Tokan, the Fire Hammer (2)
The figure standing before Sanghyuk wore a full suit of dull, pitch-black plate armor. Though the craftsmanship appeared crude and weathered, it formed a complete, unbroken set that encased every inch of the user's frame.
Draped atop the metal was a matching black robe, cinched tight to seal away every crack and crevice. Not a lock of hair nor a sliver of skin peeked through.
Talk about a suffocating getup.
This was the buyer who had applied to purchase the transfer rights to Sanghyuk's secret dungeon. The stranger's build wasn't particularly towering, but the attire was utterly bizarre. No matter how high plate armor's physical defense might be, practically no one bundled themselves up like an airtight mummy. Layering a heavy, hooded cowl over the top pushed the suffocating look to an absurd extreme. It looked less like combat gear and more like a self-imposed iron cage.
Yet the stifling display was only just beginning.
A message materialized in the air rather than spoken words. Incredibly, this player didn't speak aloud at all, choosing instead to communicate strictly through written text over an open public channel. The system's instantaneous translation rendered the words in Korean, but the cadence and phrasing unmistakably belonged to an English speaker.
Written dialogue? In this day and age?
Ever since real-time simultaneous voice interpretation became standard across the Dimension Net, virtually nobody bothered typing messages to converse. What a strange user. Wait...
Pitch-black plate armor from head to toe. Complete silence, communicating only through written notes... Could it be? The Dark Knight?!
The alias struck Sanghyuk like a bolt of lightning. The black armor alone hadn't rung any bells, but pairing it with the silent written chat instantly dredged up the legend of the Dark Knight.
Is this really the one I'm thinking of?
Sanghyuk swept his gaze across the stranger once more, cataloging every detail.
Height stood at around one hundred and seventy centimeters. Underneath that full plate harness, the frame beneath seemed remarkably lean. A colossal, shield-like slab of black steel was strapped across the back, and the player stood entirely mute, conversing solely through floating system text. So far, every single detail matched the rumors surrounding the Dark Knight to a tee.
"Ah, my apologies," Sanghyuk replied, shaking off his reverie. "We can finalize the handover right away. However, as noted in the sale terms, you must have an affinity rating of Favorable or higher with the Falcon City Guard."
The buyer—or rather, the prospective Dark Knight—responded with crisp brevity.
"Glad to hear it. Follow me."
Sanghyuk led the way toward the subterranean vaults beneath the Falcon City Guard barracks. Even as they walked, his mind continued to churn through memories of the Dark Knight.
Hailed as the undisputed best tank of early EL... only to vanish without a trace after the first massive expansion two years in, Counterattack of the Dead, introduced Planet Tyum. But the impression they left in those first two years was so overwhelmingly profound that veteran players reminisced about them for a decade.
Though Sanghyuk had never crossed paths with the Dark Knight in his previous life, the player's reputation had been the stuff of legend, leaving him with a wealth of second-hand knowledge.
Could it really be them? So far, the odds look ridiculously high...
Lost in thought, Sanghyuk soon arrived before the iron grate marking the entrance to Sewer No. 77.
Let's verify it right here.
Sanghyuk loathed leaving things up in the air; if there was an answer to be had, he wanted certainty. Before executing the official ownership transfer, he posed a question he hadn't originally planned to ask.
"Are you tackling this alone?"
"The recommended party size for this dungeon is three," Sanghyuk pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to be all right?"
"It isn't overwhelming, but there are several nasty mechanics to navigate."
Sanghyuk played it up with subtle intimidation, despite having solo-cleared the instance a hundred times over. Of course, it wasn't a total fabrication. It was only an effortless breeze because it was Sanghyuk doing the clearing; for any ordinary player, attempting to solo a three-man dungeon was practically suicidal.
Having laid the bait, Sanghyuk pressed the advantage when the stranger hesitated.
"If you'd like, I can run about ten clears alongside you and explain the strategy down to the smallest detail. Naturally, it won't be free."
Confirming an identity was one thing, but running a power-leveling bus was business. He had no intention of babysitting for charity.
After a moment of silent calculation, the buyer floated a counter-offer.
Confident in their skills, huh? Well, as long as I get to see them in action, one run is more than enough.
"Deal," Sanghyuk agreed.
Since his primary motive wasn't the gold anyway, a single run suited his purposes perfectly. Sanghyuk registered the buyer to the instance lock of Sewer No. 77 and cast a sidelong glance back at the ironclad figure. Any lingering doubts would vanish the moment combat began. He knew of one defining trademark belonging to the Dark Knight that was far more decisive than armor or written chat—and verifying that trait was all he needed.
