022

The light faded at last.

I slowly looked around me.

The first thing that caught my eye was a vast rocky desert. The terrain around me was relatively flat, and far in the distance, there were stone mountains.

The closer you got to the mountains, the more monsters spawned there.

I turned my head and looked behind me.

Just like I heard, there’s a small stone tower next to the return portal.

Behind me stood the return portal. And beyond it, a small stone tower about two stories high. Floating high and proud above the tower was a number.

[2000]

Since Na Hyeji and I were the only two who’d entered Floor 8, we had to earn 2,000 points for the tower door to open and the escape portal to appear.

Floor 8 of the Tower of Trials.

A floor that demanded 1,000 points per person.

1,000... what an odd number.

The average amount of points a hunter is supposed to bring in is exactly 1,000.

The rate at which people became hunters was roughly one in every thousand.

If every hunter earned at least 1,000 points, there’d be no way for points to run dry.

And the clear condition for Floor 8 just happened to be earning 1,000 points...

The intention behind it was blindingly obvious.

They were basically telling hunters to at least pull their own weight.

If the earlier floors had all been lessons about combat, this one was a floor about responsibility.

By deliberately displaying the number 1,000, it was hammering home the message that each individual had to earn at least that much every month.

It was basically tower climber ideological training.

I stared at the number above the stone tower and thought blankly to myself.

If every hunter in our country had been bringing in 1,000 points a month, we wouldn’t be staring down annihilation like this.

But reality was a total shithole.

Most hunters had settled into the low floors and were only bringing in a few hundred points at best.

And those who couldn’t hunt at all because of injuries or other reasons numbered as many as ten thousand.

The overwhelming majority of hunters were basically dead weight.

As a result, the hunters in the middle floors and above—just a few thousand of them—were bearing most of the point burden.

That was the state of South Korea, a country scheduled to die three months from now.

While I was spacing out and staring at the number over the stone tower, Na Hyeji asked from beside me,

“What are you thinking about? You’re making such a serious face.”

“That South Korea ended ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up ruined because of slackers like you.”

“...If you put it like that, I’ve got nothing to say.”

She seemed to have a guilty conscience of her own, because she shrank back a little.

I snorted.

“I’m kidding. Why are you acting all wilted?”

“No, seriously... in times like these, if someone says ‘slacker hunter,’ they really do get rocks thrown at them. Do you know how fierce the soldiers looked when I was being detained?”

“Oh man. Sounds like you picked up a little trauma when you were put under an administrative hold.”

“Of course I was scared. They were pointing guns at me and threatening to force me into the tower right then and there...”

Three months before South Korea’s collapse, there was nothing but resentment and rage directed at reserve hunters.

But I knew the truth.

To be fair, slacker hunters and low-floor parking lot leeches weren’t the only problem.

They were only part of the problem.

There were plenty of others.

In the early days of the tower, public opinion and the government had looked down on domestic hunters, drunk on the cheap points supply bought from developing countries.

There had also been a massive outflow of hunters from the so-called normal class—hundreds of them, in fact.

Hunters who chased money more than points.

The people’s irresponsible optimism.

The government’s incompetence.

Political conflict.

Plots from other countries.

And a whole tangle of other problems, all twisted together...

That was what had driven us into the current, collapse-before-our-eyes situation.

It was just unfortunate.

“Come on. Let’s move.”

I strode north.

Far away, the rugged stone mountains came into view.

* * *

Hyeji and I walked north toward the mountains, our footsteps crunching steadily over the rock.

With a worried look, Na Hyeji asked,

“But... are you sure we really don’t need to bring a cart? What about the loot?”

Today, Na Hyeji hadn’t brought a cart.

That was because I’d told her not to.

As a result, the bags on her back contained nothing but a few sturdy sacks.

I answered her question.

“We don’t need a cart. I’m not planning to lay down roads and haul loot today.”

“Why not?”

“I want to save mana and kill as many as possible.”

Today, I had no intention of obsessing over loot.

My goal was to kill as many monsters as I could.

And there was a reason for that.

“This place is a hunting ground, right? The number of monsters isn’t even limited, so there’s no reason to meticulously collect every last bit of loot. It might actually be more efficient to save the mana I’d use on roads and kill more monsters instead.”

