Eclipse.
It was the most renowned Player faction in Zone 2 — a powerful force with a large number of elite fighters at its core.
Having cleared every large-scale world quest that had run over the past two years as well as every raid boss monster that had descended to the surface, they now reigned as the top-tier faction controlling the balance of power in Zone 2.
Surrounded by endless rumors, their group had consistently raised their standing through victories and safe returns, and failure or hunger felt like words that had never existed in their vocabulary to begin with.
In particular, their top figure, Jeong Euijin, was a high-level Player with a reputation that extended far beyond Zone 2 into other zones as well. Having a track record of taking down raid bosses solo, rumors ran rampant that he possessed staggering stats and an unrivaled set of skills.
A celebrated elite faction well-known not only in Zone 2 but in other zones too.
If only they could become part of Eclipse, they wouldn’t have to keep hiding from monsters like this, scraping by on food they barely managed to scrounge up once every three days — but…
“Would they even take us?”
Jeong Iseul added, her expression making it clear she thought the idea was laughable.
“Back in the day, sure, they accepted pretty much anyone regardless of strength — but now they won’t take you unless you’re at a reasonably high level. I heard even the low-level users still left there are on edge, never knowing when they might get kicked out.”
“What I mean isn’t that we join Eclipse right away. I’m saying we ‘link up’ with those people.”
Neither Jeong Iseul nor Woo Jaekyung could quite grasp what the difference was, and they both looked at him with the same puzzled expression.
Kim Seokju decided to lay out in detail the information he had gathered that day, for the benefit of both of them.
“When I was scouting this afternoon, I got some intel from a Player belonging to another faction. Apparently Eclipse is recruiting people on a large scale. Not official members — Players to team up with them for a raid.”
“A raid? Is that the thing about the main quest having a sequence or whatever?”
Jeong Iseul thought back to the notification that had appeared in the system window that morning.
It had said the First Sequence for entering the main quest was beginning, along with an announcement that the Minotaur Lord was descending.
But she hadn’t paid it much mind.
It wasn’t as if quests coming packaged together with raid boss monsters was anything new — it had happened time and again until now.
“Eclipse has been practically monopolizing the takedowns of similar raid boss mobs for the past six months. Isn’t this time going to be the same?”
“The notification said ‘First.’ Since there’s no telling how many more sequences there’ll be, even Eclipse must have decided it would be pushing it to clear this on their own.”
“Even if they’re gathering people for the raid, do you really think Eclipse would take a group like ours, full of low-levels? If it were me, I wouldn’t even use us as errand runners.”
Jeong Iseul still looked unconvinced.
She had heard that Eclipse’s core members were level 40 to 50, classified as upper-tier.
By comparison, even their highest-level people were only in their 30s, and even Jeong Iseul — the highest-leveled among them — was only a mid-tier Player at level 38. The majority of the rest hadn’t even hit level 20 yet, making them nothing more than lower-tier Players.
Would the great Eclipse really accept people like them into the raid team?
If they could get in, it would obviously be a good thing.
Raid boss monsters were said to carry enormous amounts of experience points, so there was a chance to look forward to leveling up, and depending on contribution, there was also the possibility of getting good items. Even if all they could secure was a part of the boss monster’s corpse, they could exchange it at the spoils shop for a considerable amount of Coins.
The problem was that there would be no shortage of factions and Players eyeing those scraps.
Kim Seokju, reading Jeong Iseul’s thoughts, cast his gaze toward the dark window. He was turning over in his mind the easygoing voice of the young man he had heard earlier.
“That’s exactly why we need that person.”
A faint, peculiar gleam entered Kim Seokju’s eyes.
“He’s a rare kind of Player who can tame monsters. An ability user with a skill that extraordinary shows up — how could anyone ignore that?”
Jeong Iseul’s expression became complicated.
“So to sum it up… we put that Monster Tamer out front and use him to muscle our way into the raid team too?”
“Right. Becoming official members might be out of reach, but a spot at the tail end of the raid team is worth a shot. Whether as errand runners or scouting support, for now we just need to create a reason to get ourselves mixed in with their movements.”
Kim Seokju went on, his voice resolute.
“What matters is that we look like one unit with that person. If Eclipse needs the Monster Tamer, it’ll be hard for them to openly turn away the people moving alongside him.”
The faces of Jeong Iseul and Woo Jaekyung, who now fully understood what Kim Seokju was really after, twisted in perfect unison like a matching pair.
“That’s underhanded….”
“That’s so underhanded….”
“If being underhanded puts food on the table, I’m all for it.”
Kim Seokju’s face was utterly without shame.
That said, he wasn’t genuinely thinking of showing up empty-handed and just freeloading off someone.
Whether it was information, stealth scouting, or a temporary base of operations — he had to find whatever card they could put on the table.
If what Eclipse wanted was combat strength, they were obviously going to fall short of that, but at the very least there ought to be room to use them as guides or support personnel.
He thought of the members who would be waiting eagerly for their return, like baby birds waiting for their mother.
Most of them were low-level, and the majority had no useful skills and no backbone to go up against monsters — but having held on together for so long, they were no different from family. If he could spare them even a little worry over survival, he’d make use of whatever he had to.
Jeong Iseul, who knew Kim Seokju’s character well, knew that no matter what she said at times like this, he wouldn’t listen. He was someone who valued the members more than his own life.
