All Constraints to Maximum
The guide shook his head firmly.
“I’m sorry. The Mountain of the Cultivator has been designated a Forbidden Zone, so there are no mercenaries who can go there.”
“Forbidden? Why?”
“High-level monsters have been surging around the area lately, and a creature believed to be one of the Black King’s main forces was spotted.”
One of the Black King’s main forces, discovered?
The Mountain of the Cultivator sat in the southern reaches of the continental map, well outside the Black King’s territory. Yet the White King’s words suddenly came back to me.
He said the Black King was expanding his domain.
And of all places, the Mountain of the Cultivator.
Aside from the mountain itself, the region was utterly worthless. Conquering it would be nothing but a waste of time. No—conquest was impossible to begin with. Like the Tower, it was a special zone.
The Black King had to know that. Sending one of his main forces there meant something big was afoot.
There must be another reason.
Whatever it was, anything involving the Black King made the Forbidden designation inevitable. No mercenary would head for the Mountain of the Cultivator unless they had ten lives to spare.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but would you like to place a different request…?”
“Who was the most recent guide mercenary to head for the Mountain of the Cultivator?”
“That’d be me.”
A man with a dark, scruffy beard rose from the side. Flushed face. Beer clinging to his whiskers. He looked thoroughly untrustworthy, but the mountain’s entrance shifted location every month at minimum.
“Went fifteen days ago and nearly died. Never going back.”
Fifteen days meant the entrance hadn’t moved yet. The other mercenaries stayed silent, so he wasn’t lying.
The man let out a heavy sigh.
“I don’t care how much gold you throw at me. That place is too damn dangerous.”
“Is that so?”
Clink!
I tossed a leather pouch onto the floor. Gold coins spilled out in a glittering cascade.
“H-how much is that?”
“Looks like at least ten thousand gold.”
“Some rich young master, maybe?”
The mercenaries’ eyes changed in an instant. Mercenaries lived and died by coin, after all. Ten thousand gold for a single guiding job—several times the usual rate.
“I already told you. No amount of money will make me go. There’s a reason it’s Forbidden. Even if you succeed, you take a penalty for heading into a Forbidden Zone. No one would take that—”
Clunk!
A gold bar worth a hundred thousand gold landed atop the pouch.
“······!”
“Holy shit. A hundred thousand gold?”
“Who the hell is that guy?”
Greed flooded the mercenaries’ eyes. A hundred thousand gold was the kind of sum you only saw after taking a hundred jobs—and only if you were a mercenary of real caliber.
“I-I can’t sell my life for a hundred thousand gold.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. That’s just the down payment.”
“······?”
“The success fee will be ten times that. And I’ll cover the guild commission myself.”
A million gold!
Covering the guild fee meant he would walk away with the full million. Enough to buy a house in a decent city.
But the danger around the Mountain of the Cultivator grew worse by the day. Even a skilled guide had a fifty-fifty chance of dying. Climb that path? Into a Forbidden Zone, no less?
Fail and you die. Succeed and your reputation inside the guild still tanks. The mercenaries of Cartel followed the rules to the letter. They moved as one. That was their pride.
“······ Welcome, Client. We’ll treat you like a king.”
Yet the sum was far too large to refuse while clinging to pride.
He vanished after asking us to wait a moment, then reappeared shortly looking far cleaner—accompanied by two other mercenaries.
“Client. You came to the right place. I’m Joaquin, captain of the Furpen Mercenary Band.”
“I’m Malibu, the archer.”
“Shawn, the spirit mage.”
A three-man band. Furpen, though…
“Furpen—that’s the wyvern of Echo Valley, isn’t it?”
“······ Oh? You know of Furpen?”
Joaquin looked genuinely surprised.
“I only know it’s a legendary wyvern whose existence is uncertain.”
“Most people don’t even know that much. You’re quite learned, Client.”
Once the request was accepted, their attitude flipped to an almost burdensome degree of deference. Then again, that very attitude was part of why Cartel’s mercenaries were famous.
“Can you reach the Mountain of the Cultivator within three days?”
“If we don’t run into monsters, we can make it in two.”
“And if we do?”
“The entrance shifts in roughly five days. Miss that window and we have to find the path all over again.”
In short, no guarantees. Avoiding encounters was the only real plan.
Joaquin thumped his chest.
“But don’t worry. We have Shawn the spirit mage. The spirits will show us the safe path.”
Spirit mages were rare. Having one in a mercenary band was rarer still. Time to dazzle the client.
“Yes, exactly. Just trust me. Show yourself, Runka!”
Shawn the spirit mage attempted a summon. But no matter how long they waited, the spirit never appeared.
This had never happened before. Joaquin asked, puzzled.
“What’s wrong, Shawn?”
“W-why is it acting like this?”
“Why?”
“Runka’s terrified of something.”
A spirit mage who couldn’t summon a spirit was no different from an ordinary person.
Joaquin rubbed the bridge of his nose and gave an awkward laugh.
“Haha. The spirit must be feeling shy. Still, he’s definitely a spirit mage, so rest easy, Client.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t worried. Even without the spirit mage, the Furpen Mercenary Band was clearly high-caliber.
【Lv. 8】
Joaquin was level 8. The other two were level 7. Solid mid-to-upper tier for a mercenary band. More than enough. Guiding didn’t require anything stronger.
“We’ll depart in one hour. Time is life, so please pack light.”
We crossed the warp and stepped into the region that held the Mountain of the Cultivator.
“If the area around the warp is safe, we’re already halfway there.”
