TFN C47

Chapter 47

The closer he drew to the dungeon, the fiercer the ghostly aura became.

When Wonhyo instinctively tried to stop and check how far remained, the General once more shoved him forward.

“You want me to go further?”

He lifted his gaze—and saw the sky, warped by colossal waves of shimmering haze. That was the dungeon’s domain.

It was not the entrance, but if the dungeon’s rank was high enough, even standing here could mean being dragged in.

“I should at least head to the entrance first and confirm if Lee Cheongmun is there…”

His eyelids fluttered violently, and suddenly something came into view.

It was like dreaming while standing awake.

Everything around him vanished, and in his vision appeared Cheongmun, trapped inside a vast cube where black currents rose and swirled. Above it, some nauseating, incomprehensible things clung and oozed, while at the base, only a pair of legs were visible, collapsed.

“Hhk!”

He gasped sharply and snapped out of it.

Borrowing a power that was not his own—if his stamina were a battery, it had dropped below the red line, flashing a warning to recharge immediately.

Rubbing his eyes with his palms, he steadied himself and stared back at the dungeon.

He could see nothing but the ominous, trembling haze—but somewhere within, Cheongmun was there.

『Contact with powerful Ghost Qi detected. (…In progress…92.1%)』

The ghost energy had risen unceasingly on the way here, now ready to spill over. Wonhyo clenched his fists once more.

“If he’s not inside, we’re in real trouble, you know that?”

The General gave no reply, but still pressed him onward.

At the dungeon’s boundary—the place where one could be swept inside if careless—Wonhyo recalled a strict warning: never attempt it.

He did not hesitate. He dashed headlong toward the dungeon.

〈In dungeons ranked A and above, the shattered outskirts may look like ruins, but they are in fact the boundary between reality and the dungeon. They are extremely dangerous. Using skills here carries over an 80% chance of being pulled inside. Always exercise caution—entry is not limited to the visible gates.〉

So the online lecturer had repeated, again and again.

〈If you don’t pass through the entrance, you might not land in the outskirts at all, but be dropped straight into the lethal center.〉

The reminder chilled him now, but since the General had commanded it, his life should not be forfeit.

He drew one of his talismans, one forged into an item.

As soon as the paper caught flame, his body was sucked downwards.

『Entering dungeon.』

『Curse penalty temporarily alleviated.』

『The Marsh of □□□ (S-Rank)』

Before he could even open his eyes fully, alerts stacked one atop another.

Reassurance flickered—though the curse energy would still accumulate, it would not rise immediately upon contact.

Then he read the dungeon’s name and grade. His jaw dropped.

“S-Rank?”

There was more text beneath, but his gaze froze on those two letters.

“We’re screwed.”

He plunged deeper and deeper—until his feet struck ground, and instantly black masses bared their teeth and rushed him.

“Uaaaaagh—!”

Both arms flew above his head. It wouldn’t help, but survival instinct compelled it. He didn’t even think to run.

‘Ah… so this is how I die.’

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for agony.

『By the power of the Thunder God, a protective shield is formed for ten minutes.』

Kyaaaaah—!!

The charging mass slammed into a transparent barrier and was flung back, scattering to ash.

Kraaaaah—!!

Another fared the same.

He peeked his eyes open. The monsters hurled themselves against him like moths to flame, only to rebound and disintegrate.

The Thunder God—that was the spirit whose power he had inscribed into the talisman he used to enter.

“Holy hell…”

It wasn’t as though dungeon kills granted him experience like in a game. But survival—that was all that mattered.

Wonhyo plunged his hand into his inventory, grabbing a fistful of talismans.

Then he checked the monsters.

『Blind Fury (Ghost)

Born from words steeped in malice.』

『Sorrowful Lamentation (Ghost)

Born from words steeped in malice.』

If they were born from words of malice, that meant curses, insults—hate comments.

