“Junggu. Isn’t it a bit rude to ask someone’s level?”
“Even so, I can’t tolerate someone without the qualifications sitting where decisions for the group are made.”
“Isn’t survival in that Monsterland proof enough of qualification? Han Iseo clearly confirmed what he said was true....”
Gang Jaeho knit his brows and pointed it out.
Junggu only shrugged and answered.
“Surviving in that Monsterland is certainly impressive, but he could just as well have survived by hiding well, couldn’t he?”
“What... Junggu, you usually don’t fuss over this kind of thing. Why the sudden change?”
“It’s not that. It’s just—if he truly lived pressed up against those monsters and survived, then... I figure he should’ve reached a level comparable to the Chair. If he’s that capable, I can accept him having a say in internal matters.”
In the end—
that was what the man was demanding of me.
“So, it’s fine if I’m at a level similar to this Chair... that’s it?”
“Well, I’m not insisting it be exactly the same. Even a little short of that is fine... but at the very least, his level should be higher than mine, shouldn’t it?”
I had heard plenty about this so-called Chair.
I’d never heard the details, though.
Curiosity nudged me, so I asked.
“Then let me ask first—what level was the Chair?”
“About two weeks before the disappearance, a report came in that the Chair had reached level 30.”
At those words, I roughly converted the timing.
They’d said the Chair went missing at the beginning of winter.
‘So about the same time as Minjae... or maybe he hit level 30 just a little earlier.’
That was, without question, a big deal.
Among the squad leaders in our unit, the only ones who reached level 30 were Minjae and me.
Even then, in my case it had only been possible thanks to stacked coincidences and luck.
Minjae was the one most specialized in wide-area offense in the unit,
and he’d been able to reach that level by harvesting an enormous amount of experience during the assault on [Dasmur].
As for Corporal Jeon Gwangil and Corporal Seo Suhyeok who came after—
right up until the moment I left the unit, they were in that zone where the experience requirement spikes insanely.
‘They were stuck at level 29.’
Experience requirements explode every 10 levels.
And when you’re reaching the next 10-level bracket, the requirement balloons even more.
The experience to go from 29 to 30 felt about as much as it took to go from 25 to 29.
Of course, the two of them had already been at level 29 for quite a while.
So by now, they’ve probably reached 30.
Conversely—
that means this Chair hit 30 even faster than those two.
“From level 30, the experience needed to level up increases drastically. But for someone as powerful as the Chair... assuming no disappearance, by now I’d expect the level to be 31.”
“......”
“Of course I’m not asking that of you, but at least 29 would make sense.”
So that’s their bar.
They keep invoking the Chair—
‘but what they really mean is: at least be stronger than me.’
Naturally,
I’d always had confidence in my level.
I cleared that bar long ago.
The problem was—
[Lv. 36]
‘If I say this, will they even believe me?’
[Strength: 169]
[Agility: 187]
[Mana: 163]
[Luck: 105]
It wasn’t that I couldn’t meet their bar.
It was that I exceeded it far too much.
‘Clearing [Morzhan] was too big....’
Until not long ago, I’d been sitting in the low 30s.
But the experience from settling that matter had been immense.
Even to me, the level I’d landed at felt like—really?
No, the level is still the lesser issue.
The truly absurd part is the stats.
‘After [Absolute Palate] got more efficient, I’ve been dumping spare points into stat potions whenever I could.’
Not to brag,
but I leveled faster than most.
So the points I earned along the way were more than most.
I can’t be certain since there are no Awakened at my level nearby,
but going by the stats I’ve heard from other soldiers—
even if an average Awakened reached my level, having even half these stats would be fortunate.
The one with the next-highest spread after me was Lee Hyunjin, the [Abnormal Appetite Holder].
Even she, with her special means and ridiculous numbers, averaged only about 120 in stats.
I lack combat skills, sure.
But in level and stats, I’d already blown past the standard a long time ago.
“You can’t answer? Don’t tell me your level really is lower than I thought....”
“No. I can answer. I’m just wondering if you’ll actually believe me.”
“Hmm?”
“You can’t see another person’s status window anyway. I’ve told you about myself several times now, but the reaction has always been disbelief. I figured it’d be the same this time.”
“Ahem.”
At my words, Gang Jaeho let out an awkward smile.
He cleared his throat and continued.
“Shin Youngjun’s got a point. Asking someone’s level is rude to begin with. Junggu. How about a different method.”
“Hm... then let’s do this.”
I had a separate reason for steering the talk this way.
‘That shaman can tell lies from truth.’
If she used that ability again,
then when I said my level, they’d recognize it as true—
or so I thought.
“If you put it that way, I won’t insist on asking your level. Instead—”
The posture of the man seated in the chair shifted slightly.
His hand moved.
Behind his chair—
in the blind spot of my vision—
“Let’s have a bout.”
PANG!
A sharp hand axe
hurtled straight at me.
