Week 6 Mentoring, Conquest Battle (5)

"Was I a bit too harsh?"

"Senior, why would you do that? She looked about two seconds from bursting into tears."

"No, seriously, I didn't do it on purpose! Who knew it would throw its cleaver like that?"

Dang Gyu-young scratched her cheek sheepishly.

The Beheader Goblin hurling its kitchen cleaver at the final moment had not been part of the plan. The orders she could issue through the [Commander] rule were, at best, simple ones — move to such-and-such a place, attack such-and-such a target, that sort of thing. 'Keep your distance and stick to ranged attacks only,' or 'Forget everything else and focus on the statue alone' — you could consider that the absolute ceiling.

Everything past that point was the monster acting on instinct, so variables large and small were bound to crop up. By the same token, Dang Gyu-young had never held the authority to control every little twitch and turn of the Beheader. Her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠final order had probably been something along the lines of 'deal some kind of damage to the statue before you die.'

"But still, the whole situation was just a little... funny... pfft—hahahaha!"

Dang Gyu-young's laughter burst out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all over again.

Who could have guessed the Beheader Goblin would fling its cleaver? Or that the cleaver would sink dead-center into the statue's waist? Or that a good forty percent of its health would evaporate in a single blow? Even I, who had run defense until I was sick to death of it, and Dang Gyu-young herself, who'd been doing the commanding, were left dumbfounded — so the shock for Song Cheon-hye, who had battled the Beheader right up to the very end, must have been truly immense.

That blank, dazed expression stood worlds apart from her usual stern, dignified, serious face, and perhaps that was exactly why Dang Gyu-young had failed to keep a straight face. Apparently the memory was still funny, because she snickered for a good long while, slapping me on the shoulder again and again, and only after quite some time did she finally settle down, gasping for breath.

"Ah, my stomach hurts. Anyway, I swear I didn't do it on purpose. So — what's the plan for today?"

Today's conquest battle had ended after two attempts, and from here on out, just like last week, Dang Gyu-young would be supervising my training one-on-one. That said, I was exempt from the sparring itself, unlike the other three members of my group — I had already peeled off all three stickers and earned her recognition.

That didn't mean I intended to waste the time, of course.

The mentoring event would run the entire month, and the bonus I'd received as last week's sub-quest reward was still in effect. Skipping training at a time like this would be a straight-up loss.

"For now, I'm thinking of working on my skills."

"Skills? You mean rank-grinding?"

"Yes."

My main skill, Wind Force, had hit a plateau at C-rank. Climbing to B-rank would take incomparably longer than anything before it — which was precisely why steady, dedicated training mattered all the more. Besides, rank-grinding wasn't all I had planned.

"While I'm at it, I want to pick up a new skill."

The more useful skills in my arsenal, the better. [Inferno Fist] was a forbidden skill, sealed away in any official setting, while [Overheat] and [Thief's Step] — registered in my copy slots — granted such excellent physical prowess and mobility that overwriting either with something new would be a waste. For now I was holding the line by exploiting Wind Force in every way imaginable, but the time had come to branch out.

I dug through my memory and sorted through the wind-type spells I knew. Ones that could be learned through pure training alone, with no skillbooks, relics, or shortcuts of any kind. And among those, a spell that performed above my standards—

'Spiral Explosion. That's the one.'

Spiral Explosion had been one of my signature skills before I ever set foot in this game world. To be precise, it was the bread-and-butter spell of the wind mage I used to keep in my party — and I use "keep" loosely; exaggerating a touch, I dragged them along for that one spell alone. That's how versatile it was, and how miserable it made opponents. Translated plainly: an infuriating spell to be on the receiving end of.

Of course, even with the mentoring event in full swing, whipping up a spell that powerful overnight was impossible. 'I'll build it piece by piece.' The plan was to learn several component skills and assemble the finished Spiral Explosion from them. And of those, the one that could be trained in parallel with Wind Force was—

'Twister.'

