Chapter 19 – The Hint (５)

‘What the hell?’

He was completely dumbfounded.

He had thought an incredible reward awaited him, but this was beyond imagination.

‘A Mythic-grade Pet? No, fine, but… the Main Scenario?’

What the hell did that mean?

The Main Scenario?

He had no idea what that even was.

Even though he didn’t know much about the game, he had at least a vague idea of what a Main Scenario meant.

Simply put, wasn’t that the core of the game?

The main stream of this game.

And now, Gijun had stepped into it.

It’s been years since this game launched—and now a Main Scenario?

And not just anyone, but Gijun—

‘Huh?’

At that moment, a thought flashed through his mind.

When he met Ruf, the things Ruf had said.

‘So that means…’

What kind of beings the Seekers were.

“Follow the path of light, and drive out the darkness of the world…”

I don’t remember the exact words, but he’d definitely said something like that.

Then… is it because of this Seeker class?

What other explanation could there be?

The conclusion hit him: this Seeker class he’d stumbled into might be far more extraordinary than he’d ever imagined.

Holy shit.

He’d known something was off.

No matter how many classes there were, how could it make sense that out of all these Users, Gijun was the only one playing as a Flame Seeker?

I was definitely the first to reach the Seeker’s training ground, wasn’t I?

Right.

When he first started the game, the system had told him exactly that.

That he was the sole, first User to play as a Flame Seeker.

Should he believe it or not?

No—he couldn’t even tell if this was a dream or reality anymore.

That was when it happened.

[What are you doing?]

A voice rang out in his ear.

Gijun flinched and turned to look.

Libre was there, just a moment ago.

But she looked completely different now.

The Libre who’d seemed around 160 centimeters tall had shrunk down to the size of Gijun’s palm.

[Why do you startle so? Do not be alarmed. I am now a body bound to you. Though I am a fragment of an ancient god who witnessed the beginning of the world, I now belong to you.]

“…”

At the same time, a window appeared.

[Flame Monarch – Libre]

-Type: Pet

-Grade: Mythic

-Level: 1

-Skills

>Wellspring of Mana

-MP Recovery Speed +30%

-Total MP +100%

>Flame Monarch

-Fire Affinity +10

-Fire Magic MP Consumption -30%

>Dual Casting

-Casts the User’s skill at exactly the same power.

-Mana Cost: Skill base ×1.5

…What the hell is this?

The options went on and on.

And every single one was jaw-droppingly incredible.

Mythic…

That absurd word hit him with visceral force.

This is the real deal.

How could these options be so insane that even reading them over and over didn’t make them believable?

Just having this one Pet had already massively boosted his Mana efficiency.

Especially the 30% reduction in Mana cost when using fire spells.

At this rate, he might be able to spam Fireball endlessly for a while.

Of course, that was assuming Fireball’s MP cost didn’t increase later…

But that wasn’t all.

His Fire Affinity had jumped by 10 in an instant.

That alone is huge…

But the most shocking part was at the bottom.

Dual Casting?

It was unbelievable.

Dual Casting.

It meant that when he used a Skill, another identical spell would cast simultaneously.

So… I can cast two Fireballs at once.

No matter how he thought about it, it was ridiculous.

Dual Casting.

It wasn’t impossible.

In real life, there were mages who could dual-cast.

Just one.

White Wood—the man called the world’s greatest mage.

A Superhuman from the United States, a mage of The Genesis, the undisputed top-ranked guild worldwide.

Even Gijun, for all his vaunted talent, had found dual-casting impossible.

It was a blessing granted to one man alone: White Wood.

But here I am, doing it?

Gijun could barely believe it.

This absurd thing that had happened to him.

Of course, there was a catch.

Dual-casting consumed 1.5 times the usual Mana.

But Gijun’s current Mana efficiency was so high it more than offset the cost—leaving plenty to spare.

[Heh heh… You seem impressed by my power.]

Libre spoke then.

“Yeah. It’s incredible.”

