
But this was reality. Not training, not a safe trial like in the Tower.
People had already died. They weren't coming back...
'The shelter.'
Over a century had passed since humanity's history of being trampled by dungeons and monsters began. A brief span measured against all of human history, but ample time to prepare countermeasures.
Most cities rebuilt after the Great Cataclysm have shelters designed for when areas fall under a rampaging dungeon's influence.
They can be used for typhoons, hails, earthquakes, and the like, but their primary purpose is refuge from the altered environment and the monsters swarming indiscriminately.
I spread my spatial perception wide.
Incoming information increased. I wasn't satisfied. Ever since the rampaging dungeon swallowed this place, my spatial perception had been performing poorly.
It churned violently. Kept pushing back against the external force, like a contest of strength.
A familiar sensation. The same feeling from the Tower of Growth, when spatial perception would get crushed and distorted, unable to assert itself.
The outcome was different. Back then, it could barely resist and stayed pinned down. Now, it was fiercely rebelling, forcing the dungeon's power back.
While searching for the shelter, I sensed multiple monsters.
Not just a few. Every time I scanned a new area, more monsters appeared.
The species varied, but the most numerous were red-furred beasts. Quadrupeds, their bodies at least twice my size.
'Red Leaf Hounds?'
Knowledge from the original story, lessons at Siyoram, and what I sensed through spatial perception all identified them as Red Leaf Hounds.
Red Leaf Hounds. Their standard classification was 7th Rank, giving them resistance to conventional firearms.
So the rampaging dungeon might be Grade 4. A stroke of luck amid misfortune. If it were Grade 3 or higher, survival odds would plummet.
I flicked my finger. The channeled mana formed a cluster of spell formulas.
Mana Bullet.
A mana projectile traced a blue arc through the air and struck a Red Leaf Hound's head.
Bang! The hound's head exploded with the blast. Fragments of split skull, shattered brain, and cerebral fluid scattered everywhere.
I flicked my finger again. Successive Mana Bullets flew in all directions.
- Bang! Thwump! Bang!
I fired Mana Bullets at every monster entering my spatial perception. Their heads burst on impact.
I wasn't worried about accuracy. Thanks to spatial perception, my projectile aim was nearly perfect.
'Found it.'
While moving and thinning out monsters, I located the shelter.
The shelter entrance looked like a typical bunker entrance. A heavy metal door stood wide open, as if urging people inside.
Surviving citizens were filing into the underground entrance in a steady line.
Two superhumans flanked the entrance, their faces tense as they scanned the surroundings. Their presence suggested they weren't particularly strong.
"H-hey! Over here! This way!"
One of the superhumans' gaze turned toward me. His eyes shot wide open and he waved his arm. Fortunately, there was no misunderstanding where they mistook me for a villain.
After landing lightly in front of the entrance, I set down the child I'd been carrying. The child staggered, complaining of dizziness, hair in complete disarray.
Meanwhile, the superhuman who'd waved at me spoke with urgency.
"You've grasped the situation by now, right? Most of the city's been swallowed by a rampaging dungeon and isolated!"
I knew. No one caught in the outbreak would fail to grasp the situation—except those who died the moment it hit.
"We need to buy time until the rescue squad breaches the outer wall! So...!"
I knew what he'd say next.
Modern citizens are trained in emergency action protocols for exactly this kind of situation. Even now, surviving citizens were desperately converging on the shelter.
Though many wouldn't make it, with monsters sprawled in every direction.
I nodded, then kicked off the ground.
- Tug
I tried to. My sleeve was pulled, stopping my legs. The culprit was the child I'd brought.
The child yanked at my sleeve with urgent movements.
Eyes that had been half-lidded as if bored were now wide open, openly brimming with worry.
Had this child seen me somewhere before? The question flickered through my mind, but I dismissed it immediately. Even if they had, they wouldn't recognize me now.
The perception-obstruction bracelet the Vice Headmaster had personally given me. With it on, I'd look like a completely different person.
In other words, even if someone knew Lee Ha-yul, what they saw right now wasn't Lee Ha-yul's appearance. I kept my mana well-controlled too, so there was no way to identify me as Lee Ha-yul.
'Don't worry.'
