Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Magic Rank Up: F+ → E-
You can acquire the Cannibal's trait, Weakling Despiser. Y/N
Joo Do-gyeom's eyes gleamed.
Not only had his rank increased as expected, but he was also being offered an additional trait?
Truly, this was the effect befitting a special Magic Stone.
His admiration was brief.
Do-gyeom's gaze quickly shifted to the trait description: Weakling Despiser.
When acquiring traits—unlike skills or stat growths—the system always prompted a confirmation for a simple reason.
The number of traits a Hunter could obtain was limited.
The baseline maximum was three.
This could be expanded later through special equipment, additional traits, or skills, but for now, that was the hard limit.
Because of this, the Hunter community always emphasized caution when selecting traits.
They weren't easy to acquire, and recklessly grabbing early-game traits could backfire later.
Do-gyeom didn't hesitate.
"I will acquire Weakling Despiser."
Trait [Weakling Despiser] has been acquired by user Joo Do-gyeom.
As a Regressor, he knew multiple ways to bypass the trait limit.
More importantly, Weakling Despiser was simply too good to pass up.
The effect was straightforward:
When fighting opponents weaker than yourself, all ability ranks increase by one tier.
In simpler terms, if Do-gyeom's current Magic Rank was E-, it would become E against weaker foes.
The crucial part?
This applied to every single stat.
And there was no cap.
Even if he reached humanity's supposed peak—S-rank—he could still push beyond to S+.
All thanks to this one trait.
Some might question the usefulness of a trait that only worked against weaker opponents.
Of course it's useful.
There was no rule saying the weak had to come one at a time.
Unconsciously, a smirk curled on Do-gyeom's lips.
"With this, I can head straight to that place now."
Another adjustment to his plans, but he felt no burden.
If anything, it only made him smile wider.
The next day.
Do-gyeom returned to the Yongsan Dungeon Market to sell his remaining Magic Stones and purchase a few items.
First, dungeon-grade clothing.
A simple but highly mobile long-sleeved shirt and pants.
Better for cold resistance and protection than short sleeves, and most importantly—cheap.
No financial strain here.
Second, a dungeon-grade great maul.
A massive, heavy hammer with an oversized head.
Despite his 20-slot inventory, this thing alone took up eight slots.
The seller insisted on calling it a "war hammer," but Do-gyeom knew better.
A real war hammer was lighter, more efficient—designed for anti-personnel combat.
But he bought this knockoff for one reason:
"It'll be useful in the next dungeon I'm targeting."
Also, it was dirt cheap.
Because, well—it was heavy and impractical.
Dungeon weapons usually carried a hefty price tag, but this one had few buyers, so he got it for a steal.
After securing his gear, Do-gyeom's next stop was the Magical Items Shop.
As the name suggested, everything here was expensive.
But worth it.
Here, he purchased three items in one go.
First, the Infinite Rope.
A belt-like magical rope that extended indefinitely and regenerated when cut.
No combat applications—it wasn't durable or shape-shifting—but invaluable for dungeon traversal.
Bizarre terrain was more common than one might think.
Second, a Purification Canteen.
Exactly what it sounded like.
Filtered contaminated water and neutralized low-level toxins.
Essential for hydration in most scenarios.
Lastly, a Mind Fortification Ring.
The most expensive of the three.
The first two items were Hunter staples—mass-produced by magic-crafting Hunters in factory-like quantities.
But the ring?
Rare.
Few could make it, and the materials weren't cheap.
It required processing multiple low-grade Magic Stones into molten form.
Yet, Do-gyeom emptied his pockets for it.
Not to resist mental debuffs in solo play—though that was a bonus.
The real reason was Heaven-Slaying Star's madness.
"Right now, it's just swinging fish around, but..."
It had already manifested.
Meaning it could spiral out of control at any moment.
This ring would help suppress it—or at least give him a warning before the madness took over.
With his magical shopping done, Do-gyeom spent his remaining change on dried rations before heading home.
His inventory was now packed to the brim—thanks largely to the so-called "war hammer" hogging eight slots.
"I'll need to expand my inventory soon."
Shopping complete, he added another objective to his list.
Back in his room, Do-gyeom checked his stock portfolio via his banking app.
His initial 1,000,000 won investment had ballooned into tens of millions.
A few days ago, Advent Biosciences secured FDA approval for an emergency mana recovery drug.
Do-gyeom's expression remained indifferent.
This was expected.
If his regressed memories held true, this money would soon reach hundreds of millions.
If he cashed out at the peak?
