Chapter 4

After humanity awakened, dungeons began to appear, and monsters started roaming the world. Civilization naturally developed around areas where the government, the Great Clans, and guilds held significant influence.

That didn’t mean the major cities of the past disappeared or changed overnight. As Hunters’ stats grew, dungeon raids and monster hunts became smoother, making things far safer than in the early chaotic days.

However, it couldn’t be said that every region was safer than before the Age of Awakening. Areas that had once suffered violent incidents or experienced frequent dungeon outbreaks remained sparsely populated. The government designated these as Dungeon Boundarie and generally restricted access.

It was precisely one of these Dungeon Boundary zones that Mujin and Jisoo had chosen. It wasn’t far from the city, but it was deserted—a perfect place if you wanted to avoid prying eyes.

Pushing through the mist, they arrived at an old building. From the outside, it looked dilapidated, as if it might crumble at any moment—but the inside was surprisingly usable. It had even been fortified in advance, security included.

“You really managed to find a place like this.”

“The fewer people who know, the better.”

“This feels like the kind of place villains gather to plot world domination.”

“Correction. Heroes.”

“Wow, shameless too. You’ve grown up.”

The flow of space around this area was twisted due to frequent dungeon appearances. Even if you thought you knew the way, it messed with your sense of direction. It could be quite difficult to find if you didn’t already know where to go. And yet Jisoo walked through it without hesitation.

“Seventy-eight twisted flows in total, plus segments that shift with time… this place really is perfect for a hideout.”

“……How do you even know that?”

The mist surrounding the hideout wasn’t naturally formed. Repeated dungeon manifestations had torn dimensional rifts, warping and distorting the flow of space. No new dungeons had appeared since the raid twelve years ago, but the warped flow still caused localized weather anomalies.

Mist formed through dimensional distortion differed from normal fog—it warped the five senses of living beings. This was why those who wandered into Dungeon Boundaries often found themselves hopelessly lost.

On rare occasions, thrill seekers or mystics came hoping to find something—but even they eventually stopped. It was too hard to find, and once you got in, there was nothing to see.

As the years passed, the distorted mist grew denser and eventually formed a powerful barrier.

If Jisoo hadn’t stumbled upon it by sheer luck, she never would have found this place. Only those with exceptional senses and abilities could locate such a hideout.

Reinforcement stones were embedded throughout the area to strengthen the barriers. They weren’t particularly high-grade, but the base barrier was so formidable that there was no need to use top-tier ones.

And Mujin had figured all that out at a glance?

Beyond mere strength, this was an almost absurd, transcendent level of perception.

“Surprised?”

“Do you even know how punchable your face looks right now?”

“Lowly maiden, there is no need to feel inferior before this Young Master.”

“Shut it! That wasn’t even my full power back then!”

The more Jisoo learned about Mujin, the more he seemed like a complete madman. All their past memories together suddenly felt like an elaborate lie.

Come to think of it—what did she actually know about him?

“I didn’t lie. You just never asked.”

“That’s basically lying!”

“If I’d told you I was stronger than you, would you have believed me?”

“……Well, that’s—”

As the 48th descendant of the Fist King Yu Family, Jisoo couldn’t easily dismiss his words. She wanted to call it a lie—but she couldn’t. The gap between ordinary kids and heirs of the Seven Great Clans was immense.

“Since when?”

“Before I met you.”

“And you think that makes sense?”

“Well… it’s the truth.”

If Mujin had been part of a clan or guild, it might have been easier to accept. But as things stood, Jisoo couldn’t wrap her head around it. Such power without belonging to any major faction? Impossible—at least for the Mujin she knew from the future.

“No need to sigh. Having a strong comrade is a good thing, isn’t it?”

“The problem is, none of this makes sense to me.”

“The world’s changed. You can’t understand things with old perspectives anymore.”

“Ugh… I hate that you’re right.”

This was a world where dungeons and monsters appeared out of nowhere. For earlier generations, these would’ve been unbelievable phenomena—but nowadays, there was hardly anything left that couldn’t be believed.

“It’s not regression, reincarnation, or possession.”

“You’re a mind reader!”

“Control your expression. You’re way too obvious.”

“……No way!”

Jisoo couldn’t accept it. She had survived countless battles—on land, sea, and air—before returning. And now he was telling her she couldn’t even keep her expression in check? It was an insult.

Which made it even harder to believe.

If it’s not regression, reincarnation, or possession… then how is he this strong?

Was he some kind of born super-genius?!

“That’s right.”

“You don’t even know what I was thinking!”

“The strongest on Earth.”

“……Ha. You lunatic!”

Well, shamelessness was one of his strongest traits.

Mujin had only intended it as a joke, but Jisoo’s rapidly shifting expressions made him push the line a little too far.

In hindsight, calling himself “the strongest on Earth” might’ve been a bit much. After all, he hadn’t actually fought any of the twelve transcendent beings classified as this world’s absolute powers.

‘Not that I think I’d lose.’

Still, when you considered unique attributes and hidden equipment, there was plenty he still needed to refine.

