Chapter 10: The Mysterious System Window

Ji-ho clearly hadn’t opened his eyes. His eyelids were heavily closed, without even the strength to lift them.

Yet, beneath his closed eyelids, a distinct sentence became visible.

Even if something was visible, he wasn’t in a state to focus his mind enough to discern it in detail. Despite this, the sentence read itself to him, etching itself vividly into Ji-ho’s mind as if branded.

Ji-ho was bewildered by this unprecedented phenomenon.

‘A hallucination? Is this a monster’s trick?’

The next moment, his vision, which had been steadily sinking into darkness, began to blaze a brilliant white.

The clear form, read not by his eyes but by his consciousness, was a ‘window’ composed of rectangles.

The window before him resembled a system window, the kind commonly seen when one boots up a computer and uses its operating system.

The moment he saw the window, stories people had been circulating since the appearance of Gates and monsters in this world flooded his mind.

In fantasy novels published before the actual Gate incident, a system displayed through such a window often appeared alongside Gates, dungeons, and Awakened individuals.

If such a system existed in reality, as it did in novels, many things would have been far easier and more straightforward.

However, in this world, such a detailed system did not actually exist.

It wasn’t entirely absent, but the appearance of a system window was exceedingly rare. Up until now, everyone had only been able to confirm the system’s existence once: when the very first Gate emerged in this world.

[System Management]

[A crack has appeared in Earth’s dimensional wall. Invasions from another world will now commence through this rift. All lifeforms on Earth are urged to repel the invasion and protect the planet.]

That was the first and last time humanity collectively witnessed the system.

While appraisers claimed to read the system through their appraisal abilities, they reported that the text in the system window they saw was extremely blurry and only partially discernible.

Yet, what appeared before Shin Ji-ho’s eyes was a system window with an incredibly distinct and tangible presence.

At the very top of the translucent white rectangular window, on the left side of a thin bar, the words [System Management] were inscribed. To the right, icons for minimizing or closing the window were visible.

Below that, three menus were neatly aligned.

[System Management]

[■■ (Locked)]

[Administrator (Locked)]

[Individual]

Of the three menus, two were locked, with only [Individual] accessible.

He had no idea what this meant. As he cast his gaze toward the open [Individual] menu, a new window instantly appeared.

[Status]

[There are fluctuations in your stats due to skill usage.]

He couldn’t fully comprehend the information presented to him.

He couldn’t even begin to understand the phenomenon itself.

Among the string of utterly unfamiliar words, what most captured his attention was…

‘Stabilization?’

Unlike [Body Reinforcement], a skill he regularly used, he had no idea what [Stabilization] could be.

As Ji-ho pondered ‘Stabilization,’ a detailed explanation appeared like a tooltip.

[Information]

[Stabilization (Lv.1)]

‘What… what is this?’

“What do you mean? It’s all your ability. Isn’t it amazing? ( ⁎ ᵕᴗᵕ ⁎ )”

A new window, displaying a short message, appeared, obscuring Ji-ho’s system window. Ji-ho was startled.

“Why are you so surprised? ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ”

‘What are you?’

“What am I? We’ve always been together… Don’t be so cold. 。ﾟ(ﾟﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡”

‘What… what are you talking about?’

In his twenty-four years of life, Ji-ho had no memory of being close to someone who spammed such strange emoticons, not even for a minute. Moreover, the fact that this entity seemed to be reading his thoughts made him intensely uneasy.

As if sensing Ji-ho’s hesitant reaction, the system window vibrated noisily.

“Ah, there’s no time for this. The human who came with you is dying right now. ∑(;°Д°)”

‘……’

‘So this isn’t a final hallucination before death, but real?’

Ji-ho barely managed to compose his bewildered mind. Then, he thought he heard a faint chuckle near his ear.

“You want to escape the dungeon safely, don’t you? Then turn off Stabilization.”

‘Turn it off?’

“Yes. Stabilization is essential for ■■, but it’s too difficult for you right now. ( ᴗ_ᴗ̩̩ ) Because you’re too weak. Far too weak.”

‘■■?’

Part of the word appeared as if its pixels were broken, making its meaning impossible to discern. The incessant flow of messages in the window paused momentarily, as if asking for understanding regarding an unshareable circumstance.

‘No, why is it interpreting things on its own? This could just be a hallucination. Am I going crazy…?’

“You’re not crazy. .∵･(ﾟДﾟ)”

‘……’

“That’s not what’s important. First, turn off Stabilization. If you think about turning it off, it will. If you turn it off, you can become much stronger than you are now.”

“Of course, there might be some crises for ■■, but in the long run, that would be better… because if things stay like this, you won’t amount to anything.”

With that lengthy message, the window completely froze.

‘What? What does that even mean? Explain it in more detail.’

Even when Ji-ho called out to the unknown entity in his mind, there was no further response. Ji-ho remained collapsed, engrossed in his vivid consciousness.

‘If things stay like this, I won’t amount to anything.’

The definitive statement stung him slightly, yet it was true. Just moments ago in the dungeon, he had felt his limits and almost given up.

‘But is it really alright to turn off this [Stabilization] skill?’

Even if he didn’t know what it did, turning it off would surely lead to an unstable state. Anyone could tell it was a skill best kept active.

‘What exactly is this skill stabilizing, anyway…?’

