Predetermined Destiny

These days, whenever I had a free moment, it was dungeon time.

Whether to keep the Academy from collapsing or to claim the Plant Queen's reward item down the line, I needed to get stronger as fast as possible. That thing was nearly impossible to use without a serious amount of mana.

I planned to clear dungeons at maximum speed until Kang Jiye summoned me to the Hunter Administration.

Level 28 already.

Pecia's leveling speed defied imagination. In most games you had to hunt monsters matching your class to rack up experience, but this body leveled up no matter what I killed. It almost felt like the experience wasn't based on how strong the opponent was… but on how many skills I used to take them down.

Why crafting Party Bears gave me experience, and why massacring monsters also gave me experience—I had no idea. What I did know for certain was that my leveling speed wasn't slowing down. If anything, it was accelerating.

I was starting to feel like I might actually take flight. It was a rush I'd never gotten when I'd played as the protagonist in my past life.

"Status window."

Hell yeah. As expected.

My stats had climbed even higher than I'd anticipated. Five stat points per level-up. For a normal game character, this kind of build would have been absurd. But every time a skill ranked up I got bonus stats on the side, and equipping Pecia-exclusive items inflated my numbers a second time—so the growth rate felt completely out of control.

If yesterday's me could crush a ghoul's skull with a bare fist, today's me could probably punch a hole straight through its forehead with a pinky finger. Considering most humans spent years training just to climb a single rank, this growth curve was ridiculous.

Skills, though…

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Why did so many skills unlock all at once?

Hitting A-rank had dumped a whole cascade of them on me. Pecia's spell class was built around poker hands, and a Flush was enough to store spells that could shred top-tier hunters—execution spells that instantly killed anyone with less mana than you, for instance.

I stood there staring blankly at the status window, completely floored.

"Purple Bunny! Boss incoming!"

"……!"

Right—we weren't done yet. Today was my first attempt at an upper-rank gate.

A Stone Gargoyle the size of a house came flapping in on heavy wings, then dropped out of the air like a falling boulder and slammed its palm into the floor.

And in that instant—

Kwaa…

The world slowed to a crawl. Cracks spiderwebbed out from the gargoyle's palm, deepening by the second, until the entire stretch of ground heaved upward with a low, grinding roar. The dungeon floor flipped over like a clod of dry earth, and a shockwave loaded with massive chunks of stone swept across the whole area.

Oh crap.

KRAAAAAASH— BOOM!!!!!! BOOM!!

"Aaaagh!!!"

"Deploy barriers! Get behind the shields!"

The party members up front all scrambled behind the armored tanks. Science and technology were all well and good, but when it came to defense, nothing beat armor saturated with mana.

But then—

In the split second the blast obscured everyone's vision, the gargoyle's tail punched straight through the shockwave and smashed into two armored tanks at once.

KRAAANG!

"……!!!"

The A-class tank went skidding backward, carving twin grooves into the floor, while the B-class tank's shield shattered outright and sent him flying. Crack! The other party members caught him from behind and kept him from slamming into the wall. The B-class tank snapped back to his senses at once, drove his greatsword into the ground, and unfurled a translucent barrier. The white shield flared again and again as it bounced away the storm of falling stone.

"Whoa…"

Yeah. Upper-rank hunters really are on another level.

The monsters here existed in a completely different dimension from anything in a D-class gate. One slip could put the whole party in danger, so nobody ever blanked out—and even when something unexpected hit, they adapted on the spot.

"Purple Bunny! You're in danger over there! What are you even doing?!"

Sorry.

I, on the other hand, was not an upper-rank hunter in any real sense. Plenty of power, not nearly enough experience. The protagonist I'd played before had always wrecked everything with a tiny elite squad, so this kind of party play still felt foreign.

Well. As long as I did my job properly, that should be enough.

"Three of a Kind."

(5♠ 5◆ 5♣ — Water Cannon.)

(2◆ 2♣ 2♥ — Chain Lightning.)

I threw the strongest hands I had. Efficiency wasn't great, but from Three of a Kind upward I could store intermediate magic. The plan was to slam water-attribute magic into lightning and cancel out the shockwave.

