Week 6 Mentoring, Dungeon Clearance (3)

Goblins came pouring out through the hole in a rush. Their numbers were modest compared to the swarm at the main gate, but still nothing to dismiss. Without sparing us so much as a glance, they beelined straight for the Goddess statue.

In the most nonchalant tone imaginable, I asked Song Cheon-hye,

"I should go plug that, shouldn't I?"

"Go—go quickly!"

As I ambled toward the wall, I cast Wind Force. A wind packed with raw kinetic force slammed into the goblins gleefully charging the statue.

"Kerek?"

"Kek?"

They staggered as if they'd smacked into an invisible wall, stumbling and marching in place. And the closer I came, the harder they were driven backward. Wind Force's power had been sapped by the close-range restriction too, but as the gap between us shrank, its original strength steadily came back online. I kept shoving the goblins back, and back again—sweeping them into a pile the way a broom gathers dust into a dustpan—then crammed the whole lot right back through the hole.

"Kehek!"

A few flailed in desperation and hurled their wooden spears, but those weren't even worth dodging. So long as I held Wind Force, the spears lost all momentum mid-flight and dropped with a dull tap to the floor. I scooped one up and gave it a light toss; it shot across the room and sank in with a satisfying thunk.

Even while frantically defending the main gate, Song Cheon-hye had kept stealing glances this way, and at the whole spectacle her face filled with disbelief.

"How on earth..."

The hole in the wall might have been narrower than the main gate, but apparently she couldn't quite believe I'd sealed it off this effortlessly.

Anyway, that side's handled now.

The problem was Song Cheon-hye's. Every time a goblin or two slipped past her, I'd snag it and toss it back—but now that I'd gone off to plug the newly opened breach, that role had a gap in its coverage.

"Kekek!"

"Agh!"

Just as I'd feared, another goblin lucked its way through the lightning barrage and slipped right past Song Cheon-hye. With nobody to hinder it, it sprinted to the statue and began hammering down with the stone clutched in its hands.

"Tch."

A hummingbird of lightning took wing from Song Cheon-hye's hand. A single streak of flash crossed the temple and struck the goblin true.

bzzt-crackle—

She ranked it up. From E to D. Apparently she'd kept up her magic training in the meantime.

But rank wasn't what mattered just then. Caught in the close-range restriction, her magic would sink below even F-rank effectiveness all the same.

"Kek?"

Even with a D-rank Hummingbird scoring a direct hit, the goblin simply gave itself a shake as if brushing off an itch and went right on chiseling away with its stone. If anything, the Hummingbird had backfired—splitting her focus had only made her defense of the main gate sloppier.

The goblins who'd been squeezing through one or two at a time now came sprinting past Song Cheon-hye four and five at a time.

"No—no, stop."

"Kikikik!"

"Kehek!"

Wooden spears and hurled stones rained onto the statue, and the ones latched on close swung whatever they had in hand—dagger or hand axe, they'd swing first and think later. Under the concentrated assault, the statue's HP gauge drained fast.

"Tch."

Judging that enough was enough, Song Cheon-hye slammed her foot into the ground. A single bolt of lightning lashed across the space, reached the statue in a flash, and the discharge swept the goblins clean off it.

bzz-CRACK!!

Most were charred into lumps of coal, but the few survivors couldn't have cared less and went right back to beating on the statue. That blind, single-minded persistence, too, owed a great deal to Dang Gyu-young's command.

Worse still, with Song Cheon-hye away from her post, the goblin pack by the main gate came flooding through in a rush. A green wave crashed over the statue like a tide.

This one's done for.

Song Cheon-hye gritted her teeth and fired lightning in every direction, but there was no outcasting sheer numbers. And with the enemy ignoring her completely to target only the statue, the situation was all the more hopeless.

At last, with a sharp snap, a massive fissure split the statue from crown to base, branched in every direction, and brought it crashing down.

The instant the failure message printed, everything—the shattered debris, the monsters, all of it—evaporated into dust. And the very next moment, as if to ask what battle anyone was even talking about, the statue stood restored in its place, good as new.

The dungeon itself had been reset.

Then, from who knows where, Dang Gyu-young drifted down and touched lightly beside us. She opened a teleport portal leading out and said,

"Send Gwak Ji-cheol and Hong Yeon-hwa in. While you're waiting, replay what just happened."

"Yes, senior."

Outside the dungeon, I relayed Dang Gyu-young's message to Gwak Ji-cheol, the first one to catch my eye.

"You're up."

"Got it."

Hong Yeon-hwa, for her part, so badly didn't want to pair with Gwak Ji-cheol that she'd been keeping him at a generous distance, treating him like a man made of air—but once the mentor had welded them into a single team, choice wasn't on the menu. The two trudged into the dungeon together, and the instant their eyes met, they both started growling.

"Don't you dare get in my way."

"Funny. I was about to say the same."

The two of them vanished inside, and Song Cheon-hye quietly shut her eyes, sinking into thought. She seemed to be replaying the fight in her mind, exactly as Dang Gyu-young had ordered. I left her to it, granting her all the time she needed.

After a while, she opened her eyes and asked me,

"I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Did you know the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wall was going to break? It was clearly an ambush out of nowhere, yet you were far too calm about it."

Of course I knew. I'd run the Old Shrine and its defense until I was sick of them both. I had the whole progression memorized, first step to last. But since I couldn't exactly announce I've done this so many times I know it by heart, I reached for a different explanation.

"Let's say I was mentally braced for it. Things were going too smoothly, so it smelled fishy. I couldn't have called the wall specifically, but I figured there had to be more coming."

Whenever a situation feels too easy, a healthy dose of suspicion is due. Even without my long history with the Old Shrine defense, I'd probably have handled it the same way.

