Unequal Contributions
The injured party’s leader spoke up hesitantly. “Um… would it be all right if we traveled with you, just at a distance?”
“One of our teammates is hurt. His leg…”
We had just cleared the wolf den when a six-person mixed party asked to accompany us. Every member’s armor was battered and twisted, and they could barely stay on their feet. One man, carried on another’s back, had a deep gash on his leg; his pants were soaked through with blood, and he was unconscious.
Party leader Arin asked the team for their opinion. Everyone nodded without hesitation. We had seen plenty of ugly sights inside dungeons, but none of us were heartless enough to abandon people in this state—especially since they weren’t even asking for potions or supplies.
In the end, we began marching with roughly twenty meters between our groups.
While we walked, we discussed how to divide the spoils. A small disagreement arose.
“If we go by contribution, Yeonhee’s share should be overwhelming. I don’t like riding on someone else’s coattails. Just splitting the mine profits already feels like we owe her more than we can repay.”
“I agree. Maybe Yeonhee should take all the boss rewards this time?”
“What? No, that’s separate from this…”
Our current arrangement was an even split, but Baek Arin felt that rule didn’t apply fairly to this dungeon. She and Jua kept trying to push the rewards toward Yeonhee, yet Yeonhee refused every time.
“That’s that, and this is this!”
“Good grief… you’re stubborn too, Yeonhee.”
Thanks to Yeonhee’s insistence, we finally agreed that each person would keep the runes they personally obtained. When the three of them finished talking and turned to look at Ham Eunyeong—who had been silently staring into her mirror—the quiet girl spoke for the first time in a while.
“I’m fine with that…”
Instead, Eunyeong approached Baek Arin and whispered that she wouldn’t mind lowering her own share even further in future dungeons. Of course, Yeonhee rejected that idea as well. Even if someone’s contribution was lower today, equal distribution made sense for any long-term party that wasn’t just a one-day arrangement. If the gap ever became too large, we could simply change members.
If I were still human, the profit split would have been completely different, but I found myself curious how Yeonhee’s future would unfold if she kept choosing this path.
Anyway, we wrapped up the reward discussion.
Arin kept glancing over her shoulder as we moved, never letting her guard down.
“Should we take the rear?”
That would have been convenient for us, but it would strip away most of the benefit for the other party. If they thought I was following right behind them, would they even be able to walk properly?
“I’ll just have the summons form a wall.”
“No! If you use too much mana, you might collapse tomorrow, Yeonhee.”
“Why don’t we just take tomorrow off? Today was brutal.”
“Mm… I’ll think about it while we walk.”
Since the others wanted Yeonhee to conserve her power, we only swapped my position from the front line to the rear and kept the formation otherwise unchanged.
The party trailing us maintained the exact distance they had promised. The power gap between our two groups was obvious, so the ones who should have been nervous were them, not us. Even so, they had asked for help from a stronger party because, compared with other groups, we probably looked relatively “kind.” Without the summons, we were just a bunch of early-twenties girls.
It was roughly ten kilometers from the wolf den back to the entrance. Even at a brisk pace, it would take about two hours. The sun was already setting, so by the time we reached the exit it would be full night.
At night, monsters grew noticeably stronger and more aggressive. Treants that stayed rooted during the day might start attacking on sight, the chance of encountering champion variants rose, and occasionally even unique monsters—rarely seen inside dungeons—would appear. Some hunters deliberately entered at night hoping to meet them, but the probability increase was tiny; most nights ended in disappointment.
Even after all the unexpected events we had faced lately, we believed such things wouldn’t happen every single day.
On the way back, several strengthened mobs launched preemptive attacks, but the Spectre Chehwa handled them all.
“I wish I had a Spectre too… sob…”
Arin seemed quite taken with Chehwa—specifically the elegant line of her waist when she swung her hand-scythe. The comment left me momentarily blank, wondering what on earth she was talking about, but I didn’t bother trying to understand.
(Hey—Ran? Pass a message to Yeonhee for me.)
(You insolent fool! How dare you speak your master’s name so casually!)
Mentioning Yeonhee’s name earned me a full minute of scolding from Ran. Then, unusually, Ran stopped and asked me a question.
(Have you ever tried to speak?)
(……)
I had nothing to say to that. At first I had pretended to be a monster so Yeonhee wouldn’t discover my human past. But she was no longer the person I once knew. Her aversion to people had lessened considerably. Even if I started speaking, she probably wouldn’t cast me aside or stop summoning me. Of course, I couldn’t speak as fluently as I had when human, but being able to exchange simple intentions would be convenient for me as well.
