Jackpot (2)

I'd never been particularly close with civil servants back at my old company, either. But the dungeon waste disposal industry itself was practically inseparable from government bureaucracy, so I'd inevitably gotten tangled up with them on a regular basis.

The officials in front of me now, however, were unfailingly polite. It was like watching a salesman who seemed ready to extract your liver for you if you asked nicely.

"By any chance, once you reach level 11... would you be interested in clearing this unsolvable gate as well?"

The man had even brought a catalog along, launching into aggressive sales mode. And yet, title aside, this was supposedly a director-level official — Director of Development Bureau 5 at the Ministry of Resource Development, or so he said.

Zephyros cut off the man's sales pitch with a smile.

"Our hunter will move according to his condition and compatibility."

"Ah! Of—of course! Still, we'd be ever so grateful if you'd consider it!"

Once the string of boilerplate pleasantries wound down and the officials filed out, Zephyros furrowed his brow.

"Those bureaucrats, still trying to blow their nose without lifting a finger. If you want to request a gate clear, you pay for it. 'Please clear it for us~' with not a single condition attached? What is that? No shame at all."

"They did pay, though. The bounty."

"Pocket change, and they act like they've done you a huge favor."

And here I was, delighted by that pocket change — apparently I hadn't quite shed my petty-bourgeois instincts yet. Sensing my expression, Zephyros snorted and said,

"Well, no need to get hung up on government bounties anyway. You've already got people reaching out from every direction."

"...From every direction?"

"China on top, Japan on the bottom."

"China and Japan are looking for me?"

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

Well, that was something.

"The system message reached them too, remember? Not to the same degree as Korea, but an unsolvable-tier gate getting cleared is big news over there as well. You think their gates aren't stuck, too? And it's starting to ripple out beyond Northeast Asia, bit by bit."

"That's a huge ripple effect for clearing a single low-tier gate."

"It's been a while since anyone saw a first-clear message at all."

Since their initial appearance, gates had never once reappeared or vanished. Nearly all of them had been cleared already, and the ones that remained were either too high-tier for hunters to conquer, or unsolvable gates like the ones I'd cleared — far above their nominal rank in difficulty.

"For now it's just interest, but... if you clear even one more, the story changes."

He wasn't wrong. One clear might be a fluke, but two could never be coincidence. Besides, even the community boards were already filling up with hunter testimonials experiencing the Pacification effect in North Chungcheong Province firsthand. Regions everywhere were starving for that effect, blocked by a single final puzzle piece. Those regions would be desperate to find me.

The only problem was...

I had no guarantee I could clear every unsolvable gate. First, I needed to upgrade my specs. Fortunately, I knew ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly the person who could provide that.

Gyuseon, thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and a lab coat over everything, handed me a flask.

"Here you go. This is what you asked for."

A flask of translucent liquid, gently swaying.

"What is it?"

"It's a culture medium made of the optimal nutrients for P.E. You found an easy way to induce fission, didn't you?"

"I did."

Whether they'd divide as undead the same way they had as ordinary bacteria, I couldn't be sure — but there was only one way to find out. I opened my inventory, kept a small portion of my bacterial legion — now past three billion — in reserve, and poured the vast majority into the flask. Just in case. Better safe than sorry.

Eat up and grow big and strong, Unit 1 bacterial legion.

Gyuseon watched with fascination, practically pressing her eye against the flask, staring intently. Her expression was bordering on rapture.

Um, that expression is a little scary.

"Careful. Don't get too close."

I had them under control, sure, but these were bacteria that could decompose a living being in an instant. She stepped back with a look of disappointment and let out a small sigh.

"It's still amazing to me, how you can control bacteria like this."

"Tell me about it."

I was amazed too. How did those invisible denizens of the micro-domain follow me as if they had a will of their own? Then again, if you thought about it that way, the whole world was full of wonders.

Anyway — let's check.

"Oh, it's working."

The count was visibly climbing in real time.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Says it'll hit 20 billion in 5 hours and 32 minutes."

At my current 200% Control, mana consumption was 1% per second per 10 billion, so 20 billion was the maximum I could sustain right now.

If it was this easy, I should've asked ages ago.

"Hold on. Five hours and thirty-two minutes?"

"Yes. Is something wrong?"

"There is! P.E isn't a bacterium that divides anywhere near that fast! If it divided that quickly, research would've been impossible in the first place — you'd culture it for a moment and it would devour everything around it, break out, touch the air, and go extinct!"

"...So that's the bacteria's own survival strategy."

