Week 5 Mentoring, PvP Assessment (5)

"Hey, Kim Ho."

"Yes, senior."

"You crossed a line back there."

"I'm sorry, senior."

"You did that on purpose."

"I didn't, senior."

"Then why'd you rip it off so hard?"

"The fight got heated, and I put more force into it than I meant to, senior."

"..."

Dang Gyu-young narrowed her eyes and glared at me, as if by sheer force of stare she could divine whether my words were truth or lie.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

It's the truth, though.

Between Thief's Step and an Overheat amplified all the way up to B-rank, flawless control was beyond me in my current state. And with Dang Gyu-young performing at the very peak of her abilities, peeling those stickers off her had demanded every ounce of force I could muster. Still, aside from accidentally tearing a button off along with the fabric, my conscience was clear, so I met her gaze head-on instead of dodging it.

"..."

Every few seconds, Dang Gyu-young's eyebrows changed shape. They scrunched into a sharp V — angry. Then eased into a soft, thoughtful curve, as if she were mulling something over. Then scrunched up again, the anger apparently rekindled.

Running a guess at her current state of mind, it probably went something like this. She knew perfectly well that the whole incident had been a pure accident. But knowing it didn't stop it from stinging. And she'd already accepted my apologies any number of times, so dragging the grudge out any further would be petty — a senior couldn't afford to look that small-minded. And yet her anger hadn't cooled enough to simply let the whole thing slide.

So she cycled between fuming and deliberating, until her gaze suddenly dropped downward. She was still clutching her torn shirt, and apparently deciding to settle that much first, she said a single word.

"Stickers."

"Yes, senior."

The moment I peeled off all three and held them out, a shadow hand rose up and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠snatched them away. Another shadow hand pointed off to the side.

"Face that way."

"Yes, senior."

I turned my back on her entirely and began admiring the walls of the Circular Colosseum. Behind me came the rustle of fabric, then a long sigh. I let the sounds wash past one ear while I checked the quest.

The quest reward was a boost to the mentoring event's growth bonus. Succeeding on the very first attempt had earned the Major enhancement tacked on top. Where a standard run of the event granted a bonus of roughly twenty percent, the massively upgraded version now pushed that past one hundred percent — growth speed more than doubled. For someone like me, who intended to walk away from this mentoring with several powerful skills and traits under my belt, it was a reward I absolutely could not do without.

Of course, this was a Mentoring event, which meant that even with the bonus secured, nothing would progress an inch without Dang Gyu-young's cooperation. I just hoped she'd cool off soon.

— Poke.

Deep in that line of thought, I felt something jab me in the back. It felt like a finger, and it went right on scratching back and forth across my shoulder blades. Writing something, by the feel of it. I tried to make out the letters... F-o...?

"Senior?"

Turning my head over my shoulder, I found Dang Gyu-young's face, sulking fit to burst. She jabbed my cheek with her index finger.

"Nobody said you could turn around. Eyes front. Front."

Her fingertip pressed into my cheek again and again, as if hurrying me along. Guilty as charged, I put my head back where it belonged and obediently offered up my back as a doodle pad. Sure, go right ahead. Scribble to your heart's content until you feel better.

Dang Gyu-young added the final stroke to complete Fool across my back, then kept right on scrawling every petty insult she could think of beneath it — sea anemone, country mutt, and the rest of the collection.

Only after that did her anger seem to thaw a little, because her voice came out noticeably softer.

"...You can turn around now."

At the granted permission, I looked back to find Dang Gyu-young wearing a hoodie over her shirt, zipper pulled all the way to her chin. The two stickers on her top were hidden beneath it, and only the one on her thigh had been restored to its rightful place.

"You. Try that again next time, and see what happens."

"I'll be careful."

"Let's go."

Emerging through the teleportation circle, we found a heavy, leaden atmosphere hanging over the three who had gone out ahead. The physical and mental aftereffects of taking a beating from Dang Gyu-young had run deeper than any of them expected. Song Cheon-hye had put on a brave face at first, but evidently couldn't keep the act up, and now sat meekly in the front row of the stands; Gwak Ji-cheol had simply given up and sprawled flat across two or three seats. Hong Yeon-hwa had come out of it comparatively unscathed, thanks to my repeated interventions at critical moments, and perhaps seeing no need to huddle in the stands, stood with her arms crossed in front of the stage.

