Chapter 7 – I've Awakened (3)

“A 2.5 billion won signing bonus?”

“Yes. It’s unprecedented for someone on the support team, not even the assault team, to be offered 2.5 billion.”

Even with my lack of interest in the support side of things, I knew a thing or two about signing bonuses.

It was rare for anyone in a support role to get a bonus of over 100 million.

But 2.5 billion?

That was lottery-winning money. I took a moment to consider my current financial situation.

A Center trainer’s base salary was 2.5 million a month.

Accompanying trainees on field sessions came with special risk pay, but it was a paltry sum compared to what a hunter made.

“To be frank, the reason we’re offering such a large amount upfront is that we absolutely do not want to lose you. You’re well aware that our Tushin Guild is struggling to shed its perennial second-place title, aren’t you?”

I knew all too well. They were pouring money into it like there was no tomorrow, though where they got it all was a mystery.

Thanks to their efforts, the gap between them and the other top-tier guilds was widening.

Here was the question.

What were the advantages of having high-rank hunters?

Naturally, the guild took a share of the profits from a hunter’s dungeon explorations. The guild would auction off the profits generated by the hunter and split the remaining revenue according to their contract.

Then why not just go solo?

The answer was dungeon mining rights.

Gates were inherently dangerous and unpredictable, with no telling when or how things might go wrong.

Once a dungeon core was planted from a gate, it would try to expand its territory. However, if it was blocked once, it wouldn’t attempt to grow any further.

It would literally focus on developing the territory it had already claimed.

Once a dungeon stabilized like that, guilds would attempt to mine it.

Dungeons that the government permitted free access to could be entered for a set fee. But the hunting efficiency in those places wasn’t great.

That was because common monsters had a high chance of not dropping a mana stone.

You needed at least a rare-grade monster to find creatures imbued with mana, and some even possessed special items.

If you were really lucky, you could even get a CD or USB containing a skill. Items like that sold for an extremely high price.

So, which guilds were granted dungeon mining rights?

For the sake of national interest and tax collection, it was obviously better to support guilds that earned a lot of money, but a cap was placed on bids to prevent excessive competition.

Instead, the rights were given to guilds that could safely clear the dungeons.

In other words, the more A-rank or higher hunters a guild had, the more advantageous their position was during bidding.

Because of this distorted structure, smaller guilds had to take on subcontracted work from major guilds unless they happened to stumble upon an unsanctioned dungeon.

That was a long-winded explanation.

In short, he was saying my existence was essential to elevating the guild’s prestige.

But 2.5 billion for a signing bonus. Was it because I was a supporter?

No, he’d said it himself. Even the best supporter in Korea only had a 45-slot inventory.

Inventories existed in the other world, too, so I had a rough idea of how to use them. Even when I was a Hero, my inventory probably had only ten slots.

A five-slot difference was huge.

A small weapon took up one slot. A large weapon might take two or three. Just one slot could hold six two-liter water bottles.

There were times in dungeons when you had to fight monsters while starving, with no food or water.

It would be different if you had a convenient return scroll like in a game, but without one, you could face the miserable fate of wringing out moss or drinking your own urine when your water ran out.

“By any chance, what was my rank assessment?”

At my question, a faint smile appeared on the Tushin Guild representative’s lips.

“Your stats are high.”

I thought only noble classes like healers received signing bonuses of over 2.5 billion at the intermediate level.

“A porter—no, a newly awakened hunter with a base stat assessment over 100 is not something you see every day.”

The reason for their offer was that I was a porter with the best inventory in Korea, and my fundamental abilities were also outstanding.

‘I thought it was because of my unconfirmed status window.’

From his reaction, it seemed they couldn’t see my hidden status window. As curious as I was about its true nature, I couldn’t check it here.

“So, what do you say?”

“Is 2.5 billion your minimum offer?”

An ordinary person would probably have their ears perk up at the mention of 2.5 billion and sign the contract on the spot.

2.5 billion. It was a lot of money. Especially for someone like me, living in a rented room.

“It’s the maximum amount I’m authorized to offer.”

“Then I suppose it would be better to raise the stakes.”

I said as I stood up. For a moment, a look of bewilderment flickered across the Tushin representative’s face before disappearing.

“Raise the stakes?”

“It seems my value is likely higher than that.”

