The Giving Tree

A brand-new skill: Base Camp.

What kind of features would it offer? Before I could even check, another system prompt materialized in front of my eyes.

"A new feature? Something like this exists? Never heard of it in my life."

An entirely new function unlocking under the influence of an existing skill was completely uncharted territory. I had certainly never heard of such a phenomenon happening to anyone else on Earth. Then again, that was the Climber class for you—the more I uncovered about it, the more mind-boggling it became. And to think this new feature was tied directly to Rift Opening? That practically guaranteed it would be absurdly broken.

It was already the ultimate cheat skill, letting me link entrances to dungeons or gates regardless of how far away they were. What did Awakeners without Rift Opening have to do? They had to physically haul themselves across provinces or continents to wherever a gate manifested. Traveling there was an ordeal in itself, and dragging their battered, exhausted bodies back home afterward was pure misery. But Kim Haun? One activation of Rift Opening, a single mental click, and a gateway appeared right before me, allowing me to start raiding from the comfort of my own room.

"I mean, that alone was ridiculous enough, but..."

Now I could open rifts to dungeons in other countries, too? I frowned slightly. Was there a mountain of restrictions tacked onto it? Time to read the fine print.

"Hmm..."

A detailed breakdown of the Hub System scrolled down my vision. To sum it up simply:

"It's exactly as the prompt said. Once you tether the Hub System to another nation, that entire country falls within the operational radius of Rift Opening."

Which meant whether it was China, the United States, or Japan, distance was utterly irrelevant. As long as I linked them via the Hub System, their dungeons were mine for the picking. Holy crap, this is insane. If I could cherry-pick only the juiciest, most lucrative dungeons and hoard all the rewards... just how sweet would that be? My mouth watered at the sheer thought. But how did I actually hook it up?

Oh. The first one was free—essentially a complimentary tasting sample. I loved their style.

"First time free, huh... Well, there's not even a need to debate this one."

Why bother agonizing over options?

"Who else could it be? Time to tap into the giving tree itself: China."

Why hesitate when China was sitting right there? The place was practically tailor-made for farming. A staggering population, a vast landmass, and thanks to Luo Qin pushing the planetary floor record sky-high, their dungeon spawns were top-tier. Rumor had it A-rank dungeons poured out across their provinces like rain. Yet their government hoarded them under strict bureaucratic lock and key, forbidding ordinary Awakeners from raiding them at will.

Me, though? I could clear them whenever I damn well pleased. Just skimming through their premium lineup and poaching all the tastiest delicacies was going to feel glorious. And so, without a shred of hesitation, I made my selection.

Sweet! Nothing around me visibly shifted, but it must have worked. Well, only one way to find out.

"Rift Opening."

I cast the skill, and the interface materialized before me.

"Whoa... They're actually there."

Chinese dungeons were peppered seamlessly throughout the list. Having vast territorial expanse definitely paid off. Forget B-rank dungeons, which were everywhere—even A-ranks, which manifested once in a blue moon back in South Korea, were stacked up in abundance.

"Unbelievable."

That bastard Luo Qin was truly shameless. With this many hunting grounds sitting in his own backyard, did he really need to throw a tantrum just because he yielded a couple of floor blessings to a budding junior Awakener? Petty. Utterly petty. He ought to learn a thing or two from Senior Merlin.

"I can't let this slide."

Their sheer insolence made it impossible to look the other way. Not that I ever intended to hold back in the first place.

"I'm going to plunder every single one of those A-rank dungeons clean."

Beijing, China.

The supreme headquarters of the Central Awakener Administration.

Within a conference room shrouded in suffocating silence, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the strained, frigid voice of Director Wang Wei broke through the gloom.

"So... the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dungeon cleared this time was located in Hebei Province?"

"That is correct, Director. The A-rank dungeon in Hebei, the Pyramid of Mist, was confirmed fully cleared thirty minutes ago."

"Ugh... I am losing my goddamn mind."

Wang Wei shifted violently in his leather chair, the metal hinges squeaking under the strain. What in heaven's name was happening? Why were A-rank dungeons dropping left and right?

"Today marks the fourth day, doesn't it?"

"Yes, sir. Exactly four days ago, they began vanishing in rapid succession."

This wasn't a standard raid schedule; it felt like someone was aggressively dojo busting their entire country. A phantom Awakener had been systematically sweeping through China's premier A-rank dungeons for four straight days, driving the Central Awakener Administration to the brink of a collective nervous breakdown.

"Which bastard is pulling this wretched stunt...?"

China operated under a strict national doctrine: B-rank dungeons and below were open for unrestricted clearance, but A-rank dungeons and above were strictly regulated by the state. Why? Was it merely because high-tier loot dropped from them? Not at all. There was a far more terrifying reason lurking beneath the surface.

"How much time remains before this cycle's gauge concludes?"

"Approximately one week, Director."

"Haaaah..."

It was classified intelligence known only to the top three nations—China, Great Britain, and the United States—whose foremost Awakeners had breached the 60th floor of the Tower of Despair. Nations ranked below them remained completely oblivious, though in truth, they had no need to know anyway; A-rank dungeons barely manifested on their soil.