Gijun answered honestly.

How could he not be amazed?

[Indeed. Admire me to your heart’s content. Feel free to take pride—you’ve become the master of one as magnificent as me, haven’t you? And you don’t need to speak so formally. As I said, you are my master.]

Master…

Master, huh.

Right.

Gijun really had become the master of Libre, a being with this impossible power.

[Now. Let us go outside. This place has grown stifling. Let me feel the open air.]

“Got it… no, okay. But how do we get out?”

Libre answered Gijun’s question.

[Close your eyes.]

At those words, Gijun shut his eyes.

Fwoosh!

[You leave the Flame’s Nest.]

Just like when he’d first entered, Gijun was engulfed in a blinding radiance.

*

[How wonderful! How long has it been since I tasted the air outside!]

Libre fluttered her miniature Robe as she flew around.

She truly looked overjoyed.

Was she always this way?

Just a moment ago, she’d seemed so haughty.

Not anymore.

It felt like watching a younger sibling.

Of course, Gijun was just as excited.

He could feel it.

He had grown incomparably stronger than before.

Right, this was the Rapalam mountain range.

The Rapalam mountain range.

A place where far more powerful Monsters spawned than in the Rapalam Hills.

Every Monster here was at least Level 40.

Weaker than the Hound of Hell, sure.

But if Gijun had fought that Hound fair and square, he never would have survived.

And this was an open area—any direction could bring an attack at any moment.

The Rapalam mountain range had been a harsh hunting ground even for Gijun.

Getting here was dangerous enough.

Even the journey from the Rapalam Hills here had been harrowing.

Barely escaping, dodging into gaps between hunting Users, he’d crawled to the spot his badge had guided him to.

But now, everything had changed.

Changed more than he could have imagined.

New Stats, new Equipment, a Pet—he hadn’t just gotten one.

Should I give it a try?

So Jun decided to hunt here.

Under normal circumstances, trying this would be impossible.

A fresh Level 30 User, soloing in a Level 40 hunting ground.

No amount of Cash Purchases could pull that off.

‘They say the difficulty jumps a whole Dimension between the Level 30s and the Level 40s, right?’

That was exactly why.

Up to Level 30 was basically Tutorial-tier.

Users who’d just finished adapting to the game hovered around early-to-mid Level 30.

So the moment you hit Level 40, Monster difficulty spiked sharply.

Even Users who’d soloed their way to Level 30 with Cash Purchases would start tearing up and scrambling for a Party the second they hit Level 40.

Of course, Rankers were the exception.

They were beings who’d been blessed with gaming talent, luck, and deep pockets from the start.

The Level 40 wall wasn’t even a problem for them.

In fact, how long you could keep soloing into the higher levels could make or break a Ranker’s reputation.

‘Hoo…’

That meant — if Jun could hunt here too, it was safe to say his firepower rivaled a Ranker’s.

No, maybe even surpassed it.

He wasn’t a Level 40 trying a Level 40 zone — he was Level 30, attempting the same thing.

‘This is insane.’

His heart was pounding like crazy.

Not from nerves.

From excitement.

That this reality, this opportunity, had come to him.

“Huh?”

Right as that thought crossed his mind.

Thud!

A heavy footstep echoed through the air.

Jun grinned.

It meant a Monster had spawned.

Perfect timing.

Wasn’t he just about to try hunting anyway?

[A Grama.]

A Monster that dwelled in the Laphalem Mountain Range.

A beastman with a bear’s upper body and a human’s lower half.

Its weapons were the thirty-centimeter claws on both hands.

Those claws could fell a tree in a single blow — that was how powerful they were.

[Hmph. You dare block my path, you lowly vermin!]

Libre’s voice rang out.

[Go forth, my master! I permit you to use my power!]

Libre shouted.

The line made it hard to tell who was really the master here.

But Jun just snorted a laugh.

What did it matter, in the end?

With a pet this incredible, he’d kneel and call her master on the spot if she asked.

‘Let’s do this.’