‘Effort, huh… It’s frustrating in situations like this, but… do I really need to?’
We had managed fine without direct conversation so far, and Yeonhee had never forced me to speak. She already knew I could read from the moment she named me, so she could have tried written messages, yet she hadn’t. More than anything, I simply had no idea how to produce speech.
I wasn’t some prodigy who could achieve anything I set my mind to.
‘……Hm. Maybe I don’t actually need vocal cords?’
Skills like Whisper or Telepathy would solve the problem instantly.
‘Well… someday I’ll visit Jeju, but that’s still a long way off…’
The colossal underwater dungeon “Nando,” located between Jeju and Udo, was home to monsters with telepathy-like abilities. Stealing one of their skills would let me converse without issue. But the dungeon’s name said it all—it was no easy place. The first hunters to challenge it had complained so bitterly about the difficulty that the name stuck. If the Giant’s Dungeon on Geoje Island was the ultimate goal for early Awakeners and S-rank hunters, then Nando served as the benchmark separating A-rank from S-rank.
I shook off the thought, endured the rest of Ran’s scolding, and relayed the message to Yeonhee.
(Ilwol says he needs a greatsword. He also wants to try forging one using the minerals we obtained earlier.)
“Huh? Really?! I thought he’d start making weapons out of bone by now, but I guess that’s still not possible. Hehe—”
I had been a little worried about her reaction, yet Yeonhee looked oddly delighted.
“Is there anything else you need? While we’re at it, should we get everything else made too? Let me talk to Ilwol a bit more—will you help, our cute little Ran?”
(I-I’m not that c-cute… ehehe…)
When Yeonhee patted Ran’s round head, the little spirit’s fur puffed up like cotton candy before she flew back to me.
(Ahem—tell me what else you require. Or anything else you wish to say—)
‘Nothing else I need… anything else… ah!’
(I want to know why my Fireballs keep missing.)
(Hm? Is it not because you lack magical talent?)
(…… That might be part of it, but… what do you know about me, you little punk! Just ask her. Don’t add your own commentary.)
(Very well. I’m in a generous mood today.)
Ran passed the message along. Yeonhee’s expression darkened for a moment before she turned to Jua and repeated my question.
Jua, who had been carried on Deonni No. 2 after running out of stamina, jolted in surprise and looked straight at me.
“A summon trying to figure that out on its own is already ridiculous, but I’ve seen enough weird things that I’m not surprised anymore. Anyway, the problem you’re having is something even human mages run into sometimes. About two percent of them eventually give up on the mage path because of it.”
‘Whoa…?’
I thought I had a decent grasp of basic mage knowledge, but this was news to me. As if reading my mind, Jua continued.
“Even though everyone experiences it, most people don’t know for three reasons. First, mages have too much pride to admit it. Second, the number of people who struggle with it is small. Third, the period of difficulty is usually very short.”
I nodded.
“Another reason is that people tend to underestimate magic. Those who don’t know think casting Magic Missile is easy—like you can just hit whatever you want the moment you awaken. But landing even one Magic Missile properly isn’t as simple as an archer hitting a target.”
I nodded again, more vigorously this time.
“So why does your Fireball fly off in the wrong direction? There are several possible reasons, but first let me ask: what are your primary affinity and elemental alignment?”
“Uh… um… Our Ilwol is… well…”
Yeonhee started to answer, as if it were her duty, but quickly fell into deep thought. She didn’t actually know the precise answer either.
“I’m not sure. He’s so versatile that it’s hard to pick just one…”
“Right. I can see that too. But it’s still something we need to clarify. A mage who doesn’t know where she’s headed? That’s unacceptable.”
“…I’m sorry. I remember reading about it, but I never thought to check. It’s my fault.”
“No, Yeonhee, you don’t need to apologize.”
‘Not having decided where to go… yeah, that’s true…’
Feeling she might have some insight, I edged closer to Jua.
“Ahem—”
She glanced at me sideways as I approached, moistened her lips, and continued.
“Mages are broadly divided into three affinities: offensive, defensive, and support. Fireball obviously falls under offensive. First we need to determine which of these three you’re specialized in. Next is elemental alignment. There’s the elemental school—No Hayun, who uses ice, belongs to it. I’m also elemental, though some argue my abilities fall under the natural school depending on the academic faction.”
“Look at you, already dropping No Hayun’s name so casually just because you came from the Vision Guild. Impressive, Bae Jua!”
“Shut it, rabbit.”
She flashed Arin a quick middle finger for interrupting, then turned back to me.