011

At first, it was Wind Cutter.

Ten razor-edged blades of wind swept over the goblin horde.

-Sssshrrrkkkk—!

A long, drawn-out slicing sound.

The goblins collapsed in a domino rush.

Dozens of them were cut cleanly in half, their blood and entrails splattering across the corridor floor and staining it a deep, ugly red.

Next came Fireball.

-Swaaaaash!

Five massive fireballs tore through the air and slammed into the rear of the pack.

-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWAAABOOM—!

Dozens of goblins were blown to pieces and scattered like shrapnel.

Even the ones who narrowly escaped a direct hit were ripped apart by the shockwave, their limbs torn from their bodies as they flew.

The thunderous blast and impact shook the underground chamber.

-Kyeeeeeeek...!

-Kyaaaaaaaaaaa-!!!

The goblins screamed.

It was a mess of terror and despair.

The dying goblins let out low, ragged groans, while the handful that survived scrabbled frantically deeper into the rat holes.

I kept walking forward.

Most of them are dead. But a few survived.

A few had ducked in time to avoid Wind Cutter, or used other goblins as shields.

Those stragglers were still alive for now.

Of course, that was as far as their lives went.

“I’ll have you know, I was the top marksman in the military.”

I activated Air Bullet.

Compressed spheres of air rose above my staff.

I aimed the staff and fired at the goblins still alive.

-Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Foreheads burst open as they died on the spot.

Every time I leveled my staff, one goblin fell dead with a dropped head.

And then, a moment later—

“...”

A quiet hush settled over the corridor, where just moments ago there had been nothing but noise.

I had wiped out more than a hundred goblins.

All of it had happened in barely a minute.

But I still couldn’t quite relax my face.

“...I think about thirty of them got away. Damn, they run fast.”

Out of the horde of roughly one hundred and fifty goblins, around thirty had quickly crawled into the rat holes and escaped.

Disappointed, I tried firing magic into the holes.

-Pop! Pop!

I shot a few miniature fireballs, but there was no response from inside.

Even my spiritual sense couldn’t pick up any goblin presence beyond the hole.

They’d probably fled far beyond my reach.

Damn it... My perfect clean-sweep plan failed!

This wasn’t how I’d pictured it.

My original plan had been simple.

A charging goblin horde.

And I would stand there like a boss, casually carving them apart with Wind Cutter the way a Swordmaster slashed out sword aura.

Then the goblins would topple all at once in a glorious heap.

That was the kind of badass scene I’d been expecting.

But reality had been different.

The goblins had gotten scared and launched a reverse charge.

And I, with style put firmly on the back burner, had just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been frantically dumping magic into them.

No, seriously—who could’ve guessed they’d run off that fast...

Didn’t they even know the saying that scars on your back are a swordsman’s shame? You little cowardly bastards.

“Anyway, let’s grab the loot.”

Putting my disappointment aside, I looked around.

Then I scowled.

“What a total mess.”

The area was in absolutely terrible shape.

Goblin corpses lay everywhere, split in half and strewn about.

Bits of flesh were scattered all over the place.

The stench of blood and filth was nauseating.

And every time I took a step, my combat boots stuck to the slick mix of blood and meat scraps on the floor.

The entire corridor was practically painted in gore and entrails.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Grumbling curses under my breath, I started gathering the loot off the floor.

Goblin daggers piled up neatly in my bag.

Every single one was slimed over with blood or bits of flesh, making even touching them revolting.

But if I wanted to make money, there was no helping it.

This was all money. I couldn’t just leave it behind.

Ah... I wonder if my sister knows? That her little brother is out here making money this painfully.

Sure, all I’d really done was cast magic with a flick of the wrist.

But the process of collecting loot was so disgusting it turned my stomach.

I made up my mind.

“Starting on Floor 5, I’m definitely getting a porter. A high-end talent like me doesn’t need to keep bending over and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠picking up loot one piece at a time, right?”

Up through Floor 4 of the Tower, solo play was mandatory.

But from Floor 5 onward, party play for up to five people became possible.

In other words, I could hire someone to carry the stuff.

Of course, since I wasn’t an ordinary hunter, finding a porter would come with its own set of concerns.