If he’d followed his father’s wish and lived an ordinary life, none of this would have mattered. But he’d already stepped into a world far removed from “normal.”

Since he’d started down this path, he might as well aim for the top—becoming someone no one could ever surpass.

And before that, as comrades, honesty was in order.

“Inventory.”

“……?”

At Mujin’s incantation, a small spatial window opened up—about 50cm across. Not very large.

Jisoo’s shock, on the other hand, was anything but small. Her eyes went wide, her pupils trembled, and her mouth hung open in fierce denial of the reality before her.

“You’ve awakened?”

“Yup.”

“……You—you tricked me again!”

“Again? You never asked!”

Just how much was he hiding?!

She hadn’t known a single thing!

Jisoo felt like her brain was cramping. This infuriating boy had a natural talent for throwing people off balance. And then he had the gall to look at her with that utterly normal face—radiating smug confidence like, “I’ve always been amazing.”

And the worst part?

He wasn’t wrong.

Which only made it more infuriating.

“You’re one to talk. Why so surprised?”

“Me and you are not the same!”

“What is this—like some auntie’s secret, shameful double life?”

“……Shut up!”

“I asked quietly.”

“Shut it and answer.”

“I’ve never heard of such an incredible attribute before.”

When it came to verbal sparring, Jisoo was no match for Mujin. And if she resorted to fists? The outcome was obvious.

For the record, Mujin was a firm believer in gender equality.

One upside of the Age of Awakening was that the physical gap between men and women had drastically narrowed. More than a few men ended up on the receiving end of a beating depending on the gender of the awakened opponent.

Perhaps that was why his father would get this strange mix of fondness and mild trauma whenever he thought about his late wife.

“They say fighting brings people closer.”

“Y-You barbarian!”

“Isn’t that why I brought you here?”

“Were you always this insufferable?”

“Ah, so you’ve noticed.”

There weren’t many places better than this hideout for training away from prying eyes. Sure, entering a dungeon was the best way to level up or train—but without properly graduating from the Academy, that was difficult.

In practice, you couldn’t enter dungeons unless you achieved a certain evaluation score at the Academy.

So by bringing her to the hideout, Mujin was essentially saying, “Let’s have a little body-to-body conversation in secret.” And honestly, Jisoo was curious too. An awakened person’s true power often came out when their special attributes were revealed.

“So when exactly did you awaken?”

“When I was thirteen.”

“What the—!! You liar!!”

“Is that really so shocking?”

“You bastard!”

Most people awakened around seventeen, give or take a year. Thirteen was… unheard of.

It explained Mujin’s strength—but then…

“Then why does your inventory look like that?”

“Because I’m level 1.”

“……Huh?”

It was both understandable and utterly baffling.

Awakening at thirteen should have allowed him to level up faster than anyone. While growth ratios varied depending on one’s potential grade, anyone who awakened that early would’ve naturally reached a certain level by now.

But Mujin’s Inventory was still at level 1—a pitiful state for someone of his ability. Like wielding a dragon-slaying sword and not being able to cut a worm.

“Have you seriously never hunted once?”

“You know me. I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

“Since when did you follow the law so well?”

“You don’t need to level up to live a normal life.”

Technically, hunting outside designated grounds was illegal. But with fierce competition between clans, loopholes existed to help young awakened individuals level up faster. Wealthy families often used these methods, creating level gaps based on their financial power.

Such “light” rule-bending was rarely punished harshly.

After all, this was an era where national power was measured by the strength of Hunters. Clans and guilds lobbied to loosen legal restrictions. The world might have changed, but the privileges of the powerful hadn’t—leaving a bitter taste.

‘If I said ten years old, she’d probably faint.’

Through Jisoo, Mujin had learned how to distinguish awakening particles. The way these particles reacted when absorbed by the human body determined one’s awakening grade and type.

For ordinary people, the particles were absorbed too weakly to trigger awakening.

Mujin had discovered how to accelerate their absorption—and succeeded. That’s how he confirmed the vast gap between the physical abilities of awakened individuals and regular humans.

However, unlike physical ability or internal energy, levels couldn’t be raised without dungeon raids or hunting. Killing awakened people or villains could also work—but not something one could do arbitrarily.

“What about your special attribute?”

“Doesn’t seem like it’s been set yet.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Maybe because I awakened too early.”

“I’ve heard it can be random sometimes, so don’t get too disappointed.”

Rarely, there were cases where someone didn’t have a special attribute or it hadn’t manifested yet. Still, Jisoo had expected Mujin to have something extraordinary.

Given his absurd strength, nothing would’ve surprised her anymore. The fact that he had something so… human actually came as a relief.

‘Would it be too much if I just called it omnipotent?’

It was strange.

It hadn’t been defined yet—but it was limitless. Depending on how he invested, the possibilities were infinite.

The flip side was that none of those possibilities were perfected. If he didn’t specialize in a single attribute, he could end up mastering none.

‘Absorbing everything without understanding it really worked out for me.’

Back then, he hadn’t known how awakening particles worked. By recklessly absorbing them without setting a limit on type, he’d ended up with a unique non-elemental omnipotence attribute as a side effect.