TFN C45

Chapter 45

“This place…”

“The dungeon’s landscape is… strange. I can’t even guess its traits.”

Ordinarily, when one entered a dungeon, the surroundings gave some indication of what kind of monsters might appear. Here, however, everything was text.

“Wait! Look beneath your feet.”

[What’s wrong with this year? Should I go get a fortune read? Recommend me a good place.]

“Huh? Wh—ah!”

Letters streamed out of them as though torn directly from their bodies, then soared skyward.

“Why are those—”

“What exactly are those?”

The deputy, weapon drawn as he kept watch, asked the question. Kim swallowed hard as he lifted his gaze to the writing flowing upward.

Like neon letters flashing eternally above a sign, one line appeared again and again.

“It’s a Hunternet post from earlier this year.”

“What?”

Kim stared blankly up at the sky.

“Back in January, when I was on assignment in Cheongsong, remember? I got into car accidents three days in a row. Jeong Gyohwa told me that with all that misfortune happening so early in the year, I ought to start praying.”

“Wasn’t that an invitation to join his church? He said something about the Lord’s word when he spoke to me, so I assumed that’s what he meant.”

Nam, listening, interjected.

“But if he meant church, why phrase it as praying? Usually people say that when they mean going to a shaman or lighting candles at a temple. My mom loves those places, so I’ve heard it often. But… does that mean all of this—”

The deputy’s words made them all lift their eyes to the letters gathering in the sky.

“Could it all be Hunternet posts?”

“Damn. This is a real abyss.”

From within the pit of words, there came the faint tapping sound of keys being struck.

“Team Leader, perhaps we should first step outside the cube. We need to understand what kind of dungeon this is before we can decide how to resolve it.”

“You want to check for a quest?”

At the deputy’s suggestion, Lee, keeping watch, asked.

“Of course.”

The deputy gave a crooked smile.

“A quest would be nice.”

“If there’s a quest, it means it can be closed.”

“Exactly.”

Though people lumped them all together as dungeons, in truth they could be divided endlessly. The broadest division was into two: mission-type dungeons that provided quests, and exploration-type dungeons that seemed like fragments of an alien world.

The mission dungeons vanished once their quest was cleared. Exploration dungeons had no goal—just vast terrain and monsters.

In the early days, people tried mining resources there, assuming hidden conditions existed. But nothing could be brought out, and no matter what, quests never appeared.

All they yielded was a chaotic spawning of monsters, which the Special Bureau and guilds had to cull periodically. If the monsters bred unchecked, the dungeon would spread like a break, devouring its surroundings.

The most notorious example was the Black Fog Forest in Goesan, Chungbuk—black trees from trunk to leaf, shrouded year-round in gray mist, monsterless yet echoing with ghostly wails.

Cheongmun agreed with the deputy.

He dismissed the cube he had summoned.

The semi-transparent veil that had severed space dissolved, and dungeon mana rushed inward.

No suffocation, no stinging on the skin.

Non-toxic air meant higher survival odds.

Thirty seconds after dungeon entry, the quest interface appeared—visible to all, even with eyes closed.

『Difficulty conditions fulfilled.』

『Measuring average rank…』

『Counting participants…』

Normally, this would be instant, but because of Cheongmun’s cube containing the space, the dungeon stalled while recognizing those within.

No monsters would spawn until it fully opened. If any civilians had been dragged in during manifestation, now was the time to hide.

Though the sky was a black pit and the horizon a smear of pixelated noise, shattered concrete from old buildings lay scattered about. Those could serve as cover.

Meanwhile, Kim pulled out analysis equipment, desperate for any scrap of information.

『Participants exceed 100. Difficulty selected: Rank D.』

『Average rank: C. Difficulty raised to Rank C.』

『Hidden condition met. Difficulty raised to Rank S.』

One notification after another scrolled across their vision. The deputy gave a hollow laugh.

“What kind of hidden condition bumps us from C all the way to S?”

At the words S-Rank dungeon, the team stiffened.

It was no wonder. Their unit numbered only six. With over a hundred people inside, that meant at least ninety-four civilians had been swept in.

Everyone held their breath, awaiting the next screen.

『The Marsh of □□□ (S-Rank)

Beneath the river that divides life and death, the breath of wrath awakens.

Defeat them and prevent the seed of £∂▲Å from hatching.

※ Time until seed hatches: 06:59:55

※ Sacrifice deaths will increase difficulty. 0/3』

“A time-attack type. Rescue the sacrifices and slay the boss.”

The quest pattern was simple enough. The problem lay in its obscured details—and the rank.

『Dungeon linked with Hunternet.』

『Each new comment on Hunternet spawns a monster.』

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Nam shouted at the new alert.

All heads tilted back toward the sky.

And from the mass of black letters, unstable, quivering blobs began to pour down.

Cheongmun instantly summoned his cube, forming a safe zone.

On its translucent walls, made of writhing black current, splattered the falling creatures.

“Any idea what they are?”

“Never seen them. Shall we test different attributes in turn?”

Following procedure, the team narrowed down their options.

Cheongmun drew his gun.

With blobs sliding down like tar, aiming was hardly a concern.

He fired.

The bullet ripped through, exploding the mass. Tiny particles scattered like millet grains, and where they fell, hundreds of small cubes sprouted.

Raising his arm, Cheongmun swept his hand through the air. The nail-sized cubes grew large enough to engulf the nearest blobs.

The creatures struggled, but the cubes held firm.

Snapping his bare fingers, Cheongmun altered the environments within. One cube blazed with fire, another flooded with water, others whipped with snow, lightning, and slicing winds like blenders.

Yet the blobs suffered nothing. Burned, shredded, torn apart—they rejoined or even split into two. Cutting off air had no effect.

Cheongmun emptied half a clip, swapped for a fresh magazine, and fired again.

This time, the bullets gleamed gold with consecration.

“Holy power?”

At last, the black masses shrieked, melting like snails under salt, collapsing into nothing.

At the sight, the team rummaged frantically through their inventories, pulling out any holy or spirit-defense gear they possessed.

“If they react to holy power, then it’s ghost-type, isn’t it?”

They waited for the status window to confirm.

『Blind Fury (Ghost)

Born from sentences steeped in malice.』

“Ghost-type, confirmed.”

At his words, groans filled the group.

“Then the dungeon’s final boss will be that ghost, surely.”

“They said it would be good if we could arrest him even as a spirit… Never thought the wish would be granted like this.”

The deputy gave a wry laugh. Others echoed it bitterly.

Cheongmun clicked his tongue. Holy-imbued bullets were the only effective weapon.

“And I’ve got fewer than a hundred rounds left. But the numbers keep climbing.”

Already the floor was lost beneath the tide of monsters.

Dry swallows echoed among them.

They were hunters, yes, but their talents were in manhunts, not dungeons. Their abilities resembled production-type Awakened more than fighters.

“Look! Over there—something like a wraith!”

Nam pointed upward.

If the first monsters were like black slime, the second resembled the common wraiths found in ghost-type dungeons.

Most human in form, wraiths floated like translucent jellyfish drained of life and color, swooping down upon intruders.

“That one will be tough without holy items. Anyone got spare holy water?”

“I’ve got some. I’ll share.”

Everyone smeared their weapons with sanctified water, then drew into a guarded circle.