Fame (2)

This was the second gate of my life. But it was the first time I'd ever entered one alone. They said it was a gate with practically no danger, but having a guardian watching your back and going in solo were two entirely different states of mind. Dungeons were unpredictable, shifting spaces where anything could happen — so the tension was only natural.

"Hmm. Really is nothing but rocks in here."

I prodded one as a test, and sure enough, it stayed inert — no movement whatsoever.

"Alright, then..."

I released the three billion beasts across the entire dungeon. Truly creatures of the microscopic world — bacteria invisible to the naked eye. But even unseen, their presence could be felt. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could sense where every single one of my bacterial legion was. They were the undead army under my command, after all.

When my legion had been divided and scattered appropriately across several golems—

"Chew them up."

I let slip the reins. Psshhhh! Before a bacterial swarm that could scatter even steel at the molecular level, the rocks that had sat dormant for so long crumbled like tofu. The life stones exposed in an instant were likewise ground to powder and destroyed.

A single command had destroyed five golems and raised my level. All of it had happened less than a minute after I'd released the bacteria.

Huh? Fewer had divided than died. Which meant my total population had dropped by about four million. Out of three billion, four million was a small enough ratio that I didn't strictly need to worry — but I couldn't just let it slide either. Thinking about it, when decomposing organic matter, the dividing population had outnumbered the dying one, but with inorganic matter, the deaths edged out the births by a hair. And now that I was decomposing massive quantities of inorganic material, that tiny margin had grown noticeable.

"Do I need to feed them or something?"

The larger my bacterial legion, the stronger its power — and the smaller it got, the weaker it would become. So managing the numbers was clearly necessary.

"Haaahm..."

The tension I'd carried into the dungeon lasted all of a moment. Destroying an enemy that never even fought back was, frankly, boring. Yawning, I wandered slowly through the dungeon's interior, picking off the golems one by one.

"Huh?"

What? What was going on—

Ruuuumble! The earth shook like a minor earthquake. When I turned toward the epicenter, I couldn't help but stare. Unlike every golem that had lain motionless until now, one was rising to its feet — crumbling apart even as it stood, but rising all the same. The problem was that the golem was far, far too close. Close enough that I couldn't dodge the fist it was swinging.

Vuuuum! The golem's fist swelled larger and larger in my vision. Was this how I died? This anticlimactically? And in that very instant—

Before my eyes, a membrane of Bloodgold spread wide through the air like a shield, blocking my view. Thuuud! Despite the massive impact, the Bloodgold membrane didn't show so much as a scratch. Then the shield that had deflected the golem's fist writhed and coalesced into the shape of a tiny human figure.

—To think a worthless, bottom-tier golem dares attack my Summoner-nim?

Athena's voice was ice-cold, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nothing like the tone she used with me. A small spear formed in her right hand. And that tiny spear — shuuuunk! — stretched out and pierced straight through the golem's heart. At the same moment came a sharp crack, the sound of something shattering. The life stone had been pierced in a single strike. Robbed of its power source, the golem could no longer sustain its massive body and collapsed in a heap.

...So that's what preemptive defense meant. With just 0.01% of her Bloodgold she was this powerful... if I gathered the full 100%, she could probably solo everything herself. As I was thinking that—

"Exhausted from what, exactly..."

"Don't tell me that was you, Athena?"

—That is correct. Movements beyond my own autonomous operational range require the Summoner's mana. I used your mana for the preemptive measure, Summoner-nim.

Ninety-three percent of my mana pool, gone in an instant. For that one single movement. She was undeniably powerful, but... if I let her cut loose like that outside of a real crisis, my mana would be drained dry in no time.

"Still, thanks to you I'm alive. I genuinely thought I was dead."

I'd learned that in a dungeon, you can't let your guard down until the very last second. Who would have guessed one perfectly intact golem was still lying in wait? If not for Athena, there'd have been nothing strange about being crushed under that golem's fist. As I was breathing a sigh of relief, a cascade of messages popped up before my eyes. Time to read them properly this time.