A spell that twisted the wind itself to generate rotational force. In plain terms, a whirlwind spell. Spinning the vortex outward deflected and shed an enemy's attacks; spinning it inward let it absorb and drag things in. And if an enemy happened to be standing at the heart of the whirlwind, it could even pin them in place.

That last one was a trick I'd improvised with Wind Force a time or two already. Once in the Feathered Serpent Altar on the Dungeon Hall's underground floors, before finishing off the Priest with Inferno Fist. And once just last week, during the sticker PvP assessment, when I shackled Dang Gyu-young's movements a heartbeat before Hong Yeon-hwa tore a sticker free.

Both times, though, I'd been improvising out of necessity, and the efficiency left much to be desired. I'd had to laboriously coax wind into blowing from every direction by hand, and even with Amplification boosting the rank by two full tiers, all it bought me was a momentary hitch in Dang Gyu-young's step. Had she not been wearing the C-rank restriction bracelet, even that sliver of a pause would have been out of the question.

To bind far stronger enemies — Dang Gyu-young without her bracelet included — and hold them for far longer, I needed a Twister realized in full as an actual skill.

"Hmm, a new skill, huh."

Dang Gyu-young murmured it half to herself, studying me. Then, all at once, some thought seemed to flash across her mind, and her eyes went wary.

"...Don't tell me. Wind magic?"

"Yes. Wind ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠magic."

"……"

Without a word, Dang Gyu-young backed away a few steps and slipped into a defensive stance, as though I were about to commit some unspeakable crime against her.

"What's the matter, Senior?"

"Not doing it. I told you already. Not. Doing. It."

"Let's hear your reasons first. Why won't you?"

"You're gonna use that wind magic on me. I know it."

I let a few seconds hang in the air before answering.

"Practicing on a strong opponent does speed up the learning, admittedly."

"Not! Gonna! Hap! Pen!"

She ground out each syllable with deliberate, painstaking clarity — she had stooped to spelling it out. Apparently being the practice dummy for Wind Force was that unbearable to her. I didn't recall using it on her that often, but that's forced-movement skills for you. The single most hated skill in existence.

I could hardly drag a protesting volunteer into the role, so I offered a compromise instead.

"Fine, can't be helped. In that case, kindly round up some monsters for me instead, if you'd be so generous. I'll practice on them."

This week being conquest-battle week was a godsend. As long as my mentor Dang Gyu-young was present and watching, the event bonus conditions were satisfied — so it made little difference whether my sparring partners were monsters. Better yet, this was a defense-type conquest crawling with them, and the Commander rule could even be used to funnel their aggression straight at me. All in all, a perfect environment for honing Wind Force.

Dang Gyu-young accepted my compromise with remarkable alacrity.

"Yeah, that works."

Her logic: no matter how insufferable a skill might be, it was fine so long as it never touched her. And as a bonus, she wouldn't have to lift a finger — just sit back and watch in comfort. What could be better?

We entered the Old Shrine together. Dang Gyu-young didn't even bother concealing herself, plopping down at ease beside the goddess statue like she hadn't a care in the world. I took up my position at the main gate — the exact spot where Song Cheon-hye had made her stand.

"Kerugh!"

"Kik."

Goblins came pouring in, tripping over one another in their rush. The only difference from before was that they surged not toward the main gate, not toward the statue, but toward me and me alone. I watched them come with sleepy, bored eyes, and once they'd closed a respectable distance, I cast Wind Force.

— Whiiiish—

Wind howled in from every direction, converging on a single point.

"Kehek?"

"Kik?"

And the goblins piled onto that same single point — and kept piling. What began as a goblin rice ball soon swelled into a goblin mountain. I kept Wind Force churning, stacking that mountain of goblins higher and higher.

The next morning, I met Seo Ye-in at the student cafeteria as if nothing had changed. I swept a casual glance around the room, but sensed no trace of Ahn Jeong-mi anywhere. Well, mentors weren't idle all day, after all.

Today's breakfast menu was fresh-baked bagels, lined up beside a whole spread of toppings, so you could build a sandwich exactly to your own taste.