Joaquin exhaled in relief. No threatening monsters near the warp. Still too early to relax, though. Only after confirming the surroundings were truly clear did he finally ease his tension.
“No tracks. Looks like there are no monsters here.”
“Good.”
“I’ve been a guide for over ten years. Just trust me.”
“I do.”
“Haha. Excellent. Then, to loosen up a bit—anything you’re curious about? I’ll even tell you the color of my underwear if you ask.”
I had zero interest in that.
“······ The mercenaries in Cartel seemed to be lounging around a lot. Not many requests?”
Joaquin’s expression hardened instantly. The others did the same. After a moment he narrowed his eyes and forced the words out.
“Ah… yes. Requests have dried up completely lately. All thanks to that bastard Maxim.”
“Maxim of the Eight Heroes?”
“Is there another Maxim? After he died and all his crimes came to light, the number of people willing to hire from Cartel dropped by more than half.”
“Crimes?”
“Skimming request fees inside the band, kidnapping clients, robbery, murder—the works. Absolute trash. Rumor has it he was the first to run during the Great Expedition, too.”
Maxim had been one of Cartel’s top mercenaries. His band had been the largest. Yet he’d committed every illegal act imaginable, dragging the entire city’s reputation through the mud.
“A piece of shit like that was never a Cartel mercenary.”
Even in death his reputation remained rock bottom. When the comrades who had shared life and death with him cursed his name, that said everything. I felt not a shred of pity. He deserved every insult.
In the end, combat was unavoidable.
Four-legged beasts with the faces of hungry ghosts—monsters called Ugly Beasts.
“Damn it. Of all things…!”
“Runka!”
“There’s too many!”
These Ugly Beasts roamed in packs of dozens and were infamous for never releasing prey once they locked on.
“Wall of Steel!”
Joaquin slammed his shield down and a wall surged upward. But it couldn’t stop every Ugly Beast squeezing through the narrow gaps.
“Guh! Malibu! Finish them already!”
Every attack still funneled toward Joaquin. Classic aggro tank. Low-intelligence monsters would keep attacking him until they died.
“Does it hurt a lot~?”
“What are you even— Khak!”
“I’ll heal you~”
Seia stretched out her hand. Light flooded Joaquin’s entire body. Torn flesh knitted together, regenerated, and vanished as if it had never been. A miracle beyond even the finest potions or elixirs.
“······!!”
Joaquin’s eyes went round.
Is this even possible?
Divine power and recovery of this magnitude! Who in the world was the woman hiding her face?
Seia gave a small smile.
“Then keep doing your best~”
The battles that followed all played out the same way. Joaquin raised walls and pulled aggro, Seia healed him, and the other mercenaries cleaned up. Joaquin’s mind was in tatters by the end, but because of it we arrived faster than expected.
“H-here’s the entrance. Hah… hah…”
Joaquin spoke with difficulty. His body was fine, yet he felt utterly drained and exhausted. His whole frame felt like a wrung-out rag. He had brushed death multiple times, and every single time that woman had restored him completely.
She had healed him to keep him alive—yet somehow she felt like a pure devil. That laugh of hers, as if she found joy in watching him get hurt.
When her face turned toward him, Joaquin hastily lowered his head.
Scary. That woman is terrifying!
An experience he never wanted to repeat. Pure torture that made him shudder.
“Your success fee.”
“Ah······!”
A clean one million gold. The moment the leather pouch containing ten gold bars settled into his hands, Joaquin beamed as if the previous ordeal had never happened.
“If you make it back alive, please seek out the Furpen Mercenary Band again. We’ll always treat you like a king, Client.”
“Wait at the entrance until we descend and I’ll double it again.”
“Pardon?”
“We’ll be staying about thirty days. Decide for yourself.”
“Pardon?”
Joaquin was a useful mercenary. His ability to handle jobs cleanly was outstanding. I had no doubt the return trip would be just as safe and swift. And aggro tanks were extremely rare.
Raise him properly and he’ll become an excellent shield warrior.
Joaquin. I’d found a solid talent in Cartel.
“W-well, about that······”
“If you’re at the entrance when we come down, I’ll take it as acceptance.”
“The entrance location will have changed by then.”
“Not my problem.”
“······.”
Bewilderment carved itself into Joaquin’s eyes. This was a test of sorts. Survive thirty days in this forest and come to meet me, and he would be worth raising. But I wouldn’t force it. The choice was entirely his.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes~”
Leaving the option open, I stepped into the warp that had formed at the entrance to the Mountain of the Cultivator.
In that instant—
Entering the Mountain of the Cultivator.
Entry conditions satisfied.
Those who ascend the Mountain of the Cultivator may set their own constraints.
Proficiency growth rates and other factors may change according to the constraints.
Unreasonable constraints are a shortcut to death.
······.
All constraints have been set to maximum.
Due to the Baal Helmet and Hidden Trait Craftsmanship, proficiency growth rate has been corrected to 450%.
By achieving All Constraints Maximum, Proficiency 400%+, and possessing a skill or weapon proficiency of Max Level 25 or higher, you have discovered a hidden top-grade Hidden Piece.
A Hidden Quest left by the Master of the Mountain of the Cultivator has arrived.
📍 Quest: Reach Proficiency Level 25
🎁 Condition: Accept the challenge
Will you accept the challenge?
If accepted, you cannot descend until you reach Proficiency Level 25 or die.
If declined, this quest will be permanently deleted.
What the hell is this?
Messages I’d never seen before.