The secret was simple: within every territory, an invisible Dungeon Gauge dictated environmental balance, running on a fixed two-month cycle before resetting. While its precise systemic mechanisms were still being analyzed, the fundamental principle had already been established: the gauge accumulated in direct proportion to how many high-tier dungeons—specifically S-ranks and A-ranks—were cleared within that timeframe, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how rapidly they fell.

When the cycle reached its deadline, a brand-new dungeon manifested based on the total accumulated gauge. A settlement dungeon, essentially. The fatal catch was that clearing too many high-tier dungeons caused the gauge to overflow, triggering a settlement dungeon of cataclysmic difficulty.

Wang Wei remembered it with painful clarity.

"Back when Luo Qin first broke past the 60th floor, he went on a mad clearing spree through A-ranks, and it spawned that brutal S-rank that nearly got us ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all slaughtered..."

Hence, the state mandate was born: forcibly suppress the gauge. The strategy was to hoard A-rank dungeons under state guard, pacing their clearance just enough to avoid crossing the dungeon break threshold while keeping the gauge in safe equilibrium.

S-rank dungeons were never an administrative headache, as only someone of Luo Qin's caliber could clear them anyway. But A-rank dungeons were another matter entirely. While impossible for average hunters, elite guilds and top-tier strike squads could conquer them with sufficient coordination. Naturally, hunters practically drooled at the prospect of raiding them. Beyond the mountain of magic stones, the supplementary drops were staggering: monster materials alone netted hundreds of millions, and if prime equipment dropped, the windfall was life-changing. Everyone wanted a piece of the pie.

Yet the state had to clamp down, going so far as to station armed sentries around the clock right outside every A-rank gate.

"Our agents were keeping watch with their eyes wide open," Wang Wei snarled, slamming his fist on the mahogany table. "Did they truly find no sign of anyone slipping past?!"

"None whatsoever, sir! They swear on their lives they were watching intently when the dungeon simply flickered and collapsed into thin air!"

It defied all logic. How could a dungeon be conquered if not a single living soul entered the gate? It sounded like a campfire ghost story.

"My head is throbbing..."

If this unchecked slaughter continued, the upcoming settlement dungeon would be an unmitigated disaster. The two-month cycle was drawing to a close, with barely a week to spare.

"We had the balance under perfect control, and then this bolt from the blue strikes out of nowhere!"

China had successfully weathered cycle after cycle without incident. With such vast territory, A-rank dungeons replenished almost instantly upon being cleared to maintain natural environmental equilibrium. Managing them hadn't been easy, but thanks to their immense Awakener talent pool and meticulous bureaucracy, they had consistently engineered the gauge to spawn safe, predictable A-rank settlement dungeons. Only on rare occasions—such as when Luo Qin recklessly lost his temper—had an S-rank ever reared its terrifying head.

Yet right now, A-ranks were falling at an impossible, blistering pace. Nearly three dungeons every single day.

The conference room doors burst open, and an aide rushed in, pale as a corpse.

"Director! Another one has just been cleared! The Buried Desert Temple in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region has just—"

"Damn it all... That makes four today?!"

Wang Wei grabbed his temples, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Clearing A-rank dungeons with such breakneck speed was baffling enough, but what bewildered him even more was the geography.

"From Hebei Province all the way to Xinjiang... How on earth did they travel that distance?!"

That was traversing from one end of the continent to the other in a matter of hours. Even for an Awakener specializing in spatial movement, it was geographically absurd. Did an intercontinental transit skill of that magnitude even exist? Not by any metric known to Wang Wei. At most, one could teleport short tactical distances or open a portal after physically traversing the path beforehand, just as China did for competitive Special Dungeons.

"Don't tell me... Did some syndicate station elite strike teams at every stronghold in advance and synchronize their strikes...?"

No, that made zero sense. What faction outside of a sovereign superpower possessed that many strategic-grade combatants? Furthermore, the clearance times were absurd—nearly rivaling Luo Qin fighting alone.

"Wait..."

A sudden, icy shiver ran down Wang Wei's spine. Astonishing speed. Phantom-like, impossible movement across borders.

"Could it be... that South Korean bastard?"

"Ahh, this is heaven."

On the first day I established the Base Camp, I had been so preoccupied with the Hub System that I barely paid attention to its inherent functions. Once I actually sat down to examine them, they were spectacular.

Just looking at the summary felt utterly reassuring. Guaranteed security, rapid recovery, and an on-demand teleportation beacon all wrapped into one.

"And the recovery speed is absurd."

To put it into perspective: I could complete a high-tier dungeon raid, teleport right back to my living room, kick my feet up with an iced canned coffee, and by the time I finished the drink, my stamina was fully restored. Then I could immediately dive into the next dungeon.

"Man... this is the life."

Before my awakening, this was the exact lifestyle I had dreamed of: clearing dungeons, hunting beasts, stacking power, and doing it all without an ounce of stress. Just doing the grind was pure bliss.

With the Tower of Despair cleared up to Floor 19, tomorrow was the day I'd head up to claim the 20th-floor blessing. It was a slight shame that the 20th floor wasn't Luo Qin's territory, but the 25th floor definitely belonged to him. I'd have to hurry up and strip that one away soon enough.

"Before that, though... shall I squeeze in one more dungeon run?"

I called up the Rift Opening interface once more.

My eyes widened as I stared at the crimson entry.

"Huh...? What on earth? An S+ rank difficulty actually exists?"