Finally on the Move? (2)

The official AAU meeting. Branch chiefs from each region logged into the video chat one by one. The faces that popped up looked utterly wrecked—calling it a mess might even be kind. Blaming the camera angle wouldn't fly either. Not a single one had any color in their cheeks.

"Everyone's been through hell."

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reason was simple. They'd just survived a week that felt like a full-blown storm.

But they couldn't afford to whine.

"Hell? The real hell was someone else's."

Someone who'd suffered even more than them. No, there was one player who'd endured far worse. They couldn't measure the weight of hardship, but they could say this with certainty: even if they combined every AAU staffer's efforts across all regions, it wouldn't touch the burden that one person had shouldered.

"What a godawful week, right?"

"Still gives me chills. Just thinking about it."

"When I first heard the news, my heart dropped."

A senior mage from the Mage Tower had gone missing. A full-on emergency. As they'd emphasized countless times, the mages of the Mage Tower were insanely powerful. They were bound to the tower, unable to roam freely. For even a powerhouse among them—a senior mage—to vanish...

"It could've been a catastrophe. A disaster."

"Our Korean branch chief's face says it all."

"...Maybe because it's in the past now, but I can finally breathe a sigh of relief."

It had happened in South Korea, Seoul, where the Mage Tower stood. The country that had boomed economically thanks to the Mage Tower's effects. But it was also the place most likely to house a senior mage.

"Seoul could've vanished from the face of the Earth!!"

Even thinking back, it was dizzying. If that nightmare scenario had played out—if Seoul had become a battlefield—the damage would've been incalculable.

But.

"In the end, we owe Lee Hoyeol again."

Yes. Because in South Korea. In Seoul. In the Mage Tower. There was a player who'd endured even more: Lee Hoyeol.

His exploits were legendary. Even AAU executives—who were Arcana experts and had contributed significantly to the world's lore—couldn't comprehend what he'd done.

"Honestly, I had my doubts at first. Impressive, sure, but chief mage? Even for Lee Hoyeol, is the chief mage seat in the Mage Tower just handed out?"

"But those doubts were pointless."

"Exactly. Clearing that absurd rift..."

The [Broken Dimensional Gap] rift. A level 900-1,000 appropriate clear that screamed "bug." And Lee Hoyeol had cleared it like it was nothing.

"Coming back safe like it was a walk in the park!"

"I'm dying to know what went down inside. I'd grab his pant leg and beg if I could."

"Nah, that wouldn't work anyway."

Interviews were a no-go. Internal affairs. No amount of pleading would budge that resolute attitude he'd shown.

But one fact remained unchanged.

"Who cares about a few missed interviews? Say what you can, hold back what you can't—big deal? It's Lee Hoyeol. How many times has this happened already?"

Yes, he more than deserved that privilege. Unlike other players who lost their heads to stardom and spouted nonsense, he was different from the start. From his debut to now, his demeanor had been unwavering.

"It's beyond popularity—it's straight-up faith. The public's reaction."

Not like everyone was muttering "homen" for no reason. The branch chiefs could crack pale smiles thanks to him.

But the AAU knew. Or rather, they had to worry.

"But excluding Lee Hoyeol..."

If he hadn't been there, could humanity—could the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠players—have resolved this crisis?

The answer was obviously NO.

"The gap is just too wide."

"Who else could clear a 900-1,000 level rift? Sure, a chief mage tagged along, but getting that chief mage to move was Lee Hoyeol's doing. Solo power."

"So the conclusion is, the other players have no choice but to step up."

The players must have felt it too during this crisis. Their own powerlessness.

In that sense, the new update was good news. The way to overcome powerlessness was levels. Levels came from experience points. And this new rift seemed primed to deliver those in spades.

"Finally, some [Predator] content."

"The top players are gonna be at each other's throats."

"In a predator zone, 'throats' is putting it mildly."

Thursday. A real update, not a bug. The community erupted over the patch notes.

Arcana had always featured consistent monsters. Goblins in goblin habitats, trolls in troll zones. But this rift? [Predator's Swamp]. You'd expect crocs or lizardmen in a swamp. Instead, the monsters lacked any unity in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠race or habitat, as some comments pointed out.

The only common thread? Their levels.

But knowledge reveals more.

"First time a rift's spawned a predator zone, right?"

"Yeah. If it had before, comments wouldn't be like this."

"Perfect timing."

The Nam brothers from Gaon chatted. Naturally, they knew the score.

Nam Taemin grinned. "About time we cut loose. Right, bro?"

