Chapter 45: Magic Development

Byproducts as valuable as Monity!

Tony barely maintained his composure.

“…Interesting. What do you want?”

“Three D-NATE guild members, including me, will join. The other two are byproduct collectors. We keep half of what we harvest, and you get the rest.”

The U.S. planned a three-phase Daisytown raid, with three major guilds taking turns. But the guilds agreed among themselves to enter together for each phase. With their power, the U.S. had little choice but to comply. S-rank dungeons required Hunter Agency personnel, so their raid team would accompany them.

“Why come to us instead of the guilds?” Tony asked.

“No reason I shouldn’t. If you refuse, I’ll contact Green Realist.”

Green Realist, of all guilds.

With five S-rank Hunters, Green Realist constantly clashed with the Hunter Agency. So did Hegis and Hercules, but the tension wasn’t just about control.

The global cult “System Age” had its headquarters in the U.S. The Hunter Agency was certain that Green Realist, Hegis, and Hercules had System Age infiltrators among their executives.

Though Tony didn’t know the nature of Daisytown’s byproducts, Onil’s direct involvement meant they were significant. A cult couldn’t be allowed to seize them. The government needed as much as possible.

Onil’s known as a Korean-American. Maybe she came to us first out of patriotism…

After a pause, Tony said, “Fine. But we’ll need a contract.”

“That’s what I want too.”

The deal was struck, and they signed. The contract turned into translucent orbs, entering their inventories.

“Don’t leak this to the press. I’ll announce the byproducts myself at the briefing,” Onil said.

“What?”

Tony tapped his ear, thinking his translator glitched.

“You’ll announce the byproducts?”

“My joining will already tip everyone off that Daisytown has valuable byproducts. Other foresight skill holders will predict it too. Hiding it is pointless.”

“True… Fine. The briefing’s in two days. Your surprise entrance will shock them.”

Onil, expressionless until now, smirked slightly. “Yeah. They’ll be shocked…”

It felt like a genuine smile.

The next day, Ryu’s private jet landed near Daisytown.

One person disembarked: Ion, disguised as Peter Argen.

He headed straight for a pre-arranged D-rank dungeon.

The U.S., vast in land, had countless dungeons. With Korea’s small territory spawning dozens of gates daily, the U.S. had far more. Unable to manage all, the federal government delegated non-S-rank dungeons to Hunter Agencies.

Agencies linked awakened with guilds and gates. Ryu ran several U.S. agencies, and one provided Ion’s ticket.

An agency worker, a hawk-nosed blonde Hunter, approached casually without a translator.

“On time. Bach Center, right?”

“Yeah.”

Ion, speaking English, handed over the ticket. The Hunter barely glanced at it.

“Going in alone?”

“Yup.”

“Awakened rank?”

“A-rank.”

“OK. Good luck.”

The Hunter waved and left. Despite the lax check, the Bach Center ticket skipped formalities.

Once the Hunter was gone, Ion pulled a beetle-like device from his backpack—Moshi, secretly obtained from Dam Daon.

Jipyeongseop made twenty prototypes, selling them to governments and agencies. He didn’t stop there, producing dozens and distributing the best. Ion got two imperfect ones from Horizon’s powerhouse, Dam Daon—one passed to Harry Strange via Hong Insu, the other kept for himself.

Infusing mana, the device hummed, and a holographic window appeared:

[Monity Dungeon Measurement System !Prototype! 29 Dungeon Rank: D Gate Creation: 1 year, 79 days, 4 hours ago Overflow ETA: 9 years, 30 days, 12 hours Clear Method: Gate Stone Destruction Attribute: Normal Terrain: Cave Modifications: 44 (Horizon) Durability: 70/100 Uses Remaining: 4/5]

Ion checked to ensure it wasn’t a hallucinatory dungeon—he’d skip those. But he found something unexpected.

Created right after the Cataclysm, but overflow in nine years?

The novel stated dungeons lasted up to three years before overflowing if uncleared—a core setting.

Even for a sloppy novel, this is a setting error!