Unfortunately, half-baked spells weren't enough to break through a dungeon's solid architecture. The Chain Lightning fizzled out weakly, and I took the full brunt of the stone barrage head-on.

"Purple Bunny!"

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

Hmm.

Weird. It wasn't that the damage didn't exist—but for an upper-rank dungeon, the tension felt a little lacking. Even though I clearly hadn't finished growing yet, this was easier than when I'd played the protagonist.

Deciding I could tank it, I deliberately ate the attacks and fired back.

"Two Pair, Two Pair, Three of a Kind, Three of a Kind…"

If I didn't have the power, I'd win with volume. In the blink of an eye, cards sprayed out like a machine gun, punching through the shockwave and starting to reach the gargoyle.

Tak! Tak!

But of course—being a B-class dungeon boss—the cards couldn't pierce its hide. The Three of a Kind cards managed a few tiny scratches on the stone skin; everything else bounced off uselessly. For the record, I'd applied elemental magic to every single one.

Tch.

—GROOOOAAAR!

Apparently I'd drawn its attention, because the gargoyle stopped slamming the ground. The shockwave finally died.

"All units, attack!"

The party opened fire as one. Mana rockets, sniper rifles, traditional sword aura—everything poured into the gargoyle. Upper-rank hunters' strikes actually meant something; bits of its hide began to flake away.

Then the gargoyle gave its wings a single heavy beat, and dozens of whirlwinds sprang up, shearing every attack aside. These weren't ordinary wind currents—they were high-class wind magic.

The man with the sniper rifle shouted,

"……It's not connecting! We have to go melee!"

Thoom!

But the gargoyle didn't miss the opening. It kicked off the ground and charged straight at the party leader with unbelievable speed for something the size of a house.

"Damn it!"

The party leader was a pure damage dealer who used a rapier. Against a hard-skinned melee beast like a gargoyle, the matchup was terrible. If that thing hit him clean, he wouldn't walk away.

I launched myself forward like a ricochet and landed right between the gargoyle and the leader.

The middle-aged man leading the party went wide-eyed.

"You're alri—!"

He must have thought I'd gotten knocked out cold. I'd introduced myself as a pure mage type, after all.

"Fall back. Flush."

(3♠ 7♠ 5♠ Q♠ K♠)

I'd unlocked four new card spells. Of those, I went with the strongest—Flush. It was a bit ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of a stretch for my remaining mana, but after facing the old Pecia in my past life, this was a hand I'd been dying to try.

Three hundred mana vanished in a single pull. Five cards shot forward, punching clean through both of the gargoyle's shoulders and its torso.

Pshhk!

The gargoyle's fist froze inches from my face. The two red eyes buried in the stone flickered, flickered again—then went dark for good.

……Huh?

What—it died?

I genuinely hadn't expected an instant kill. And I wasn't the only one stunned. As the gargoyle's body cracked apart and crumbled into sand, the leader—sweat still beading on his jaw—blinked hard.

"A… a one-hit kill? On a Stone Gargoyle?"

……

Ah, whatever. Half the boss rewards are mine either way.

"Account holder Kang Jiye, correct?"

"Yes."

I'd come as Purple Bunny, so I couldn't put down my own account. All rewards went into a bankbook Kang Jiye had set up separately, then transferred to me automatically.

The total payout for killing the Giant Stone Gargoyle came to roughly five hundred million won. Mana stones and other items were handled by the party leader, who'd deposit each person's share later based on contribution.

"……Highest contributor is Purple Bunny. No objections, I assume?"

An upper-rank dungeon party ran twenty people minimum. Split evenly, that would have been about twenty-five million each—but my performance had been so far above the rest that they earmarked a cool sixty million for me.

"……Uh, yeah."

"No objections."

"……"

A strange current ran through the party. A Giant Stone Gargoyle was known as a beast you couldn't one-shot unless you were S-class. Some mage nobody had ever heard of had shown up, landed the finishing blow with a spell no one recognized—of course they were dying of curiosity about who I was.

I'd gotten that look a lot while running dungeons.

"Um, Purple Bunny."