****
In the middle of conversation, without warning,
the hand axe came screaming in at tremendous speed.
Watching it, I thought—
‘Lucky, in a way.’
Since joining this group,
nothing unsettled me more than that man.
Park Junggu.
The reason was simple.
‘The kind of man who might say, “Let’s see your skills,” and plant an axe in your back.’
According to Han Iseo,
the guy is mild most of the time,
but when he faces someone he deems a strong opponent, he can’t restrain his competitive zeal.
‘When he met that so-called Chair, he supposedly threw his axe before even speaking.’
If he’d done the same to me,
just tossed an axe the moment he randomly spotted me walking by,
I’m not a combat class. I would’ve died without ever knowing why.
So—this is lucky.
‘Since he’s not bothering to hide that competitive itch... the timing he’ll charge is obvious.’
In a pinch like this,
I normally wouldn’t have the luxury to eat.
But the instant his posture shifted a bit in the chair,
I murmured inwardly—
‘[Force-Feeding]’
An ability that lets you eat food just by it touching your body.
As that trait activated—
[Panteron Jerky Infused with a War Cook’s Devotion]
the combat ration I’d stowed inside my clothes
melted into my body.
The moment the situation was recognized as a combat situation—
the trait fired.
[Trait ? Field Cooking activates.]
[On the battlefield, the proficiency and speed of cooking actions rise drastically.]
To me,
all things in this world are ultimately nothing but subjects for cooking.
[Advanced Cooking Secret — Insight into How to Prep a Shop-Bought Hand Axe acquired.]
The hand axe screaming in at absurd speed—
to “prep” that axe, I drew the kitchen knife from the small of my back and swung.
—SHEK
Even I, who swung it, could barely track the motion.
“...Kaha! As expected, you’re remarkable!”
It would’ve been nice if that speed had cowed him.
But seeing it, he only seemed more excited.
Junggu barked a wild laugh.
‘A budget-version Gwangil....’
Corporal Jeon Gwangil treated me with strict courtesy,
but when facing an enemy, he was always wreathed in a blazing madness.
Junggu’s competitiveness is weaker than Gwangil’s madness.
But unlike Gwangil—who was always courteous to me—
Junggu is far more dangerous in that he hurled an axe at me without a moment’s hesitation.
“Junggu!”
“Were you planning this from the start...!”
The other two leaders reeled at the sudden fight.
“Nothing tests skill like this!”
He couldn’t have cared less about their protests.
He kept fanning his fighting spirit higher.
Be that as it may—
Junggu pulled the massive axe off his back,
then, with a speed unbelievable for that huge frame, charged me.
‘Right. He meant to do this from the start.’
The shaman.
Han Iseo can sniff out lies.
Her colleagues know her ability, too.
If they truly wanted to know my ability,
she could’ve triggered her skill and they could’ve asked my level. That would’ve been it.
Yet he chose to rush me.
‘He just wanted to clash with me, that’s all.’
Babbling about how a newcomer can’t sit in a chair representing survivors,
how I had to prove ability to join a meeting—
it was nothing but
an excuse conjured to create a pretext.
‘It’s laughably childish... and nothing if not barbaric.’
He may be a decent comrade to others.
But to me, frankly—
he’s close to the worst type.
I’d already refused a fight several times.
Still, he kept picking at me even though I didn’t want it.
‘His intent was so obvious I’ve ignored him till now....’
Even so.
Maybe it’s lucky, in its own way.
I’ve been holding back, but to be honest, I’m also—
‘starting to get annoyed.’
I didn’t want to let it slide, since he’d meant this from the start.
But my patience was about at its limit.
‘If that’s what you want—fine. I’ll give you exactly what you intended.’
The fortunate part is—
the fact that he’s dying to fight me...
I already knew.
‘I’m a cook. I’m not confident in straight fighting.’
My combat method is:
first, read the opponent—then respond to the opponent through cooking.
‘If the prep is in place... it’s not like I can’t do it.’
And I had
plenty of time to get my response in place.
Also—
when I crossed into Gyeonggi and faced a survivor group,
I’d already decided how I would present myself.
‘I won’t hide my prowess.’
Rather—
I’ll lay it on thick, bluff hard, make strength out of nothing if I have to,
and leverage influence here.
And just in time—
‘I was a little curious... about how strong I am now.’
****
KAANG!
“Kaha! As expected, you’re something!”
When the axe he’d thrown was ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) neatly split in two,
Junggu was howling with laughter on the outside.
Inside, he judged coldly:
‘Incredible knife speed...!’
He hadn’t thrown to kill.
Even if it hit, that strike would’ve only lodged in the shoulder.
But while the aim wasn’t a vital,
‘I threw at full power, and he sliced it clean with no buffs at all.’
It had been a full-power throw.
An attack he was confident few could stop.
The man didn’t seem part of any Guild, and his gear all looked shop-bought.