Song Cheon-hye accepted that with a nod.

"I see. That hadn't occurred to me. But then—weren't you far too passive afterward?"

Judging by how effortlessly I'd sealed the side breach, I'd clearly had strength to spare for other moves. So why had I folded my hands and spectated until the statue lay in pieces? was what she meant. She fixed me with a probing stare.

I answered like it was nothing.

"I stayed out of it on purpose this time."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see how you'd cope. And I was curious where your limits actually were."

When one or two goblins slipped past her defense of the main gate, how would she deal with them without my help? Up to how many could she manage? I was testing the possibilities—working out which of her shortcomings I'd need to cover going forward.

"I understand your reasoning. Even so, I would have preferred you paid more attention to the defense itself. There was other information to gather, and we failed far too early."

The "other information" Song Cheon-hye meant was the rest of the encounter—how many more goblins would pour out afterward, whether other monsters might make an appearance, whether a second breach might open in the walls. For me, who had run the Old Shrine defense countless times, I already knew every one of those answers; there was no need at all. But that, too, wasn't something I could say outright, so I fudged.

"We'll have plenty of chances from here on. A few more attempts and that'll fill itself in."

That remark, apparently, rubbed her the wrong way—judging by how sour her expression turned. Half lecture, half plea, she laid into me.

"I think that's a complacent attitude. No matter how many chances come your way, shouldn't you give your absolute best each and every time? Greater opportunities come to those who are faithful in every single moment—so it has been said."

"Why do I feel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like I've heard that one before... Was it your grandfather's words?"

Racking my memory—back at the Placement Exam, when I abstained, she'd also invoked her grandfather the Thunder Lord's aphorisms while scolding me.

Song Cheon-hye had been about to carry on nagging when she abruptly froze. She blinked several times, then asked,

"...You remember that?"

"It wasn't wrong, that's all."

"I assumed it would go in one ear and out the other."

"How could it? We're not talking about just anybody—it's the Thunder Lord himself. That deserves better than one ear."

"...Ahem. Quite right, of course. You do know a thing or two."

The corner of Song Cheon-hye's mouth crept upward. The Thunder Lord seemed to be her grandfather and her role model in one, so it stood to reason she'd preen a little when someone recognized and honored that. The sternness she'd been marshaling melted away at remarkable speed.

If I wanted to steer the conversation back onto productive rails, this was the perfect moment. I pounced on the opening.

"Anyway—I admit I coasted since it was our first attempt. The past is the past. Let's talk about how we run it from here."

"Yes, I think that's the right call."

"Letting one or two goblins through—if you run it over and over, how much can you shore that up?"

Tracing the failure to its root, it had started with the single goblin Song Cheon-hye dropped thanks to a control slip, and from there the snowball just kept rolling until the main gate gave out entirely. Being her first attempt, unfamiliarity had weighed heavily too. With more repetitions, things would definitely improve.

Song Cheon-hye thought for a moment, then offered an honest answer.

"I can reduce it. Still, ten minutes without dropping a single one will be difficult."

"Then push it as far as you can, and whatever still leaks through, I'll catch."

"That alone would be more than enough."

Beyond that, we ironed out policies in advance for a handful of other contingencies—other surprise events, what to do if the main gate fell completely, and so on. Song Cheon-hye nodded along, looking thoroughly satisfied.

"Today we're actually getting somewhere. If only you were always like this."

"You're being awfully cooperative yourself today? Last time I had to shove a Wish Ticket in your face just to get you moving."

"I don't let private feelings interfere with practical evaluations. And I helped you quite thoroughly last time, if you recall?"

The "last time" I'd pressed her into service—using the small Wish Ticket she'd owed me from our wager—was when I set up that friendly sparring match between Go Hyeon-woo and Han So-mi. Later, I heard the two of them had gone several rounds, so things had clearly worked out. After all the sweets I'd handed over, it would have stung if they hadn't.

"Right, you did help. But I've got another Wish Ticket. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠You know that, yes?"

"Wh-why do you ask?"

"We peeled off a sticker. One to nothing, our win."

"That wasn't you—that was Hong Yeon-hwa who peeled it."

"Yep. From our pair~"

If it burns that much, go pick yourself better partners next time~

Song Cheon-hye trembled with humiliation.

"Again. Let's wager again."

"Pass. When it's nothing but winning, the fun wears off. There has to be some tension in it."

"Ugh, you are genuinely the worst."

Amid our light bickering, the portal shimmered open and Hong Yeon-hwa and Gwak Ji-cheol stepped out. They looked to have failed like us, but they'd lasted longer inside the dungeon. Which meant they'd held ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out that much longer.

Their matchups were favorable from the start, to be fair.

For controlling a confined space like this temple, fire and earth-wood magic were simply better suited than lightning. If Hong Yeon-hwa blanketed a wide area in sustained flames while Gwak Ji-cheol raised earthen walls around the statue or summoned a golem with his nature magic, their defense would be far easier than ours. Of course, they'd failed too, because they couldn't solve what came after. Even so, one thing was plain: they were ahead of us. And from the look of it, they knew it.

"......"

Hong Yeon-hwa flicked a sidelong glance at Song Cheon-hye as if merely passing by. She had plainly intended to keep her face blank, but without her realizing it, one corner of her mouth twisted up into the strangest smirk. That girl truly could not manage her expressions. The accidental provocation landed dead center—you could practically hear tendons snapping taut on Song Cheon-hye's forehead.

Before long, Song Cheon-hye spoke in a small voice pitched for my ears alone—but in a tone so frost-cold it bore no resemblance to anything she'd said until now.

"...I would very much like to win this one."