Octopus Legs

The moment I stepped out of the Thief Club room, I called for Jang Mu-geuk and Wang Chunsam. No long speech was necessary—a single word would do.

True to form, the pair of killers came running with everything else cast aside. Their eyes blazed with longing.

"...Kim Ho."

"Yeah, you made it."

"Is it true?"

"What would I have to gain from lying?"

There was nothing to be had from deceiving them. Wang Chunsam pressed on.

"Do you have it on you now?"

"No, I'm going to fetch it sometime this week. I called you two because there's something we need to arrange in advance."

"Let's hear it, then."

I gave them a condensed account of the exchange that had taken place in the Thief Club room: that we would be hitching a ride into a B-rank dungeon, that one of the hidden pieces to be recovered there was Ghost Without Shadow, and that one slot was currently open.

Jang Mu-geuk and Wang Chunsam traded a glance. Two people had been called for a single seat, so it was only right that the spot go to whoever was more skilled. And by my standards, Wang Chunsam's ability fell just a touch short, at that.

Thus Jang Mu-geuk spoke up.

"You mean for us to join the raid."

"That's right."

"And what would I stand to gain?"

"Priority trading rights."

"...!"

Ghost Without Shadow was a legacy left behind by the Phantom Demon, one of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Four Demons of the World. Its true nature was an exceedingly special and powerful skill—and at the same time, a kind of enlightenment. It had the drawback of being tremendously difficult to locate and obtain, but it also carried advantages more than weighty enough to offset that.

'The fact that it isn't single-use.'

As a rule, items that taught a skill or trait vanished the instant they were consumed. The skill book and quest scroll Seo Ye-in had used were prime examples. Ghost Without Shadow, by contrast, had a limited number of uses, but those chances were parceled out fairly among multiple people. Even after the Thief Club members designated in advance and Go Hyeon-woo took their turns, two or three uses would likely remain—and my proposal was to grant priority over those.

Jang Mu-geuk's eyes deepened.

"It certainly whets the appetite. Still, I would hear you out to the very end before deciding."

"Quite right."

"You offer priority trading rights. Yet even if we secure that priority, is it not meaningless unless the trade itself comes to pass?"

In other words, he would accept the mercenary proposal only after the deal was locked in, so that no one could wriggle out with excuses later. It was a condition reasonable enough, and I nodded.

"I won't ask for anything unreasonable. With the two of you, it shouldn't be difficult."

If anything, being Black Way made the thing easier to source, not harder.

The moment my request crossed my lips, a curious light rose in their eyes.

"Not easy, but not impossible either. For Ghost Without Shadow, one would have to pay at least that much for the balance to hold. But what do you intend to use it for?"

"Does that matter?"

"...No. It does not."

What mattered was not the purpose, but the simple fact that I wanted the thing as material for a trade. Jang Mu-geuk pressed no further and gave a slow, weighing nod.

"Very well. I accept the proposal. Friday, was it?"

"Right, Friday. And read this over beforehand."

I handed him a strategy guide as well—though next to the comprehensive editions I'd prepared for Go Hyeon-woo, Dang Gyu-young, and Chae Da-bin, it was a very thin thing indeed.

'He doesn't need to know the rest.'

What I required was Jang Mu-geuk's sword arm. Anything beyond that could be left to the other party members if the situation demanded.

Tucking the guide into his coat, Jang Mu-geuk asked, "I will commit it to memory. Is that the whole of your business?"

"Yeah, that's all."

"Then we will take our leave. We came in rather a hurry."

Having evidently dropped some other task halfway to come running, the two rose from their seats on the spot.

I watched their retreating backs, then something occurred to me and I tossed out a question.

"By the way, are you two still using aliases these days?"

"Of course."

"What are they?"

Jang Mu-geuk and Wang Chunsam glanced at each other before answering.

"Jang Oh."

"Wang Gon."

"..."

Their naming sense was as tragic as ever. Not one whit of progress from Jang Sam–Wang Pil, or Jang Cheol-su–Wang Min-su.

I offered no comment, and into that silence Jang Mu-geuk ventured carefully, "...Not to your liking?"

"Guys, if it gives you away the instant someone hears it, what's the point of an alias?"

"A fair point. We shall take it under advisement next time."

"So whose idea were Jang Oh and Wang Gon, exactly?"

At that question the two fell silent for a beat—then pointed at each other in the same breath.

"This fool invented them."

"This fool called them good."

The next day.

Class let out, and just as I made to leave the classroom, I noticed the atmosphere outside was more stirred up than usual. Nine times out of ten, that meant someone from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠another class or year had come calling for a person.

I stole a glance out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the door, and sure enough, at the eye of the commotion stood a familiar head of red hair.

"..."

None other than the fighting dog of wrath, Hong Yeon-hwa. Her looks drew the eye by nature and she had fame to match, so there was no way she wouldn't collect the attention of everyone passing by. She herself, however, seemed to find all the sneaking glances distinctly unpleasant, and every time eyes pooled on her she would fire combative glares off in all four directions.

But no sooner had she peeled one crowd's gazes away than other students would drift past and begin glancing in their turn, and the staring war showed no sign of winding down.

"Greetings, Lady Hong."

Into the middle of this walked Go Hyeon-woo, exercising his trademark sociability. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hong Yeon-hwa kept her face half-creased into a scowl, but perhaps because the two were at least nodding acquaintances, she answered with a slight dip of her chin.