Over a billion won.
Compared to that, tens of millions were pocket change.
Hell, even a billion wouldn't faze him.
With future knowledge, he could make far more.
But that wasn't the real reason for his apathy.
In the future he knew, money would become worthless—reduced to scraps of paper.
He'd lived through that.
Not that he was above wealth now.
Society was still intact, and cash had its uses.
He set automatic sell orders at target prices, then put the unearned money out of his mind.
Instead, he sat cross-legged and assessed the injuries from the Mansion of the Cannibal.
Not fully healed yet, but—
"This is enough to move forward."
Decision made.
He spoke aloud.
"Dungeon entry. Destination: Zombie Burst."
His body vanished from Earth.
Zombie Burst.
As the name suggested, a world overrun by zombies.
An open-world dungeon where multiple Hunters shared the same vast map.
The clear condition was simple:
Eliminate 1,000 zombies within 72 hours.
The numbers and time limit made it clear—this wasn't an easy dungeon.
Entry was also restricted:
No Hunters above D-rank.
Unlike the Mansion of the Cannibal, though, it wasn't ranked among the worst dungeons.
In fact, it made the Top 100 Easiest Dungeons list.
The reason?
Zombie Burst's setting mirrored 21st-century Earth.
Chainsaws, power tools—even guns and explosives if you got lucky.
Most were broken, but repairable outside the dungeon.
High-end electronics could also be sold for a profit.
Hence, easy.
The danger?
A given for Hunters.
And the 1,000-zombie quota?
Didn't have to be solo.
Parties of up to three could share the kill count.
For a full party, 1,000 wasn't so bad—especially with 21st-century weaponry.
Any low-rank Hunter who didn't visit this dungeon at least once was an idiot.
That was Zombie Burst's reputation.
And yet, Do-gyeom entered alone.
With all stats at E- to E rank.
Frankly, even for a Regressor, this was pushing it.
He wasn't a first-time entrant anymore—no tutorial buffs here.
"That's only true without Weakling Despiser."
Zombie Burst's undead were numerous but individually weak.
An F-rank Hunter with a weapon and nerves of steel could take on ten alone.
Meaning?
Every monster here was food for Weakling Despiser.
Dungeon spawn points were random.
Do-gyeom landed on an apartment rooftop.
In a dim cityscape where moonlight was the only illumination, this was the perfect starting point.
Unconsciously, he muttered:
"Lucky me."
He never thought he'd be spouting web novel protagonist lines himself.
But he couldn't help it—the situation was just that ideal.
His reasons for entering Zombie Burst were confidence and loot, but he had another goal:
Training martial skills that thrived in dungeons.
Like Earth-Binding Qi Art and Heaven-Binding Qi Art.
As mentioned before, internal energy techniques grew sluggishly on Earth—dungeons were far better.
And Zombie Burst's city-sized map (roughly the area of a Seoul district) offered plenty of secluded training spots.
"And my spawn point is a rooftop?"
A 20-story high-rise, no less.
Of course, zombies spawned here too.
The moment he looked around—
"Grrrraaah!"
A fallen zombie on the rooftop lurched up with a screech.
Do-gyeom silently drew the great maul from his inventory.
Normally, it would've been a two-handed struggle.
Now?
Felt light.
Crrrk—!
His entire body thrummed with Weakling Despiser's power.
All stats, +1 tier.
Just as Do-gyeom fully grasped the effect—
The zombie charged with a howl.
Zombie Burst's undead weren't the slow, shambling classics—these were MZ-generation zombies.
Do-gyeom watched calmly, then swung the maul.
WHAM!
A crisp impact sound—the zombie spun through the air before plummeting 20 stories.
Pancake ending. Guaranteed.
Do-gyeom didn't even glance its way.
The first zombie's movement triggered the rest.
Bodies rose across the rooftop—hidden zombies surged out, ready to swarm.
Not a bad situation at all.
As mentioned, Do-gyeom had multiple objectives.
Primary: martial training.
Secondary: shaking off any rust in his combat instincts post-regression.
A thousand-zombie slaughterhouse was perfect for that.
And finally—testing Heaven-Slaying Star in earnest.
Red dots flooded Do-gyeom's indifferent gaze.
Visible on every zombie charging at him.
A smile tugged at his lips.
Of course.
Weren't zombies already dead?
Yet he could see the points where they could be killed again.
A paradox, but that only made it clearer.
Heaven-Slaying Star's "absolute killing power" was fully active.
Do-gyeom stepped forward, thinking:
"Time to pay the madness tax."