Being A Full-Time Employee C35

Chapter 35

The fact that this dungeon was rated only C-class, yet had blindsided us like this, revealed just how carelessly we’d underestimated it. Even if esper powers weren’t as bound by age as other abilities, in a situation where a battle could erupt at any second, conditions like that mattered.

“My guess is the core is that A-class monster.”
“There’s no precedent for that.”
“There wasn’t any precedent for an A-class monster appearing inside a C-class dungeon either.”

I pointed with my thumb. Right beside us, a mass the size of a hill was lumbering, like a mountain sculpted from mud. A moment ago, one of its massive limbs had simply swiped, flattening houses and stables to the west as easy proof.

Thankfully, evacuation orders had cleared people and livestock long before. My head felt clearer thanks to the injections I’d already taken.

The esper, thoughtful, lifted his hand to chest height and spoke:
“If that really is the core, then I should be able to find its weak point. With my ability.”
“Yes.”

Despite being pushed to rear guard, he was seasoned enough that he understood instantly. He nodded.

“But I need to get closer. At least within five meters. No direct touch necessary, but range matters. While scanning I’ll be exposed—completely. Monsters recognize when their weak points are targeted.”
“I’ll cover you somehow.”
“Fine. But is your guide combat-capable?”

The esper’s chin tilted toward me. My head still wrapped in gauze, side ripped open under a shredded shirt, face drained pale from coughing up blood—I must’ve looked like a corpse. Still, I stood straight and answered shamelessly:

“I won’t free-ride.”
“Good, then. Let’s live through this.”

Clean, simple. No need even for names. Survival was enough.

We positioned with esper in the middle, Wonu and the esper’s partner at point, me at rear guard. I learned then that his guide was former special forces. That small relief mattered.

I felt his eyes meet mine. He must’ve been thinking the same—an esper and a near-dead second guide weren’t worth much.
“I’ll keep the window as short as possible,” he said.

In The Little Prince there’s a line about baobab trees. If planted on a tiny planet, three would engulf it completely. I’d never seen a desert tree, but staring at what loomed ahead, I felt this creature’s bulk fit that description. Bark pasted onto a giant mound of clay.

We traded looks: suffocating dread. Only Wonu’s face was flat. As if made from pressed cardboard.

It wasn’t my first time confronting death, but fear never got easier. Only Wonu looked fearless.

“I’ll begin scanning,” the esper muttered. Sweat streamed from him. At first I thought that was just me, from pain. But no—every one of us was soaked. It was hot and humid, like midsummer jungle heat, though outside this dungeon was chilly autumn Korea. Dungeons generated their own ecosystems, true—but this was warped beyond explanation.

I tightened my grip on my blade, wondering if my numb fingers would even hold. The esper knelt and pressed his palm to earth, closed his eyes. Sweat burst anew.

A purple haze seeped across the ground, thin, then crawling up the monster’s trunk-sized legs. I stared, aghast.
“You all see that too, right? Not just me?”

Unbelievable landscapes trigger terror. Enough that you laugh from the overload.

“No wonder there were no small mobs left…” muttered the guide hoarsely. He trembled.

Above us—that colossus was feeding.

Its midsection opened into a gaping maw, lined with mismatched beast-teeth, a tongue writhing. Smaller monsters were being sucked inside. Whether they went willingly or not was irrelevant—it was revolting.

Then it shut its mouth. Deafening silence fell. White noise gone, fallen wings stilled. My skin crawled.

When it ground its maw again, chewing and gulping, the sound was abominable. Beside me, the guide vomited. My own stomach heaved. Before I could retch, the monster swallowed noisily and reopened its mouth—air instantly filled again with beating wings.

Horrid. Yet relief slipped in.

“Energy inefficient. While it feeds, it shouldn’t attack us,” I said.

If timing held, maybe we could finish without incident.

“Scan results?” Wonu asked.

The esper nodded, opening bleached eyes. His scleras clouded, veined white. “Yes. It’s the core! That monster—it’s real…!”

Relief, but also dread—if this was precedent, future dungeons might harbor moving, living cores, kill-conditions defined by slaying them.

“Hyung!”

Wonu’s sudden shout rang. Reflexively I threw my arm up. Too slow. But instead of claws, a thin water-shield shimmered inches from my face. A bug the size of a hawk smacked into it, wings thrashing. Wonu shoved harder.

One more second and I’d have been blind, dead before realizing. I slashed upward, splitting it apart.

The white noise stopped again.

“Shit…”

“Esper,” I asked quickly. “How long until you finish?”
“One more minute! Just a minute!”

A minute we might not live.

The baobab slurped noisily again, suddenly twisting its trunked head. Position detection. No eyes—so how? By sound? No—if that were true it would’ve found us already.

Then I remembered how my earlier injury had come, when the ground itself writhed.

“Floor!”

I yanked the esper up, shoving him into his partner’s hands, stumbling back. Viscous filaments were spreading like roots, creeping beneath us, spores wriggling.

“Close! Stay close to me!” Wonu barked.

The team clustered tight. He ripped open canteens, poured water, and raised a dome around us up to ankles. The slime recoiled, shoved back by his circle.

But beyond, it spread faster, questing. Relentless. Chills gripped me.

“The scan’s not finished,” the esper whispered numbly.
“Where was it focusing?” I demanded.
“There.” He shined his laser. A wide oval glowed near where trunk met leg. “Somewhere in that.”

So it wasn’t the gaping maw or the anchor-roots. It was at the back, like an Achilles tendon.

“What were its projectiles, exactly? Fire, wind, energy?”
“Kunai,” Wonu muttered. “But I see it now. Not conjured blades. The wings of monsters it swallowed.”

“Disgusting.”

Vomiting up its prey as weapons. Not cute like a cat’s hairball—nauseating hell.

“Dying to that would’ve sucked hard.”

I snorted grimly. The guide glared—you can laugh now? But when Wonu chuckled too, the scowl deepened.
“You’re right. If you died to that, you’d just be a monster’s spitball.”

I scratched my scalp, embarrassed. Maybe this was why we matched—unwanted synchronicity.

But my meds were wearing off. I’d maxed everything; backlash would hit hard. I needed us to be done here fast.

“How are you holding, Esper?”
“I can keep going…” His face was ashen, breath shallow, but he knew two hunters alone weren’t enough. His partner discreetly shut off his wristwatch, silencing the monitor.

“Let’s finish it, now,” the guide said.

Or die just as fast trying.

But better a death fighting than choked out by regurgitated vermin.

We nodded as one.

Already, the spore-flow was reversing. Returning from dungeon’s edge. Our time was done.