Go Hyeon-woo opened his mouth, an amiable smile on his lips.

"A fine bout the other day. I learned a move or two."

"...Same."

He appeared to be referring to the Cloud Stairs PvP match. You can't spit at a smiling face, as they say, and the moment the compliment landed, Hong Yeon-hwa's expression thawed considerably. A few more words passed back and forth about the match before Go Hyeon-woo asked, "Have you business with Brother Kim?"

"...Yeah."

"Wait but a moment. I shall fetch him for you straightaway."

But there was no need for Go Hyeon-woo to fetch anyone. I had been listening to the whole exchange. The pairing was simply such a novel sight that I'd held off from butting in to watch.

The moment I approached, Hong Yeon-hwa's anger management improved at a steep clip. The combative glare had vanished without a trace, replaced by the most docile expression in the world.

Go Hyeon-woo looked from her to me and back, then smiled meaningfully.

"How intriguing..."

"What is?"

"Nothing of consequence. May you have a pleasant time."

With that, Go Hyeon-woo withdrew, his feet tracing the Cheonpung Myriad-Mile Stride. Surely that was not footwork a man trained in just to make exits like that.

I turned my head to Hong Yeon-hwa.

"So. What brings you?"

"Ah, that is... I have something to give you..."

Out of Hong Yeon-hwa's inventory came one long box and one tiny one. The shapes alone told me what was inside.

'It's finished.'

Following Root, the second weapon I had commissioned from the Blacksmith Club President was complete. Working the Kraketite must not have given them much trouble, because the piece had been finished right on schedule.

I had no intention of parading a new weapon around for the whole academy to see, so I took Hong Yeon-hwa and moved to a spot where foot traffic ran thin. Opening the long box revealed a short rod within, black overall with a faint bluish sheen, a joint visible at either end—barely.

I immediately produced Deep Root, detached the F-rank iron rod that had been serving purely as a length extension, and connected the freshly acquired rod in its place. What emerged was a spear that fitted together as though it had been a single piece from the very beginning.

The item's name had changed from Deep Root to Rooted Sapling, and its overall rank had edged up as well, from A to A+. And with it came the newly added trait: Octopus Legs.

'I never thought I'd get my hands on this so soon.'

I had picked up this game-breaking option faster and more easily than expected. For a few pointers lent to the Magic Engineering Club, the reward was almost embarrassingly good.

'And that was all thanks to my lucky mascot.'

In my heart, I performed a deep formal bow to Seo Ye-in, who was at that very moment sunk in sweet sleep back in the classroom.

Take Wind Barrier as an example. Ordinarily you would chant, complete the spell, drape it over one person, then run through the same process for the next, and the next after that. With Octopus Legs, you could wrap three people in Wind Barrier all at once. The same held for skills with cooldowns: normally you cast once, waited out the cooldown, cast again, waited again—but with Octopus Legs you could fire off as many as you liked, simultaneously.

'Of course, the penalty is downright monstrous.'

Cast a skill 'n times' at once through Octopus Legs, and the cost or penalty swelled to 'n squared.' Triple-casting Wind Barrier meant nine times the mana drain. Quintuple-casting a skill with a one-hour cooldown meant a total cooldown of a staggering twenty-five hours. As for Inferno Fist or Hyneum Jade Demon Finger, I was only just barely smoothing over their elemental penalties as things stood—through Octopus Legs, those two would be flatly unusable.

'Even so, the applications are endless.'

In the crush of a desperate battle, there were moments when you had to dump every skill you had and eat the penalty gladly. My stock of trump cards had just grown by one.

Hong Yeon-hwa, meanwhile, had been studying my face the entire time. The moment I lifted my gaze from the sapling, she asked gingerly.

"...How is it?"

"I like it. It came out clean again this time."

Having answered, I asked in return, "Something else you wanted to say?"

"Ah, yeah..."

Hong Yeon-hwa had come claiming it was an errand, but I figured the real business started now. The Ruby Magic Tower and the Blacksmith Club got along well enough, granted, but not so cozily that they'd press a rising star into service as a delivery girl. Had she been directly involved in the crafting, as when we smelted the Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron alloy, that would be one thing—she hadn't been. Working it through, my guess was that Hong Ye-hwa had handed her the package and told her to ask about something in passing.

'Which actually suits me fine.'

I'd been meaning to reach out today or tomorrow anyway; her coming to me saved me the legwork. And what Hong Yeon-hwa said next deviated little from my expectations.

"Um... I was wondering... whether you're entering a dungeon this week...?"

Hong Yeon-hwa needed to clear an ice-themed dungeon for her Aqua Flame rank-up. The trouble was, the Ruby Magic Tower's second- and third-years were, for reasons of their own, tied up for the time being. And the alternative Hong Ye-hwa had settled on was me. With extra compensation on the table, there was nothing in it that hurt me, so I had accepted, saying I'd find the time.

'And as it happens, I do have time.'

This week's raid had cleared the Herb Garden on its very first day, and since we wouldn't be entering Gathering of Evildoers until Friday, my schedule stood wide open until then.

I nodded and asked, "How about today or tomorrow?"

Perhaps it came a bit out of the blue, because Hong Yeon-hwa's eyes went round as she stared at me. But before long she gave a small, careful nod.

"Y-yeah. That's fine..."

"I see."

Then let's head down.