bookpower Chapter 354: Observation (3)
Chapter 354: Observation (3)
Chapter 354: Observation (3)
Opportunity.
Emilia knew well what that word meant. It described a situation that rarely came.
On a stage where “trivial” hunters played, mistakes and blunders were common, so chances came often.
But in the world of hunters on Emilia’s level, that almost never happened.
Not only hunters—monsters were the same. They hardly ever made mistakes.
So whether hunter or monster, once an opening appeared, you had to bite down relentlessly until the end.
It could be a chance that never came again. It wasn’t the sort of thing you could easily promise yourself “next time.”
Yet Kang-hoo had induced Sebum’s mistake and then chained a finishing combo onto it.
He bookended the beginning and the end himself.
It wasn’t luck—he created the opportunity on his own. She had merely offered a light assist once.
‘A true assassin.’
A true assassin. By Emilia’s exacting standards, that was high praise.
Emilia had seen countless assassins, but there was one reason she never thought much of them.
They felt too much like they were just “fishing for an opening.”
Those fashionable assassins who strutted about were all the same—obsessive opportunity-watchers.
In multi-person team play, they felt like they only ever delivered the final blow.
Was that really assassination?
That sort of “last hit”—the final blow—even she was confident in. You just prepped one strike and threw it.
But Kang-hoo created the chance by himself and tied it off cleanly. There was no useless excess.
‘Perfect.’
A simple verdict, and therefore more meaningful. With skill like that, praise wasn’t wasted.
From start to now, she hadn’t been disappointed once; it felt like a feast for the eyes, and she felt good.
Like watching a well-made drama—her heart felt full.
At that moment, Kang-hoo looked back.
He likely meant to ask about distributing the spoils from Sebum.
But she had never been interested in the spoils. She was willing to pay viewing fees—the fight had been worth it.
Besides, aside from one assist, 99% of the picture had been Kang-hoo’s doing.
“Keep it. Take it all. It was such a delightful fight to watch—consider it my ticket price.”
“A five-hundred-billion-won ticket? I’m honored. I won’t decline.”
Kang-hoo toyed with the five orange mana-stones he had recovered from Sebum. They were worth 50 billion won each.
“Do you have a buyer?”
“I’ve got no connections in France.”
“I’ll purchase them as soon as we leave the dungeon. Mana-stones always come in handy.”
“Thank you.”
Thanks to Emilia, even disposal became easy. After selling the stones, his projected balance would be 441.5 billion won.
After he had bought the relic last time, his balance had plummeted; now he could finally breathe.
But if he meant to buy grade-1 or grade-0 rare items, it was still far from enough.
Even if you gathered 1 trillion won, a hunter could blow it in one second if they decided to.
“For now, we won’t push further. Let’s stop here and do maintenance.”
“Right, I’ll take a moment too.”
Emilia cast a cooling spell on the head of her parasol, which was smoking faintly.
Her last shot had been a full blast, and the parasol, overloaded, was giving off a pained reaction.
Since the parasol functioned like a mage’s staff, it needed careful handling. Cooling was essential.
Meanwhile—
Kang-hoo selected the skill he liked most from Sebum’s stealable skill list, now that Plunder was active.
The killing beam had been an innate ability, not a skill, and the in-place spin had been a skill but useless.
He had given Sebum no time to “show” its skills—he had pressed relentlessly and killed it.
The plunder list displayed many skills he hadn’t even experienced.
Among them, one skill yanked Kang-hoo’s interest hard.
【Decoy】
【You use mana to block projectiles flying toward the caster by creating decoys.
The decoy takes a form resembling the caster; its size varies with the mana invested.
To create multiple decoys at once, you must break and resume the mana channel repeatedly. Practice required.】
Out of curiosity, he switched the skill name display to English; it showed “Decoy.” It was exactly the decoy he’d imagined.
As soon as he plundered it, constellation effects kicked in and the mastery maxed out.
Then the multi-decoy implementation process settled into his mind as if he had always known it.
So that was the max-mastery effect. Plus, the mana required dropped to half of level 1’s cost.
He tried the skill as a test.
He wondered what form the decoy would take—
“Ha-ha.”
Kang-hoo burst into laughter at the decoy that popped into view.
He almost never laughed out loud, but this pushed the button.
It could be summed up in six syllables: Shin Kang-hoo Mini-Me. No other phrasing was needed.
After leaving the dungeon, Kang-hoo followed Emilia to the recovery room inside the mansion.
Normally he would have expected a small room just for her—but his guess was completely wrong.
In a space easily 165 square meters, rows of high-end single sofas were lined up.
Judging by the number of sofas, ten people could have stayed there comfortably.
Perhaps finding his wide-eyed reaction amusing, Emilia asked with a subtle look:
“How is it?”
“A facility on a scale I couldn’t have imagined. These flowers embedded in the floor—are they all Pietà?”
“Correct. Recognized them right away, did you?”
