God-Tier Enhancement: My Upgrades Never Fail-Chapter 160: Episode 32_Is This Lair Really Your Lair_ (1)
1.
Guild Selection Tournament.
It wasn’t a national team tryout, yet they were calling it a Guild Selection Tournament.
Players might have snorted at the name, but since it was an event announced across the entire game, they would still participate. However, the NPCs—the original residents of the continent—did not see it so simply.
An event that might happen once every few years, if that!
And even then, if the Emperor wasn’t in the mood, it simply wouldn’t be held.
Despite being so irregular, the rewards were enormous.
The title of the Continent’s Greatest Guild.
Anyone who didn’t understand the value of that title didn’t even deserve to participate.
So, the NPC guilds were thrown into a frenzy.
Naturally, this event was open to both player guilds and NPC guilds.
“What the hell, NPCs can join too?”
“How many are even going to participate?”
“I mean, I get that it’s continent-wide, but still...”
“Isn’t that way too unfair?”
Players grumbled as they watched the continent stir, but there was nowhere for their complaints to go.
Participation was entirely voluntary.
If they felt intimidated, they could simply choose not to enter.
If they still wanted to compete on equal footing, they could always complain to the Emperor directly.
Ask him why it was so unfair.
He would probably answer:
’How dare some lowly adventurer speak so rudely!’
Realistically, they would likely be denied at the entrance long before they ever got close to him.
So the players just whispered among themselves, quietly shelving the idea of participating or watching to see how the situation developed.
’Well, they’re doing it this year, so they’ll probably do it again next year.’
’Or maybe we should just try it once, just in case.’
Their chances of beating the established NPC guilds were slim, but it wasn’t a bad choice to at least throw their hat in the ring.
In this way, the continent heated up.
And along with the continent, the FW Community caught fire as well.
Interest in Kenji and the Specialists cooled noticeably.
The same was true for Kenji himself.
“Han Simin will definitely participate. From now on, gather every scrap of information you can about the Guild Selection Tournament.”
“Yes, sir.”
His mind was fixed solely on revenge.
Of course, that didn’t mean he was neglecting his leveling.
In 『Fantastic World』, every death costs experience and imposes a two-day login ban. If one side kept getting crushed in this war of annihilation, the power gap would only widen.
If he wanted to seize an opportunity in this fight someday, he had no choice but to grind.
The one saving grace was that Han Simin had practically given up on leveling.
Kenji ground his teeth.
He wouldn’t lose forever.
If he could just win once—he didn’t even have to kill him; if he could beat him in any way—then he would start to see a path forward.
Kenji began to plan.
2.
Meanwhile, Han Simin couldn’t have cared less how the continent’s politics were shifting. He was holed up in some godforsaken corner of the world, continuing his enhancements.
He was in a hunting ground so remote that even he had no way of knowing exactly where he was.
He had no idea how the Kenji Guild had found him last time, but now he was certain—no one would ever be able to track him down here.
“At this point, someone could walk within ten feet of me and still not notice if I stayed still.”
“Kku-eong.”
That was how rugged the terrain was, a mountain range choked with dense trees.
The landscape reminded him of the Unknown Mountains.
Yet the gloomy atmosphere here made it feel even more dangerous than that place.
“I wish a wild boar would show up. I’m craving meat.”
“Ppaeaek!”
Of course, that wish didn’t apply to Han Simin.
Once he reached the spot his senses had led him to, he looked around for a bit, then drew a dagger from his belt.
Ever since he had obtained the Legendary Hammer, he had been carrying the dagger purely for its aura.
It had been so long since he had used it that he was half-worried it might have rusted.
The dagger didn’t even have time to show its happiness at seeing its master again before he drove it straight into the dirt.
With each thrust, clumps of earth were ripped out in chunks, a scene that perfectly showcased the greatness of a +15 dagger.
If anyone else had seen it, they would have exploded, asking what kind of lunatic used a weapon like that as a shovel. But unfortunately, there was not a soul around to complain—there were barely any living creatures at all.
“Got you.”
After digging for quite a while, Han Simin finally pulled a single herb root from the ground, looking satisfied.
Happy Herb.
The name alone made him sigh. What kind of idiot thought it was a good idea to name an herb like that?
“Some people are busting their ass enhancing ore that isn’t even theirs, and this thing is called Happy Herb? Are you out of your mind?”
He couldn’t help feeling petty.
Since it was going to be used as a sacrifice, he couldn’t just crumple it in his fist, so he carefully stuffed it into his pouch.
’Just wait a bit.’
’Once you’re on my anvil, I’ll smash that happiness to pieces.’
He moved on, his hidden personality on full display.
He was in a worse mood than usual.
Being covered head to toe in dirt was the least of it.
He had been wandering from one hunting ground to another for three days straight without sleep, and every monster he ran into was so strong that if it wasn’t suitable as enhancement fodder, he had to turn tail and run.
“Ha. Fuck. Maybe let people sleep once in a while if you want them to play your game. Damn you, BetaGo.”
He wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a long, deep sleep.
But to do that, he would have to leave the hunting ground.
And if he did that, when would he ever make it back here?
Even riding Squeaker, it would take six hours round-trip just to get to a safe place and back.
And if he took time to rest there?
Han Simin couldn’t accept wasting that much time.
So he stayed up all night.
’Just hold out until I get to +15.’
That mantra-like determination finally paid off.
