Chapter 131

“Shin-hoo hyung,” Kwon Haeju called out.

He had been smashing through the dungeon walls beside him without a moment’s hesitation, but now he paused, checking behind them. By this point, they had traveled so far that even when he turned his head, Glys Roban’s party was entirely out of sight.

“What is your real objective?” Haeju asked.

He was questioning why they were moving in the exact opposite direction of Glys Roban—the very man they were assigned to protect—and why they had chosen to split off and act alone.

Nam Shin-hoo lifted the corner of his mouth into a slight smirk. “Our goal isn’t clearing the dungeon, is it?”

He had no desire to provoke Glys Roban, who was simply trying to carry out his mission, and unnecessarily turn him into an enemy.

“I was just showing him the way,” Shin-hoo added.

His actions were nothing more than a guideline—a practical demonstration that the dungeon could actually be cleared safely like this.

Of course, it was anything but a conventional clearing method. Dungeon walls weren’t meant to be made of materials so fragile that they could be smashed apart by sheer brute force. Yet, this particular dungeon possessed peculiar traits: its walls were composed of soft, shoddy coral, and everything inside looked as though it had been generated ages ago.

The materials they gathered were withered and dried out; even the puzzles and levers scattered here and there were heavily encrusted with barnacles. The same applied to the tentacles rising from the floor. Rather than moving of their own volition, they seemed to react mechanically to external movements.

In other words, there were no living creatures inside this dungeon.

Inferring from the circumstances so far, the probability of the dungeon changing organically or adapting was extremely low.

A short while later, it came.

BOOM

A massive explosion reverberated from the opposite side. Glys Roban’s party, who had just been pointing fingers and calling the two of them lunatics, had clearly started smashing through the walls as well.

“Looks like they understood perfectly,” Nam Shin-hoo remarked, looking rather proud of himself.

Beside him, Kwon Haeju tilted his head. “But if we move this far away, it will be difficult to respond if Glys Roban falls into danger.”

“It’s fine. I took out insurance.”

Nam Shin-hoo shook an artifact in his hand, and a small, tinny voice filtered out from within it.

— “Ugh. We should’ve just smashed everything and moved like this from the start. This feels damn good.”

— “Have you located the boss room yet?”

— “It’s strangely difficult to get a sense of the direction. Please wait a moment.”

Placing a tracker and a listening device on a Hunter so dispirited that he lacked both the confidence and the presence of mind to be wary of his surroundings had been easier than picking up seashells on a beach. The raid team’s conversation streamed clearly through the receiver Nam Shin-hoo had attached to the lower hem of Havirain’s jacket.

“Then should we wait for a bit?”

Nam Shin-hoo sat straight down on the floor right where he stood. To locate the spy—his true objective—he began tuning into the raid team’s conversation.

— “Do not let your guard down. Speed matters, but civilian safety comes first.”

That was Glys Roban’s familiar, steady voice.

— “I don’t like what those bastards are doing, but their clearing method is satisfying as hell.”

Silveron’s voice followed, sounding just as simple and blunt as his appearance.

— “Still, this is fortunate. I was worried they would interfere with our raid while calling themselves a rescue team.”

Then came Olive’s voice, quiet and peculiarly indistinct—perfectly matching how the Hunter usually stood around without leaving much of an impression.

For a long while after that, the dialogue ceased. Only the chaotic sounds of battle and walls shattering apart streamed continuously through the listening device.

The most likely suspects were Silveron and Olive.

The phrase written in the cipher Bale Taylor had decoded read: *“Move the crow that has bowed its body for a long time.”* Immediately following that, it had specified Glys Roban as the target.

The spy was highly likely to be either Silveron or Olive, both of whom had assisted Glys Roban for years. That was precisely why Nam Shin-hoo had planted the listening device on Havirain instead; since Havirain had only recently joined the raid team, he was the furthest from suspicion.

“For now, let’s wait,” Shin-hoo murmured.

He listened intently, paying meticulous attention to the nuances in the two suspects’ voices. If he caught even the slightest hint of foul play, he intended to sprint over immediately.

Kwon Haeju seemed to grasp Nam Shin-hoo’s plan. Spreading himself out beside him, he sat down and smoothly drew Nam Shin-hoo’s body between his legs with practiced ease, pulling him back to lean against his chest.

Caught in the embrace of that massive frame, Nam Shin-hoo used the tip of Luin Vuada to tap Kwon Haeju’s indecently enticing thigh.

“We’re inside a dungeon,” Shin-hoo warned.

“But we’re on a date,” Haeju countered smoothly. Sitting behind him, he lowered his head to rest against Nam Shin-hoo’s shoulder.

Well, maybe it doesn’t matter.

It was absurd to be this relaxed inside a dungeon, but it was also true that they had nothing immediate to do. Watching the silent listening device, Nam Shin-hoo relented and leaned back against Kwon Haeju.

As if he had been waiting for that silent permission, Kwon Haeju slipped a warm hand beneath Nam Shin-hoo’s shirt, his palm stroking his lower abdomen.

“You…”

“There’s something I’ve been curious about for a while,” Haeju interrupted softly. “May I test just one thing? It concerns the dungeon.”

“…Try it.”

