The morning was still tight. It hadn’t been long since the government announced the end of the city lockdown. And with no job to return to, I set off with the goal to liquidate my earnings.

There were several private guilds I could sell the magic stones to, but the obvious choice brought me back to ASH. It hadn’t even been a full day since I’d returned; this time, with a renewed purpose.

Perhaps it was because I walked right in during the opening time, but there was definitely some sort of event going on as black limousines parked a whole line down the street. If they had any decency, they’d have parked in the allocated parking lot. Doing otherwise suggested a matter of urgency.

“Excuse us.”

Two bulked-up men in suits—presumably bodyguards, brought their escort in front of me, entering ASH before I could.

I didn’t pay it any mind, but when I was stopped at the entrance by a familiar face, my accumulated annoyance was rightfully unleashed.

His red hair tied back into a formal ponytail in accordance with his suited attire.

“Good morning, Cheong-Sin. What are you here for again? Not a second examination, surely.”

He dropped the polite facade from yesterday.

“Morning, Hajin-ssi, I’m not planning to get a hunter’s license anytime soon. I’m here for a separate affair.”

“Right. Well whatever that separate affair is, you’ll have to wait. We’re currently reorganizing ourselves after those outbreaks that just happened.”

“Alright. When should I return?”

“Staff should be operating normally after noon.”

“Thank you. I’ll be off then.”

“You too, Cheong-Sin.”

He’d dropped the formalities by calling me directly by name, and the pretentious smile he gave me as I turned away reflected his passive aggressive nature.

My next option was the Magic Sha Clan. Their guildhouse wasn’t too far away from ASH as it was also situated within the central district which was now a hub for hunters and not just rich CEOs. Since I couldn’t sell to ASH, I would trade with a competitor.

At least that’s what I thought.

“Sorry sir, we’re currently unable to process any transactions at this moment if you are not a member of the Magic Sha Clan. This will likely be the case with all the other guilds in Korea as we have been affected by the recent monster outbreaks. Do come back in a few hours when the situation resolves.”

It didn’t make any sense. Was a monster outbreak such a big deal when it was a frequent occurrence all over the world? Just because Seoul hadn’t experienced a monster outbreak in over a decade didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen again. And besides, how did that affect their ability to conduct transactions?

“May I ask what’s with the turmoil. I can’t see how a monster outbreak leads to me being unable to trade in my magic stones?”

“Well…” Troubled by my question, the doorman began explaining.

“…as a majority of the hunters in the finance department of the guild have taken up the emergency task of surveilling the area in case of any subsequent monster outbreaks, we are currently short-staffed and have been ordered to not conduct transactions with outsiders to prevent magic stone scamming. You should know how difficult it is to individually inspect each magic stone for quality coupled with the fact that millions of monsters are hunted everyday in Korean dungeons. I’m sure you can imagine how being short-staffed on top of that would affect us, sir.”

“Is it just the finance department that’s short on manpower?”

“I can’t tell you anything more, sir.”

The doorman was honest, to say the least.

But with the change in situation brought with it a change in plan—it was a brilliant idea that demanded I capitalized on it.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Given the fact that all the hunters belonging to guilds were mobilized by the government, what were the chances that dungeon entrances around Seoul were fully guarded as they usually were? If it was a dungeon at the center of Seoul, it made sense for those dangerous ones to be under heavier scrutiny than normal as they contained a plethora of 2nd and 3rd class monsters. Some 3rd classes were even known to collapse entire cities on their own. As the average hunter was of the 1st class, what did that make of the lesser dungeons—the ones where only 1st class monsters spawned from?

Answer: there was less security.

In other words, it was prime time for me to illegally force my way into a dungeon.

Once I’ve broken through to 1st class, I’d use the new trait gained from the class advancement to take the hunter examination. That way, I wouldn’t need to deal with anything suspicious concerning the trait I already had.

Even though I committed a blunder when I originally signed up for the examination, it was good that Hajin believed I was bluffing when I said I had a trait. Judging by the way he talked to me, it was apparent he thought I was delusional and must have reported as such.

