Chapter 87
Chapter 87
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Sudden Windfall and Flames
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The panoramic night view of the city sprawled out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the high-rise suite.
Subtle ambient lighting and luxurious flooring and wall interiors.
On the massive bed in the center—big enough for five people to lie down comfortably without crowding—
"What the hell is this?"
Jeong-hyeon's hand trembled.
When he'd casually asked to borrow a dorm room, figuring he'd just skim a bit off Jeongjin's funds, Jun-won had handed him the presidential suite without batting an eye.
Jeong-hyeon had never even set foot in a hotel room before, let alone a suite, so everything felt novel. But the most astonishing part was the bed.
Unlike the lumpy mattress back in his studio apartment—one so sunken it was hard to tell if it was a spring bed or a slab of rock—
this suite's bed boasted a plushness so deep he worried it might swallow him whole.
Feeling too unworthy to dirty it in his grimy state, Jeong-hyeon had showered thoroughly before lying down reverently to bask in pure bliss.
And right around then, a message arrived from Jun-won.
- Hunter Han Jeong-hyeon. I hope you're resting comfortably. Just a heads-up: the raid payout has been wired. Details are in your email—please check and let me know if there's any issue.
"Damn, that's fast."
The Sea Guild and the Association were quick too, but Jeongjin matched them when it came to payouts.
Was the hunter world just hypersensitive about money, or were the people he'd raided with unusually efficient?
Either way, with a base salary of 100 million and artifact shares on top, Jeong-hyeon braced himself and opened his banking app.
Figured it'd be around 300 million, give or take.
- 580,000,000
"?"
But the unimaginable sum made him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment.
"Guess I'm so beat my eyes are playing tricks. Yeah."
Live long enough, and weird shit happens, he thought with a gentle smile.
He had confidence no one could outmatch his senses, but this raid must've taken more out of him than expected.
Hallucinations, of all things.
'I'll grab some artificial tears on the way home later and start taking lutein.'
Chuckling wryly, he opened his eyes again.
But the 580 million won hadn't budged.
"What the hell is this?"
His hands shook uncontrollably—hands that had never faltered before life-threatening danger or the mightiest boss monsters.
Some mistake, right?
Maybe they'd accidentally wired two people's pay to his account?
Jeong-hyeon resolved not to return it easily even if that were the case, then opened the emailed breakdown.
- Base Salary: 100,000,000
- Artifact Share Proceeds: 400,000,000
- Special Bonus: 80,000,000
Yet the straightforward list confirmed the full amount was rightfully his.
The special bonus was a mild surprise, but the contract had mentioned performance-based extras, so that tracked.
"As expected from the world's top guild, Jeongjin!"
Jeong-hyeon whooped, bouncing on the bed.
580 million.
580 million from one raid.
This was why they called it hunter life—and why megacorps were megacorps.
But his glee was short-lived.
Another thought wormed its way in.
"Hold up."
On second look, it wasn't some obscene sum overwhelming him—the breakdown was pretty vanilla.
If the bonus had been 400 million and the artifact 80, sure. But reversed?
The artifact share was 1/n.
Meaning Choi Ga-yoon's axe had fetched a whopping 20 billion won.
"No way that's real."
He'd sensed it in the gate, but that axe was a monster.
Even after guild fees, taxes, and miscellaneous cuts—still an insane haul.
But that was just his due share, and the base salary too.
After all that grind to clear the gate, a special bonus of 80 million?
Somehow, it left a sour taste.
Sure, 80 million was a fortune, nothing to sneeze at—but for slaying a brute who swung an axe like a person and cast spells? Meh.
'Spotting that thread took both mana sensitivity and combat sense.'
Not to mention, observing the thread essential for downing the boss? Near-impossible without him.
He was the specialist here.
"Tch. World ain't kind."
Moments ago he'd been singing megacorp praises, but now it felt like there was no such thing as a free lunch.
"So, what to do with this cash?"
Ultimately, the question was where to dump the sudden windfall.
"Pay off debts first... no need for gear right now..."
Top priority: wipe out the mana injection loan that had chained him for years.
