Chapter 52
Chapter 52
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: 11. Step Up (2)
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Past training.
Jeong Chan-woo wore a satisfied expression.
He felt like he'd done better than expected, but then Kang San suddenly approached and asked,
"Chan-woo. At the end, when the orc turned back around, why'd you block it head-on?"
"...Huh?"
He blinked.
He couldn't quite process it.
As Jeong Chan-woo remembered, that final moment had been a brilliant play where he'd swiftly covered for the monster Kang San had let slip through. He'd even replayed the scene in his mind and marveled at his own performance. In this bewildering situation, all he could do was ask back.
"Is that a problem?"
"Not a problem, exactly. It was solid cover play, but if we're nitpicking, the execution lacked a bit of finesse."
"Could you explain exactly what you mean?"
"Sure."
They moved to a different spot for a moment.
Kang San sketched the situation on a whiteboard.
"I've got the front, you're right behind me, Chan-woo. Han-byeol and Woo-bin are in the rear—that's our basic formation. The issue comes when I intentionally let a monster slip through. I have my limit on how many I can handle, so I wasn't pushing myself, counting on you to cover. But look here. You finished off the monster in front of you and immediately stepped up to block the orc charging at Han-byeol. It achieved the goal of 'defense,' but what we need to think about is what happens next."
He drew Jeong Chan-woo in a new position.
It showed Jeong Chan-woo blocking the returning orc.
"Your positioning there—doesn't it feel off?"
"...Not really sure."
"Tankers can't think their job ends just because they blocked something. In that moment, Woo-bin had just used magic, so cooldown meant no immediate follow-up. Han-byeol was reloading his arrow, so if the setup was right, he could've taken out the orc. But what did you do? In your rush to defend, you blocked the space between the orc and Han-byeol. If you'd left even a little room for Han-byeol, you could've defended and attacked at the same time. That one tiny detail cost us time. A few seconds' difference might've led to a coordinated strike—or left us in a worse spot."
"Ah."
His words failed him.
He hadn't even considered it.
Yeon Woo-bin's cooldown. Jo Han-byeol's attack angle.
The fact that he needed to factor those into refining his defense.
The elite instructors his father had hired had droned on endlessly about improving a tanker's raw abilities. Of course, truly skilled tankers would handle details like this. The catch was that Kang San was someone who'd never had formal training—a guy who'd scraped by at the bottom as an F-Rank arrow sponge all this time.
Jeong Chan-woo asked,
"...How do you even know all this, hyung?"
Jeong Chan-woo's question.
The answer lay in his unremarkable past.
In this chaotic world, Kang San had gripped his sword to survive.
He'd known since childhood he wasn't lucky, but F-Rank awakening was soul-crushing. Even in a situation where others wouldn't dream of becoming hunters, he never let go of his sword. Misfortune was his daily bread. A bad start wasn't an excuse to quit, and to stand against the disasters that would inevitably come, he needed the power to protect himself. Looking back, the hunter's path had never really been a choice.
F-Rank.
An arrow sponge no different from a civilian.
To survive, Kang San had to risk his life every time.
Those born hunters like Yeon Woo-bin could afford mistakes, but for Kang San, failure meant death. So he was always cautious. He thought hard even with a single sword swing, racking his brain to block as efficiently as possible with his shield. Back then, Kang San had been desperate. For a nobody arrow sponge to complete countless missions, it took bone-grinding effort.
"I didn't have many chances back then. No ample supplies, no skilled teammates. And above all, I knew exactly how weak I was. So every single attack, every single defense had to mean something big. Arrow sponges usually get dumped alone into unfamiliar turf—no one's risking their neck to save you. If I had to survive on my own with mediocre skills, I had to train ways to turn every raid into a sure win."
"...Must've been rough."
"What's there to say. I trained till I dropped because I knew my limits existed. Maximizing my teammates' synergy was key. Not just holding the line defensively—I'd intentionally open lines for my allies' attacks. Like the situation you faced: if Woo-bin couldn't cast and Han-byeol could shoot, I'd block the monster but secure the angle for his arrow. Conversely, if Woo-bin's cast was finishing, I'd herd the monsters to one side for maximum splash damage efficiency."
Simple theory.
Basic stuff, really. But stuck in place without growing stronger, he'd honed those details instead.
"Remember this: if one person could handle everything alone, parties wouldn't exist. You and I formed one because we need each other. So we have to think hard about how to make the best use of the people we trust our backs to. How long is Woo-bin's cast? What's the spell's blast radius? How many seconds for Han-byeol to nock an arrow? That stuff dictates your positioning. Shift right instead of straight ahead, sometimes intentionally open a path. Those little details create totally different outcomes."
Their eyes met.
Jeong Chan-woo looked deeply impressed.
To the speechless young man, Kang San grinned.
"No need to feel down. We're here together to sync up—that's the whole point."
Training grounds.