Then, the moment Dang Gyu-young and I appeared, they all came crowding around. Even though she'd gone into the arena without the hoodie and come out wearing it, Gwak Ji-cheol didn't seem to find anything odd about that. From the look of him, he'd vaguely concluded she'd just put it on because she felt cold.

Song Cheon-hye, on the other hand, caught the suspicious undertone and shot darting, doubtful glances back and forth between me and Dang Gyu-young. With weather this fine, no one would wear a hoodie out of cold — and even if she had, she wouldn't have uncomfortably zipped it all the way to her chin.

And then there was Hong Yeon-hwa.

"...!"

She gave a faint tremble, as if she'd uncovered one more piece of the puzzle. Her eyes were locked on Dang Gyu-young's thigh — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or to be precise, on the sticker stuck to it. At a casual glance there was nothing to notice, but observe a little more closely and you could tell the sticker's position had shifted, ever so slightly. Which could only mean it had been peeled off and pressed back on. The look Hong Yeon-hwa was beaming at me meant, nine times out of ten, exactly one thing:

That man actually pulled it off...!

While each of them stewed in their own separate thoughts, Dang Gyu-young took a long, unhurried look over the first-years' faces once more. Then, with a low hum, she began.

"Hmm... Normally, by the book, I'd go through you one at a time and give individual feedback based on how you performed. But right now, that's not what matters."

The flaw they all shared, glaringly obvious even before any individual feedback, was simply too big. Dang Gyu-young had apparently judged it better to patch that first. The flaw being:

"Your close combat is far too weak. All of you. And I don't mean just weak — I mean disappointing. Even making allowances for the fact that you're mages, you're weak."

"...!"

"Think back to when you fought me just now. Did a single one of you even lay a hand on a sticker?"

"..."

For an instant, all three bristled at being called incompetent — but at what followed, they shut their mouths and sank into silence. No rebuttal was likely to come to mind, after all.

Take Hong Yeon-hwa, whom I'd watched from the sidelines. She had opened with a genuinely spirited assault. But contrary to the opening plan, she never managed to find a real opening in Dang Gyu-young's guard, and after landing nothing but empty probes, she was caught by the closing distance instead. When I finally forced her into close quarters at the end, she did reach for a sticker — but literally only reached, which hardly qualified as an effective action. Everything after that was her getting hammered one-sidedly. I hadn't seen how Song Cheon-hye and Gwak Ji-cheol had fared, but I'd wager it didn't look much different.

Dang Gyu-young's critique pressed on.

"If you're going to run an All-Rounder build, close combat is the bare minimum, no? Fine — fine, let's be generous. Say you skip All-Rounder entirely and go the ordinary Artillery-type mage route. Even then, you'd better have at least some countermeasure ready for when someone gets in your face."

Can't argue with that. I nodded along. Genuinely useful advice for the fledglings in front of her.

"Say you run into an opponent with a powerful charge or mobility skill. You think they'll just give up because you keep backing away? You have to hold your ground, even for a moment, force an opening, and only then break the distance. That's the only way any chance at all opens up for you."

"...!"

She had merely offered it as an example, yet all three flinched as though she'd singled them out by name. They had almost certainly lost to that exact scenario before. Gwak Ji-cheol and Hong Yeon-hwa in particular seemed to be remembering something, because they stole glances at me and hastily looked away.

"So for this round of mentoring, let's focus on close combat and nothing else. The goal is to shave off at least two to three hundred points through close combat alone. From what I've seen, it's doable. Every one of you has more than enough foundation to build on."

After all, none of them had learned just one or two skills and traits from their Magic Towers. Look at Hong Yeon-hwa right now — didn't she already carry Overheat, a skill practically tailor-made for close combat? She simply hadn't been able to put it to proper use. With that settled, the road ahead was clear.

"Drill it until it's second nature, and something will come of it."

