CHAPTER 343: LEE YERIN (3)

“I’m embarrassed, really.”

Lee Ye-rin bowed her head low.

She knew better than anyone that level meant nothing against Kang-hoo.

Didn’t it?

When she first met Kang-hoo, even though her level was dozens of times higher than his level 10, he had caught her off guard.

All the more so now.

If she didn’t get caught out, that would be strange. Still, the memory of the expression with which she had briefly been certain of victory made her cheeks burn.

“The Mist Tracker would be hard to evade for hunters who, unlike me, can’t reposition easily.”

“Tch. Enough.”

Taking Kang-hoo’s words as not praise but a belated consolation, Lee Ye-rin shook her head.

Of course she knew she was being pointlessly testy, so she quickly apologized.

“Sorry. It’s not that I’m in a bad mood. I consider it a lesson. I just felt my skill was pathetic, and that annoyed me.”

“I feel the same in similar cases. No need to apologize. I’ve no intention of preening because I held the advantage.”

“I should train more meticulously for anti-assassin combat. I’ll fix it and we’ll spar again.”

“You’re welcome anytime.”

Kang-hoo smiled.

Lee Ye-rin was someone he needed as a steady partner, short- and long-term.

Since he had transmigrated into this world, she had become one of the people occupying a large share of his life.

If it could deepen their relationship, whether through small talk or sparring, he could only welcome it.

Afterward—

Kang-hoo spent some time having a meal alone with Lee Ye-rin.

He had originally planned to head straight to the Cheongmyeong Detention Center, but Lee Ye-rin said the Cheong-an mercenary corps members would hand off to dungeon managers in two hours. If he waited, she could make things more convenient for him. ᚱ𝘈ɴȎ฿Ëȿ

At least while the Cheong-an corps was in charge, she could arrange for him to explore the dungeons without being bound by time.

Per the initial contract, he could clear only one dungeon per day— but with Lee Ye-rin’s discretion, he could clear all six remaining dungeons as well.

With such a big accommodation promised, it was more profitable for Kang-hoo to wait than rush into the dungeon.

The menu was lamb steak.

He wasn’t a gourmet, but the steak fit even Kang-hoo’s fairly picky palate very well.

Lee Ye-rin herself had grilled it in the kitchen and brought it out.

From the distinctive char, he wondered if she hadn’t even added magical firepower midway.

If she used flame-type skills, cooking a thick cut in a flash was no trouble.

A hearty meal— ever since his appetite had really “opened up,” Kang-hoo polished off the steak and five kinds of salad without leaving a bite.

Since he had started eating Ju Haemi’s home cooking, his appetite explosion hadn’t died down.

Even though he was eating twice, thrice his usual, his weight kept dropping.

Whether she knew of that “concern” or not, Lee Ye-rin grumbled as she raised a new topic.

“I keep gaining weight lately. I’m training more than I eat… Is it age?”

“Some people simply put on weight easily.”

“Ugh… I hate that. That won’t do.”

“As I see it, you’re too lean. I actually think you should put on a little.”

“Hehe, really?”

“Not empty words—truly.”

“Even if it were, I’d still feel good. Hahaha.”

Lee Ye-rin beamed.

Perhaps because she had grown fond of Kang-hoo in various ways, she showed him her bright side often.

By contrast, her media-facing look was so consistent it could be called expressionless.

She was naturally bright, yet didn’t want to look that way publicly—so it seemed.

As the head of a mercenary corps whose scale kept growing, she might have thought gravitas mattered.

On the other hand, like Jang Si-hwan, crafting a benevolent, bright image might also not be a bad idea.

“Kang-hoo.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know how Seo-yeon’s been?”

“I don’t lately.”

“You were being considerate, right?”

“Right. I didn’t want to shake up Seo-yeon’s daily life for nothing. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Lee Ye-rin knew the story between Kang-hoo and Han Seo-yeon well, so she fully understood his words.

She felt sure— even if Kang-hoo still held Han Seo-yeon in his heart, they wouldn’t date again.

Judging by the path Kang-hoo had walked alone until now, it was easy to guess.

In Lee Ye-rin’s eyes, Kang-hoo lived each day fiercely, as if there were no tomorrow.

He wouldn’t want to keep someone by his side—unless they, too, would live only for today.

Guessing that she had brought up Han Seo-yeon for a reason, Kang-hoo asked on.

“Have you heard something?”

“I hear she headed to North Korea—an exploration of undeveloped territory run by the Jeonghwa Guild.”

“Did she volunteer?”

“Yes. They say the first reason was to grow stronger. The second is that she respects the leader assigned to the team.”

“Who is it?”

“Go Ju-hui. You know her?”

“Ah, I’ve seen her in person.”

“Seems it’s a team she personally organized and selected.”

Kang-hoo nodded.

If it was Go Ju-hui, she could be trusted.

In the original, she was portrayed as a diligent and skilled female officer; her boyfriend, Gong Yu-seok, as well.

He felt relieved they seemed to be doing well.

In times like these, it was better to be outside Seoul.