After everyone else left, Jeong Chan-woo stood there alone, lost in thought.
'Thinking about it, it's obvious. Hyung was definitely an F-Rank arrow sponge, only recently promoted to E-Rank. But his performance we've seen? Nowhere near that level. Beyond just stats exceeding E-Rank, his impact on the party is huge.'
Reflecting back.
Stupidly, he hadn't deeply considered Kang San's skills.
He'd just figured him for an underrated pro, never pondering how those skills formed.
How, exactly?
How had an F-Rank arrow sponge reached this level?
Why did Yeon Woo-bin feel so secure under Kang San's protection? Why did he himself enjoy syncing with Kang San even in tougher spots than before? It was the details. Not random luck—Kang San was always minding them.
Calculating Yeon Woo-bin's casts.
Checking Jo Han-byeol's arrow paths.
Allowing just the right number of monsters for Jeong Chan-woo to handle, holding the party together single-handedly so it wouldn't crumble.
"He's too amazing."
An admiring sigh escaped.
If it was just raw strength.
He'd chalk it up to pure power gap, but Kang San's prowess showed effort polished in the realm where talent doesn't decide everything. Every bit of advice rang true. This wasn't a game—one wrong choice meant death in this brutal world.
So then.
Every attack, every defense.
Shouldn't every move have a reason?
With solid justification for his actions, shouldn't he always pick the option that gains even 0.1% edge?
Good items.
Good skills.
Not banking on that luck.
If fortune came, great—but raising his own value was essential.
'That's why I'm sticking by hyung despite my manager's advice. He's my ideal, and following him guarantees growth as a tanker. So what should I do now?'
He had to figure it out himself.
Couldn't keep begging for guidance like a baby bird.
A sudden idea struck, and Jeong Chan-woo headed to the training grounds office.
"Could I get video footage of our training sessions?"
"Of course."
That day marked the start.
Jeong Chan-woo replayed the training videos obsessively.
Analyzing Kang San's movements, reactions, from an all-seeing perspective.
Just a few days.
But those days brought real change to Jeong Chan-woo.
This raid.
The setup mirrored the last one.
Kang San held most of the line, while Jeong Chan-woo covered passages tough to reach from his position.
Tat-tat-tak.
Kieek—!
Soldier ants charged.
Facing their ferocious momentum, Jeong Chan-woo braced to block while scanning his surroundings.
Glance.
'Han-byeol-hyung's loaded.'
Glance.
'Woo-bin's starting her cast. Both can attack anytime, but logically, her spell's for crowds. She won't waste it on my single attacker...'
It was a split-second call.
Jeong Chan-woo collided with the soldier ant after instant calculations.
Kwajik—!
"Ngh."
He grimaced.
Gritting his teeth against the sharp impact, he positioned so as not to fully block Jo Han-byeol's firing line. His role: stop monsters hitting from behind. Jo Han-byeol's: help him clear threats as fast as possible in spots like this.
Just as planned.
Whish.
Thuk—!
An arrow exploded into the soldier ant's head.
It didn't drop from one shot, so Jeong Chan-woo seized the moment to slash its legs with his sword.
Sslash.
Kreeeeek!
The soldier ant shrieked.
More ants swarmed in the meantime.
Jeong Chan-woo fell back a few steps to hold them off, while Jo Han-byeol's arrows flew relentlessly, easing his burden by picking off foes. Each time, Jeong Chan-woo cleared attack angles. Not blindly blocking, but prioritizing the biggest threats for maximum damage.
"Fire Wave."
Fwoosh.
Roooar.
Yeon Woo-bin's spell erupted.
It hit the predicted frontal cluster first, and right after, Jeong Chan-woo shifted his movements.
'Flame magic deals ongoing damage in an area as long as the fire lives. Woo-bin hit front once, so she'll assess and choose next. If I were her, what next? And in this spot, what would hyung decide?'
His mind raced.
Just days of review.
Videos played hundreds of times.
Kang San always followed the same pattern here.
'Herd the monsters.'
Whoosh.
He pivoted.
Kyaak!
Claws slashed from all sides; Jeong Chan-woo raised his shield.
'Iron Body.'
Kwang—!
He blocked.
Pure defense, no attacks—leaping aside to intentionally open a path.
The ants were frenzied.
Like the pied piper's rats, they fixated solely on Jeong Chan-woo.
To Yeon Woo-bin, it looked like opportunity.
Her mana surged.
"Fire Burst."
Kwaang!
Fwoosh, roooar.
Flames detonated.
A single-target blast would've felled few, but into the swarming mass, it incinerated them instantly. Ants ignited one after another, crackling. Seeing the rear attackers wiped in a flash, Jeong Chan-woo felt a surge of fulfillment.
'This is it.'
Right.
Emulating Kang San.
The path he should pursue.
His vision made real.
'I can do this too.'
Chills ran over Jeong Chan-woo's skin.