Fight clumsily, fight again, and pile up experience the brute-force way. And for the most part, their sparring partner would be Dang Gyu-young. Their bodies were in for a world of hurt, but skill has a way of growing faster the harder you wring yourself out.

"And about the PvP assessment. I'm giving you three more chances to challenge me. Peel every sticker within those attempts and it's fifty points. Fail, and it's fifty off."

In other words: once the training started building your confidence, come and try. If you got smashed, you went back to repeating sparring matches with Dang Gyu-young to build yourself up, and then challenged again. Fifty points in the PvP assessment was the swing from winning or losing two matches against opponents of similar standing. Failure wouldn't be devastating, but it was more than enough to keep everyone properly on edge.

"As for teams and strategy... honestly, I have plenty to say about that too, but for now we're looking at close combat only. Sort the rest out among yourselves."

Summed up, the week's schedule looked like this. Academic calendar and personal training as usual. Whatever time remained got carved up and poured into mentoring. Our group had proven itself hopeless at close combat, so we would repeat one-on-one sparring against Dang Gyu-young to bank experience — thirty minutes or so per person, per day.

"By the way — why are you even taking mentoring?"

Dang Gyu-young asked the moment the two of us were alone. This week's plan had been drawn up under the premise of weak close combat. That premise didn't apply to me. I'd stripped every sticker off her ages ago. Which meant she'd have to teach me something else entirely, and from the look of it, she had no idea what that something might be.

I answered in the tone of a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠man stating the obvious.

"What other reason could there be? I'm taking mentoring to learn as much as I can, same as anyone."

"As if you've got anything left to learn from me. Leave you alone and you'd shoot up just fine on your own."

"There's plenty. And this time in particular, I need your help."

At the words your help, Dang Gyu-young's eyes gleamed.

"Ohh? Do tell."

"I'm trying to acquire a trait."

"What trait?"

"The full explanation would take a while, so for now, let's just say it's an evasion type."

"Evasion type... Yeah, then you would need my help."

A trait learned by dodging things — naturally, someone had to be attacking me. And there was one more reason it had to be Dang Gyu-young specifically:

The sub quest reward had driven my growth speed past double, but it came with a single condition attached: I had to receive my mentor's help. Whatever training I undertook, the mentor had to be right there beside me, or the bonus didn't apply. One way or another, Dang Gyu-young had to be the one swinging at me.

She had been hovering in uncertainty anyway, so my taking the initiative and handing her a direction seemed to come as a relief.

"Fine, let's give it a go, then. Get ready."

The shadows began to ripple. But just as the fight was about to begin, I raised my hand again and stopped her.

"Senior."

"What. Now what."

"I'd like you to take off the bracelet first."

"?"

Dang Gyu-young blinked, then lifted her arm — presenting the C-rank restriction bracelet she'd worn for this PvP assessment.

"This?"

"Yes, that one."

"You want to do this with no rank restrictions?"

"That's the only way the acquisition odds go up."

"Just what kind of trait is this, exactly? At least let me hear the name."

If the acquisition conditions included dodging a third-year's attacks thrown at full power, then this was never going to be an ordinary trait. Her suspicion was right on the mark. Back when I was playing Dragon Slayer Academy, I remembered only two or three players in all the soaring top-ten rankings — myself included — who had ever managed to learn it. The thing was plastered with tedious conditions, so its very existence stayed obscure, and even after it became known, anyone whose circumstances didn't line up simply had to give up on acquiring it altogether. In exchange, its power once learned was downright monstrous — among the countless defensive traits in the game, it ranked among the handful most miserable to deal with.

The name of that trait:

"[Distortion]."

"Another strange one out of you. What's the effect?"

"I'll show you myself, once I've learned it."

"Fine. Suit yourself."

Dang Gyu-young slipped her wrist free of the C-rank restriction bracelet. The moment the shackle came off and her skills reclaimed their true ranks, the shade pooled at her feet began to deepen, growing darker by the second.

"You are confident you can dodge this, right?"

"More or less."

"Hmph. Fine then. Give it your best."

The shadows writhed once, hugely — and then a volume of shadow incomparable to anything before the bracelet came off erupted upward as if the floor itself had detonated.

— KWAAAAAAAH—!

[83] The Support Ate It All