The reason I’d been so fixated on loot on every floor before now was simple.

The number of monsters had been limited.

Once I finished off every monster in sight, there were no more monsters left to kill.

So I’d been trying to scrape up every last piece of loot, even if it meant laying roads to do it.

But this place was a hunting ground.

A place where goblins would keep swarming out if you went even a little deeper.

In a place like this, where it was practically fish in a barrel, why bother laying down a long temporary road just to move loot around?

I figured it would be more efficient to use that mana for another attack spell instead.

At my words, Na Hyeji’s face brightened.

“Wow! Then today won’t be as hard as yesterday, right?”

“We’ll see.”

“...?”

“The bag and sacks you brought aren’t just for decoration. Today might actually be harder.”

On Floor 7, I’d laid the roads for her, so she’d only had to push the cart.

But today, she was a pure porter.

She had to carry the bags herself and move around.

And in that rugged mountain terrain, no less.

“Ah...”

Her face went dark.

Just imagining herself trudging around the steep, jagged mountain with a heavy bag on her back seemed to squeeze the air out of her lungs.

We kept heading north.

The farther we went, the more often goblins appeared.

-Krrrk!

-Kieeeee!

At first they’d been scattered here and there, just one or two at a time.

But as we drew closer to the mountains, they started moving in packs of five, then ten.

Of course, they weren’t a match for me.

-Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Every time I aimed my staff and fired off an Air Bullet, the goblins collapsed with their foreheads punched clean through.

Na Hyeji asked, sounding puzzled,

“But why aren’t you using Fireball today?”

“Fireball is powerful, but it burns through mana. If the goal is killing as many as possible, it’s better to rely mainly on Air Bullet.”

One large Fireball could be exchanged for roughly two Wind Cutters or twenty Air Bullets.

In other words, unless I was wiping out more than twenty monsters at once, a large Fireball was less efficient than Air Bullet when it came to the value of my Blue Dots.

Today, my objective was to use the Blue Dots I had in reserve to kill as many goblins as possible.

That was why, unless they were tightly packed together, I planned to hold back on Fireball.

I gauged the amount of Blue Dots sleeping in my heart.

The number of Fireballs I can currently handle is around 120... with that much, I should be able ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to fire off about 2,400 Air Bullets.

Which meant I could kill a maximum of about 2,400 goblins.

2,400 Air Bullets, huh.

It made me realize something all over again.

Mages really are ridiculously overpowered.

2,400 casts of Air Bullet were basically the same as carrying 2,400 short-range, low-noise bullets around.

And on top of that, there was zero recoil, so the shots were almost guaranteed to hit.

Their killing power was absurd.

And this was only Floor 8.

What the hell, later on would I be slinging Meteors or something?

If this growth rate keeps up, becoming a national power–level mage is basically a done deal.

The noble and mighty Extreme Lunatic Hell national power–level Mage Hunter Baek Jiho.

Krrr...!

Just reading that long-ass title made my chest swell on its own.

So this was why medieval nobles strung together so many titles.

Anyway, Hyeji and I kept moving until we reached the mountain, then climbed the rugged terrain.

As we did, the goblins increased in number and variety.

Not just ordinary dagger goblins, but goblin archers stationed all over the mountain.

And here and there, goblin warriors showed themselves too.

-Kerrrr! Kerk!

-Kyaaaaak!

-Kik! Kik!

One by one, they revealed themselves and came charging toward us in a mass.

I mechanically put a Air Bullet into each of them.

-Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

The dull cracks of air punching through flesh rang out in rapid succession, and each time, holes the size of a fingertip were blown open in their foreheads as blood and brain matter sprayed out.

Watching that, I thought to myself,

Still, Fireball and Wind Cutter have the best feel.

Fireball didn’t smash things apart with wild force, and Wind Cutter didn’t slash through them with elegant sharpness.

Air Bullet just bored holes in things in a dry, matter-of-fact way.

It had a polished, clean feel to it, sure, but it was boring to watch.

But Na Hyeji seemed to have a different opinion.

“Jiho! I wish you’d just kill them like this all the time. I don’t have to look at any guts, so I like it.”

She was grinning from ear to ear.

She seemed unusually pleased today, probably because she was only seeing neat corpses that didn’t make her stomach turn.

