Chapter 1 - Mission: Promise
Dungeon & Commander – 1
Mission: Promise
Kim Joon had been running for over an hour without rest.
He ran along the riverside path next to the Han River. The sweat that had poured down his body had dried, leaving only salty traces. His breath was ragged, and his heart pounded as if it would explode. His legs trembled, and his body moved erratically, as if he were in a dreamlike daze.
‘It’s starting.’
The edges of his vision turned yellow.
The conversations of passersby seemed to slow down. Even the sound of his heavy breathing softened.
Everything gradually transformed into a black-and-white photograph.
At that moment, a little girl darted out from the grassy area in front of Kim Joon.
Instinctively, he dodged.
As he began to lose his balance, the desire to collapse and rest grew stronger.
You’ve run enough.
You don’t have to finish today.
‘No. If I give up once, I’ll keep giving up.’
Raising his head, Kim Joon saw the streetlamp he had set as his goal.
‘Not much further.’
Just get there. Just get to that point.
This excruciating pain would soon end.
A cyclist sped past him, cutting through the wind with ease.
Seeing the cyclist pull away, Kim Joon unconsciously increased his speed explosively.
His throat felt like it was burning, making it hard to breathe.
His ankles and knees twisted, and the muscles in his shins and thighs felt like they were tearing. Yet, Kim Joon did not slow down. Instead, he squeezed out every last bit of strength and ran with all his might.
Endure! Push! More! More!
At that moment, Kim Joon felt as if he were fighting not just the cyclist, but the entire world.
An enemy he could never defeat!
In the end, there was only one way. Never give up. As long as he didn’t give up, he wouldn’t lose.
Just as he thought his heart would truly burst, he passed the streetlamp.
“Haah, haah.”
Kim Joon stopped, panting heavily. Forcing his bent body upright, he pulled out a water bottle from his bag and took a desperate sip. His parched throat finally cleared.
His senses returned.
His vision normalized, and he could hear sounds properly again.
The training was over.
Kim Joon checked his watch. He had weaved through people enjoying their strolls along the riverside path and had to dodge fast-approaching bicycles, which cost him some time. It took him 1 hour, 8 minutes, and 34 seconds to reach his destination—a record for running a half marathon of 21 kilometers. It wasn’t a bad time, but it wasn’t exceptional either. Considering the carrier mission, where better physical fitness increased survival chances, he needed to improve his time.
As he put on the clothes he took out from his bag, a large man over 190 centimeters tall approached him.
“Kim Joon!”
“I thought you were a bear. But how did you know?”
Kim Joon asked, looking at the man walking towards him as he sat down on a bench.
“You’re in the palm of my hand.”
“What’s up?”
“Did you forget today is the day they hand out the college entrance exam results?”
“Was it?”
“The school was in an uproar looking for you. They even called your house.”
“This is a hassle,” Kim Joon said, wiping his neck with a towel.
“Congratulations.”
“Congratulations?”
“You got a perfect score.”
“Really?”
Kim Joon wasn’t particularly surprised. He had expected such a score if he didn’t make any mistakes during the self-scoring.
“Are you really going to be a carrier?” his friend Choi Moo-hyun asked, half worried, half concerned.
Unlike himself, who had been training to enhance his abilities since being identified as an awakened individual in the sixth grade, Kim Joon was an ordinary person. The carrier was the only position an ordinary person could take in a raid, and it had a low survival rate. According to last year’s statistics, the death rate for carriers in dungeons was 24%.
People flocked to the carrier position to make money, but Choi Moo-hyun didn’t think Kim Joon needed to do that.
“Are you going to the guild house?” Kim Joon asked.
“…Yeah.”
“Let’s go together.”
It was always like this. Every time the topic came up, Kim Joon’s resolute determination was evident.
“Aren’t you going home?”
“Later.”
Kim Joon rummaged through his bag and found a sports drink. He opened the cap and drank half of it in one go before looking at Choi Moo-hyun and raising the drink.
“Want some?”
“You sure took your time asking.”
Kim Joon smiled, finished the drink in one gulp, and threw the plastic bottle into a distant trash can. The bottle went straight in without even hitting the rim.
“How much did you run?”
“Three half-marathons.”
“…Three times?”
Choi Moo-hyun’s eyes widened.
Is this the amount of training an ordinary person can handle?
“Yeah, today’s a running day. Let’s run to the guild house. The last one there buys tonkatsu set meals! Go!”
“Hey!”
Choi Moo-hyun wasn’t talented at running. His abilities were focused on defense. He was a Tanker, specifically a TL7, which meant he was a 7th-tier light attribute Tanker. When he first awakened and joined the guild, he was a 9th-tier, but through consistent training over nearly seven years, he had advanced two tiers. His growth was rapid enough to meet the guild master’s expectations.
Choi Moo-hyun chased after Kim Joon, running like a lumbering rhinoceros. Real rhinos were incredibly fast, but Choi Moo-hyun was not.
