The God of Proficiency

But the contents felt familiar somehow.

And whenever I saw something like this, my decision was always the same.

"Captain, shouldn't we head back?"

The archer Malibu spoke to Joaquin.

Stay here another thirty days? Finding their way back to the entrance alone would cost them ten lives over. In short, it was the same as telling them to die.

"No matter how important the money is, this doesn't feel right."

The spirit mage Shawn chimed in as well. Hadn't they nearly died several times just getting this far?

"How many people can casually put up one million one hundred thousand gold?"

But Joaquin's thoughts ran differently.

That man was no ordinary person. Beyond simply being rich, the presence he carried was extraordinary in every way. The woman traveling with him possessed holy power nearly on par with a Saintess.

He didn't so much as flinch when the monsters attacked.

Looking back, the man's demeanor had been pure composure. From the very beginning. Most people, no matter how bold, would jump out of their skin facing a pack of those hideous beasts. Yet he hadn't stirred at all. Not a single flicker in his eyes. At the very least, he was no ordinary man. More than that — if you measured sheer extraordinariness, he was in the realm of genius.

"And he's not just some rich family's brat either. At minimum, he's the scion of a prestigious knight house."

"You mean somewhere like the Empire's swordsmanship house, the Darkhan family?"

Joaquin nodded at Shawn's question. Both the spirit mage and Joaquin had dealt with Darkhan scions firsthand.

"Darkhan… yes. That was the feeling. So this might not just be a matter of a million gold."

Split three million gold three ways and each man got a million. Enough to live large in most cities — but a million gold didn't flip a life one hundred eighty degrees. What if there was value beyond the money itself?

— Judge for yourselves.

The words kept ringing in his ears. The word that stayed lodged in his mind: judgment.

If Joaquin's guess was right—

"That man gave us a chance. A chance to climb higher."

This could be their chance to escape the wretched Cartel for good.

But the rest of the company's reaction remained negative.

"Captain. Our food stores are almost gone. Why not come back after thirty days?"

"Exactly. Realistically, holding out here another thirty days is impossible. And if we stop by a city and come back, he'd never know, right?"

Go back, properly resupply, then find the entrance again. He'd never know the difference either way. It was the most practical plan — but Joaquin shook his head.

"I get the feeling that enduring itself is the test. Anyone who wants to leave can leave."

"Captain, that kind of talk hurts."

"Hey now. Just saying. How many times has the captain saved our hides?"

They were comrades bound under the same mercenary banner, after all. Nothing like that garbage Maxim and his company.

Extraordinary. Even more so than the scions I saw at the Empire's Darkhan.

He kept the personal thought to himself, but the presence he felt from that man surpassed even the heirs of the Empire's famed swordsmanship house. Of course, it could have been a misread. But Joaquin had been a mercenary rolling through battlefields since childhood. The average mercenary lifespan ran about ten years. Most met ugly ends. Still being alive and active meant his instincts were that good. Joaquin trusted his gut absolutely. This time was no different.

After the Abyss Labyrinth was cleared, the erosion rate crossed fifteen percent, and anomalies began erupting across the entire world.

"The frequency of monsters pouring out through warps is increasing."

"The monster species are diversifying, and they're getting stronger."

"Where did all the Warriors go?"

People trembled with anxiety. The only ones who could kill monsters were Dimension Warriors. Yet from a certain point, their appearances had begun to dwindle.

"Alliance Leader. A 'Bloodsucker' appeared at a warp in Gangwon Province. The city is requesting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠support."

"A 'Deathhorn Shark' off the coast of Haeundae in Busan…"

Invasion reports kept pouring in. The Alliance Leader's face twisted.

"Damn it. We're critically short on fragments. Anyone free to deploy right now?"

"We're at our limit."

"Shouldn't we start by securing Broken Fragments of the Golden Rule?"