How insolent, Na Hyeji.

To think she’d reject my Wind Cutter and Fireball like that.

I wanted to demote her to an S-rank porter, but she’d suffered a lot yesterday, so I’d let it slide.

We kept wandering all over the mountain, slaughtering every goblin in sight for quite a while.

Then I discovered an unexpected advantage to Air Bullet.

The goblins aren’t running away—they’re actually charging in, which makes hunting ridiculously easy.

Usually, the goblins would panic and flee at the sight of Fireball or Wind Cutter.

But maybe because Air Bullet was so small and subtle that it was hard to notice, they didn’t realize I was a mage and instead came rushing at me in a swarm.

Thanks to that, I could pick them off and slaughter goblins all across the mountain as though I were driving a herd.

It was an advantage I hadn’t thought of before.

How many had I killed when I finally noticed something?

“I’m running low on mana.”

At some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠point, I realized that the Blue Dots inside my heart had already dropped quite a bit.

If I gauged what was left... maybe around 20 percent.

I didn’t know what else might happen inside the tower, and I’d need mana to deal with the goblins I’d meet on the way back too.

It was probably time to pull out.

“Let’s head back to the starting point. Hyeji, stuff as much loot into the bags as you can fit.”

“Okay.”

We crammed the loot strewn around us into the bags and sacks as tightly as we could.

Hyeji was carrying about 60 kilograms.

I was carrying about 170.

Actually, I could’ve carried a lot more, but we didn’t have enough bags and sacks.

If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve brought more sacks.

So we crossed back over the steep mountain and returned to the starting point.

And sure enough.

[0]

The number floating above the stone tower had changed to zero, and the entrance had opened as well, revealing the escape portal.

If we just went in there, Floor 8 would be cleared.

“All right. Let’s go home.”

“Yep...!”

With exhausted Na Hyeji beside me, I leapt into the portal.

Fwaaat!

A brilliant wash of light wrapped around me.

In total, I killed 1,968 of them.

* * *

Right after returning, I opened my status window immediately.

How many points did I make?

Today, I’d slaughtered a staggering 1,968 goblins.

It’d be a lie to say I wasn’t looking forward to the result.

But the moment I opened the status window, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

“Huh? Only 5,460 points?”

I’d gone out and massacred nearly two thousand goblins, and yet I hadn’t even earned six thousand points.

But if I thought about it, that made sense.

More than half of the goblins I’d killed were one-point dagger goblins.

And I’d only managed to kill a little over 300 goblin warriors, the real jackpot.

It was natural for the total to come out around there.

I pulled out a calculator and did the math.

“The loot I brought back was just 73 longswords and 39 daggers, that’s it. So... after tax, the loot income comes to 11.53 million won.”

The points income was 5,460.

The loot income was 11.53 million.

Altogether, that gave me 66.13 million won in earnings.

It was a lot more disappointing than I’d expected.

At this rate, it’s basically the same as yesterday.

Yesterday on Floor 7, I’d made 62 million won.

Today was another similar 60-million-won day.

For how much mana I’d poured in, the profit was underwhelming.

Tch. I clicked my tongue.

My prediction was wrong.

I’d thought killing monsters with the mana I would’ve used to build roads would make me earn a lot more.

Turns out, not at all.

If I’d killed fewer monsters to save mana, then laid roads and brought a cart to collect every last piece of loot instead, the profit would’ve been much higher.

“Looks like even if it’s a pain, it’s better to build roads and move as much loot as possible. It’s not just a few won’s difference—it’s a 50 percent gap...”

And so, with my greed fully engaged, I was about to decide the direction of my future climbs when suddenly...

The theme of Floor 8 flashed through my head.

Responsibility.

The theme of this floor had been responsibility as a hunter.

It had boldly displayed the number 1,000, the number symbolizing a hunter’s responsibility, and hammered home the idea that the lives of the entire nation depended on climbers like us.

But because I’d just cleared that floor...

Here I was, calculating loot profits like they were the only thing that mattered, when those points were basically the lives of the people.

What could I say?

Am I... being way too petty and materialistic?

I didn’t look like the noble and mighty Extreme Lunatic Hell Hunter I was supposed to be.

My hand, which had been furiously punching the calculator, stopped all at once.

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