The Returnee's Clearing Method (3)

Removing the fire-rate delay was a double-edged sword. The faster you fired, the more often you had to reload, and every reload opened a gap in your sustained firepower.

But for Aurora, which had no reload gap to speak of, eliminating the delay meant one thing: as long as the ammo held out, the damage would never stop.

Silver bullets glinted as they tore into Sohwa, one after another, each impact chewing her apart a little more slowly, a little more surely.

Gaping holes opened across her grotesquely contorted body, and with every new wound, a fresh scream ripped out of her and coiled around Seolhwa's ears.

"What did I ever do wrong?! All I ever did was love!"

Sohwa shrieked and whipped her fan through the air. The countless threads of miasma strewn across the floor gathered at a single point, then burst outward, flooding the chamber with roiling smoke.

"You too! Didn't you come back this time because there's something you regret?"

"Sure. I regret plenty."

The moment the words left her mouth, razor-sharp stilettos came flying at Seolhwa from every direction.

And the instant her eyes were drawn to those blades, Sohwa lunged through the gap, long claws raking toward her.

The dark crimson liquid kept crawling up from the floor, and before Seolhwa knew it, it had risen past her ankles. Sohwa's voice split into ten thousand overlapping threads and echoed through the hall.

"It's not fair! Give me back my place! Give me back my honor!"

Seolhwa didn't stop. Silver rounds poured from Aurora's overheating barrel and mercilessly ground Sohwa's desperate flailing into the dirt. Eyes cold and utterly still, Seolhwa looked down at her and pulled the trigger.

"If it was never yours to have to begin with, you should have envied it instead."

Once more, Aurora's form began to shift. The barrel shortened, the stock shrank away to nothing.

It now took the shape of a specialized single-shot pistol — a weapon that chambered one bullet at a time, and one bullet only.

"It'd be nice to have a mode that can counter sorcery too, right? I know of one. Care to give it a try?"

The technique she had been taught that day was called the Origin Bullet.

Seolhwa had been told, at length, that magic and sorcery belonged to entirely different systems of the world — and at the time, she'd responded with a flat what on earth are you talking about?

"From what I've seen, Aurora's greatest weapon is the user's imagination, more than anything else. So remember what I told you, and change its shape."

And the conclusion Seolhwa had reached, drawing on those words, was this.

"Let's finish this."

She pulled the trigger, and the bullet streaked away in a silver arc, straight for Sohwa.

Sohwa gathered the surrounding miasma into a protective barrier around herself.

But the instant the bullet touched it —

As if it had never existed at all, a massive hole tore open in the shield, and through it, the only thing visible was the terror frozen in Sohwa's eyes.

The bullet punched cleanly through her forehead.

"I…."

With that one broken syllable, her final words, Sohwa slowly faded away. The sky, which had been choked in darkness, now held blue and orange side by side.

Seolhwa pulled off her mask and drew in a deep breath.

Sweat was dripping, drop by drop, from the edge of her jaw.

"That was rough."

Seolhwa stowed Aurora in her inventory, then turned her gaze to the chat window.

She'd kept it open the whole time, of course — she just hadn't been reading it.

"So, how was that? Somehow I don't think I glanced at chat even once. But I'm mentioning it now, so. We're good, right?"

Seolhwa said it with an awkward smile.

"I told you. It's a gift from the goddess."

"The reward should be in Jagyeongjeon. But first—"

Seolhwa walked slowly to the spot where Sohwa had died.

There, lying alone, was a small silver knife — a silver ornamental dagger.

The red knot on its hilt had faded and frayed with age, yet the coldly gleaming scabbard bore an exquisitely engraved plum blossom pattern.

Not even Sohwa's miasma had dulled its color; a cool, pristine energy still radiated from it.

When Seolhwa picked it up, a blue system window unfurled before her eyes.

So this thing actually exists. And here I was, only half believing the rumors.

It had been an accessory she knew of by hearsay alone.

And this isn't even the real reward of this dungeon?

Seolhwa fastened the dagger at her waist.

The silver dagger suited her as naturally as the accessories she already wore.