With those words, I left the room.

It wasn’t that I was refusing solely because I disliked the Tushin Guild. Of course, if the conditions were the same, I’d choose a different guild over Tushin.

And it was absolutely not because I was petty.

This was a recruiter who couldn’t even show basic courtesy to a potential partner in what could be a lifelong relationship.

For an interviewee, the interviewer is their first impression of the company. How would that make one feel? That was exactly how I felt.

A dual awakening. At this point, I was almost certain of it.

The next step was to figure out the conditions for unlocking it, but there were no hints whatsoever.

‘The condition for awakening is to crave what is needed, and the system responds.’

Or it grants the ability most needed at the present moment.

In other words, if I kept going into dungeons, another chance to awaken would eventually come.

‘Blondie doesn’t seem to have come out yet. Should I go back in?’

Surely he hadn’t caused any trouble.

My Blondie has changed. I was sure he wouldn’t do something like that. I’d given him so much love and attention for that very reason.

Just then, the urgent shouts of the Center staff reached my ears. The commotion suggested something had happened.

“He’s—he’s dead! There’s been a murder!”

“Dead? Who?”

Dead? Murder?

No, it couldn’t be. My Blondie had changed.

* * *

He had already met his quota.

Kim Tae-yang sat down for a short break. He could see other people struggling to hunt at the other respawn points.

Far from struggling, Kim Tae-yang had taken down the Lesser Goblins without breaking a sweat.

It was boring.

‘I think I could handle stronger monsters.’

The Anyang Resort was a dungeon with up to three floors.

The first floor was a famous training spot for new hunters because the monsters there were so weak.

From what he had heard from his guild seniors, someone of his skill level could probably solo up to the second floor.

After all, as his trainer, Lee Hyunbin, had said, he was a promising prospect for the Hwarang Guild.

‘Coach-nim isn’t here anyway… should I try going down?’

The thought crossed his mind for a moment, but Kim Tae-yang quickly gave up on the idea.

He knew exactly what he would hear if he got caught.

—*Aha. Our dear hunter was bored, was he? That’s just because your body has grown lazy. Time for some… train-ing, don’t you think?*

—*Where are you looking, Hunter Kim Tae-yang? That’s just my afterimage.*

—*You’re slow, Hunter Kim Tae-yang. Even in falling.*

Kim Tae-yang shook his head, horrified at the memory of his past training sessions.

At first, he had looked down on him.

Normally, a trainer should be a former hunter.

Think about it. What could someone who’s never driven a car teach in a driving lesson?

It was only natural to be dismissed if someone who’d never been in the military tried to teach about special forces.

But Lee Hyunbin was different.

For someone who had never even awakened as a hunter, he knew an incredible amount about their abilities.

From the status window to its applications and uses, it was as if he had extensive experience with the system’s UI.

No matter how many manuals you read, it would be hard to describe it so vividly from memory.

Not only that, but he was also an expert on how to fight monsters.

He knew each monster’s characteristics, behavioral patterns, combat styles, and even emergency survival techniques for dungeons.

The biggest thing was his skill in personal combat.

Upon awakening, all of a person’s abilities were enhanced compared to their pre-awakened state.

You could say their body was strengthened.

And yet, Lee Hyunbin, who hadn’t even awakened, was monstrously strong.

No attack could touch him, and he always had a counter for everything.

After two weeks of special training with Lee Hyunbin, Kim Tae-yang had come to accept their relationship.

This was not a man he could contend with. Accepting that brought him a sense of peace.

‘Should I go for a few more?’

Kim Tae-yang headed back to the respawn point he was at earlier. But another hunter had already claimed it.

“I—I can do it!”

“Just do it with grit! You hear me?”

He saw a scrawny boy trembling as he faced a Lesser Goblin. Seeing this, Kim Tae-yang turned without a second glance and looked for another path.

He found an empty spot, but as luck would have it, someone from the Tushin Guild was there.

The trainer and Kim In-ho glanced his way. Kim Tae-yang gave a slight nod before entering the hunting ground.

A respawn point never spawned more than one monster at a time. At least, not on the first floor.

The already-spawned Lesser Goblin warily raised its weapon at Kim Tae-yang.

Looking at the crude weapon it held, he didn’t feel a shred of tension.

Kim Tae-yang casually walked toward the goblin, his own weapon stored in his inventory.