If someone told me a level 9 hunter one-shotted a creature over level 300, I wouldn’t believe it either. At the time, I didn’t realize how broken of a trait I had, but now, I knew. Instead of waving it around like a banner, the smartest decision was to keep it under wraps, especially since knowledge of my trait was equivalent to revealing my one and only weakness.

The only issue with my plan to procure a hunter’s license was its dependence on me advancing from a classless hunter to a 1st class hunter. To do that, I’d need to break through the level 100 barrier, which required me to slay more monsters.

Unless a monster outbreak happened again with all the right coincidences for my trait to activate occurred, I wouldn’t be killing any monsters anytime soon. And if the monster attacked me via physical methods, I’d die.

I wasn’t illusioned by my success in killing the 3rd class fallen angel. Even though I was currently level 96, I knew that if I repeated the same event, that 1st class goblin would still be able to kill me ten times over. No amount of ability could transcend the limits of class, after all—well, except for my trait.

For that reason, I set my target on a lower-1st class dungeon known for its illusion demons. Their primary method of attack was not combat, meaning I had the advantage.

The gate appeared two decades ago in the abandoned Deokso train station now known as the Succubus Den.

Ironically, the bus system was unaffected by the earlier monster outbreak. It was barely a half-hour bus ride from the center of Seoul given that there wasn’t much traffic in the early morning. The hunters acted quickly to eliminate all the rampant monsters. And it made sense that the situation was resolved so fast when even the third best ranker, Park Soo-Mi, was mobilized to sort the situation.

After a trip back home to empty the magic stones I was planning on selling, I arrived at Deokso station with a mask, hoodie, and sunglasses.

There were only two ASH personnel on standby. If it were in the more populated areas of Seoul, there would at least be a group of ten managing the dungeon.

Before proceeding with Operation: Invade, I checked my duffle bag to make sure I had all the equipment I needed for camping. There wasn’t much besides water. I managed to fit around 40 bottles.

The old saying went that a man could go 3 days without water and 3 weeks without food; and I wasn’t going to leave unless I breached the level 100 barrier.

I did my research beforehand. This dungeon had a one-person limit. Meaning, once someone went in, no one else could enter until the first person left or died.

The only thing blocking my way was the metal fence erected by ASH at the entrance of the station. To unlock them for entry was the job of security. The good news was that the frame holding the fence in place rusted in crude fashion. Some of the metal was bent in the wrong directions, as if a monster had tried to pry it apart. One particular deformation created a hole that looked big enough for my bag to fit through. And if my bag could fit through, so could I. Maintenance over this decrepit dungeon was neglected for its difficulty for its level. Not many hunters could defend against mental attacks, and those who could would be hunting in 2nd class dungeons rather than a 1st class one that had only 1st class monsters.

With the plan in order, I inhaled a breath before stepping forward.

Noticing me, the two ladies stopped conversing. One stood up from the booth.

“Hunter-nim, we’re currently not allowing any hunts to take place as per order of—Hey! Stop!"

As I got closer, it became apparent that the pried-apart bars created a far larger hole than I originally thought.

I maneuvered my way in by chucking my bag through before following suit.

Ignoring the shouting behind me, I dashed up several stairs, descended a few, and eventually found my way to the “gate.”

There it was. At the center of the station like a crack in reality. If the world was a canvas, this portal was the accidental blemish formed from splattered paint.

Whatever was on the other side evaded my sight, as all that stared back at me was emptiness. If looking at a mirror was eerie, the sensation was similar to looking at one with a missing reflection. While its outline was distinctly purple, the insides sat vacant in a pitch of darkness that led to nowhere.

Dungeon gates were renowned for their size. With the infamous 3rd class dungeon at the front of Korea’s National Museum as an example, many gates were the size of an elephant. Some even extended to the height of a giraffe. But the 1st class Deokso station dungeon was uncharacteristically small, only spanning the size of a grown man. If size was an indicator of dungeon capacity, this was a clear indication that only a single person could occupy the dungeon at a time.

With nothing else left to do but to enter, I took my first step. With one leg in, the portal pulled everything else through in one swift motion.