Dungeon & Commander

Dungeon & Commander – 3

Kim Joon lay on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. A green net was stretched above him, and beyond it, he could see the steel framework supporting the guild house. His body, which didn’t tire even after a half marathon, was now completely exhausted from the intense focus and effort.

Go Chul-min’s face appeared above him. Kim Joon almost laughed. Looking down at him, Go Chul-min resembled a grim reaper or a mean neighbor.

His chin was covered in a thick beard, and his round head had thinning hair at the top, making it look like a path through a dense forest on either side of his ears.

“How long are you going to rest? Planning to set up camp there?” Go Chul-min asked.

Kim Joon quickly got up, staggering. Go Chul-min reached out and easily steadied him. Kim Joon felt light as a feather in Go Chul-min’s grip, a testament to the guild master’s renowned strength.

“The average lifespan of a carrier is 2 years and 3 months. That doesn’t necessarily mean they die; many quit because the job is too tough and dangerous. I know a carrier who has been doing it for 15 years, but most get injured or find another job within a year or two. How long do you plan to be a carrier?” Go Chul-min asked seriously.

After some thought, Kim Joon revealed a truth he hadn’t even shared with his friend Choi Moo-hyun.

“Until I find my father.”

“What?” Go Chul-min was shocked, and so was Choi Moo-hyun, who had come over.

“My father went into the Yongsan Dungeon and never returned. That was 7 years ago.”

“Then, naturally…” Go Chul-min began but stopped himself.

“I know the odds of surviving in a dungeon for 7 years. I know everyone thinks he’s dead. But I believe my father is alive. I can’t give up that belief until I find him,” Kim Joon said calmly.

“So you want to become a carrier just to enter the dungeon?” Go Chul-min asked.

“Yes.”

Kim Joon’s demeanor was composed.

“Huh, this is something,” Go Chul-min said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his thick palm.

“Please help me,” Kim Joon pleaded.

Go Chul-min turned to look at Choi Moo-hyun. “Do you think this kid is smart?”

“You saw his college entrance exam scores,” Choi Moo-hyun replied.

“You know how many people are smart in school but fools in real life,” Go Chul-min countered.

“This guy is the real deal. He’ll succeed no matter what he does. If he had awakened, he’d be better than Lee Hwan. You saw him dodge those balls today,” Choi Moo-hyun insisted.

“Hmm,” Go Chul-min pondered.

He had already decided to accept Kim Joon as a carrier. However, he didn’t want to waste Kim Joon’s talents on just carrying loads. His athletic ability was impressive, but his calmness in the face of fear was even more remarkable.

Go Chul-min had seen many awakened raiders fail to perform due to fear, getting injured or killed in an instant. In the extreme world where life and death were constantly at stake, the most crucial ability was a cool-headed mindset. This was wisdom Go Chul-min had learned firsthand from over 100 dungeon raids.

He thought about the “Pride” team that had finished their practice and left that morning. They had plenty of pride but lacked effort and determination, resulting in consistently mediocre outcomes despite their abilities. The team lacked a leader who could step up and guide them.

Kim Yoon-seok lacked the sense of responsibility required of a Tanker. Jo Mi-yeon was more concerned with her fashion style than maximizing her striking power. Koo Hyun-do was so obsessed with flashy techniques that he neglected the basic skills needed to support other raiders as a Buffer.

The biggest issue was the absence of a leader who fully understood and coordinated the roles of Tanker, Dealer, and Buffer, giving the right commands at the right time.

The leader of Korea’s strongest guild, “Jushin,” was Yoo Wan-seop. he was not only the strongest Dealer but also possessed a broad perspective that encompassed the entire team. He directly commanded the Tankers in Jushin, adjusted the positions of the Buffers, and adapted the Dealers’ attributes according to the situation, leading to their dominance in dungeon battles.

Thanks to him, Jushin had set a record of 23 consecutive raid successes this year alone. Yoo Wan-seop was a natural-born awakened individual and a smart leader. People with both types of talent, like him, were extremely rare. This scarcity of capable leaders caused many small teams in ordinary guilds to struggle.

Even larger guilds faced similar issues. The guild “Brave,” which Lee Hwan belonged to, attempted to conquer the Gangnam Dungeon, a B-grade dungeon involving over 500 raiders, but failed again this year. The defeat resulted in 75 fatalities.

Various analyses emerged, but critics unanimously pointed to the lack of leadership as the cause. Lee Hwan was still young and hadn’t earned the full recognition of raiders in their 30s and older, so he couldn’t take on a leadership role. His characteristic arrogance also contributed to weakening the organization.

Go Chul-min knew that most raiders awakened at a young age, making them independent and stubborn, unaccustomed to cooperation. He himself had once been prideful like an ordinary raider, only realizing his foolishness when he was on the brink of death in a dungeon.

‘It’s already been five years,’ Go Chul-min thought.

It had been five years since the last time the guild he ran, Uramata, led a raid into a B-grade dungeon. They had entered the Suwon Dungeon with over 350 raiders, full of confidence. The result was a disastrous failure, with only 120 survivors returning initially. Fortunately, scattered raiders regrouped, bringing the final number of survivors to 180, but 170 lives were lost, making it one of the worst raids in memory.

