A Day Cursed With Bad Luck (2)

“Really draconic……?”

“Ugh…… This is the end.”

But it seemed the other gatherers didn’t see it that way. A few voices muttering in despair stabbed into Hyeonseong’s ears.

Other gatherers hurriedly clamped hands over those people’s mouths.

Even if they were juveniles, draconic types were still draconic types. Even a small voice or hint of presence could get them detected. The gatherers who had spoken in despair immediately covered their own mouths.

In the meantime, Hyeonseong used her terminal to message her younger sibling, Hyeonyeong. Judging by the situation, none of the gatherers seemed to be thinking of contacting the outside.

External contact was essential—either to prepare manpower to fill vacancies if one or more people died later, or to have responders on standby in case a dungeon break released monsters outside.

After Hyeonseong sent her message and the gatherers held their breath, another message arrived on the terminal. It was from the C-rank Awakened.

At the follow-up message, Hyeonseong was genuinely impressed.

A dungeon was a place you couldn’t leave once you entered—until you cleared it, or until a dungeon break occurred.

Because of that system, if the party was already at full capacity, the only way to replace personnel—unless you had a special item—was for someone already inside to die and open a slot.

So in situations like this, where higher-rank combat Awakened were desperately needed, it wasn’t unheard of for the weakest Awakened to be sacrificed to create an empty slot.

It was legally and morally reprehensible, of course, but there were plenty of people who considered it “worth it” to offer up one weak person to prevent an even worse disaster.

That was why killing weaker Awakened in emergencies wasn’t such a rare occurrence.

That was precisely why Hyeonseong couldn’t help but admire the two C-rank Awakened’s message. Their tone might have been obnoxious, but weren’t they trying not to abandon the gatherers?

‘Well, we’ll see whether it’s just talk or whether they’re actually decent people. But…….’

Staring at the three juvenile Flightless Wyverns, Hyeonseong thought: it was about time for that to come flying in, yet there was still nothing.

‘Maybe it’ll come later.’

What Hyeonseong was waiting for was news that was annoying whether it arrived or not.

That petty, rotten bastard would probably only speak up once things got even more dire than this.

“Everyone, move to the side!”

At that moment, the C-rank Destroyer shouted at full volume. Not a message—an actual shout.

“W-What is it?”

“Th-There!”

When one gatherer blurted out something stupid, another pointed at the pack of Flightless Wyverns. Their chests swelled dramatically.

‘Damn it!’

Cursing internally, Hyeonseong bolted. It was obviously a wind-breath wind-up.

“Eek!”

“M-Move!”

Since all three were juveniles, it seemed to take them a bit of time to gather the energy to fire their breath. Thanks to that, there was plenty of time to dodge.

The hunters hiding behind the rocks scattered in both directions.

Right after that, three streaks of wind-aspected breath swept across the rocky area. In an instant, the place that had been littered with huge boulders turned into barren open ground.

Once they pulled away from the rock field, it became a game of tag with the Flightless Wyvern pack. After recognizing the hunters, the wyverns began chasing them.

They roared, inflicting a status ailment that stiffened the body, and they stomped the ground to scatter shattered debris as an attack.

Wind-aspected magic attacks also came flying in repeatedly. For magic cast by juveniles, the force behind it was brutally sharp—and the aim was surprisingly precise.

‘Damn it, I relaxed because they don’t have names.’

Among draconic types, those classified as true dragons could use magic. So the moment she saw juvenile Flightless Wyverns—classified as dragons—Hyeonseong expected magic attacks.

But their spellcasting level was higher than the other juvenile dragons she’d encountered in past dungeons.

The juvenile dragon she’d seen before had used clumsy magic that screamed “I just learned this,” and while it was strong simply because it was a dragon, its precision aiming had been terrible.

Compared to that, the wyverns’ magic now was both more accurate and stronger than expected.

‘I’m going to die. Seriously.’

Gritting her teeth, Hyeonseong pulled a necklace out of Infinite Corridor. It was a magic item she’d bought for a fortune.

‘It only works three times, though…….’

An item that could block up to three powerful attacks. The activation condition was when damage above a certain threshold hit the wearer directly. The description claimed it could even block a full-power strike from an A-rank hunter or monster.

‘No way the one I bought at Hanwol Workshop’s official store is a scam.’

She’d checked the item info provided by the Interstellar Network before buying it, so it shouldn’t be a scam. Hyeonseong squeezed her eyes shut and put on the necklace.

Even after equipping the expensive defensive item, Hyeonseong didn’t stop rolling. The necklace only blocked powerful attacks, so she still had to dodge the smaller, middling hits herself.

She was fairly confident about dodging smaller attacks. Sure, rolling around in the dirt and “swimming” across the ground looked pathetic, but if it was to survive, what couldn’t she do?

That was how she’d earned the title Master of Naryeotagon—by rolling around like this. The title’s effect was nothing more than a tiny bonus to Stamina and Endurance, but at the time she obtained it, she’d received more Ghost Coin donations than usual because people found it funny.

‘Honestly, those Constellation bastards—every time they see a human rolling around, they laugh themselves to death.’

It was the same now. When Hyeonseong rolled across the ground to dodge the juvenile Flightless Wyvern’s wind-blade spell, messages poured into the air.