"Exactly! Bacteria are so clever! How did you reach that conclusion from one sentence? You're not even a microbiology major."

"Haha..."

Excuse me...?

"If P.E hadn't been obligately anaerobic, the entire Earth would've been buried under it by now."

Fair point. A bacterium that decomposes everything, with no weakness on top of that.

"Besides, a fast division rate affects a bacterium's survivability too."

"Because if it divides quickly and devours its surroundings, it dies on contact with the atmosphere."

"Right. So P.E is a bacterium that suppresses its own divisiveness as a survival mechanism. That's why culturing it was so difficult for me, too. But being able to multiply roughly 6.5-fold in just over five hours means..."

"My bacteria are stronger. I get it."

I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason, but I had a guess. The effect of 200% Control, presumably.

"Oh, and... if you find any good bacteria... I don't have much on hand right now... I'll need to run the lab properly before I can source anything worthwhile."

"No, that's fine. I don't need anything right away."

"Well, would this be of use, perhaps...?"

She handed me a petri dish holding a bacterial colony.

"What's this one?"

"Caulobacter crescentus, spliced with traits from Hirschia baltica."

"...That's not an alien language, right?"

Hir-what? Ca... what?

"Caulobacter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠crescentus. If you look at it under a microscope, you'll see — it's crescent-shaped, hence the name. Caulobacter also refers to the shape; it comes from the word for a stalked or stemmed bacterium."

"...So it's a crescent-shaped bacterium with a stalk or stem. Got it."

"Yes, very sharp."

So I feed it, right?

MIT kept calling me sharp, and it was starting to get embarrassing.

"So what does this bacterium actually do?"

"It produces an adhesive substance."

"...I'm sorry, what?"

Now that's an unexpected ability.

"And that adhesive is far too strong. That's why it's never been commercialized."

"Too strong? How strong are we talking...?"

"Seventy newtons per square millimeter — about four times the strongest commercial adhesive in existence."

"Whoa...?"

"Think of it this way: you could hang four cars from a single hundred-won coin. And its adhesive power actually gets stronger underwater — it's an aquatic bacterium, after all. Its weakness was vulnerability to ionic environments like seawater, but splicing in the Hirschia baltica traits eliminated that, too."

I had no idea what half of that meant, but the gist was clear: it was one hell of an adhesive. An adhesive, huh...

This is a CC skill.

Crowd Control. The term came from games, and in the hunter industry — a world that had changed to resemble games — it was used exactly the same way. A catch-all for skills that hindered or neutralized enemies: binding, stunning, sleep, and the like.

CC skills had mattered enormously in games, but in the hunter industry they mattered even more. In dungeons where a single hair's breadth decided who lived and who died, whether you could pin an enemy's footstep for even a moment could determine whether a dungeon run succeeded or failed.

"And it's also excellent for treating wounds."

"Treating?"

That purpose I definitely didn't see coming.

"Yes. Since it's not a chemical, it's harmless to the body, and its adhesive power holds even in ionic conditions. It was originally researched for medical use."

Wound treatment and crowd control in one package. I'd gotten my hands on something incredible I never could have predicted. Unit 2 was officially this guy.

"Can I use it right away?"

"Yes. You said dead specimens were better, so I deliberately killed them off. They're hard to handle alive anyway, because of the adhesive."

I know that feeling.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen someone panic in woodshop class because they'd misused instant glue and gotten it stuck all over their hand.

...That someone was me.

Whew. One deep breath.

First, I drew out my staff and held it. I needed it — with it, my Undead Rise proficiency would rise to D, letting me maintain two or more entities.

"Undead Rise."

"Please."

Ohhh, it worked.

"How is it?"

"It's done."

Unit 2, too, roamed freely at my will. And better yet—

"It's not producing any adhesive!"

"Right. It seems to be under my control, exactly as I intend."

Even the biggest practical drawback — the tendency to spew adhesive everywhere — had been solved. Oh, wait. What happens if I unequip the staff?

I put the staff back into my inventory.

Fortunately, the summons weren't dispelled — they simply went dormant. I picked the staff back up and stowed Unit 2 under my control inside my inventory.

"Thanks to you, Gyuseon, I've gotten another wonderful bacterium. Thank you."

"Oh, no, it's... a common strain, really."

"Common or not, I'd never have found it myself."

Once again, I was struck by how lucky I was to have Gyuseon helping me. No matter how commonly it turned up in freshwater, there was no way my ability alone could have sought out and identified a bacterium like this.

So then...

Where's the next unsolvable dungeon?