Lately the members have been getting really whiny.
Food’s running low, we’re sick of energy bars, how long do we have to live like this — and so on….
When the members, who had been lying around with nothing to do but hide, started up with that kind of complaining, Jeong Iseul — as the main fighter — found it nothing short of absurd. There had been more than one or two times she’d genuinely considered turning the whole thing upside down.
But Kim Seokju, as their leader, had been too busy soothing the members even after hearing their complaints. Even now, in order to create an environment where they could live with some peace of mind, wasn’t he already thinking about pulling in an unfamiliar Player to use?
“Alright. Fine, I’m on board. But if that person really is a Monster Tamer, he’d obviously have a team, right? There’s no way someone with that rare of an ability is on his own.”
“There’s a good chance he’s alone in that building right now, at least. If there were a team, the Werewolves wouldn’t have been that well-behaved.”
Having heard the Monster Tamer’s voice, Kim Seokju was certain the man was currently alone. If there had been other Players with him, the monsters might not have been able to charge at them, but they would have shown some degree of hostility at least.
Kim Seokju recalled the Werewolves — looking for all the world like upright-walking dogs at some idol fan signing event — eyes bright and perfectly docile, and laid out his reasoning.
“Same goes for us, but anyone living communally in a group naturally develops a habit of rationing food. You don’t splurge and cook kimchi jjigae with expensive ingredients just for yourself. On top of that, right now there are no more Special Supply Stations, so vegetables are as good as gold — something you’d want but simply can’t get.”
Kim Seokju paused to swallow. Just thinking about it was making him hungry.
“Having fresh vegetables and seasoning in a situation like this doesn’t just mean you have a lot of Coins. It means you either have the skill to go in and out of dangerous places to get them, or you have a separate supply route. Either way, that’s no ordinary Player.”
At that, Jeong Iseul and Woo Jaekyung’s expressions finally settled into understanding. Jeong Iseul even broke into a small grin.
“Alright. Setting aside the whole Eclipse raid team thing for now, just establishing a connection with that Monster Tamer wouldn’t be a bad deal. Even if pulling him in as a proper member of ours right away is too much to ask, as long as we can find a reason to move together, that’s enough.”
Someone capable of controlling that many Werewolves was, naturally, impossible not to have expectations about.
Just then, Woo Jaekyung — who had been listening carefully to the two of them talk — cautiously raised his hand.
“Um… but….”
He fidgeted as the gazes of both people snapped to him at once.
“Even if he is a Monster Tamer… someone who calmly cooks and eats kimchi jjigae in the middle of a pack of Werewolves… do you really think he’s… mentally normal…?”
At that, a long silence settled over them.
* * *
<07:00>
Just as I had fallen asleep the moment midnight hit — like I’d simply blacked out — when I opened my eyes again, it was exactly 7:00 in the morning, same as always.
I had expected it. Even after leaving the Special Supply Station, Trait: Mental Stability had remained intact, so I figured my sleep and wake times would stay the same.
There was just one thing that had changed.
The wound is still there, as I thought.
I pushed the system window with the time displayed off to the edge of my vision and quietly ran my finger over the bandaged index finger on my left hand.
It was where I’d nicked myself while slicing an onion I’d taken out of my subspace storage yesterday. Cooking with convenience store supplies wasn’t something I’d done once or twice, but when Werewolves kept sniffing and shoving their snouts in like they did yesterday, even I was bound to slip.
A faint sting came from beneath the bandage. Whenever I used to sleep and wake up in the Special Supply Station office, any wound would heal perfectly — but clearly I could no longer expect that kind of benefit.
I set aside the disappointment and slowly sat up.
Thanks to laying out the waterproof sheets I’d stored in the warehouse for display purposes and bringing over clean pillows and blankets to set up my sleeping area, it had been quite comfortable. My body felt considerably lighter, and most of the fatigue that had built up the day before seemed to have cleared as well. It would have been perfect if not for the wolf fur drifting softly through the air.
I reached over to the side of the bed and flipped the switch I found by feel. Among the items added when the convenience store became a Special Supply Station were a portable self-powered generator and a foldable lamp stand, so I had set one up on the nightstand beside the bed.
The area around the king-sized bed I’d been sleeping in lit up soon after — and…
“Good morning, sir….”
I found a haggard-looking man crouched on the floor next to the bed. The hollows under his eyes were deep enough that he looked like he’d been awake the entire night.
A Player? Why is he here? Since when?
I froze in place, lamp still on. I had made sure to herd all the Werewolves out of the building before going to sleep, but I never imagined a Player would have slipped in during that gap.
Had he been counting on the Werewolves scattering into the building on their own once the sun started to rise?
Even so, the fact that he had gotten close enough to be right beside me while I slept was no ordinary nerve.
Or maybe he had some kind of Stealth Skill.
Before I could even try to figure out how long the man had been there, he gave an awkward laugh.
“You were sleeping so soundly…. I was starting to wonder if you might be dead…….”
At that moment, it hadn’t occurred to me that this man had, in all likelihood, spent nearly an hour and a half trying to wake me before giving up.
Even if I had known, I wouldn’t have had the mental space to dwell on it.
Because of the system window that appeared before my eyes.
<You have made contact with a Player capable of issuing a quest.>
<Would you like to generate a quest?>