True to the moniker 'Silent Heavy Tank', the Dark Knight maintained an impenetrable wall of quiet. Floating text only appeared when absolutely vital, pared down to bare-bones fragments. Under ordinary circumstances, grouping with someone so uncommunicative would have been excruciatingly frustrating. Yet in actual combat, party play with this person felt completely seamless.
The secret lay in remarkably intuitive hand signals, coupled with an instinctive ability to execute their role at one hundred and twenty percent efficiency without needing a single word of instruction.
Stepping into the damp stone corridors, the armored figure raised a gauntleted hand, unfurled three fingers, and pointed straight ahead. Without a heartbeat's hesitation, they charged.
Bracing a colossal tower shield broad enough to conceal their entire body, the tank surged forward like an unstoppable battering ram.
Thud, thud, thud!
An astonishing surge of raw kinetic force erupted from a frame that wasn't particularly large. The three foul sewer mutants lurking in the passage were violently shoved backward in unison, their balance completely shattered. Before the beasts could recover, the tank hoisted the heavy slab of steel and brought it crashing down in brutal, rhythmic swings.
SLAM! CRACK! CRUNCH!
Beneath the bludgeoning weight of the shield, the monsters were pulverized into bloody heaps within moments. There was nothing ordinary about this display. Sanghyuk watched the carnage and gave a subtle nod. There was no need for further scrutiny.
That distinct hand sign and the Rush Shield technique... The odds of this being the Dark Knight are well over ninety-nine percent.
Every single piece of evidence pointed to the same undeniable truth.
Their level is still modest, and that gear looks practically salvaged from scrap, yet they fight like a seasoned veteran. Oho, that shield deflection—did they pick that up entirely through instinct? The legends from my past life certainly didn't exaggerate.
Sanghyuk's admiration only deepened with each passing skirmish. Having spent years managing a top-tier esports organization, he had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the finest professional gamers in existence. He had scouted, analyzed, and evaluated countless amateur prospects overflowing with raw potential. When it came to assessing player talent in Eternal Life, Sanghyuk had absolute faith that his eye was sharper than anyone else's on the planet.
Wielding a tower shield like an extension of their own flesh and bone... The talent hasn't even reached full bloom yet. If polished properly, this player could surpass both Qingyuan the 'Adamantine Iron Wall' and Ivan, 'Mr. Perfect'.
Qingyuan and Ivan were the pinnacle vanguards Sanghyuk remembered from the highest echelons of competitive play. Even among the absolute elite, their defensive mastery had been considered extraordinary. Yet watching this figure now, Sanghyuk felt an innate ceiling of potential that soared far beyond even those titans.
Whenever Sanghyuk briefly pointed out the layout of Sewer No. 77 or highlighted monster mechanics, the Dark Knight absorbed the advice without a sound, seamlessly modifying their footing and pace to adapt the strategy on the fly.
That adaptability alone spoke volumes about their gaming genius. In no time at all, the dungeon was fully cleared. Considering that Sanghyuk had merely offered tactical pointers and rarely drawn a weapon, it was, for all practical purposes, a flawless solo clear by the Dark Knight.
Upon stepping back out into the cool air of the barracks basement, the armored player bowed politely and promptly transferred the agreed-upon gold fee.
"Don't mention it," Sanghyuk replied, pocketing the coins before lingering his gaze on the silent warrior.
Why did they quit the game after only two years? They were renowned as a rock-solid companion who kept promises no matter what and never abandoned a comrade in arms... What could have happened to drive them away?
Though they had only run a single dungeon together, Sanghyuk genuinely liked the Dark Knight. He respected the unyielding, steadfast combat doctrine, and he was captivated by the monstrous latent talent waiting to be unleashed.
He had regressed to the past to step out of the shadows, shedding the role of a support manager to become the grand protagonist dominating the spotlight. Yet deep within his bones, the instinctual hunger of a team director—the craving to collect and nurture brilliant talent—still smoldered.
They're someone worth knowing. Leaving a connection open can only help.
"Would you be open to adding each other to our friend lists?"
Caught off guard by the abrupt invitation, the knight hesitated for a fraction of a second before giving a firm nod.
"A pleasure. My name is Immortal."