And there was one more gift waiting.

"Nice."

Seolhwa glanced over the chat window, then spoke.

"Now then — shall we go collect the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠real reward?"

She looked back once at the place where Sohwa had died, then set her steps toward Jagyeongjeon.

The moment she approached, the door that had been sealed shut swung open, revealing the chamber within.

And in the innermost room sat a single box inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

Seolhwa opened it slowly.

Inside, instead of silk or jewels, lay a single bracelet — strands of vivid crimson thread woven tightly together.

It looked plain against the opulence of the mother-of-pearl box, but the energy radiating from it was clearer and more powerful than anything else in the room.

As Seolhwa lifted the bracelet, the tiny golden bell at the end of the thread gave off a clear, ringing chime.

All stats plus five… and it's a growth-type item, on top of that.

Growth-type items commanded immense value. Even in her other world, she'd only laid eyes on one or two in her entire life.

But what caught Seolhwa's attention was the strange line beneath the rest. The character for Three hidden behind the question marks was trembling — faintly, almost imperceptibly — as if it were alive.

When Seolhwa touched the Red Knot, the knot rose slowly into the air.

Unraveling gently, it wound itself carefully around her wrist.

The moment the knot tied itself perfectly, a system window appeared.

Seolhwa closed her eyes, then opened them again. She was standing in the real Jagyeongjeon — the one she'd entered from.

"It's over."

She read the chat for a moment, then spoke up.

"I'll call it here for today. Aurora's completely out of ammo, so I don't think I could do anything else even if I wanted to."

Seolhwa read the last message, then answered at her own pace.

"I'll think about it. Then — if there is a next time, I'll see you then."

And with that, Seolhwa ended the stream.

Once the broadcast cut out, the Last Promise community flooded with nothing but talk of Jagyeongjeon.

Countless people had taken up the challenge, and not one of them had succeeded.

And it wasn't just the community. The live-streaming platforms, too, were burning hot with the "Jagyeongjeon Challenge."

"No! Don't kill them! I'm TELLING you, killing them just spawns more!"

Ente, a streamer with half a million subscribers, was screaming. On screen, he was locked in a desperate struggle, surrounded by a swarm of water ghouls that had multiplied into the hundreds.

When Jagyeongjeon's durability finally bottomed out and the mission-failed message flashed across his screen, he stared into the viewer camera with a hollow expression.

"She cleared this ALONE? Is that person even human? This isn't damage control anymore, this is ecosystem management."

"Hey! Stop mocking me! Does that even SOUND reasonable? Doing all of that at once, alone?!"

Just then, a donation chimed in with a cheerful ding.

The video showed Seolhwa carving a one-woman path of destruction through Jagyeongjeon, wrapping up the final stretch in style.

Ente watched it and let out a bitter laugh.

"No, seriously, I watched a bit of her stream before I went live today. And I'm telling you, what she's doing shouldn't be possible."

Ente deftly scrubbed through the footage and began breaking it down, piece by piece.

"All right, listen up. First, look at the video — she kills up to four of them immediately, so the spawn rate can't keep pace with her kill rate. That means she's managing the clock too."

"Look at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that! Even the moment she's surrounded by four water ghouls, she doesn't panic — she puts a harpoon precisely into the one in the far corner gnawing at the building! That's not just good aim. That's proof she has the spawn points and target priority for every single mob memorized!"

Ente said it with a hollow laugh.

"Hey! Who said I can't?! I've been playing this game for ages, you know!"

Ente threw himself into the dungeon once more.

With a soft hiss, the capsule's hatch opened, and instead of artificial oxygen, the cool air of the room flowed into Seolhwa's lungs.

Before the lingering afterimages and dizziness unique to virtual reality had even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faded, Seolhwa's gaze drifted slowly downward — drawn by a strange weight she could feel on her left wrist.

"…!"

Her pupils trembled, fine as a shiver.

There, wrapped around her slender wrist atop her pale skin, was a coil of vivid crimson thread.

"Why is this here?"

Chime—

The clear, silvery ring of the little bell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spread softly through the study.