“Kiek!”

Did the Lesser Goblin think Kim Tae-yang was disrespecting it by not even drawing a weapon?

It shrieked and charged. For the creature, it might have been an act of great courage.

Kim Tae-yang sidestepped lightly, evading the attack by a paper-thin margin.

Evade with minimal movement. And subdue the opponent with minimal movement.

Kim Tae-yang delivered a low kick to the Lesser Goblin.

The creature was so short that the low kick turned into a mid-kick, for which he felt a pang of guilt.

The kicked Lesser Goblin dropped its weapon and tumbled pathetically to the ground.

Kim Tae-yang didn’t finish it off, instead standing and waiting for the goblin to get back up.

A simulation was running through his head. The fighting style he was currently mimicking was Lee Hyunbin’s.

Kim Tae-yang considered Lee Hyunbin his ideal textbook.

The goblin crouched down, feigning pitifulness. As if begging for its life.

Its grotesque face made an unbecoming “gyu gyu” sound that was irritating.

But Kim Tae-yang waited. According to Lee Hyunbin’s teachings, goblins were the epitome of cunning.

To overcome larger foes with their small bodies, they would resort to anything—like the rock it was now secretly gripping.

“Kihek!”

*Swoosh!*

A rock came flying straight at his head.

Kim Tae-yang dodged it with ease.

As if the rock throw wasn’t its real aim, the goblin snatched up its dropped knife and lunged.

Kim Tae-yang read the goblin’s movements perfectly.

Anyone could see he was no first-timer hunting in a dungeon.

His mental state was incredibly stable, as if he were in a game.

Kim Tae-yang struck the goblin’s wrist with a knife-hand strike. The creature let out a short scream.

He was about to follow up with a straight punch when he suddenly heard the sound of something slicing through the air.

Kim Tae-yang quickly leaned back to dodge.

*Splat!*

The goblin’s crushed brains splattered across Kim Tae-yang’s face.

*Drip. Drip.* Blood gathered at the tip of his chin and fell. Watching it, Kim Tae-yang’s brow furrowed deeply.

“Ah, my bad. I was just trying to help.”

Kim In-ho of the Tushin Guild. The new hunter raised a hand apologetically.

The handaxe he had thrown had precisely burst the goblin’s head.

Kill-stealing was one thing, but recklessly throwing a weapon with someone standing right there was an act of madness.

“Are you smiling?”

Seeing Kim In-ho smile, a surge of anger welled up inside Kim Tae-yang.

The Tushin Guild trainer who had been guarding Kim In-ho had conveniently stepped away for a moment.

“Ah, I just have a naturally smiling face. My apologies.”

“A smiling face?”

He kept smiling. Kim Tae-yang cracked his neck and walked toward Kim In-ho.

If he had been a fraction of a second slower, the axe would have hit him.

If you let someone get away with threatening your life, you were a pushover. His coach would surely tell him to beat a guy like this half to death.

“What’s this?”

“A fight?”

As the two new hunters looked ready to brawl, people started to gather and watch.

The trainer, who had smoothly slipped away, had a smirk on his face.

Kim In-ho’s grand debut had been overshadowed by the kid that damn Lee Hyunbin was training.

Kim Tae-yang certainly had better attack power. But in terms of offensive and defensive balance, Kim In-ho was overwhelmingly superior.

And besides his physical prowess, Kim In-ho had many useful skills.

New hunters often fell to a single, unexpected skill from an opponent they couldn’t analyze.

‘Since they’re from the same batch and will be seeing each other around, it’s not a bad idea to establish dominance early on.’

The trainer chuckled. Fights could happen in dungeons, and people could get seriously hurt. Of course, a death would become a major problem.

Having deliberately stepped away, the trainer wondered what kind of expression Lee Hyunbin would make if his trainee got wrecked.

He was gone for about a minute.

A piercing scream echoed from the entrance.

It wasn’t Kim Tae-yang’s scream.

‘What is it?’

Something was coming.

The trainer opened his inventory system and drew his weapon. He felt goosebumps all over his body. Something unbelievable was happening.

The screaming stopped. Then, someone walked out from the corridor.

*Step. Step.*

“Hello there.”

A man in a suit with neat, pomaded hair walked out, smiling, while holding a blood-soaked briefcase.