Retire 503

503 Universe (3)

⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁠⁣⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁠⁠⁣⁣⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁠⁣⁠⁠⁣⁣⁠⁠‘Listen carefully, Hijae.’

For the first time in a long while, I found myself recalling an old memory.

‘If you ever find yourself in a situation where nothing works…’

It was one of those nonsensical things my father used to say when we climbed the hill behind our house—one of those things he insisted any aspiring hunter ought to know.

‘Sometimes, the best solution is to just smash everything to pieces.’

‘…But didn’t you always say to be careful in dungeons?’

‘That’s when nothing else works. You always need to have a trump card up your sleeve…’

I later learned that only someone like my father could even attempt such a thing.

When I told my sister about it much later, she laughed so hard she rolled off the sofa.

‘You’re only realizing that now?’

‘How was I supposed to know…’

‘That’s why you should have gone into dungeons with other people. You just sat around watching movies all the time.’

‘That’s called intellectual culture.’

‘All you ever watched were those weird shark movies… So, how do you feel?’

‘Didn’t you set a dungeon on fire and get into a fight with a mage not long ago? You act recklessly too, you know.’

‘…….’

Despite that conversation, she agreed that you always needed a “big move” in reserve.

‘It’s good in a pinch.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘A dungeon is just a mass of mana, right? If you do this—’

She mimed swinging a sword, remote control in hand.

‘Sometimes, it opens a path.’

‘…A path?’

‘Yeah. Like a magical bomb that explodes because it can’t contain the mana.’

‘You should stop working with mages who make bombs like that.’

‘What I mean is, it’s impossible with ordinary force, but if you swing away like you do, sometimes the dungeon splits.’

‘Splits?’

‘If you’re ever curious, ask to see it for yourself.’

I never really understood what it meant for a dungeon to “split.” But I knew my sister never lied about dungeons. I was curious, but I had no desire to enter a dungeon with my father, so I put it off.

Then I joined the Administration, and forgot all about it.

Until now, when I was about to witness firsthand that my sister had spoken nothing but the truth.

“……!”

I could have stopped my father if I’d wanted to. As he said, there was no foothold. No matter how great a hunter he was, physical laws still applied to humans. Even if it was a sudden move, compared to his usual speed, he was moving at a snail’s pace.

But I didn’t call out to him.

Because in that instant, I felt the mana of the dungeon shudder. As if the dungeon had a heart, and that heart, long stopped, had begun to beat again. Heavy, resonant.

Kim Chaemin, sensitive to magic, must have felt it too, and of course Han Taekyung and Hope.

My father as well.

“Just in case.”

Before the spear left his hand.

“Be ready to run for the gate.”

If only he hadn’t added that last, anxious remark, it would have been almost cool.

Before I could even manage a wry smile, my father hurled his spear into the void of space.

And then—

“…Should we, should we leave the dungeon?” Han Taekyung stammered, swallowing hard. He looked genuinely afraid, which was unlike him.

What was he seeing right now?

“No.”

My father shook his head.

“Wait.”

“That…?”

“Wait.”

Han Taekyung fidgeted like a dog with a treat at its paws—except he wanted to run, not pounce.

My father’s spear whipped up a gale. The dungeon’s mana was torn by that wind. At the same time, the starlight of the universe bent as if drawn into a black hole. Stillness and chaos collided. The sound of mana ripping was almost a scream.

Just as my sister had once said.

The dungeon was splitting.

Like torn paper, the cross-section of mana was a mess. The mana was swept away by the gale, completely displaced from where it had been. The spear ripped through the empty space left behind. The torn space sucked in the starlight.

And in the space where the starlight vanished…

My father’s spear left a long scar, like a child’s scribble across a sheet of paper, or fabric caught on a sharp thorn.

Han Taekyung doubled over, clutching his stomach, gasping for breath. My father bent down, grabbed the back of his neck, and helped him steady his breathing.

He wasn’t hurt. The reason Han Taekyung was affected lay elsewhere.

“Ah, damn…”

“You alright, Taekyung?”

“You’ll have to give me a raise.”

Han Taekyung grumbled, lifting his head. In just that short time, his face was pale and slick with cold sweat.

“Master was right. Michel is still here.”

“…Did you see him?”

“I felt it. Most of the organs in my body aren’t mine, you know.”

Han Taekyung wiped the sweat from his brow and straightened up.

“So I react a bit to that kind of mana. I have the useless advantage of sensing dungeon creation or breaks a few minutes early.”

“……”

“When Master poked the dungeon, the mana trembled…”

“…And?”

“If that was all, it would have been fine. But the mana left behind by this spaceship’s passenger burst out. That was a shock.”

“Moby’s mana?”

“And impurities, too.”

Han Taekyung pointed in the direction my father’s spear had flown.

“Hidden well. I guess an archmage is an archmage.”

It was hard to tell if it was praise or a curse.

“The only archmage I’ve worked with is Mr. Kim… Are archmages always this good at everything?”