Korea's Hero Alliance was just as deep in a headache. They had burned through a considerable amount of Broken Fragments of the Golden Rule simply entering the Abyss Labyrinth. The Alliance Leader pressed his brow.

"How, exactly?"

"Push the main quests, or…"

"You can also obtain them by clearing Transcendent-level dungeons, can't you?"

Sound logic. But everyone had already pushed the main quests past their limits. Pushing further was far too dangerous. Dungeon clears were the same. Clear a Transcendent-level dungeon — Level 11 or higher — and you could harvest Broken Fragments of the Golden Rule in bulk. But measured against the effort invested, the yield wasn't high. Clearing the Level 11 'Sky Whale Dungeon' last time had netted a total of forty hours of fragments — about two hours each for the twenty Alliance members who took the challenge. Considering the month spent preparing and clearing it, the efficiency wasn't great. And if you challenged without thorough preparation, mass casualties followed. So that method wasn't realistic either.

"A short-term way to secure fragments… nothing comes to mind except PK. Damn it."

Player Kill. Find players holding large quantities of fragments and hunt them down. It clashed with the Hero Alliance's creed.

Then one guild member offered a thought.

"Wouldn't Phantom know something?"

"And where exactly is Phantom?"

"Well, on the Mountain of the Cultivator, surely."

"Does anyone in our Alliance even have access to climb it?"

"…Not right now, no."

A mountain you could ascend only once upon reaching Level 7. Most players of any standing had already climbed it once and come back down. Everyone knew Phantom was likely on the Mountain of the Cultivator, but no one could confirm it.

"We've got one friend still at Level 6, don't we? What if we force-feed him levels and send him up?"

"Roll him up to Level 7 and dump him on the Mountain of the Cultivator? Even if he finds Phantom, you think Phantom will calmly hand over answers?"

"Phantom would have set his constraints to maximum, but if you go in without constraints, you shouldn't die at least."

"Constraints at maximum? Who in their right mind would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠do something that insane?"

The Mountain of the Cultivator had been climbed by so many players that strategies were finely subdivided. Setting constraints to maximum was pure madness. No one did it unless they were suicidal. And even if you boosted proficiency gain rates by a few dozen percent, high constraint rates turned it into a net loss. If the body couldn't keep up, no amount of proficiency gain rate mattered. Phantom would know that much. More importantly, forcing a meeting would only invite his wrath.

"Is there really no other way?"

At the Alliance Leader's question, another member cautiously raised a hand.

"Those new Constellations that appeared in the Hall of One Hundred Constellations."

"The ones that suddenly got swapped in?"

"Yes. One of them actually offered me an 'Apostle Contract.' Said they'd throw in some fragments too."

"What? What are the contract terms?"

"They give me ten hours of fragments and one class-related skill, and in exchange I offer up thirty percent of all fragments I earn going forward."

"…Thirty percent? Isn't that a slave contract?"

"But the skill is pretty useful."

This was the first time Constellations of the Hall of One Hundred Constellations had demanded Apostle Contracts. The newly swapped Constellations seemed to have entirely different natures from the previous ones. Thirty percent was a high cut, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Immediate fragments plus an extra class skill — depending how you looked at it, it wasn't terrible.

"Ah. They said if I offer up a 'Complete Golden Rule,' I wouldn't have to pay the thirty percent."

"A Complete Golden Rule?"

First he'd ever heard of it. Not a Broken Fragment of the Golden Rule — a Complete Golden Rule?

"I don't know what that is either. Anyway, if we take the Apostle Contracts, we can put out the immediate fire, can't we?"

"Not just anyone can take one, right?"

That was the moment a message suddenly floated before the Alliance Leader's eyes.

…My vision was hazy and dull.

My entire body felt as if lead weights had been stacked on every limb — a thousand catties of dead weight. All constraints set to maximum. It was a setting designed to force a challenge against the absolute limits of humanity. Sight, smell, touch — every sense was paralyzed by more than ninety-nine percent. Present in name only. Right now I could still make out rough outlines and catch faint sounds, but given time even that would become impossible.

