Episode 2
I had spent the entire morning gathering herbs in the dungeon before being hauled off to the administrator’s office, so I was, quite literally, starving.
“Ugh, I’d kill for some spicy seafood stew right about now,” I muttered, loud enough for my companion to hear, as I stretched my arms. A look of realization flickered across the face of my fellow hunter, whose expression had been clouded with worry just a moment ago.
“S-Seafood stew? I know a place that’s absolutely incredible. It’s on me today, Seo-hee.”
“Wow! I’m planning to eat a ton, you know. Are you sure?”
“Of course! Eat as much as you want. Go ahead and… and break the bank if you have to.”
“Well, I don’t think I can eat that much, but I’ll certainly give it my best effort.”
In truth, I’d probably be full after a single bowl of rice, but I knew saying this was the only way to ease his conscience.
“Ah, I think my stomach is touching my backbone,” I grumbled playfully, following Jimin as he led the way.
I truly didn’t want him to feel unnecessary guilt. If the price for helping a colleague pay for his younger sibling’s hospital bills was nothing more than a few sharp words from a nagging boss, it was a price I was more than willing to pay.
The lives of C-Rank hunters are generally the same no matter where you go in the world. An income slightly higher than your average office worker, balanced by the constant, lingering threat of danger that comes with the paycheck.
They say A-Rank and S-Rank hunters can pull in billions or even tens of billions of won a month, but that’s a fairy tale to people like us.
According to statistics released last month by the National Hunter Management Committee, the average monthly income for a C-Rank hunter sits between 3.5 to 4 million won. However, once you factor in the essential consumables required for the unique environment of a dungeon, the actual take-home pay hovers closer to 3.2 to 3.5 million.
Strictly speaking, it’s not bad money, but it’s a bit underwhelming when you consider we’re putting our lives on the line.
And yet, there are always people—those with little education and few skills who happened to awaken by luck, or those who simply must earn a certain amount of money regardless of the risk.
Besides, there’s no rule saying a C-Rank hunter has to stay C-Rank forever. Some climb to B-Rank, or even B+. For those people, their monthly income can jump to ten or twenty million won in an instant, so some approach the profession as a long-term investment in their future.
Of course, as is usually the case with such stories, the number of C-Rank hunters who actually make it to B-Rank is incredibly small. Quite a few manage to claw their way up to C+ through sheer, dogged effort, but a full rank-up is a different beast entirely.
“S-Seo-hee, why don’t you just t-take the rest of the day off? I’ll cover your s-share of the work…”
“I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. You need to look after your own life and your brother’s bills first. I’m only responsible for myself, so it’s no big deal if my performance stats drop and I lose a little cash this time.”
“B-but you could get fired if you’re not careful…”
“Then I’ll just find another job. The best thing about being a hunter is the flexibility to move around.”
I’d built up two years of experience here. As I’d said, I could always just transfer elsewhere.
My words seemed to put him at ease. A faint look of relief washed over Jimin’s face, and I gave him another bright, reassuring smile.
“Go on, get to work. Which dungeon did you say you were headed to today?”
“Oh, the… the Dungeon of Pelasus.”
“Then you’ll have an easy time of it. I’m heading over to the one in Nonhyeon.”
The dungeon I was assigned to was located in the Nonhyeon district, officially titled the ‘Dungeon of the Red Chimera.’
For context, the ‘Red Chimera’ referred to the dungeon’s final boss. People used to just call it the Nonhyeon-dong Dungeon, but the Global Dungeon Management Association—or whoever they were—decided to rename dungeons after their final bosses for the sake of “clarity.”
Well, it does make sense if you’re looking for clarity.
Naming them by location is one thing, but from humanity’s perspective, dungeons are the front lines of the war against monsters.
Of course, to a C-Rank hunter like me, those “greater good” perspectives felt like something from another world.
“P-please be careful! I heard that v-very dangerous things appear in the Nonhyeon dungeon from time to time…”
“I’ve heard the rumors, but seeing as they’re sending in C-Ranks, it probably means the place has been cleared out recently. Don’t worry about it. See you later!”