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Guild Master Go Chul-min was not in a good mood. With ten days left until the last official raid of the year, he was intensely training, but the composition of the newly formed team was far from satisfactory. The Tanker was arrogant, the Dealer acted independently of the Tanker’s protection, the Buffer missed their timing, and even the Carrier was reckless, leading to the catastrophic result of everyone dying.
“You bastards!” he shouted.
The raiders, drenched in sweat and standing outside the virtual simulator, flinched at his outburst. Go Chul-min kicked the Tanker’s ankle. The Tanker, caught off guard, groaned.
“If you’re so eager to be discharged, then fine, get out, get out now.”
Go Chul-min said, grabbing the Tanker by the collar and dragging him to the training ground entrance.
The Dealer and Buffer tried to intervene.
“Master, please calm down.”
“We’ll do better. Please, Master!”
Go Chul-min sighed. He reluctantly let go of the Tanker’s collar, but this was unacceptable.
“If you keep acting like this, you’ll all die. You’ll all die. Do you want to die? Do you want to be buried in that dark, unfamiliar place?”
Go Chul-min didn’t enjoy scolding them harshly. If he didn’t play the villain, they would lose their lives at the peak of their potential and be forgotten as cold, lifeless bodies.
“Master, this dungeon is F-level,” the Tanker, who had been kicked, grumbled.
“Yeah, the dungeon in the simulator was E-level,” the Dealer added, and the Buffer agreed. The Carrier remained silent.
“And you all got wiped out?”
Go Chul-min crossed his arms. His muscular upper body was more robust than the Tanker’s.
“…We only had three people in an E-level dungeon that requires at least twenty. The result was inevitable,” the Tanker cautiously replied. Despite his difficult personality, Go Chul-min was a capable guild master. No one wanted to get on his bad side.
“What kind of monster did you encounter?”
“…Medisaurus,” the Dealer answered.
“Medisaurus appears in F-level dungeons too, right? Isn’t that right?”
“…It does, but not in such large groups,” the Buffer said.
“If you had held your position as a Tanker, if the Dealer had properly targeted Medisaurus’s weak points, and if the Buffer had effectively blocked Medisaurus’s healing abilities, you could have won even against a large group. At the very least, you wouldn’t have been wiped out. Isn’t that right?
No one answered. Go Chul-min felt a surge of frustration. These guys had the potential to tackle E-level, even D-level, and possibly C-level dungeons. The problem was their lack of willpower.
As the dungeon level increased, so did the danger and the likelihood of death. They only wanted to earn money safely in the lowest-risk dungeons. They had no desire to push their limits, to strive for greater wealth and fame.
Well, it made sense.
A salary of 100 million won. Even the lowest-ranked buffer among them earned that much. In fact, any awakened individual started with a salary of 100 million won. The scarcity of awakened individuals and the high value of resources extracted from dungeons meant that salaries would only go up, not down. So, there was no need for them to risk entering more dangerous dungeons.
“Alright, let’s call it a day.”
“Thank you for your hard work.”
The team members quickly greeted him and left the guild house. For them, it was important to spend the day safely and return home.
“Lee Sang-seop, stay behind.”
When Go Chul-min called, the carrier Lee Sang-seop was startled.
“The results are out, right?” Go Chul-min asked, and Lee Sang-seop’s face darkened.
“…I’m sorry.”
Go Chul-min felt a pang of sympathy. He was as disappointed as Lee Sang-seop himself.
“Sigh, awakening isn’t easy. It’s a shame. You’ve worked hard but haven’t been rewarded. Do you still want to continue as a carrier?”
“I do.”
“You know that carriers have the highest mortality rate among guild members, right?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Rest well and see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, Master.”
Lee Sang-seop left the guild house with slumped shoulders. Watching him, Go Chul-min let out a deep sigh. If Lee Sang-seop had awakened with at least intermediate-level abilities, he might have been capable of entering C-level dungeons. He was a talented individual with significant effort and determination.
‘Awakening isn’t something that can be achieved through effort.’
Awakening was something one had to be born with. Despite consistently taking the Awaquim extracted from dungeons, Lee Sang-seop had failed the awakening test again this year. A minimum of 9th tier was required to formally join the guild house, but Lee Sang-seop’s tier was 12. A 12th-tier individual had the physical strength of a well-trained athlete, nothing more.
‘There’s no one useful…’
Go Chul-min sighed as he looked at the simulator.
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***
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Kim Joon, who had just arrived at the guild house, spotted the Tanker Kim Yoon-seok getting into his sports car.
“Did you get busted again?”
“Don’t even mention it.”
When Kim Yoon-seok started the engine, the sports car roared to life.
“Master’s training is always tough.”
“Even so, it’s too much. Where’s Moo-hyun?”
“He’s coming over there.”
Kim Joon pointed to where Choi Moo-hyun was lumbering towards them.
Kim Yoon-seok chuckled.
“See you later.”
“Good job.”
As Kim Yoon-seok stepped on the accelerator of his red sports car, it roared and sped out onto the road outside the guild house.