Sanghyuk extended his right hand, and the knight silently gripped it. In Eternal Life, stating one's handle and offering a handshake was the formal procedure to initiate a friend request; accepting the clasp sealed the bond. A notification chimed quietly, and the name Aspis appeared in Sanghyuk's previously desolate friend list. On the other end, the name Immortal was etched onto Aspis's equally barren roster.
"Hopefully, our paths will cross again when the opportunity arises."
Sanghyuk didn't push for anything more. Registering Aspis wasn't born of an immediate scheme; it was simply a mark of pure respect for another player's breathtaking skill.
Parting ways with Aspis, Sanghyuk found a sudden thought tugging at his mind. Finding a safe corner, he logged out of the game while maintaining his neural link to the Dimension Net. Reclining within the minimalist sanctuary of his personal D-Room, he opened the search interface and began querying databases.
Byeong-il won't have started playing yet... That leaves Jeong-woo and Jeong-su. Though according to what they told me, those two were absolute pushovers in the early days...
The names he sought belonged to the precious few individuals he had truly considered companions in his past life. More precisely, they were the steadfast souls who had never turned their backs on him or stabbed him when he hit rock bottom. To have spent over a decade grinding through Eternal Life only to walk away with three trustworthy allies was a bitter, sorrowful truth, but having even three was a miracle.
Having experienced firsthand how infinitely more painful it was to be gutted by a trusted friend than by a stranger, Sanghyuk had long since developed an instinctive barrier against letting anyone get close.
Using the scraps of information he recalled, Sanghyuk filtered searches for Kim Jeong-woo and Kim Jeong-su. The brothers were identical twins. To be completely honest, their natural gaming aptitude had been thoroughly ordinary, but through sheer, ungodly perseverance, they had clawed their way into the ranks of recognized rankers.
Yet no matter how many community boards and player registries he combed through, he couldn't find a single trace of them.
Right... Since they clawed their way up through raw sweat and tears, it'll take quite some time before their names begin to surface.
If he could find them now, he wanted to lend a hand, however small. The problem was that locating them was near impossible. While he remembered their handles, Eternal Life permitted duplicate character names. Tracking down an obscure beginner purely through an in-game alias was like hunting a single grain of sand in a desert. Furthermore, since friend registration required a physical meeting, an exchange of names, and a handshake, an alias alone was practically useless.
Looks like you two will have to suffer a bit in the beginning of this life as well.
Wishing the twin brothers silent good fortune wherever they were currently struggling, Sanghyuk closed their search logs. In their place, he began typing in the names of several guilds and individuals etched into his memory with acid. These weren't companions to protect; they were targets to bleed.
"I should have known. Gold Rush is already making moves this early."
Sanghyuk's expression darkened into an icy sneer as fragments of Gold Rush activity flashed across the newsfeeds.
"Worthless bastards... Just like before, they're probably locking young kids in unventilated basement sweatshops, beating them into compliance, and running them like broken machines."
Gold Rush was the public front created by the administrators of the illegal workshop syndicate that had enslaved Sanghyuk for five grueling years—the syndicate that had driven his original life into utter ruin. On the surface, they posed as an ambitious, professional gaming collective. Beneath the veneer, they were predatory scum fueling their expansion on the literal blood and agony squeezed from exploited youth trapped in illicit sweatshops.
It's not the right time yet, so I'll let you run free for now. But once you've fattened yourselves up... I'm going to rip you apart piece by piece!
Grind!
Sanghyuk's teeth ground together with enough force to splinter bone as his knuckles turned white. From there, he continued pulling up the names of every power broker, syndicate leader, and deceitful player who had ever force-fed him the bitter dregs of betrayal. Some names registered hits on the forums; others had yet to make their mark.
Phew... Looking back, I really took an absurd amount of abuse. What an absolute fool I was back then.
Kind? Innocent? Sanghyuk had no desire to disguise his past blunders with flattering euphemisms. He had simply been an idiot, blind and gullible. It was the harsh truth. Ignorant of the world's cruelty and pathetic in his naivety, he had allowed himself to be stepped on at every turn. Even when he finally pulled his life together and built a successful career as an esports director, the people he trusted had ended up plunging daggers into his spine.
I won't trust anyone ever again. Justice? Loyalty? I burned that garbage out of my skull years ago. From here on out, I trust only one person... myself.
With a flick of his wrist, Sanghyuk dismissed every glowing holographic window floating before him and stood up. Sifting through the tangled threads of old friends and bitter nemeses had crystallized one absolute certainty in his mind.
The debts he needed to collect were vastly greater than the debts he owed.