As a result, Uramata Guild lost its B-grade license. The Dungeon Association held them accountable for the failure and revoked the license. For the past five years, Go Chul-min had struggled to regain the B-grade license, but it wasn’t easy.

The number of new awakened individuals each year remained almost constant. This led to fierce competition among guilds, with the most powerful and wealthy guilds snatching up those with the highest awakening scores first. This year, the person with the highest awakening score was a middle school third-year student, and Jushin Guild offered a contract worth 3 billion won. People remarked that the parents, who were smiling broadly in the photo, were the real winners thanks to their son.

As time passed, Uramata Guild’s status declined. They were losing in the competition against larger guilds. Currently, even maintaining their C-grade dungeon license was a struggle.

In his efforts to revive Uramata Guild, Go Chul-min had pondered endlessly, and a new style of raid strategy came to mind. Most guilds still used strategies that had been passed down for decades in dungeon raids.

The typical strategy involved the Tanker blocking the front, the Dealer dealing damage, and the Buffer providing advantageous effects based on the situation. Go Chul-min found a hint in a computer game he had come across. In the genre known as strategy simulation games, the gamer’s role was to consider each unit’s abilities and weaknesses, produce units faster than the opponent, or use unique strategies to outsmart them.

As a guild master, Go Chul-min was drawn to this gamer’s approach. If the raiders in the guild were like the units in the game, then the guild master should take on the role of the gamer. The problem was that he couldn’t enter the dungeon himself to give commands to the guild members directly.

Go Chul-min knew well what he was good at and what he lacked talent in. It would be ideal to have both the abilities of an awakened individual and the leadership skills like Yoo Wan-seop, but his limitations were clear. Thus, he came up with a new role, the “Commander.”

A role beyond Tanker, Dealer, and Buffer—Commander!

“Kim Joon,” Go Chul-min called.

“Yes, Master.”

“Can you trust me?”

“Huh?” Kim Joon was taken aback by the unexpected question and looked at Choi Moo-hyun.

“Master, why are you asking like that? It sounds like something a con artist or a cult leader would say.”

“Stay out of this. Kim Joon, I asked if you could trust me,” Go Chul-min said, staring intently at Kim Joon without blinking.

“I’ve trusted you and worked my hardest for the past two years,” Kim Joon replied.

“Good. I will train you,” Go Chul-min said with a broad smile.

Neither Kim Joon nor Choi Moo-hyun could understand Go Chul-min’s attitude. Being a carrier was a job anyone could do. One didn’t need to pass the awakening test. A carrier’s job was simply to collect the cores from the bodies of dead monsters in the dungeon.

Train him as a carrier? No guild master would say that so proudly.

Choi Moo-hyun twirled his finger in a circle, indicating Go Chul-min might be crazy. Kim Joon quietly nodded.

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***

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Leaving Go Chul-min to his own thoughts, the two friends stepped outside the guild house. They entered a snack shop and started eating gimbap and tteokbokki. Choi Moo-hyun tilted his head in thought.

“I think I might need to switch guilds.”

“Why?” Kim Joon asked, chewing on a piece of rice cake.

“Master seems to be getting weirder by the day.”

“But he seems like a good person.”

“He is a good person.”

“You’re not really going to switch, are you?” Kim Joon asked cautiously, noticing his friend’s unusually serious demeanor.

“Of course, I’m joking. But it seems like the guild house is in bad shape. I need to debut soon. With just one piece of Gravitium, we could buy a building like that.”

Gravitium was a core that only came from A-grade dungeons, used as a material and fuel for anti-gravity engines. Thanks to Gravitium, which ended the era led by the United States, colonies were being built on the Moon and Mars. What once required astronomical amounts of money was now becoming reality with anti-gravity engines.

“I prefer Podium,” Kim Joon said.

Podium was the core used as a material and fuel for portals capable of spatial teleportation.

The two friends burst into laughter. The cores they mentioned were so rare that even a thousand of the best raiders would struggle to obtain them. It was a dream they could entertain because they were young and still unaware of the true horrors of the dungeon.

After a moment, Choi Moo-hyun spoke.

“I had no idea.”

“I just… didn’t want to talk about it. It felt like I was trying to play the tragic hero,” Kim Joon admitted.

“I don’t see it that way! I actually think it’s cool. I figured you had a reason, but I never imagined it was something like that.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Haha, I’m a man with a heart as vast as the ocean,” Choi Moo-hyun laughed heartily.

“Oh, right. Today’s the day of the Gwangjin Dungeon raid,” Choi Moo-hyun suddenly remembered.

“Is it?” Kim Joon asked.

“Yeah, it’s led by the Heavenly Soul. You should know this.”

Kim Joon took the remote control from the snack shop owner and changed the TV channel. Since it was a C-grade dungeon raid, it was being broadcast live. The camera, filming from a helicopter, showed raiders equipped with gear standing in an orderly manner in front of the dungeon entrance in northern Gwangjin-gu, Seoul.