“Are you complimenting me, or…?”

Something had broken. I didn’t know what, but I knew my father’s spear had shattered something.

“It’s a compliment, a compliment. Mr. Kim, please never go down the path of world destruction or human extinction or anything scary like that.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Kim Chaemin replied with a gentle smile.

“The gate.”

My father reminded us again. Hope quickly moved closer to the gate, clearly ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

“Michel isn’t a monster.”

I looked at the spot where the mana had been torn. The crack was slowly widening.

“Even if we leave the dungeon, he’ll follow.”

“…Is that so?”

“And since this dungeon is already broken, a monster could come out, too.”

“…That’s right, isn’t it?”

My father gave an embarrassed laugh and, before I knew it, had a second spear in hand.

“Well, then. Let’s give it our best shot.”

Mana was pushed aside, and a crack ran through the black space where the starlight had vanished.

Just as the sky of a dungeon with a shattered core would break.

There was a faint sound, like glass shattering. A sharp, ringing crash.

Shards of glass rained down.

It reminded me of the research institute I’d once been in. Not the gray space filled with irresponsible, cruel adults in white coats, but the shattering glass itself, which stirred a kind of nostalgia. The sense that another world lay beyond the broken window.

Soon, the cracks spread outward like mold, starting from where my father had torn the space, spreading uncontrollably fast. The sound of breaking glass was so loud it made my ears ring.

But there was no time to pay attention to that.

As the collapse spread, the scenery of the dungeon changed. The boundless universe vanished, and a faint haze of light swept in. But even the light barely sparkled, looking more like a milky fog.

I saw pillars carved with intricate patterns. The ceiling was covered with delicate paintings. Though the colors had faded with age, it was still possible to make out the strange, white-feathered monsters depicted. Among them was the fish that had thrown Las Vegas into panic.

Where there weren’t pillars supporting the ceiling, the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was no empty space. The shelves were crammed with books. Like the paintings on the ceiling, the books bore the weight of ages—dusty, frayed, the titles on the spines half-erased.

The sound of breaking glass, which had gone on for some time, finally stopped.

Now, the universe was gone. Before us, the dungeon was filled to the ceiling with books and mounds of ancient dust.

I had never seen a place like this.

But I had heard it described.

‘Why do you think it’s called the library? Because of all the books, obviously.’

Mont-Saint-Michel.

The dungeon of Mont-Saint-Michel, the Library.

---

Everyone knew about Mont-Saint-Michel.

No one could speak in the face of such a sudden change. But I knew we were all thinking of the same place.

I’d never heard of a dungeon being connected to another dungeon. If I had, that would be strange—but no, that wasn’t it…

But in a dungeon, anything could happen…

“…No.”

The tension broke with a small murmur.

Hope, his face so pale he looked about to faint, whispered in a trembling voice.

“No.”

But then, with certainty, he said again,

“This isn’t the library.”

Hope pointed behind him.

“The gate’s still there. This is the same dungeon we entered.”

“……!”

Relief washed over us.

“And the library isn’t this small.”

“This is small?”

“You can see the end. Look—it’s a circular space.”

Hope pointed to the end of the corridor made by the bookshelves.

There, too, I saw shelves lining the curved wall. Hope moved his arm, tracing the wall. If you imagined the shelves only on the walls, not filling the interior, the wall did form a circle, just as he said.

“The library is huge. Enormous. And the dust here isn’t aggressive… it’s just dust. Probably an illusion.”

“An illusion…”

Kim Chaemin frowned.

“Should we try stepping out through the gate, just in case?”

“Taekyung, you go.”

“Me?”

Han Taekyung started in surprise, but didn’t argue—he walked straight to the gate. He stuck his head through, and a few seconds later, returned.

“Alex is right. Outside is exactly as we left it.”

“Having solid ground is a relief.”

At my father’s words, Kim Chaemin gave a wry smile and dispelled the levitation spell.

“It’s a relief this isn’t the library, but… then what is this place? Did Moby lie?”

“…If the life support was turned off, maybe it can be turned back on. Maybe the terrain was changed.”

“And the universe?”

“That space was probably smaller than it looked. Master’s spear didn’t fly for long. We were fooled by the universe and the starlight. We never got very far inside, either.”

“Hmm… That’s true. Maybe this was here all along, just hidden. There are dungeons like that. If you can blow up a dungeon remotely, changing its structure seems almost more reasonable.”

“Noah would hate to hear that.”

“If he doesn’t like it, he can swap it out. If monsters can mistake me for one of their own, I guess I can pass as a monster if I try.”

It was a relief this wasn’t the library, but I couldn’t let my guard down, knowing this was still a dungeon crafted by Noah Michel.

Why a library? Why this dungeon?

I shook my head.

“Well then…”

There was nothing left but to ask the person responsible.

“Let’s go.”

Walls lined with bookshelves.

But there was one spot without shelves. An arched doorway inscribed with geometric patterns. Beyond it, not a single lamp—just a pitch-black space.

A staircase.