Chapter 29
Part 5. The Moon Halo Dungeon (2)
The mental-type wave kept cutting off, then surging upward again in a repeating pattern.
One of the teachers in the lounge muttered,
“With fluctuations like that… Haesol could be in real danger.”
They still didn’t know that the dungeon had manifested as S-rank.
That was why their reaction stopped at concern instead of panic.
I clenched my hands.
Once again, I wished with all my heart that the potions I had given Haesol would suit him even better than usual.
Truly—those three bottles might be able to change today.
Before long, the entire student team completely disappeared into the moon halo.
Only fog remained on the screen.
At some point, I found myself sitting on the sofa.
My hands, clasped together on my knees, were trembling.
I prayed over and over again that not only the main characters but also even the side characters would all come back safely.
That was everything I wanted today.
As time passed, the graph detecting dungeon fluctuations began to rise.
The numbers exceeded expectations—and kept climbing.
The lounge fell into suffocating silence.
Someone was gripping the remote control tightly. The subtitles at the bottom of the screen looked like they had frozen, which only made it more unsettling.
Perched on the edge of the sofa, I drew my knees in.
I squeezed my hands until my fingertips went numb.
The internal moon halo fluctuation graph surged again.
Red and blue lines crossed and bounced erratically.
Someone spoke in a small voice.
“Do you think… the team that went in is okay?”
That question echoed my own heart so perfectly that I couldn’t answer. I just breathed in carefully.
Suddenly, the screen switched to an exterior camera angle.
The ground at a distance from the Moon Halo entrance trembled.
The surface cracked roughly, as if tiny fragments were splintering off.
Two teachers stood up almost simultaneously.
“This is… a wave linked to internal impact.”
“It was a mental-type attack—so why is space itself shaking? This is—!”
Their low conversation pressed heavily over the center of the lounge.
I couldn’t keep my hands still anymore and rubbed my wrists.
Honestly, I believed barrier potions could block mental-type dungeon attacks—but I didn’t know to what extent in real conditions.
Even if it was a successful batch, mental-type effects always varied from person to person.
The screen switched to a silhouette display based on internal sensors.
Only outlines were visible, but it was clear who was who.
Yoo Hanseong was at the front, guiding the way.
His silhouette firmly grabbed a teammate who looked like they were about to collapse.
Behind him, Lee Haesol’s silhouette dipped briefly, as if he were sinking to the ground.
At that moment, my breath caught.
“Haesol…”
My voice couldn’t reach him.
Then the silhouette stood up again.
He staggered a little—but he clearly got back on his feet.
One of the teachers said,
“To shake off a curse and recover that quickly—wait, is that a potion?”
Another teacher shot back,
“Did one of the students have a barrier potion?”
I quietly lowered my head.
I couldn’t say it was my potion.
It was better that no one except Hanseong’s group knew about the S-rank potions.
They were meant only to stop the apocalypse dungeon.
After that, they were for the people inside this academy.
If it got out, I probably wouldn’t be able to stay here anymore.
Still, the fact that Haesol had endured made me overwhelmingly relieved.
No one getting hurt—that was the best outcome.
I repeated that thought over and over.
After a while, the internal fluctuation graph began to settle.
The mental-type attack phase had passed.
A soft sound of relief spread through the lounge.
Without realizing it, I brought my hand close to my chest.
Normally, at least three team members would have collapsed by this point.
Today, no one had fallen.
I didn’t know if it was really because of the potions—but it was a good result.
In the next scene, the silhouettes were shown moving along the wave-shaped terrain deeper inside the moon halo.
The inside of the moon halo was a place where light and shadow tangled together, and shapes collapsed quickly.
Because of that, the sensors couldn’t capture clear images and often cut out.
From within that distortion, a shadow shaped like a black hand suddenly popped out.
A C-rank Black Cat monster.
“It’s only C-rank.”
“Why is a C-rank appearing already?”
Several students in the lounge inhaled sharply at the same time.
Yoo Hanseong moved first.
One silhouette dashed forward and slashed through the shadow.
His speed was so fast that it was obvious even through the broadcast.
One strike, one push—he cleared the way and led the team forward.