As the camera zoomed in, a handsome middle-aged man’s face appeared, exuding masculine charm.

“Oh, it’s Min-soo!” the snack shop owner exclaimed, clapping her hands and moving closer to the TV.

Choi Moo-hyun shook his head, but Kim Joon seized the moment.

“Ma’am, my friend here is the son of the famous Tanker Choi Min-soo.”

“Really?”

“Is that true?” The snack shop owner and the lady working in the hall were both surprised, comparing the father and son on the TV screen.

“They do look similar, but Min-soo is much better looking,” they concluded.

“Hey, I told you not to say anything,” Choi Moo-hyun whispered.

“Why are you embarrassed about it?”

“…Because I’m not worthy of being called his son yet.”

“Why would you say that?”

Kim Joon looked up at the TV. He was envious of his friend just for having his father around. His heart pounded. What would it be like inside that dungeon with 700 raiders entering at once? Cameras couldn’t capture the inside of dungeons since electronic devices typically didn’t work there.

For a long time, descriptions of dungeon interiors relied on the testimonies of returnees. However, the development of equipment that could interpret the core of the monster Optitasaurus changed everything. Although the footage could only be viewed after the raid, it revolutionized broadcasting by allowing the general public to see the vivid raid process.

Currently, the camera was showing the gathered raiders preparing for the raid.

“Aren’t you worried?” Kim Joon asked.

“My father is strong.”

“Well, he is Korea’s strongest Tanker.”

“One of the strongest Tankers,” Choi Moo-hyun corrected.

Choi Moo-hyun disliked it when people blindly praised his father. Objectively speaking, there were at least four or five Tankers with similar defensive capabilities. Nonetheless, his father’s reputation as the strongest Tanker remained intact.

Seeing his father often made Choi Moo-hyun feel inadequate.

People often told Choi Moo-hyun that he had inherited his father’s talent. His father had entered his first dungeon at the age of 15 and defeated an Owakerus. By 17, he had successfully hunted a Spiridurus, becoming a national sensation. Of course, back then, the dungeon and raid systems weren’t as organized as they are today. Now, no matter how exceptional their abilities, awakened individuals under 20 are prohibited from entering dungeons. Exceptionally, 19-year-olds can enter as apprentices.

His father was his goal. Choi Moo-hyun wanted to catch up to him.

“The dungeon gate is opening now,” the broadcast reporter shouted.

As the semi-circular gate standing between Gwangnaru Station and Children’s Grand Park opened, raiders from the Heavenly Soul and other guilds participating in the raid surged in like a tide. Once they disappeared inside, the gate closed again. The sight was always awe-inspiring, no matter how many times one saw it.

There was nothing more deeply stirring than watching men risk their lives and vanish into the darkness.

“Here, this is on the house,” the snack shop owner said, bringing out fish cakes and fried snacks.

“Thank you,” Kim Joon said, standing up to bow, and Choi Moo-hyun reluctantly nodded his head.

“You’re quite handsome too, young man,” the lady said, addressing Choi Moo-hyun.

Choi Moo-hyun smiled awkwardly.

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***

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After enjoying their meal, Kim Joon parted ways with Choi Moo-hyun and headed home. The cheerfulness from earlier had vanished. The school must have contacted his family by now, and it was likely chaos at home.

He lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building. His heart felt heavy. What would his family say if they found out he had joined the guild house as a carrier? The thought alone made his chest tighten. He couldn’t keep it a secret forever. It would come out eventually. It was better to face the music sooner rather than later.

‘Yes, I’ll tell them when the time is right. That’s the best way,’ he thought.

When he unlocked the door and entered, the living room was dark. It was past 10 PM. He thought everyone might be asleep, but then Kim Ji-hyun appeared with a cake lit with candles. His mother was behind her.

“Congratulations! Perfect score on the college entrance exam!” Kim Ji-hyun exclaimed.

His mother was wiping away tears.

“Blow out the candles,” his sister urged.

Kim Joon blew out the candles. Kim Ji-hyun placed the cake on the table and turned on the living room light. His mother came over and hugged him. In her warm embrace, Kim Joon couldn’t bring himself to say that he wasn’t planning to go to college and that he had joined the guild house to enter dungeons as a carrier.

“You’ve worked hard,” his mother said.

“What did I do? You’re the one who worked hard, making lunches and supporting us,” Kim Joon replied.

“Don’t say that. If you say that, what does that make me?” Kim Ji-hyun, who had mid-tier grades, said, making both their mother and Kim Joon laugh.

They shared a joyful time together. Seven years ago, when her husband suddenly went missing and was listed as a missing person, their mother had to enter the workforce. For the first time in a long while, she was smiling brightly. Her smile made even her wrinkles look beautiful.

“Oppa, you’re a liar,” Kim Ji-hyun suddenly said, making Kim Joon’s heart sink.

“…Why?”

“You told me the exam was hard when you came out! If it was so hard, how did you get a perfect score? What about everyone else?”

Kim Joon sighed in relief, thinking he had been found out.

“Ah, no… I meant the questions were hard. When I compared answers with the others, mine were completely different.”