"……"

Seo Ye-in picked up a bagel. Then a serving of cream cheese. Then she simply stood there, gazing at me with those half-lidded eyes.

"Not getting more?"

"……"

She didn't answer right away; she seemed to be mulling it over. I let it slide — it was breakfast, after all, and her appetite might not have woken up yet. A bagel with nothing but cream cheese was a legitimate life choice. But I subscribed to the school of eating big when you eat at all. I piled the toppings on, one after another: cheese, scrambled eggs, a scattering of vegetables, thinly sliced ham... Before long, a bagel sandwich decidedly hefty for breakfast stood completed on my plate.

"……"

Seo Ye-in's gaze drifted slowly downward and came to rest, fixed, on my plate. Going by everything I'd learned about her so far, this was the look she wore when she wanted something.

"Make me one?"

— Nod.

"Plate."

When Seo Ye-in held out her plate — bagel and cream cheese only — I took it and began stacking toppings with practiced ease. Seconds later, a bagel sandwich identical to mine sat finished before her.

Just as we were about to take our seats—

"Hiya hiya!"

An irrepressibly sunny greeting landed right beside my ear. I turned toward the voice and found Han So-mi waving both hands in the air, with Song Cheon-hye standing right beside her. Meeting my eyes, Song Cheon-hye offered a greeting in a brisk, businesslike tone.

"Hello."

Same aloof, cool composure as ever. Look closer, though, and her face was half a shade darker than usual, with faint shadows pooled under her eyes. They looked a little puffy, too. 'Looks like she put herself through the wringer last night.' The shock of yesterday's second failed attempt must have hit her harder than she let on. She seemed the type to insist she was fine while quietly stewing over it — odds were, every time she closed her eyes, a highlight reel of yesterday kept replaying, and proper sleep never stood a chance.

In that respect, at least, Song Cheon-hye had chosen her friend well. Han So-mi — an incarnate ambassador of positivity who might even give Go Hyeon-woo a run for his money. She had a gift for warming up the whole atmosphere simply by existing, and even now, Song Cheon-hye's mood seemed to be thawing, bit by bit.

"Oh! Bagels!"

Han So-mi lit up at the sight of the bagel towers on our plates.

"Cheonhye, it's bagels today! Bagel sandwiches!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Bagels do happen sometimes."

But for all her feigned indifference, Song Cheon-hye's eyes were conducting a lightning-fast scan of my plate. The shadows on her face lifted a notch, and she stole a subtle lick of her lips.

I turned to her.

"Shall we talk about the conquest battle over breakfast?"

"Yes, let's."

Han So-mi and Song Cheon-hye wandered off to claim their own bagels. Seo Ye-in watched their retreating backs, then tilted her head slightly my way.

"Close?"

Unpacking the elided front and back of it, she presumably meant: 'Since when are you two so friendly?'

"We're not close."

It might have sounded coldly blunt, but it was simply the truth. Han So-mi was cheerful to her core and disarmingly sociable, forever waltzing up to people first without a hint of self-consciousness — and I had no doubt she did exactly that with everyone. Which is to say, she wasn't any closer to me than to the next person. Song Cheon-hye, for her part, was only temporarily tethered to me by the mentoring arrangement; neither of us held any particular fondness for the other. The investigation into my Inferno Fist had to still be open, too — there was no way her suspicions of me had been cleared.

"Still, sharing one meal can't hurt. That okay with you?"

"Yeah."

Seo Ye-in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bobbed her head up and down, signaling that it didn't concern her in the slightest. I'd secured seats for four and was a bite or two into my bagel when Han So-mi and Song Cheon-hye returned and sat down across from us. The two of them attempted to launch into breakfast with impeccable composure — but one look at their plates, and I couldn't not ask.

"How on earth did your bagels turn out exactly the same as mine?"

"Hehe..."

Han So-mi laughed sheepishly; Song Cheon-hye slyly found something else to look at. Sitting on their plates were flawless replicas of the bagel sandwich I had built.

Both of them, no less.

[99] The Support Ate it All