Even as he did so, he kept checking behind him.
Haesol’s silhouette followed a beat slower.
But he didn’t collapse.
That was everything.
Just that fact—that he hadn’t fallen.
That alone was a huge change.
Text appeared on the TV screen again.
“Initial zone cleared: 40%.”
Time inside the Moon Halo sometimes flowed and sometimes froze.
There, minutes could shrink into seconds, while seconds could stretch unnaturally long.
So even if the broadcast looked slow, information was actually moving quickly.
The silhouettes regrouped and started moving again.
At that moment, the entire interior shook.
Students in the lounge flinched and shifted in their seats.
When the front camera showed the outside, the ground could be seen trembling faintly.
“So… the deeper part of Moon Halo has opened.”
One teacher muttered in a heavy voice after a long silence.
They would soon realize it had mutated into an S-rank dungeon and request help from higher authorities.
I stared at the screen as if clinging to it.
After this kind of tremor, someone usually collapsed.
In the original route, this was where it began.
But this time—
The silhouettes were holding on.
They swayed, but they didn’t fall.
‘All twelve of them.’
I smiled very faintly.
The TV scene changed again.
A message appeared saying the team was heading toward the Moon Halo’s central area.
From here on, this was the real trial.
I clasped my hands tightly and watched the screen.
Please don’t shake any harder. Please let no one get badly hurt.
I just wanted them to come back safely.
The core area would open soon.
And then…
The change would reveal itself.
I quietly drew in a breath.
****
A notification appeared: Entering Moon Halo Core Area.
The air in the lounge sank even colder.
The teachers had already concluded it was S-rank and, shocked, rushed out.
They would soon realize that entry was impossible.
They hadn’t told those of us gathered in the broadcast room, but everyone seemed to sense something anyway.
That this wasn’t an ordinary Moon Halo Dungeon.
A silence spread, as if everyone was holding their breath.
I leaned forward slightly, pulling myself closer to the screen.
The broadcast camera began displaying changes in the Moon Halo’s internal terrain as silhouette graphs.
Wave-like curves tangled together.
Within them, the outlines of Yoo Hanseong and Lee Haesol kept flickering.
The core area was always hard to detect.
That was why the screen was blurry and warning alerts kept appearing.
“Psychological Shock Wave Detected.”
The two teachers who had stayed behind in the lounge to guide students both leaned forward at the same time.
They cried out,
“Haesol—!”
Before the words were even finished, the graph jolted violently.
The blood drained from my hands.
Psychological shock waves sometimes couldn’t be fully blocked, even with barrier potions.
If Haesol collapsed even once, it could trigger a domino effect and shake the entire team.
Still, I told myself over and over that it would be okay—he had already endured once, hadn’t he?
Soon, one silhouette inside the screen shook violently.
It was Lee Haesol.
My chest tightened painfully.
His silhouette looked like it had sunk down, one hand pressing against his temple.
He couldn’t stop there.
In the original timeline, this was where he fell deep.
Where his mind was pulled away.
I stared at the screen as if trying to grab it.
At that moment, Yoo Hanseong moved.
His silhouette quickly stepped in front of Haesol.
He grabbed Haesol as if lifting his face up and released mana through the air.
I didn’t know exactly how he did it, but the broadcast sensors picked up the mana flow clearly.
A blue line flared brightly for a moment.
Then the graph wavered—and Haesol’s silhouette slowly lifted its head.
I kept staring at the screen, barely breathing.
A teacher said in a low voice,
“Can someone… pull a person back from a mental-type shock with that level of focus?”
Another teacher replied,
“Yoo Hanseong shouldn’t have that kind of ability.”
That looked an awful lot like he’d just splashed my potion directly—
And added mana to disguise it.
Was that it?
If so, I should be grateful.
“Then does that mean Haesol’s resistance is that high?”
“No, the barrier—wait.”
I swallowed a small tremor.
The fact was, Haesol was enduring.
But I couldn’t simply say it was because of the potion.
It might have been the potion—but Hanseong’s concentration might also have been stronger than before.
It could have been both.
But none of that could be said out loud.
I could only watch as the screen stabilized again.
Lee Haesol’s silhouette stood up completely.