"Yes?"

"Would you maybe consider a fixed party…"

"I'm pretty busy with Safety Keeper work. Sorry."

"Ah. Right."

A fixed party? Please. Solo was way more profitable.

Lately, though, the number of people curious about me—and recognizing the mask—had jumped. One look at the rabbit mask and it was, "Oh, that card magic." There'd even been a researcher who wanted to know how I fired off multiple elemental spells instantly.

I had zero interest in talking to any of them. Things were fine as they were. Why bother engaging with the world?

"Oh, already deposited."

I checked the account. Upper-rank hunters moved fast—in just one week, I'd already piled up hundreds of millions. Today was my first upper-rank dungeon, and the income was several times what lower-rank gates paid.

But ordinary Mana Cloth cost about ten times more than the low-grade stuff. If I wanted to upgrade my Party Bear Crafting skill, I needed to keep the money coming. Purely for experience, farming lower-rank dungeons would have been easier… but I needed the income too, so for now I'd stick to B-class gates.

……?

I stopped mid-step and scanned my surroundings. Some disgusting mana was trying to worm its way into my head.

What the hell?

A man's mosquito-thin voice buzzed inside my skull.

"Excuse me?"

Make me do what?

……!! This—

My face twisted instantly. Looks like some kind of pervert had latched onto me. A pretty girl walking around in a magician's outfit—of course every weirdo in the area had to come crawling.

I flicked the mana off like it was nothing, clicked my tongue, and kept walking.

"……So Joker deploys here, and Purple Bunny goes on the opposite side."

Incheon Branch of the Hunter Administration. The operations meeting Director Kim Hansu had called was well underway. Orders would come down from Central anyway, so the meeting didn't mean much—but Kim Hansu had a more personal reason for holding it.

Deputy Director Kang. You dare look down on my right-hand man?

Kang Jiye had opposed testing Pecia. If they issued a formal notice and ran a proper evaluation, she'd agree without complaint—but a clumsy provocation was absolutely off-limits.

—You should stop him. I told you clearly.

In other words, she was worried about Joker's safety. Far from testing anyone, there was a real chance he'd be the one who got wrecked.

She had dismissed a talent that Director Kim Hansu of the Incheon Branch had personally discovered and raised himself!

Yes. Director Kim Hansu. He was petty and fiercely proud. Not evil by nature—but he hated losing to anyone with a passion that bordered on pathological. A classic competitor. Now that his subordinate Kang Jiye had thrown down a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gauntlet (of sorts), he had to prove his ability in front of everyone.

I am strong. In skill, in mana, in intellect, in talent scouting. In all of Incheon, no hunter comes close to me.

It was enormous arrogance—and at the same time, confidence with a foundation. The director's seat at the Incheon Branch was a position only the top 0.01% in Korea could reach.

"Hahahaha! So you're saying Joker went to mess with Purple Bunny right now?"

Kim Hansu laughed along with his subordinate and nodded.

"That's what I'm saying."

Joker was a hunter infamous for forcing targets into humiliating acts. A named mental-type who could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠land his skill not just on lower ranks, but on people stronger than himself. Every hunter in the Incheon area dreaded running into him.

His subordinate, clearly aware of this, piled on the flattery.

"That Safety Keeper won't be able to use her nickname after this. Terrifying to think what he'll make her do. Director, you think he'll have her throw a right-hand straight punch out of nowhere?"

In high spirits, Kim Hansu waved him off.

"Haha, enough of that. She's a collaborator, after all—no need to be that cruel. Wouldn't you agree, Deputy Director?"

"……"

Kang Jiye only offered a faint smile.

Bang!

Right on cue, the conference room door flew open without warning—and a sharp-eyed blond man strode in looking supremely confident, glancing around the room.

Kim Hansu's face lit up with a hearty laugh.

"Hahaha! There he is. Already back, huh? So, how did it go?"

Joker—Yu Hanbaek—grinned as he burst into the conference room and cracked Kim Hansu across the skull.

WHAM!

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking down to? Am I your son?"

"……?"

Splooshhhhh—

A yellow stream poured down over Kim Hansu's face.