The Weight of Melancholy
Flames began to flicker along the blade of Karen's greatsword. A feeble blaze, utterly embarrassing compared to that of a grand sorcerer or fire spirit. But even such a puny flame wouldn't die out on her watch. Not as long as her hatred for erosion entities refused to fade.
That was her innate ability. Or more precisely, the tiniest spark of an ability that hadn't fully awakened yet.
"Hup!"
The flames engulfing her greatsword in a dazzling display surged toward the hazy slime. Slash! Karen's scorching blaze cauterized the long gash she'd carved into the slime's body. A streak of deep blue hazy slime charged fiercely at her flank from the side.
"Get lost!"
Karen kicked it away savagely with her shoe-clad foot, retrieved her greatsword, and pressed the attack once more. Her movements flowed in seamless, efficient succession, leaving me genuinely impressed.
It's really something, isn't it?
Karen had never received formal combat training from anyone. She couldn't afford to pay for it, and she'd never had anyone she could trust enough to learn from. It wasn't by choice—her circumstances had forced it on her.
Yet despite that, she wielded battle instincts so refined they seemed impossible for self-taught skill. What had forged such prowess? Was it the innate talent of this world's protagonist, Karen? Or the desperate struggle of a fragile life clinging to survival in a hopeless wasteland?
Whatever the case, I couldn't help but respect her. As someone who'd walked a similar path just a step ahead.
I knew all too well how grueling the hardships and trials she'd endured—and those yet to come—truly were.
"…"
Karen closed her eyes briefly after slicing the final hazy slime clean through, catching her breath.
"…I can do it. Let's go."
With that short murmur, she stepped deeper into the dungeon. Was that whisper meant for me, or for herself? I couldn't even guess.
The dungeon was far larger than I'd imagined. About an hour in, I found myself tilting my head, wondering, Was this place always this long?
But the mystery resolved itself soon enough.
The game couldn't capture the full scale of this world.
When I first arrived here, I'd realized Providence was grander and vaster than I'd thought. The medium of a game simply couldn't convey its immense size. So this dungeon, too, must dwarf its in-game counterpart.
Not that it changed much—just meant the clear time would drag a bit longer.
And so, we pressed on.
Slash! Slicing hazy slimes.
Stab! Piercing oblivion slimes.
We burst the clusters trying to drag us into that deep, dark abyss, advancing relentlessly. Taking short breaks along the way, we finally reached the final gateway.
Strange, indecipherable script etched briefly on the massive door.
"Ancient script," Karen muttered, running her eyes over it.
I pulled out my smartphone from my pocket and replied, "Yeah. Back in the day, they had to puzzle out each character the hard way. Good thing tech's advanced."
These days, translation apps handled most ancient languages with ease. Click. I snapped a photo, letting it recognize the text. Soon, the meaning materialized before us.
It has no weight, no form.
Yet it presses down on our eyelids and weighs endlessly on our hearts.
It's been with us since birth, yet it always seeks to drag us into the silent deep.
What is this unseen thing?
A riddle probing the identity of "this" thing.
"…What the hell? I don't get a single word."
Karen scowled at it, grumbling just like she did in the game. Quizzes demanding creative leaps weren't her strong suit. Normally, her D-Class companion, the brainy Porun, would shine here and solve it. But with no Porun around, I'd have to fill in.
"The answer is melancholy."
I stepped forward and declared it. Then—
Rumble…!
The massive door blocking our path began to grind open. Dust fell like snow, hinting at how many ages it had stood sentinel.
Why melancholy? Simple—this dungeon's theme wove through that very emotion.
Melancholy has no weight, no form. Yet it presses our eyelids, crushes our hearts endlessly. It's been with us since birth, always pulling us toward the silent deep.
It's not just spotting the answer in the words; you have to grasp why such a riddle guards this place.
"You knew that from prior knowledge too?"
"Believe me if I say I just figured it out on the spot?"
"No."
"Smart girl. Ask later if you're curious—I'll explain why it's the answer. But right now…"
Beyond the half-open door loomed a massive coffin.
"No time for that. Grab your weapon."
"Boss, huh."
She got it perfectly, even through my mangled phrasing. I liked that about her.
We approached leisurely, unhurried, toward the lone coffin in the vast chamber. When we were roughly ten meters away—
Crack!
Something shattered the coffin's lid and revealed itself. A deep navy beast evoking an endless ocean abyss. The dungeon's boss: the Nightmare Slime King.
Consciousness Synchronization: The Sculptor Who Turned His Back on the World, Park Jeonghyeon
I synced my consciousness immediately and lunged at the boss before it could fully rise, swinging my sculpting knife.
"…!"
But as expected of the Nightmare Slime King, the blade wouldn't penetrate properly, unlike with lesser foes. A limit of this 2-star consciousness. If it were a mere beast instead of an erosion entity, my title might've let me deal some damage.
Ignoring my feeble strike, the Nightmare Slime King rose with a ferocious roar, swinging its fist.
!!!
That eerie, horrifying bellow froze me for an instant, but I'd anticipated its move and shifted beforehand, barely dodging. I jammed the sculpting knife into its elbow, exposed after the punch.
The thrust, concentrating physical force into a pinpoint, mercifully pierced its flesh. But…
As expected.
No proper joints to exploit—it showed no hesitation, unleashing another barrage. Attacks too fast to track visually. A terrible matchup for the sculptor's consciousness all around.
I dodged its assaults by a hair's breadth, unable to mount any real resistance. Then—
Slash!
Karen's greatsword sheared off one of its arms in a flash. The heavy mass of the blade combined with her immense strength delivered destructive power the boss couldn't withstand.
With one arm gone, the Nightmare Slime King switched targets from me to her and charged.
My face hardened instantly. I couldn't be sure current Karen could handle its swift, brutal strikes. Even I, a master of evasion, was struggling—could she manage with that cumbersome greatsword?
And with her as the only one able to land effective hits, drawing its focus was the last thing we needed.
So I'd force its attention back to me. Buy her time for a one-shot kill.
Consciousness Synchronization: The Fisherman Who Hooks Through Time, Park Jeonghyeon
"Hyah!!"
With the fisherman's consciousness synced, I whipped my fishing rod at it. The line ensnared the Nightmare Slime King like it had a mind of its own, pulling taut.
It was restrained successfully. But one thing I hadn't anticipated:
What the hell kind of strength…!
I was the one binding it, yet I was the one getting dragged along. At this monstrous power, the line wouldn't hold long. Even the fisherman couldn't handle it.
One option left.
To make it count, I'd need to get up close. Time for a gamble.
I braced my core and yanked the rod with every ounce of strength I could muster. For a brief moment, the boss's movement halted—but then it seized the line in annoyance at my struggle and reeled me in violently.
My body lifted off the ground, hurtling toward it. Just as planned.
Closing the gap in an instant, I released the sync and called up a consciousness I hadn't used in ages.
Consciousness Synchronization: The Demonic Actor, Park Jeonghyeon