Jun began casting Fireball.

And in that instant…

‘It’s real.’

Two Fireballs materialized before him.

Perfectly identical in size, they floated around his body, crackling with heat.

‘Go.’

Jun hurled the Fireballs without hesitation.

The Grama charged straight at him, fearless…

Boom! Boom-boom-boom!

Both Fireballs struck the Grama dead-on.

A violent explosion erupted from the creature’s body.

But that was hardly the end of it.

A fierce wind from the Strong Wind spell howled and churned over the blazing flames.

It, too, was a double-cast Strong Wind—a potent one.

Crack—whoosh—bang—bang—bang—bang—bang!

The countless elements of the double-cast Strong Wind multiplied the explosive force of the Fireball’s elements several times over, bombarding every inch of the Grama’s body without rest.

And after that, Gijun kept up the barrage.

Double-cast Fireballs poured relentlessly toward the Grama, two at a time.

Kyaaaaah—!

The Grama let out a horrific scream.

With that scream, the creature collapsed.

The spot where it had stood was utterly ravaged—a complete mess.

No one in the world would ever guess this was the work of a Fireball.

What’s more, the bastard hadn’t even touched a single hair on Gijun’s head.

‘And my MP is holding up fine.’

Despite pouring out magic like this, his MP had barely drained.

Gijun could feel his transformed power clearly once again.

An indescribable emotion surged from deep within his chest.

[Did you see that? My power! Ohohoho!]

Beside him, Libre floated in the air, arms crossed, chattering away.

He still wasn’t quite used to it, but maybe this was better than her keeping up a dignified front.

No—what did her personality even matter, anyway?

To Gijun, Libre was utterly endearing.

‘With this…’

The preparations were complete.

Maybe in the next raid, he could show something truly unbelievable.

‘If my guess is right, the raid assigned to me this time is likely a solo raid.’

The ultimate stage for verifying a rookie’s potential.

He was a bit old to be called a rookie, but what did that matter?

A solo raid would surely be the perfect launchpad for him to soar.

This wasn’t just a wild guess.

Park Yunseok had subtly hinted at it.

He hadn’t said it outright, though.

‘Which means he wants to properly verify my potential.’

He was confident.

Now that he’d mastered double-casting, Gijun was certain he could exceed everyone’s expectations.

But Gijun didn’t stop there.

He looked beyond that, spreading the boundless wings of imagination in his mind.

And he was sure that imagination wouldn’t end as mere fantasy.

*

“Come to think of it… it’s almost time, isn’t it?”

“Ah, you mean Superhuman Baek Gijun’s raid?”

“Yes.”

A woman checked the schedule, then stared into the air for a moment.

Before her lay a nameplate reading [Guild Master Woo Jimin].

She was Woo Jimin—the Guild Master of Hwarang.

“I’m not sure if this is the right call.”

“I feel the same way.”

“You’re entrusting a 2nd-level solo dungeon raid to a Superhuman with Mana Circle Formation Disorder? That event is reserved for the year’s top prospects. And he’s not even an official Guild Member yet…”

She wasn’t wrong.

A 2nd-level dungeon wasn’t something to dismiss — the raid carried real weight.

It was one of the guild’s major events, something only one person, maybe two or three in a good year, got to undertake.

And the lead for such an event was a Superhuman afflicted with Mana Circle Formation Disorder — worse, not even a full Guild Member.

“Still, it was Branch Manager Cha Miyeong’s choice, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

The woman clicked her tongue and turned her gaze back to the monitor.

“Baek Gijun…”

Her face was heavy with doubt.

But the Vice Guild Master smiled at that expression.

He could feel it.

No matter how she talked, Woo Jimin wasn’t the type to do something she’d regret.

If anything…

‘It means she has expectations.’

Woo Jimin was never the kind to waste attention on something she didn’t believe in.

And she was even less the sort to stake something on mere hope.

Woo Jimin had clearly sensed potential.

And that potential had a name: Baek Gijun.