Ion was baffled.

Was it a novel error, a reality error, or… was calling this reality wrong? This was a novel’s world, but for setting errors to manifest…

His thoughts spiraled.

Teacher’s memories couldn’t be wrong… I need to ask about the other Breeder’s ‘memoirs.’

Ion entered the dungeon.

It was dark, damp, and cave-like. The gate’s faint light forced Ion to cast a luminescence spell.

The walls teemed with insect-like monsters, from nail-sized to palm-sized, resembling spiders but with five times the legs.

Pippi would love this. A buffet, dancing and singing…

Ion’s face hardened.

Why am I thinking of that mascot?

Spending nearly a week with Jin Seongha had rubbed off on him.

Chastising himself, Ion pulled Sansevieria from his backpack. He’d planned to bring another plant to spare Sanse, but it wasn’t easy. Sansevieria emitted 1,000 mana per second compared to others’ 100. Its leaves adjusted to bag size, and as his first companion plant, it held special meaning.

“Sanse, I wasn’t thinking of Pippi. Really. You’re the cutest.”

“…”

Ion hugged the silent Sansevieria and walked.

Rumble.

Vines sprouted, enveloping the cave’s walls, floor, and ceiling. As Ion moved, crunch, snap—D-rank insect monsters were crushed without resistance.

It took just an hour to reach the gate stone.

Boom! Ion threw a rock at the wall, making noise to lure monsters. He killed a few glowing ones that charged, but nothing else appeared.

The long overflow timeline was suspicious, but it seemed a typical D-rank dungeon.

Ion set down his backpack and Sansevieria before the gate stone, smaller than him.

Sitting cross-legged, he removed a bracelet—a one-use disguise item—revealing his true form.

Disguises worked so far, but tomorrow’s Daisytown briefing will be tough. The S-rank Hunters there aren’t slackers like Park Yujik.

They’d honed their senses to survive. Some could see through S-rank disguise items.

I’ll need disguises often, but I can’t keep using items. No inventory means carrying them manually.

So, Ion decided to develop a transformation spell.

That was the real reason for entering this dungeon.

Once created, it’d be indispensable.

Let’s think.

Ion placed his hands on his knees and closed his eyes.

Transformation: altering body shape, personality, or demeanor.

Changing body shape. How do plants do it?

Plants have trichomes—tiny hair-like cells that can morph into various forms. His flame sword was crafted using trichomes.

Another way?

Plants are transformation experts. Some shape petals like female bees to attract males; others form dung-like seeds to lure beetles.

Should I transform parts of my body?

Ion channeled mana into his finger. His skin bubbled like lava. Joints thickened, veins popped on his hand, and flesh grew on his wrist. It became a hairy, reddish-white hand typical of a Caucasian male.

Not easy.

The skin writhed—three times more painful than a cramp. Transforming one hand was this hard; could he maintain a full-body transformation during combat?

It was impossible, even with ample training.

Applying magic to myself is always tough.

His power had no limits for creating or transforming objects, but using it on his own body was always a struggle.

Rumble. Vines sprouted.

Vines were always reliable.

Ion transformed them into Peter Argen.

Groan… With a eerie hum, stems and leaves grew and shifted. The vine split into five main branches, four splitting again into five. Lush leaves morphed into golden hair, forming a wrinkled forehead, prominent brow, long nose, and firm jaw.

He dressed it in Hunter gear. Soon, an impassive Peter Argen stood complete.

Ion touched the vines, and the leaves parted, revealing a hollow inside. Like opening a wardrobe, Peter Argen’s form split. Ion stepped inside, wearing it meticulously.

Now, the voice…

He attached a voice modulator to his vocal cords.

“Ah, ah. I’m Peter Argen.”

The voice worked. Hidden within the vines, it wouldn’t be detected.

He walked, ran, and cast spells.

“Perfect.”

Satisfied, Ion picked up Sansevieria, rubbing his cheek against its leaves. He’d worried it wouldn’t recognize him, but the long green leaves remained soft, as if knowing him.