If it truly concerned the dungeon, Nam Shin-hoo figured he should at least hear him out. The moment permission left his lips, Kwon Haeju picked up a bundle of the tentacles they had defeated in the room. Among the tangled mass, some strands were as thick as a wrist, while others were as thin as fingers.

Their attacks, which moved organically in an attempt to bind a target’s limbs, weren’t particularly threatening, but they were certainly annoying to deal with.

“What are you planning to do with that?” Shin-hoo asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Hold still.”

Kwon Haeju firmly gripped the end of the tentacle bundle and laid it across the stomach he had just been rubbing.

“Ugh!”

Unlike the dry warmth of a human palm, the texture sliding against Nam Shin-hoo’s flat lower abdomen was warm and slick. Several strands even began to wander around his navel as if they possessed a will of their own, pressing into the small hollow.

“You, this—”

“As expected.” A slow smile curled Kwon Haeju’s lips. When Nam Shin-hoo tried to bolt upright, Haeju pressed down firmly on his shoulder, his fingers shifting against the tentacles.

“What exactly does this have to do with the dungeon?” Shin-hoo demanded.

“These tentacles are weapons.”

Haeju’s innate ability was Weapon Master. It granted him absolute control over every existing weapon as he pleased. If these tentacles qualified as a type of weapon, it meant Kwon Haeju could manipulate them at will.

“I see. Everything in this dungeon is inorganic, so whatever is controlling them is likely something in the boss room… Ah, wait!”

A thin tentacle slipped past his lower abdomen, snaking beneath the waistband of his pants. It lengthened effortlessly, crawling lower, right beneath his pubic bone.

“Fascinating,” Haeju murmured. “I can adjust their length as I please. It feels exactly like moving my own fingers.”

“Wait. No, that’s not the important part!” Nam Shin-hoo tugged sharply at Kwon Haeju’s hair where the man’s head rested on his shoulder. He couldn’t even bring himself to restrain Haeju by grabbing the hand controlling the bizarre weapon, terrified of what might happen if he interfered with the flow of mana.

“Get a grip. Did you forget we’re in the middle of a raid?”

“Of course not. I’m simply adapting to a new weapon.”

“No, from where I’m sitting, that is absolutely not the issue. Ngh…”

— “Hey! Dog walker! Get your head on straight!”

The sudden shout snapped Nam Shin-hoo fully alert, almost as if the voice were scolding the two of them instead. Silveron’s booming voice roared through the listening device. Shaking himself out of Haeju’s grip, Nam Shin-hoo quickly pulled free of his body and leaned closer to the device.

— “If you want to die, die by yourself! Why does a useless bastard like you keep screwing around and causing trouble?!”

— “Silveron, calm down. It won’t be too late to get angry once we’re out of here.”

— “I-I’m sorry…”

Following Silveron and Olive’s sharp exchanges came Havirain’s timid apology.

— “Everyone, stop. We will reach the boss room soon. I hate to admit it, but we have cut our time down considerably. This is certainly a much better clearing method than the one we were using.”

Apparently, the raid team had already arrived at the entrance of the dungeon’s boss room. Nam Shin-hoo pushed Kwon Haeju’s lingering arm away and sat up completely.

“W-Wait. Kwon Haeju.”

“Tsk.” Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Kwon Haeju finally released him. His expression looked far too disappointed for someone who had merely been stopping a quick weapon practice, but he rose to his feet nonetheless.

A subdued voice filtered through the listening device once more.

— “So, there is something I need to say before we enter.”

After a brief, heavy silence, Glys Roban continued.

— “No matter what happens, I trust my comrades. Even if that trust is broken, that remains my choice. However, if something happens to me… please take care of the others.”

— “Master? Why so suddenly…?”

— “That is all I wanted to say.”

It was a weighty, meaningful instruction from a leader standing right before a boss room. This didn’t sound like a statement Glys Roban was directing solely at his guild members. It felt as though he explicitly expected the two Korean Hunters to be listening.

“Shin-hoo hyung. This is…”

“I expected him to notice the listening device,” Shin-hoo said grimly.

If a Hunter of his caliber couldn’t sense something of that level, he wouldn’t be an S-Rank. Nam Shin-hoo had attached it fully aware of the risk, operating on the assumption that if a situation arose where Glys Roban couldn’t handle it alone, he could use the frequency to signal an SOS to them nearby. He had not, however, anticipated Glys Roban leaving behind what sounded like a final testament.

“Then we move too.”

Nam Shin-hoo kicked off the ground. Kwon Haeju tossed the tentacle bundle aside and immediately followed suit, the two of them sprinting toward Glys Roban’s coordinates.

Glys Roban had chosen to stand alongside his guild members even while staring down the barrel of betrayal. There was no telling what catastrophic consequences would unfold if he turned his back to a spy inside a boss room where he had to risk his life.

“We need to hurry.”

Glys Roban’s party finally came into view at the very edge of Nam Shin-hoo and Kwon Haeju’s vision.

Right then, it happened.

— “You fucking lunatics! How could you touch that thing?!”

Silveron’s raw, terrified roar blasted through the listening device.

The dungeon, previously static, began to violently shake. From the floor to the ceiling, a massive, turbulent tremor rippled through the space, blurring their vision as though a colossal tidal wave had just slammed directly into the entire structure.