Three levels in an instant. I was already Level 7. Was leveling up supposed to be this easy?

"Hmm... don't know what it all means, but..."

It had to be good, right? My Control had risen by 5%, pushing it from 195% to 200%. A mere 5% difference — but I'd read reviews saying the gap between 99% and 100% was enormous. So the difference between 195% and 200% had to be significant too. And then there was the new reward...

—This is the staff the Creator once wielded. However, much of its constituent material has been lost.

Athena answered for me.

Since I hadn't owned any equipment to begin with, I was grateful enough. Though surely this wasn't made of Bloodgold too?

—No. It is a different material from myself.

"Huh?"

—Restoring the staff requires a Star Relic.

"What the hell is that... I mean, what's a Star Relic?"

—A mineral said to be extractable only from stars in the far reaches of the universe.

"...And how am I supposed to get one of those?"

—It appears with low probability from meteorites, or the stellar component can be extracted by dismantling other equipment containing a Star Relic.

Somehow, just hearing it, this sounded every bit as hard to obtain as Bloodgold. Hey, Mr. Constellation or whoever you are... you really only carried luxury goods around, didn't you? Well, the luxury-loving Constellation had deigned to gift me a weapon that was falling apart, so I supposed I'd better make good use of it.

"...What?"

I was stunned. Not because I could now sustain two types of undead — but because it had only ever been one? I couldn't just turn any bacteria I pleased into undead? I could only maintain a single species?

"Crazy. Good thing I found out now..."

Imagine if, down the road, I'd urgently needed to deploy a second-generation strain — something other than my current No. 1 bacteria buddies — and couldn't because of a proficiency issue. How flustered would I have been then? Not that I could abandon my current No. 1s. They were the foundation and bedrock of my entire plan.

"Well, either way, skill proficiency just became a whole lot more important."

Presumably, the higher the proficiency of Undead Rise climbed, the more bacterial species I could sustain. Raising skill proficiency would have to be my new goal. But before I could even finish the thought—

I was ejected from the gate.

The first thing I saw when I came out was Zephyros, snickering to himself.

"You actually did it."

"Didn't you send me in because you knew I would?"

"I didn't expect a one-try clear. Figured you'd go in a few times, map out the route, and succeed on a retry or two."

"I nearly died."

"Quit exaggerating."

"I'm serious."

I explained how the dungeon boss, the Stone Golem, had suddenly risen and attacked me. Only then did the color drain from Zephyros's face. A fully mobile Stone Golem was not a monster that belonged in a Tier-3 dungeon like this.

"Though it didn't look like it was in perfect condition, admittedly."

Zephyros listened in silence, then poked my cheek and asked, "You're alive, right? Not a ghost?"

"...Excuse me?"

"You fought a Stone Golem and you're alive?"

"Yes, well... I am."

Thanks to my Guardian, mind you. Zephyros let out a long, relieved sigh, his frozen expression finally thawing.

"I really owe you an apology. I went on and on about how safe it was... and then nearly got you killed. And I'm the guy who's always preaching that you can never let your guard down in a dungeon, not even for a second..."

"It's fine. I'm alive and well, so what's the problem?"

"Thank god. From now on I'll check every variable in advance. So — was the plan a success?"

"Was it a success, you ask?"

Zephyros grinned and pulled up the hunters' community on his phone to show me.

The posts kept refreshing in real time, streaming in faster than the eye could follow. And on top of that, they were on the main news page of Korea's biggest portal site.

The breaking news articles kept rolling in.

"Want me to show you the Chinese or Japanese portals too?"

"Ah— no, that's fine. Though... I guess it really is that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠big of a deal, huh..."

"The hunter industry's been starved for this."

These unclearable dungeons hadn't earned that judgment overnight. They dated back to the first generation, when Zephyros was still an active hunter — nearly fifteen years ago. In other words, in the last fifteen years, no dungeon judged impossible to clear had ever been conquered anywhere in the world. Zephyros explained all this, then smiled broadly.

"So? Ready to get famous? The mystery conqueror of a fifteen-year drought?"