If you were on standby in Seoul, you could be dragged to the Dongducheon front at any time.

If the war with the Abyss turned into a long haul, public sentiment in Seoul would sour.

In other words, Kang-hoo figured Jang Si-hwan might push hard to drive the Abyss back soon.

Even if not a perfect victory, it would be enough to push the main front only toward Pocheon or Yeoncheon.

If he were Jang, he would make that strategic decision for sure.

Then what would be needed first? Combat manpower. In other words, more hunters would be used.

The Abyss’s counterattack would be fierce, so they would try to set up as many “bullet shields” as possible.

After gazing at Kang-hoo in silence for a moment, Lee Ye-rin carefully added:

“I’m scheduled to talk to Seoyeon tomorrow. Is there anything you want me to pass on to her…? If not, I won’t.”

Kang-hoo fell silent.

It wasn’t that he had nothing to say. But he didn’t want to say just anything either.

After a minute lost in thought, he found the best answer and replied in a low voice.

“Please tell her I’m always cheering for her.”

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Two hours later— thanks to Lee Ye-rin’s consideration, Kang-hoo cleared two dungeons back-to-back.

They were easy enough to solo, so nothing in the middle gave him trouble.

Only the time involved was long, so he couldn’t be greedy for a third.

Before leaving the second dungeon he cleared, Kang-hoo set about tuning the four skills he had obtained.

“First off, these two definitely need to be fused. Renewed Atrocity is a lower substitute for Lightning Dagger Dash. Self-Heal is a lower substitute for Frenzied Heal.”

He tried skill fusion for the first time.

Up to now, he had only acquired skills he absolutely needed, so a fusion that erased one was pie in the sky.

Naturally, he had nothing to throw away. But this time, he had two skills he could discard without a qualm.

【Renewed Atrocity】

【Self-Heal】

Since he had higher replacements, the chance he would ever use them was zero for any reason.

Even with mastery maxed out, it was the same—so he could invest in fusion without regret.

【Creativity】

【A neutral constellation. Fuse two skills into one. Success probability is 51%.】

Creativity—the constellation he robbed when he rescued Ayane in Germany by killing a Hayabusa guildsman swordsman in that fight.

He had wondered when he’d use it, but the chance came sooner than he thought.

【The ‘Creativity’ constellation asks to proceed with fusion. On acceptance, the skill registration pane will activate.】

Following the prompts, the interface unfolded like a game’s crafting screen.

Soon Renewed Atrocity and Self-Heal were registered in the fusion list, and a question mark appeared for the result.

He had already emptied his mind.

It said 51%, but in the end the odds were fifty–fifty. Believing he’d be lucky was a luxury.

Kang-hoo initiated the fusion at once.

Normally you would pray or do all sorts of silly things you thought might bring luck— but knowing such jinxes were meaningless, he hit proceed like a lightning bolt.

【Fusion in progress.】

【Fusion successful.】

【Renewed Leap】

【Skill Mastery: Lv. Max】

【To increase leap distance, you need a period of ‘leap charge’ and a mana investment.

But you can leap a long distance in an instant in proportion to mana, and in theory there is no limit.】

“…It worked?”

Did emptying your mind make things work, paradoxically?

What greeted the unexpectant Kang-hoo was a skill whose tooltip alone screamed high utility.

It also operated separately from the assassin’s level-1 basic skill Leap.

The only drawback was that, just as you need a run-up to jump farther, Renewed Leap needed charge time.

In other words, aside from that, Renewed Leap specialized in closing distance at once.

Teleport-type magic movement was conditional for him due to a constellation ability, so he couldn’t use it freely—

and position-switching like Shadow Step required the medium of a shadow.

But Renewed Leap needed only his body and time to move a long distance in a snap.

“I should assume the next fusion will definitely fail.”

【The ‘Creativity’ constellation says the odds are the same each time and suggests attempting fusion whenever.】

“I’ll roll again when I can. Thank you—I’ll use it well.”

【The ‘Creativity’ constellation covets the still-empty main-constellation slot and requests a negotiation.】

“If you net me a hidden skill through fusion, I’ll seriously consider it then.”

Half-joking, half-serious, he tossed that to the Creativity constellation and turned his gaze to other skills.

Now it was time to check the two skills he had obtained by killing the main boss monsters in the earlier dungeon clears.

These had clear use cases, so he had no thought of using them as fusion fodder.

【Ignite Dark Energy】

【Burn all dark energy you released yourself or that was naturally released as a result of dark-energy skills.】

First he checked Ignite Dark Energy.

As the name suggested, it burned dark energy.

Separate from Blood Flower, which burned blood from wounds, it could target even those without wounds.

Like tossing a spark at someone doused in oil so they were engulfed in flame— as long as there was dark energy to play the role of oil, he could burn the target with dark energy at will.

When he saw skills like this, one thought always crossed his mind: could he really be bound by the single keyword “assassin”?

“An assassin who burns dark energy…”

At this point, names like “assassin-mage” or “dark mage-sassin,” monstrously hybrid as they were, seemed to fit better.