+12.
The reward felt like it washed away all the hardship he had endured.
“Kku-eooong!”
The otter, watching from the side, seemed moved as well and leapt into the air.
Han Simin, smiling fondly like a proud dad, caught a strange movement out of the corner of his sharp eyes.
“You little otter bastard. You’re not happy because you’re grateful to me—you’re just happy your ore got enhanced, aren’t you?”
A reasonable suspicion.
Han Simin always applied a twisted version of putting oneself in another’s shoes to everyday life, judging others based on what he would do in their position.
“Kku-kku-eong!”
The otter frantically shook its head.
Anyone could see it was acting suspiciously.
“Ha. I’ve gotten soft.”
But Han Simin didn’t retaliate.
Instead, he patted the otter.
“It’s fine. We’re not family yet. It happens. Sure.”
’We can save the serious family talks for after we actually become one.’
The unspoken sincerity still got through, and the otter flinched, but nothing more happened.
In any case, the two of them were currently sprinting toward the same goal.
On top of that—
Heavy footsteps shook the mountains from both sides.
“Ah, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Monsters appeared as if they had been waiting, proving this was no place for a leisurely conversation.
“Run!”
“Ppaeaek!”
The three of them bolted, faster than anyone.
3.
Naturally, the entire continent was in an uproar.
The Emperor’s decree!
[Find my son-in-law and bring him to me.]
He dressed it up with talk of honor and glory, but in all of history, there had only been a handful of times when the Emperor had issued an order to the entire continent like this, so everyone was bound to scramble.
Crisis.
Or opportunity.
Of course, the chance to earn the Emperor’s favor by finding the adventurer he so desperately sought was a far stronger motivator than the fear of his anger if they failed.
So, a wanted order went out.
Led by the Royal Knights.
“Have you seen a golden gargoyle?”
“Do you know an adventurer named Simin?”
“Have you seen an adventurer traveling with a monster that looks like an otter?”
Thanks to that, a wave of unexpected quests swept across the continent.
Quests to find Han Simin!
In 『Fantastic World』, anything could become a quest as long as an NPC gave it, there was a story, and there were rewards. This was a perfect example of that freedom.
Even players who weren’t strong enough to participate in the Guild Selection Tournament couldn’t help but take an interest because of this.
Well, more accurately, they were interested in the bounty for finding Han Simin.
[This is insane. Less than a year since launch, and a single player can have this much influence?]
[That could happen in other games. Drop 200k and you’re the king of the server.]
[But in Fantastic World...]
[Honestly, even the Kenji Guild, supposedly rank 1, is only barely known among the kingdom nobles. They’re nowhere near this level.]
[I’m starting to doubt they’re even really rank 1 anymore.]
[Didn’t they get wrecked by the Specialists this time?]
[Still, if they take 1st place in this continent-wide event, they’re 1st, period.]
[Do we judge by player standards?]
[Obviously. How are we supposed to beat NPCs right now?]
One way or another, the players acknowledged it.
Han Simin’s greatness.
And the Kenji Guild’s incompetence.
These rumors spread across the continent, and while there weren’t many at first, reports slowly began to trickle in.
[I think I saw him a few days ago? Something shot across the sky so fast I couldn’t see clearly, but it was definitely golden.]
[Oh? I saw that too. But the direction it was flying was a bit...]
[Why? Where was it headed?]
If he had been deliberately hiding, that would be one thing, but he was flying openly. He was not as large as a dragon, but the gargoyle had grown to a considerable size. If something like that were to cut across the sky, it was impossible that not a single person would have seen it in a game enjoyed by tens of millions.
Either way, the players hounded the informants.
They were desperate to find him.
They wanted to find him and report back to the Emperor.
If they could, they were even willing to drag him back by force. Most of them were at a level where a single hit would send them running away in tears, but invoking the Emperor’s name was a magic spell that made them feel capable of anything.
“But the thing is...”
“It’s... kind of hard to explain.”
Even in this feverish atmosphere, the informants hesitated, refusing to be swept up in the craze. They wondered if they should even say anything at all.
“What, are you trying to hog it all for yourself?”
“Seriously? Let the rest of us get a piece of the action.”
The more the players pressed them with such brazen accusations, the more firmly the informants shook their heads.
“If I wanted to keep it for myself, would I have brought it up in the first place?”
It wasn’t because they had some hidden agenda.
“It’s just... it’s a place where most players can’t even set foot.”
They were worried.
’Can I really lead these moths—no, these gnats, not even worthy of being called moths—straight into the fire and then just stand by and watch them die?’
It might not matter much since it was just a game, but there were simply too many of them. The reaction on the community forums alone was this intense; what would it be like in the actual game? There were at least hundreds of thousands of people who had sold their houses and cars to play this game, hoping for a single shot to turn their lives around.
After agonizing for a long while, the informants finally spoke.
’Even if it’s just a game, there are some things you just have to say.’
They felt sorry for them. Or perhaps they just didn’t want a situation where, if they couldn’t have the prize themselves, someone else might stumble into it by sheer luck.
“There’s a dragon lair there. It’s just a local superstition in this kingdom, but... the place is so high-level you’ll be denied at the entrance. I’m not going to stop you from going, but don’t you dare blame me afterward.”
The passion that had been blazing so fiercely it seemed ready to burn down a mountain was extinguished in an instant.
The air turned glacially cold.
* * *