“Recovery of stamina, calming of mind, stable sleep—its recovery performance is no joke across the board. I’ve heard it fetches any price. Feels like I’ve walked into a jewelry shop.”
“Ho-ho. It makes me very happy when someone appraises Pietà flowers accurately.”
Emilia’s bright smile looked happier than ever.
The Pietà flower.
It was anything but common.
In rarity and price, it ranked above Mad Solarkium, and it was extremely difficult to handle.
Moreover, it was a flower you could never obtain in Korea.
Master K had tried to cultivate it, but the flowers had all withered and died. He had tried several times—with the same result.
It was one of the stories they had shared over coffee.
If even K—unrivaled in rare-plant cultivation and care—had failed... then one could gauge Emilia’s ability from the Pietà-filled recovery room here.
Even if there were a dedicated caretaker, only Emilia could ultimately teach the method.
Estimating the cost was meaningless.
At this level, just breathing in here once was worth several million won.
“Lie wherever you like. I’m going to lie down too, so don’t mind me. Here, even if we’re awkward elsewhere, being comfortable is the rule.”
Striding ahead, Emilia lay down on a leather-clad sofa engraved all over with rose patterns.
Her body sank at once as if embraced—clearly a spot tailored to her.
Kang-hoo chose a sofa at a respectful distance from her and lay down.
Just lying comfortably and taking a couple of deep breaths washed away his fatigue.
Not just recovery—the whole body’s condition felt better.
His throat, dry from the dungeon’s arid air, moistened immediately; his headache vanished at once.
‘Even compared to decent recovery skills, this speed is easily ten to fifteen times better. At this rate...’
He felt, anew, the power of capitalism. He even found himself wanting a Pietà recovery room of his own.
Then—
A call came in from Yu Cheonghwa.
Emilia switched to Bluetooth mode, and the ringtone filled the room.
He thought it might be a personal call, but her look said she didn’t mind Kang-hoo hearing it.
Kang-hoo pressed his lips together and stayed quiet to let Emilia focus on the call.
“Hey, Cheonghwa. I’m in the recovery room! I’m with Shin Kang-hoo, like I said on our last call.”
– Did you do it?
“Do what, all of a sudden?”
Perhaps because they were close, casual jokes bounced back and forth. Kang-hoo simply focused on the exchange.
Emilia asked:
“What is it, at this hour?”
– Something’s happened. Oh, and it’s fine if Kang-hoo hears this. Tell him there’s no need to feel awkward.
“He’s already hearing it.”
– Oh, yeah? Even better. It’s fine, so please don’t be uncomfortable!
“Understood.”
Kang-hoo answered briefly.
Was it because she trusted him?
Likely not.
It was probably because the news she was about to share wasn’t something that mattered if outsiders heard.
He thought it might be an everyday call—nothing big.
But what Yu Cheonghwa said next shattered his expectations.
– Emilia.
“Hm?”
– Our guild master is dead. To be precise, from the guild master down to rank five—everyone.
“What? The Shinto Guild master and executives are all dead?”
– Yeah. Looks like they didn’t even have time to react. The dungeon was forcibly shut, and they couldn’t escape.
“How does that make sense?”
– It’s not about making sense. The problem is that this is reality.
“Where are you right now?”
– About to board. I’m heading back to Beijing.
It wasn’t only Emilia who was shocked. Kang-hoo, hearing it with her, was the same.
Needless to say, this didn’t happen in the original. Go Cheon-yeong was the Shinto Guild’s master through the ending.
‘A forced dungeon collapse can never occur naturally. I set it up that way.’
For the framework set by the creator—the original author—to be broken shouldn’t have been possible.
Which meant someone had shut it by force.
In the original, the only case of obtaining and using that ability was Jang Si-hwan right before the ending.
Back then, using the dungeon-closing skill, the villain Shin Kang-hoo had lost many cherished subordinates.
That was the only instance, and gaining it had been coincidental—almost like a handout of fortuitous chance.
‘Who on earth?’
A question mark appeared naturally.
Closing a dungeon was no simple feat.
Not only did you need to handle a mind-bending amount of mana, you also had to avoid being dragged under by the dungeon’s resistance yourself.
A being with that level of power wouldn’t be ordinary. They could even surpass the current Jang Si-hwan.
Then—
Perhaps thinking along similar lines, Emilia asked Yu Cheonghwa to confirm what she had in mind.
“Were there any other signs? A dungeon wouldn’t close for no reason. Wasn’t there at least a warning?”
At her question, Yu Cheonghwa swallowed dryly on the other end.
Though he wasn’t seeing her face, he could feel the tension and fluster.
Kang-hoo, tense as well, focused everything on their call.
And after a long enough silence, Yu Cheonghwa cautiously mentioned the warning that had come before this.
– Purple Eyes. Those eyes warned the guild master. They said not to enter the dungeon they’d found.
Even for Kang-hoo, who knew the original through and through, Yu Cheonghwa’s words sparked deep doubt.
Purple Eyes.
What on earth was that?