His thoughts spiraled, one after another. It was difficult to make a quick decision.

In truth, he was afraid.

He feared that if he turned it off, he might lose consciousness again, just like three years ago.

He feared collapsing into even greater pain, becoming even less than nothing.

There was no basis whatsoever to trust what the window was chattering about. If he turned this off, Shin Ji-ho might become even more insignificant than he already was.

‘But anyway… if I don’t try anything here, I’ll die.’

Maintaining consciousness seemed to be due to the strange state created by this system. As he was now, it was impossible to move his limp body, like a puppet with its strings cut.

The only attempt Ji-ho could make was to try turning off that [Stabilization].

He had no other choice.

‘Fine, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll just die anyway.’

Shedding his hesitation, Shin Ji-ho turned off [Stabilization].

****

“Damn it all…”

Seon Tae-woong roughly wiped away the liquid, unsure if it was tears or sweat. Yet, he couldn’t wipe away all that had flowed like rain. His entire body was drenched as if he had fallen into water.

He felt dizzy. A sweet, cloying scent rose from beyond his throat, so intense he felt he might vomit blood any moment.

If he survived this, he’d need to get his broken teeth fixed first, shattered from clenching his jaw so hard. Of course, the probability of him becoming a toothless corpse was currently about 90%.

Shin Ji-ho, who had gently prodded him and dragged him this far, had long since been struck down and sent flying. The chances of him still breathing were low. Even if he were alive, it was only a matter of time.

‘How pathetic…’

Truly pathetic.

It wasn’t Shin Ji-ho he found pathetic, but himself, and he couldn’t bear it.

Of course, few could withstand the mental attacks of at least an S-rank boss monster. But he should have considered all possibilities when they first entered. He had rashly assumed the boss monster would also be a physical attacker, simply because all the other monsters were.

Furthermore, he hadn’t fully disclosed his plans to Shin Ji-ho. He had underestimated him.

Yet, it was Shin Ji-ho who had endured the boss monster’s assault.

Despite his lack of experience, Ji-ho had responded admirably, rousing Tae-woong. Without Shin Ji-ho, Seon Tae-woong would already be dead.

If Tae-woong had shared with Ji-ho what he learned during his previous S-rank dungeon raid, they might have handled the situation more safely.

If only he hadn’t disregarded Shin Ji-ho and acted so unilaterally.

It was a regret that came too late. Strength gradually drained from Tae-woong’s weary hands.

‘I’m so exhausted I could die. Should I just give up?’

If he completely let go now, a single blow from that boss monster would cleave Tae-woong in two.

Dying was terrifying, but there was no other way. Perhaps the only comfort was that he’d likely be sent off in one swift, painless strike.

Even with both of them, it would have been a close call, and Seon Tae-woong couldn’t possibly face it alone. Moreover, if even one more mental attack, to which Seon Tae-woong was vulnerable, came his way, he would completely collapse.

It was precisely then, as the exhausted Tae-woong was about to completely give up.

“Seon Tae-woong!”

He heard Shin Ji-ho’s voice, a voice he had naturally assumed belonged to a dead man.

“You, Shin Ji-ho!”

Too stunned, Tae-woong forgot even the need to focus and inadvertently turned to look at Ji-ho.

Ji-ho, who had clearly collapsed, spitting blood, was now standing on two feet. He wasn’t healed; merely standing was all he could manage, yet even that was a miracle.

‘How… how is this possible?’

Tae-woong observed Ji-ho with disbelieving eyes. He was forced to turn back to the boss monster, however, when Ji-ho gestured, as if asking if he was crazy.

Before, the guy’s face alone would infuriate him, but now, he was simply glad to see it.

Seon Tae-woong’s lips curled into a faint smile, only to droop again.

There was no point in being glad. It would have been better to just die gracefully. Tae-woong’s mana was already depleted. Even if he tried to hold out until the very end, could he last even another minute?

As if sensing his despair, Ji-ho cried out.

“Don’t give up!”

“Easy for you to say…”

Just as he was about to retort that Ji-ho shouldn’t speak so glibly, Seon Tae-woong suddenly felt a strange sensation and fell silent.

It was an intensely mystical sensation.

It felt as if a fierce wind was sweeping towards Seon Tae-woong from all directions. However, instead of engulfing him and knocking him down, the turbulent gale gently settled within his body.

A massive surge of mana, like a wind, flowed into Seon Tae-woong’s body.

The mana completely filled Seon Tae-woong’s body, which had been running on empty. Even after filling it, it overflowed beyond his capacity. Yet, instead of dissipating, the overflowing mana built its own vessel, becoming entirely Seon Tae-woong’s.

“W-what is this?”

The mana that now surged through Seon Tae-woong continued to propel him upward, to a heightened state he had never experienced before. His injured and weary body also felt lighter, as if freed from the heavy anchor of his physical form.

His skills immediately reacted to the amplified mana.

The flames, which had been steadily pushed back by the opponent’s power moments ago, now surged almost twofold. Moreover, the formerly red fire began to intensify in temperature, taking on a yellowish hue.

“W-what in the world…”

“Explanations later; push forward now!”

Too stunned to move, Tae-woong snapped back to attention at Ji-ho’s shout. As he channeled the continuously supplied, overflowing mana, the flames surged even more fiercely.