So he shouldn’t be getting any Guild buffs.
And yet, moves like that.
‘First time I’ve seen power on this level since the Chair... Judging by the knife, ten to one he’s an assassin line.’
The number of monsters swarming that Monsterland is astronomical.
For an individual to keep fighting and surviving in that crush is impossible.
No matter how strong a person is,
a human can’t avoid fatigue against a ceaseless tide of monsters.
Injuries are unavoidable.
The moment you take even a minor wound,
the Monsterland beasts will hunt you down without mercy.
However—
‘If he’s assassin-line, that I can accept.’
If he’s not a warrior but an assassin—
then when battle wears him down or wounds him,
he can hide from the monsters’ eyes.
No matter how many monsters swarm,
he can always choose the battlefield favorable to him.
‘Of course, even that takes absurd skill.’
With that skill,
assassin-line is the solo play—
the job best suited to survival in that Demon Realm.
“Fun! This is fun!”
At meeting a new powerhouse for the first time in ages,
Junggu felt the adrenaline pop and drew the massive two-handed axe from his back.
‘An assassin is bound to be weak in a frontal clash!’
As for the pretext for this fight—
whether the man truly had enough skill was already proven by that last cut,
but that had been an excuse to begin with.
All he wanted was to decide—
between the man and himself,
who was stronger.
‘How will you answer this!’
KAANG!
The giant axe hewed in at full force.
Perhaps he couldn’t slice it like that hand axe earlier—
the man flipped the knife into a reverse grip in a snap and warded the blow.
PANG!
Shoved by the massive power packed into the axe,
the man skidded back hard.
‘I’ve seen it before, but that’s a marvelous technique.’
By durability alone, that plain-looking knife couldn’t possibly beat his axe.
He couldn’t take the strike head-on, so he bled the force away—defensive redirection.
No doubt about it.
He’d faced countless blows similar to, or much stronger than, Junggu’s own.
“Ha! Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got!?”
Even fending off an axe strike with that little knife was proof of extraordinary skill.
But for Junggu, that wasn’t nearly enough.
He bellowed, provoking the man.
“With skill like that you want to sit where we, who’ve built trust over a long time, make decisions for the group? A stray dog would laugh!”
How did he take the taunt?
The man, shoved all the way to the far end of the meeting room—
“...Tch.”
clicked his tongue quietly
and looked down at his knife.
‘It’s damaged.’
Well.
He’d said he’d never met other survivors.
So his weapons would all be shop-bought.
He’d stopped an axe that Junggu had swung at full power.
It was impressive enough that a standard shop-bought piece hadn’t snapped outright.
By contrast—
‘My gear was made by production classes who’d reached the level-10 bracket.’
Considering production classes were recognized late and on average lower level than other jobs,
this was the best gear available in the area.
‘Stings the conscience a bit, but in games, gear is part of skill too.’
Guild-conferred buffs.
Gear made by production classes.
On every front, Junggu was advantaged.
In a world like this, that too is part of skill.
“You can’t call it unfair!”
Junggu gripped the axe again
and charged the man.
He’d already confirmed the skill.
This wasn’t someone who’d die easily.
‘Then I’ll go in with the thought of killing him—with full power!’
If he won’t die easy,
then going in ready to kill is fair game.
“...Haa.”
And then—
“I figured this might happen, since I’m dealing with people I’m meeting for the first time.”
Answering Junggu’s rush,
the man before him
muttered in a chilly voice,
staring at Junggu—
“It’s been a while since I’ve been treated like this... and it’s a bit—”
“annoying.”
In that instant,
Junggu felt, strangely,
that the man’s presence had changed.
‘So now it’s for real...!’
PAK!
The man hurled the half-busted knife in his hand straight for Junggu’s brow.
‘Idiot!’
Throwing the weapon you’re holding?
Unless you’ve got backups on your body like Junggu,
it’s the height of folly—discarding your own armament.
KAANG!
He flicked the flying knife aside with ease
and lunged at the now-defenseless man—
but in the very moment he tasted certain victory—
‘...!’
a chill flared at his back.
Junggu yanked the axe meant for the man and hurled himself to the floor.
PAZIK.
And then—
a hot sensation kissed the back of his head as it was cut across.
He brought a hand to his back.
There was the slight stinging of a shallow tear,
and the warm feel of blood.
‘...How?’
He lifted his head.
That very knife—the one the man had thrown and Junggu had batted away—
was in the man’s hand.
On its edge,
there was someone’s blood.
‘My blood?’
Most likely—
Park Junggu’s own.
“You started this fight, so—just how you wanted.”
And—
the moment he met the man’s eyes,
Junggu—
forget competitiveness—
was seized by the urge to flee this place at once.
And no wonder.
The look in that man’s eyes as he gazed at Junggu—
“I’ll cook you slowly... and with care.”
did not see Junggu
as ‘human.’