But I’d worry about that later.

Anyway, I scooped the daggers off the floor and stuffed them into my bag.

After recovering every last bit of loot, I headed straight for the escape portal without hesitation.

* * *

Right after I returned—

“Sister, I’m so sad.”

I said that while dumping the daggers into a ramen box.

My sister, startled, jerked around. “Sad? What are you talking about? Did something happen in the Tower? Are you hurt?!”

“Well...”

Haaah.

I let out a long sigh and put on a wistful expression.

“I could’ve killed one hundred and fifty goblins. But they ran away, so I only got one hundred and twenty.”

“?”

“Can you believe they pulled a full-on panic retreat...”

My sister looked thoroughly puzzled.

Her face made it obvious she was thinking, Is that really a problem?

It was infuriating.

“No, listen! I’m the Extreme Lunatic Hell Mage Hunter, and I let goblin trash mobs escape. Do you know how humiliating that is?!”

“...Well, at least I know you’re fine. Go wash up, and I’ll make dinner. You reek of blood.”

“Got it. But before that...”

You can’t skip gallery posting right after a climb.

-Click!

I snapped a photo and quickly wrote up a post.

The gallery users treated it as lies and nonsense.

Since it was exactly the reaction I’d expected, I didn’t care at all.

Still, it was a little disappointing.

So everyone’s just trapped in their shallow prejudice, blindly denying what’s right in front of them. Even with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes, they can’t see the truth before them—truly, they’re no different from the blind!

Could it really be that there wasn’t a single person in Hunter Gallery who could rise above prejudice and witness the truth?

Tragic.

As I was putting on a full show and checking the comments,

└But what if this guy’s actually real?

One comment suddenly caught my eye.

I couldn’t help but widen my eyes.

└I searched the photo he just posted and the ones he uploaded before, and they don’t seem to have ever appeared anywhere else. I don’t think he ripped them from somewhere.

└└Then it’s probably AI-generated. Making fake stuff with AI these days is easy as breathing.

└└No, if it were AI-generated, it wouldn’t have that weirdly clean artificial look. The picture quality is also garbage in that old smartphone way, and even the crooked little hairs visible on the yellow floor feel oddly real... It’s starting to seem genuine...

└└lol why would you believe such a shabby fake post? Man, you’re exactly the type to get scammed.

“Huh.”

There was someone who thought my post was real... no, rather, a person with a pure soul.

I was shocked.

Honestly, I thought no one would believe it.

The reason I kept posting updates in Hunter Gallery.

It was simple amusement.

I could feel people’s reactions and really taste the fact that I possessed power beyond common sense, and it was fun watching all the aggro-caught users lose their minds, too.

That was why I’d kept writing posts all this time.

But I had absolutely no intention of actually convincing anyone of my abilities.

If I’d truly wanted recognition from the start, I would’ve just shown them me using magic.

Or maybe posted screenshots of my status window points.

The whole reason I kept uploading only loot photos was partly to brag about the day’s earnings, and partly to deliberately make people think I was lying.

I just wanted to play the part of a hidden powerhouse.

And yet, who would’ve guessed there’d be someone who really believed it...

Man. If people start believing it for real, I won’t be able to keep playing hidden powerhouse anymore.

As I kept the concept up, maybe real believers were starting to appear one by one.

Should I change the direction of my gallery activity?

I propped my chin in my hand and thought about it.

* * *

After a simple meal,

I prepared to raid the Tower.

That is to say, I lay on the bed and rolled around.

“You said you were preparing to raid. Is lying there like a dead log your idea of preparation?”

“I’m recharging my stamina. My back’s sore from bending down and picking up daggers earlier...”

“You’re a hunter with a sturdy body, and you’re still whining. Open the window. I’m going to run the vacuum.”

“Okay.”

I raised my staff.

Paang!

I fired a low-density compressed air shot at the edge of the window, and it slid open with a rattle.

My sister stared at me with a look of disbelief.

“Wait. You used magic because you didn’t want to get up for a second?”

“Ahem. This is all part of training. I’m using compressed air in both low- and high-density forms in daily life so I can handle it freely.”