I wanted to say that, but the curse made it impossible. I could've conveyed it through the hologram, but time was too precious.
I pried loose the small fingers. There was no contest of strength, so they easily came undone.
Eyes that somehow resembled someone else's grew distant. I kicked off the ground repeatedly and cut across the city.
Sipnaha came into my spatial perception. It wasn't a particularly beautiful or artistically valuable city.
Sipnaha was a place that had emerged decades after the Great Cataclysm, its origin a settlement built by heroes and hunters who had been conquering dungeons in the area.
Perhaps because of that, the city was characterized more by practicality than aesthetic value.
That city was collapsing. People were dying everywhere. My spatial perception, staggering under its struggle against the external force, conveyed it all too clearly.
Maybe because of that, my head grew cold. The fear of death and other stray thoughts... given the gravity of the situation, they were pushed to the back of my mind.
I flicked my hand. Mana surged from my palm and formed spell formulas. I focused on neutralizing one monster per shot as much as possible.
There was no leeway to grip a weapon and kill them one by one up close. Even if it cost mana, killing them with magic was better.
The spent mana recovered quickly. Fatigue accumulated in my circuits and core, but there was no room to be fussy.
To survive, and to save more people, I had to resolve this situation somehow. I racked my brain.
'I need to suppress the outbreak.'
A dungeon is a massive subspace tethered to the world, a space often likened to a ship temporarily anchored in place.
To stop a ship, you must drop anchor. If the anchor is pulled, the ship drifts on the currents.
A dungeon works the same way. If its internal core is destroyed, the dungeon cannot sustain itself and collapses.
'Where's the core?'
Core types vary. It might be a structure that looks somehow special, or an abnormally massive mana crystal compared to others.
Or it could be a monster serving as the core.
A monster acting as a dungeon core is naturally labeled an Alpha. Such monsters are especially dangerous, even among Alpha individuals.
A core monster never leaves the dungeon's area of influence. As a result, it directly receives the dungeon's blessing, exerting overwhelming power compared to other individuals.
'A Grade 4 rampage?'
I focused on my spatial perception. Constant turbulence, but it was still doing its job.
The oppressive pressure pressing down from all sides... on closer examination, it wasn't coming from just one or two sources. At least five...
'Shit.'
All Grade 4? Then the standard rank of the spawned monsters would be around 8th Rank. The Alpha individuals? Probably 6th Rank...
'Can I handle this?'
The Parasitic Moth I'd seen in the Tower of Growth was a 5th-Rank Alpha. That thing died. Hong Yeon-hwa killed it, and I contributed to the takedown.
I'd grown since then. So could I kill one? I wasn't confident.
I hadn't confirmed whether there was an Alpha individual serving as the core yet, but if there was, I'd have to kill it to stop the outbreak.
If I didn't? There was another option. Wait for rescue from outside.
Communications were cut, so the outside world would've learned of the city's situation by now. The Association would immediately dispatch a rescue squad composed of available Top-grade and Upper-grade superhumans.
A dungeon's outer wall is sturdy. Before an outbreak, you wouldn't dare touch it, but the outer wall of a rampaging dungeon becomes relatively softer.
And this is the lowest grade—a Grade 4 dungeon. Pound on it from outside, and the outer wall will definitely crumble, letting the rescue squad get in.
...How long would that take? The fact that it was Grade 4 meant rescue was feasible at all.
From Grade 3 and above, external rescue is virtually impossible. Even for Grade 4, breaking the outer wall takes a full day at minimum.
How many would die in that time?
And...
'Why are there so few superhumans?'
Could we even hold out that long?
I kept mulling over that question while thinning the monster numbers as much as possible.
For some reason, I wasn't encountering many superhumans as I moved around. There was definitely a clan responsible for this city's defense, but I hadn't run into any of them.
Manpower was lacking. Too few superhumans were subjugating monsters. I couldn't sense any that seemed mid-upper grade or higher. Why?
'Shit...'
The situation was bad. A feeling that the odds of survival were thinning twisted my expression on its own.
- Crack
A sudden splitting sound. It felt like it came from very close by, but I couldn't identify its source.
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【Authority ｢Sp■ce and Obser□ation｣ is growing.】