With recent overpayments, about 150 million left.
That left 430 million.
Normally, he'd blow it on gear, but not feeling it now.
His orc leather armor was rags, but a demi drake leather set was coming soon if he held out.
Weapons were solid for now, Black especially reassuring.
With his movement speed trait, buying a car felt wasteful.
'Which leaves...'
His thoughts naturally converged on one option.
Maybe the opulent suite amplified it.
"Gotta buy a house."
Time to ditch that hellhole studio.
Come to think of it, the neighbor who'd awakened had moved out first thing.
Owning a home remained a dream unchanged even in this messed-up world.
That night, Jeong-hyeon slept soundly for the first time in ages, heart light with excitement and zero worries.
***
Aurora Guild, a mid-tier Korean guild.
They got flak for lacking firepower on mission gates, but they handled normal gates from level 2 to 6 with ease.
Formed almost immediately after gates appeared, their veteran strategies earned high marks.
Hunters clad in gear emblazoned with Aurora's signature emblem—a red-tipped compass cross—hunted steadily.
At their center, the water mage leader barked orders.
"Tank, hold that shield firm! If it's too much, tag in support and fall back!"
"Got it!"
They were tackling the level 6 gate 'Island of the Twilight Cyclops'—boss hunt in progress.
An 8-meter behemoth with swift strikes and ironclad defenses: a textbook level 6 boss, its single crimson eye glaring.
Perilous, yes—but it suited Aurora's safety-first style.
No fancy traits or patterns; just brute-force the frontal assault.
No star hunters or genius tactics here, but they progressed smoothly.
"Grraaah!"
Perhaps the puny humans' blows stung more than expected.
The scarred giant bellowed.
"Ugh..."
Aurora members visibly flinched.
Veterans who'd felled cyclopes multiple times, yet the primal fear from a colossal beast's aura was another beast entirely.
Their manual even advised pulling back to defense on aura bursts.
Silver lining: it only triggered below one-third health.
Proof the hunt was nearly done.
"Aura means endgame! No slacking!"
But complacency killed in gates.
The water mage knew it best, rallying the party once more.
Tank up front to weather the aura, then corner it calmly—hunt over.
"Watch the jump!"
The tricky bit: the cyclops's signature leap.
Massive frame, athletic prowess—deadly under aura.
One clean hit from that club meant instant death, even for a tank.
Experienced allies wouldn't fold easily, though—it was more pep talk.
Relief flickered behind their steady gazes.
End in sight.
Ranged mage and archer resumed peppering it safely.
"Grk..."
The giant swatted arrows and spells aside, fixed the hunters with a murderous glare, then staggered back a couple steps.
"...Huh?"
The healer tilted her head.
Cyclopes never retreated—high aggression to the end.
They'd swing that club one last time before dying, not backpedal.
The others froze, caught off-guard.
But the cyclops pressed on.
"What?"
The mana-sensitive mage gaped.
Whoosh—
Simultaneously, fireballs the size of the giant's torso—seven or eight—manifested around it.
Party members got it now, but understanding ≠ reacting.
Especially for Aurora, who thrived on scripted plays over improv—the gap widened.
"No way..."
Blazing orbs.
The cyclops's eyes burned just as fiercely amid them.
The mage, locking eyes, muttered in disbelief.
His final words.
Boom—
Fireballs rained like bombs on the rear lines.
The nimble archer dodged, barely surviving—but the frozen mage and healer perished.
Absurd deaths in the late stage.
Losing their leader-mage, Aurora crumbled.
The cyclops wielded flames and club freely—a walking apocalypse.
"Gah—"
The tank, shield forgotten, took a direct trunk smash and cratered into a cliff.
Flames followed, collapsing the outcrop.
The close-range DPS nearby met the same fate.
Only the archer escaped by a hair.
Guilt gnawed at abandoning comrades, but no time.
'Fucking hell...'
Curses flowed, but one had to escape.
If the 'Island of the Twilight Cyclops' boss wielded fire magic, "variable" didn't cover it.
If word didn't spread, this wipe was just the start.
All they could do was thank the stars it wasn't a mission gate—you could bail before clear.