He had never seen monsters named “fury” or “lamentation” before, but one detail stood out.

Ghosts. Spirits. His specialty.

He drew a talisman to subdue spirits.

“Team Leader, wouldn’t it be best to cast a barrier around us and go straight for the boss?”

The deputy urged amid the endless waves.

No one here wielded holy skills, and Cheongmun’s consecrated bullets were finite. They could not hold out forever.

An S-Rank dungeon demanded a high-rank holy skill-user or someone with sanctified items. But the only such person in Korea, the guildmaster of Haetae Guild, was in Busan at a symposium.

“If we contact him and pair him with a transporter, he’ll arrive in thirty minutes,” Cheongmun said calmly.

The deputy shook his head.

“You could reach the boss before then.”

The others agreed—end this before casualties multiplied.

Their eyes all flicked to their quest windows.

『※Difficulty rises if a sacrifice dies. 1/3』

The word “sacrifice” was vague, but “death” was not. One slot was already filled.

While they argued, Cheongmun’s gaze remained fixed outward.

“Team Leader!”

“Quiet.”

He hushed them with a hand.

The team stiffened, swallowing hard, and followed his line of sight.

“…Cheongjaecheong. Sabshipyukgwanjang. Chilshipijigun. Cheongucheong. Chilsanpalbaecheongunmogaeunlorae…”

A low chant drifted. Then came the ringing of a bell.

Indecipherable like scripture, followed by the clear chime of bells…

The team scrambled to peer out, eyes narrowing.

In the wake of Cheongmun’s slaughter, the filling masses now squirmed and shifted.

Then—with a sharp peal of bells—ashes scattered.

Wonhyo swallowed dryly.

The chanting, the talisman-casting, the relentless ghosts—his throat felt raw, as if bleeding.

He longed for a breath, a sip of water. But the cursed creatures fell on him like rain.

Some took on human shapes, like living spirits—trying to drain his vitality or seize his vessel. But he was no empty jar to be stolen.

Shaking his bells, he chanted again.

At first he had burned talismans, but soon abandoned the waste. Chanting alone could drive them back, and so he pressed his lips and muttered ceaselessly.

He checked the thread of fate wound round his finger.

He had followed its pull, step by step—but how much farther? His feet throbbed, his back ached, his wrist burned from shaking the bell.

“Out of my way, you bastards.”

They weren’t even true ghosts—just cheap, irritating imitations. He swatted them aside with his bells, swallowing curses.

Why did such things cling so desperately, as though they were true vengeful spirits?

He began chanting again from the start, debating whether to draw another talisman—when the thread tugged sharply.

“Oh?”

Without hesitation, he drew one. Not a ward of protection, but a San-gwi-gun—a summoning talisman to call down soldiers of the netherworld to slaughter ghosts.

Usually the drawings were small, confined to a corner of the paper. But this one was etched broad and bold.

He invoked it. The gates of heaven and earth opened, the ghost roads laid bare. The living barred, soldiers unleashed.

Golden radiance split the sky, lightning crashing down.

The piled masses were swept aside, revealing at last a vast, translucent cube.

Wonhyo ignored his burning soles and ran, as if he had discovered an oasis in the desert.

The black masses lunged, but the smoke wreathing his body struck them down like an auto-hunt skill.

Breathless, head spinning, he ran on.

Ding—ding—ding.

Through the scattering ash, the cube took form.

And beyond it, a silhouette stood upright, watching him.

Wonhyo raised a hand and waved desperately.

Never in his life had he been so glad to see another person.

“…Help me! I’m dying of thirst!”

He did not want to go down as Korea’s first exorcist Awakener to perish of dehydration mid-battle.

Whether Cheongmun understood or not, he raised his arm.

The gun in his hand gleamed in the light.

“Huh? W-wait, it’s me!”

Wonhyo stumbled forward, shouting frantically, but Cheongmun’s response was merciless.

He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Are you out of your mind?!