Even if C-Rank hunters don’t get much respect, our lives aren’t treated as entirely disposable. Maybe it was different back during the ‘Monster Parade,’ when dungeons first appeared and monsters were pouring out in droves, but things had reached a state of relative stability now.
I gave a dismissive wave to the worrying Jimin and headed straight for the dungeon.
And, as is usually the case with such stories, the “what ifs” almost always become reality.
I crouched in deep despair, facing a monster with nearly a dozen fangs right in front of my nose. Damn it all. How could things go this wrong?
The start had been perfectly ordinary. The Dungeon of the Red Chimera I entered was a C+ Rank. As the rank suggested, it was a run-of-the-mill dungeon of average difficulty found all over the world.
The field was a mountain thick with forest, the main enemies were chimeras (composite beasts), and the final boss was a man-sized, blood-red chimera.
This dungeon was famous for ‘Magia,’ a herb used in potent painkillers. The mission for the C-Rank hunters, including myself, was simply to harvest those plants.
On paper, it was an easy job.
Dealing with the chimeras was the responsibility of the B-Rank or, at the very least, C+ Rank hunters. Since it was a low-difficulty dungeon, the chances of them failing to kill a monster—or worse, being killed by one—were practically zero.
So, the C-Ranks were supposed to just watch the B-Ranks do the heavy lifting from a distance while we quietly picked herbs. That’s how it should have gone.
“This is insane. Seriously.”
Unfortunately, reality had gone off-script. I squeezed myself into a crevice between giant rocks, staring with a tearful face at the Red Chimera in the distance as it let out a bizarre, screeching cry.
Everything had been fine halfway through.
The B-Rank hunter leading the party was a soft-spoken, polite young man named Yoon Joo-young. The C+ Rank hunter accompanying him, Lee Ui-jeong, was a bit of a nag but didn’t slack on his duties.
The rest of us C-Ranks were experienced enough not to wander off and cause trouble.
Yeah, and yet, here we were. I huddled even tighter, making sure the Red Chimera didn’t spot me or Hunter Yoon Joo-young, who was currently unconscious in my arms. I replayed the events of a few moments ago in my head.
It all started when Hunter Yoon Joo-young was clearing out the ‘trash mobs’—the Composite Chimeras and Decomposition Chimeras.
To a B-Rank, these mobs were one-shot fodder. Joo-young mowed them down without a hitch.
Thanks to him, the C-Ranks focused on gathering Magia without a care in the world, while Lee Ui-jeong stood guard, keeping an eye out for any surprise attacks.
With the sounds of screeching monsters dying in the background and the C+ hunter’s constant nagging—“That’s not how you pick it! Back in my day, I could pick a hundred Magia in a single day!”—we were all working hard.
Then, a sound like metal scraping against metal suddenly blared through the air.
In a dungeon, a sudden, unexpected noise is usually synonymous with a life-threatening situation. Every hunter immediately dropped into a defensive stance, searching for the source.
Naturally, Yoon Joo-young was the first to find the cause of the anomaly. After finishing off a monster that had been lunging at him, he shouted to everyone.
“Everyone, get to the gate! I don’t know why, but the boss monster is heading this way!”
Valueing our lives, we all obeyed instantly. We grabbed our packs and started moving toward the base camp.
If the boss monster had really appeared, it was only logical to get out of the way so we wouldn’t hinder Yoon Joo-young’s fight.
It was a rational decision. The problem was the arrival of something that completely defied our rational expectations.
Suddenly, there was a wet thud—the sound of something being pierced. At the same time, something fast and sharp whipped past the back of my head.
Startled by the eerie sensation on my neck, I spun around.
There stood Lee Ui-jeong. Or rather, what was left of him—a headless corpse that had been a living person just seconds before.
“Aaaack?!”
“Kyaaa! Hunter Lee!”
Even though we were technically hunters, the C-Ranks, who spent most of their time picking herbs, screamed in terror. The mysterious force that had claimed Lee Ui-jeong didn’t let its helpless prey escape.
In an instant, something long and thin shot toward us. Again, with a sickening thud, the body of a hunter screaming right next to me collapsed.