Predator zones were simple: areas where predators gathered. No monster consistency because they flocked from everywhere.

And why? Hisagi Kazuma explained to his guildmates.

Yes, that made sense. Spoils in the swamp drawing powerful monsters. That was a predator zone. The new rift, [Predator's Swamp].

But one question lingered.

"So monsters fight each other too?"

"Hey, you! First time in a predator zone?"

"Yeah, first..."

"For real?!"

The buzzcut guy cleared his throat, apologetic for snapping.

"Right. In predator zones, monsters fight—and kill—each other. They're from different regions, no blood ties or alliances."

Yes. Endless combat. And the monsters that emerged? Levels didn't do them justice. Surviving that meat grinder meant they were elite.

"Lucky us. Predator bastards."

"...Yeah, lucky. But sis."

"What?"

"You sure you're okay?"

"Shut it? I said I'm fine a million times."

No, she wasn't. She was pissed. Leoni Bellucci's pout gave it away.

The reason? Obvious.

"Sis, we usually crash early..."

Appropriate level 1,000. Lee Hoyeol diving that insanity?

'Knowing wouldn't have changed anything...'

She'd have been dead weight. But learning after sleeping soundly versus knowing all along? Worlds apart!

'I feel like such an idiot.'

Hard to explain. Beyond ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠helplessness—a crushing self-loathing.

But she knew her path.

"Zip it. From now on, I sleep like the dead."

Predator's Swamp. She'd grind levels nonstop in the new rift. Endless fights? Perfect for a berserker who grew stronger in battle.

Of course, she wasn't alone.

"Primary goal: exactly 10 levels. No more, no less."

"Tianxia Tongyi's top priority: swamp spoils."

"Net tubes gonna drop like crazy here too?"

Different goals, but predators—powerhouses—had to hit [Predator's Swamp].

Knowing that, despite varied thoughts, they all pictured one person.

Yes, Hoyeol.

"Catching up to Hoyeol's impossible, but we gotta try."

"Gotta repay Hokkaido."

"...He won't show, right? Clearing a 1,000-level rift then hogging this? Against player code!"

*

Damn. This rift's brutal. Minimum 450-level monsters. Predator zone to boot. Basically a coliseum of battle-crazed freaks.

I tilted my teacup and spoke.

"Most disorderly, it shall be."

Disorderly? Try brutal for me!

My level? A measly 296.

And endless combat? 'Mana won't last.'

Luxury Brooch and Duke Swalin's heirloom boosted regen, but low level meant low total mana.

'I'm no predator.'

Demon cultist interrogations unfinished. Honestly, I'd ignore this bloodbath rift.

Not just the repeatable rift-clear quest. I knew rifts linked to the Arcana Continent. And demons were rampaging there.

This damn pride wouldn't sit still.

"Education may be required."

...Yes, that procedure-obsessed stiff wouldn't either.

Luckily, I'd dug many wells. Mana shortages mid-fight?

'I've got options.'

Black magic for one. Swordsmanship training too—short, but with Grandfell's talent plus Harcon Kingsguard of Lionheart Knights.

"Bitter, yet aromatic."

And this elixir herb tea I'd been sipping.

'Tastes like ass.'

Worth devouring those books for the conference. Just drinking gave solid effects.

And finally, one more to check.

I opened my inventory. Out came a small pentagram shard. The [Impure Knowledge Pentagram], purified via exorcism ritual.

Time to test the hypothesis.

I checked the item without hesitation.

...Yes, I had a feeling!

Epic grade lived up to the hype. Absurd effect: knowledge of every mineral and plant on Arcana!

I'd hoped, but not expected this much.

'Beyond expectations.'

Other players might not care. But for me? Perfect.

All minerals? Boosts mineral-detection spells. All plants? Includes elixir herbs, obviously.

So what if it's endless combat in a predator zone? I've got the [Pure Knowledge Pentagram]!

Confidence surged—I could charge in now.

But everything has procedure.

I stood.

Enter the rift? Fine. But wrap things up first.

I straightened my attire.

This is the pride of the conference host.

Two elder mages. And chief mage Marcelo.

They overlooked Crystal Hall. Specifically, Lee Hoyeol listening intently to Banggrit's presentation.

Marcelo spoke.

"A decision is needed. A chance to right all wrongs at once. The unforgivable sin the Mage Tower committed against Akkshan and demon hunters. And the first step to repay our debt to Sir Lee Hoyeol."

A silent elder mage grunted.

"Surely the Tower Master shares your view."

He nodded.

"I approve your proposal, Marcelo."

"...!"