“You even use magic to turn off the lights in your room, don’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“I knew it. Honestly... I’m worried you’re getting lazier. You weren’t like this before.”

My sister muttered as she ran the vacuum.

With a low humming sound, the vacuum head wandered from place to place.

Lying on the bed, I kept thinking.

Porter... where am I supposed to find one?

My claim that I was preparing to clear the Tower wasn’t a lie, strictly speaking.

Right now, I was lying in bed and thinking hard about a porter.

On the surface, I probably just looked like a lazy layabout.

But in my head, I was doing high-level calculations befitting a mage.

Squirm, squirm.

Pulling the blanket over myself, I kept thinking.

From Floor 5 on, a porter is absolutely essential. There’ll be too much loot for me to carry by myself. Even if I handle all the combat, I need someone to gather and haul the loot for me... The problem is, I don’t know anyone I can trust.

Floor 5 of the Tower.

The floor where party play became possible.

Which also meant the floor was larger, and the amount of loot increased noticeably.

I couldn’t possibly carry all of that by myself, so in practice, a party member was mandatory.

But I couldn’t just accept anyone as a party member.

It was because of my special ability.

If it gets out that I’m a mage, China or Russia might just kidnap me. Even if I do get a porter, they absolutely have to be someone tight-lipped and trustworthy.

China and Russia.

Even before the Tower appeared, they’d been countries hanging precariously on the edge of the dumpster.

After the Tower’s arrival, they had leaped clean over the edge and punched right through the bottom of the abyss.

Countries that officially and systematically ran hunter prisons and point factories.

They were complete lunatics.

If it became known that I was a mage, it was obvious what those bastards would do.

The most likely outcome is that they’d kidnap me, force me to naturalize, and use me as a slave hunter for their country. Or they might try to uncover the principles behind magic and conduct human experimentation...

The method for changing a Tower’s nationality was simple.

If you touched another country’s Tower, the Tower’s affiliation changed instantly.

Administratively, you might still be a Korean citizen, but the status window would list you under another nation.

So if they kidnapped me and forced me to touch the Tower in Beijing or Moscow—

I’d end up having no choice but to climb the Tower of China or Russia instead of the one in the Republic of Korea.

In fact, there were already plenty of similar precedents.

China had kidnapped normal hunters from Mongolia, India, and Southeast Asia and used them as slave hunters.

Russia had done the same to normal hunters from Eastern Europe and the Middle East.

And they hadn’t even done it quietly.

They’d marched in with the military and snatched those normal hunters right up.

With those absolutely insane bully-states sitting right above the Korean Peninsula, how could I possibly reveal that I was a mage?

I’d only disclose that fact when I had enough power to protect both myself and the people around me.

I’d already decided that long ago.

Anyway, given those circumstances, I had to be extremely careful about accepting party members.

If the rumor spread and I ended up dragged off like a Chinese or Russian slave, imprisoned, and forcibly milked for points, that future was a hard no.

So I needed someone tight-lipped, trustworthy, and personally compatible with me...

And there was no way such a person existed around me.

Frustrated, I scratched my head hard.

Goddamn it. I’m such a total loner that my human connections are narrow as hell, and I don’t have any hunter contacts... where the hell am I supposed to find a porter?

A porter.

Someone I couldn’t meet, but desperately wanted to meet.

That kind of sad feeling, you know.

Just then—

“Oh! Hyeji! I heard about it.”

The vacuum shut off, and I heard my sister’s voice.

Looks like she’d gotten a phone call while cleaning.

Was it a friend of hers?

Hyeji? That sounds like the kind of name a Yuumi main would have.

I tossed out the meaningless thought and stopped paying attention.

My head was already full of porter-related problems.

But then I heard the conversation that followed.

“How’s the dorm life? Whew. Thank goodness. I was so worried you’d died... I heard three thousand reserve hunters got dragged off this time and died. You have no idea how much I was worrying. I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Sister! Is your friend a hunter?!”

I had no choice but to cut in on instinct.

My sister answered in surprise. “Huh? Uh, yeah, she is, actually.”

“What kind of person is this Hyeji? Are you two really close?”

If my sister had a hunter friend—

Maybe I really could find a porter I could trust.

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