"Constraints at maximum? Been a while since a suicide case walked in."

Voices drifted from nearby. Probably a cultivator who trained on the Mountain of the Cultivator — a kind of helper NPC who had settled here to assist those who climbed. Since cultivators could check the constraint settings of anyone ascending the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mountain, the reaction was only natural.

Constraints at maximum. All stats reduced by –99%, and the five senses gone. With nearly every stat hovering near 1, even moving was a struggle.

The cultivator spoke.

"Hey. Take some good advice and leave. Climb the mountain like that and you die."

Concern, no doubt — but the moment I accepted the Hidden Quest, leaving was no longer an option even if I wanted to. I dragged my leaden body forward and pulled a single sword from the armory.

"Hah… do whatever you want. Don't come crying to me when you're dead."

The cultivator shook his head at the sight of me.

"In that state, even moving your body will be hard. Go on, try swinging once. Hit the 'Training Dummy' a few times and you might change your mind."

"Seia."

"Yes~"

Seia blessed me.

Every stat rose from 1 to 5. Still woefully insufficient — but enough to move, at least somewhat. Sword in hand, I approached the Training Dummy with slow, heavy swings. Grand name aside, it was just a wooden practice doll. The first thing anyone ascending the Mountain of the Cultivator encountered. People who set constraints would strike this wooden doll to check their physical condition.

"…Offsetting the constraints with a blessing. So you did have something to rely on."

The cultivator spoke as if he couldn't believe it. A blessing that could even partially recover self-imposed constraints — something that could never exist without Saintess-level power. Did that mean the woman was a Saintess? But no Saintess had ever climbed the Mountain of the Cultivator. Not once.

Still…

The cultivator shook his head. Even so, that level of offset was barely a drop. Climb the mountain, and he would die. This place was not forgiving.

Definitely worse than I imagined.

As heavy as my body was, the sword was heavier still. Like gripping a hundred-kilo iron bar. But I'd already committed. I swung the sword slowly.

Thud!

Thud-thud!

I hadn't even swung a handful of times and it was already Level 8. As expected of a 450% proficiency gain rate. Combined with the base rate, it approached 550% — a leveling speed that was an insurmountable wall for anyone else.

And that wasn't all.

Sword Saint Ryleigh's experience really does make a difference.

I had already summoned Sword Saint Ryleigh's soul and held sword proficiency reaching Level 26. It meant experience of a qualitatively different caliber from Wilhelm's inherited memories was already etched into my body. Even accounting for the proficiency gain rate, the leveling felt even faster than it should have been.

Huff. Huuuff.

The problem was how exhausting it was. The fatigue was no joke. Every muscle and cell screamed. I raised my right hand.

"I'll heal you~"

Shaaaa!

Light bloomed across my whole body and the fatigue vanished. As expected of my heal shuttle. Good. In this state, it was doable. I kept swinging the sword.

"…What… is this…"

The cultivator's pupils trembled at the sight. He had watched countless trainees over long years, but he had never seen ones like these. A Saintess-level healer paired with a trainee who had set every constraint to maximum. And beyond that, he could feel the proficiency level rising at an unnatural speed. The way the man gripped and swung the sword was becoming fluid at a breakneck pace.

If he pushes himself like that, his mind will break.

Even if healing restored the body, the human mind had limits. Receive too much healing in a short span and the spirit eventually collapsed. There had been people who brought healers up the Mountain of the Cultivator before. Trainees who climbed with elevated constraints. Most of them eventually gave up. Healing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the body did not heal the mind. If anything, it wore them down faster until they hit their wall.

Thud! Thud!

Shaaaa!

Thud-thud-thud!

Shaaaaaa!

Thud! Thud-thud-thud!

Shaaaaaaaaa!

"…………"

But this trainee — something about him was different.