Grinding her teeth as she read the messages, Hyeonseong hurriedly corrected her expression the moment she saw the word “sponsors.”

“H-Haha… so this lowly human has become your entertainment, is that it? Thank you very much for the sponsorship. Yes.”

Hyeonseong forced a smile through clenched teeth. The sponsorship was only a single Ghost Coin, but it was a currency you could never obtain through ordinary means—only through Constellation sponsorship, dungeon rewards, or item sales via the Interstellar Network.

If a Constellation sponsored you, no matter how small the amount, you had to thank them quickly to satisfy their vanity and craving for attention. Otherwise, the sponsorship would dry up.

If you had overwhelming martial power, or if you were a craftswoman who churned out top-tier artifacts with every attempt, your sponsorship wouldn’t stop even if you didn’t bow and scrape—but Hyeonseong wasn’t that.

She wasn’t strong enough to put on flashy spectacles, and she didn’t have some incredible crafting skill to show off refined handiwork or spark curiosity about masterpieces.

All she could do was occasionally end up looking ridiculous and receive charity-like handouts.

For someone who wasn’t a high-tier Awakened of A-rank or above, this was normal if you wanted Constellation sponsorship.

Being “kind of” strong or talented wasn’t enough to stand out over people with better stats and better skills.

So among low-rank Awakened, those who got Constellation sponsorship regularly were usually good showmen. Constellations loved witty banter and comical antics just as much as anyone.

If you weren’t born with that kind of talent, you had to be unnaturally pure-hearted—or vicious—to catch the eye of a niche audience.

And if you weren’t even that, then your life itself had to be funny. Like someone so unlucky they’d break their nose even falling backward.

In that sense, Hyeonseong felt it was unfair. No matter how she looked at it, the funniest thing in the world was her own Awakened rank. At this point, wasn’t it laughable enough to deserve charity just from making eye contact?

‘No—wait a second.’

After thanking ‘Primal Trickster,’ Hyeonseong spotted a familiar name in the pile of messages.

‘That bastard is watching right now, isn’t she?’

Constellation name: ‘Hands Faster Than Eyes.’ The Constellation Hyeonseong had been waiting to hear from.

That guy always cackled and tossed Hyeonseong quests whenever she saw her rolling around like this.

And those quests weren’t normal. She always threw them at timings where, the moment you accepted, they’d practically be counted as a failure.

Like assigning “Escape the dungeon without taking a single hit” one instant before a monster’s kick slammed into your solar plexus.

The timing was always dripping with malicious intent. And her quests always included a penalty clause on failure.

So sometimes Hyeonseong tried to refuse out of sheer irritation. But refusal wasn’t up to her.

Whenever she tried, the Constellation would somehow sense her mood and forcibly assign the quest using Constellation authority.

Worse, the quests she assigned couldn’t be canceled either.

Constellation or Interstellar Network quests could normally be canceled unconditionally, or canceled by paying a set cost.

But ‘Hands Faster Than Eyes’ always assigned quests that were impossible to cancel. On rare occasions she gave a quest that was “cancelable,” but then the cancellation condition was a trap.

If the condition was something like “hand over every Ghost Coin you have,” that was basically the same as non-cancelable.

And if you barely managed to clear one of those non-cancelable quests, did something good happen? Of course not.

That bastard always nitpicked and skimmed the promised reward.

If it was a quest promising 10 Ghost Coins for taking zero hits, she’d argue that the wind pressure from a punch “grazed” you so it wasn’t a perfect clear, then pay only 8 Ghost Coins.

It made your teeth grind on their own, but there was nowhere to appeal.

If it was truly outrageous extortion or a fraudulent contract, the Interstellar Network was supposedly supposed to sanction the Constellation—but that guy had never once been sanctioned.

Meaning, that kind of “prank” behavior was permitted at a system level.

She was infuriating enough that Hyeonseong didn’t even want to deal with her—but it was also true that there wasn’t another Constellation who handed out quests as consistently as she did.

Sure, she skimmed the pay with petty excuses, but it wasn’t like she paid nothing at all.

Ghost Coins were rare currency for Awakened, since they were the only currency accepted across the Interstellar Network.

To maintain your abilities as an Awakened, you had to pay regular fees to the network system, and the network only accepted Ghost Coins.

The same was true when buying anything from the network’s item or skill shops. Again, only Ghost Coins could be used.

And Hyeonseong’s only skill was the type that could be enhanced—more accurately, a skill whose true value would only appear after enhancement.

Enhanceable skills also demanded Ghost Coins as both upgrade costs and materials. And Hyeonseong’s skill, in particular, devoured massive amounts of Ghost Coins even among enhancement-type skills.

She already had too many money sinks, and with her bizarre stats, she couldn’t earn much. That was the reality—no matter how much of a bastard that guy was, Hyeonseong couldn’t refuse her quests lightly.

‘You’re watching me roll around and you’re not giving me a quest?’

This time, she was rolling along the ground again, pushed by the wind pressure from a tail swipe. ‘Hands Faster Than Eyes’ was cackling in messages again.

‘Stop laughing and spit out the quest already!’

Reading the messages, Hyeonseong ground her teeth. Usually the guy would give her a quest around the time she’d rolled like this a few times, but today her butt was unusually heavy.

She screamed internally, but it wasn’t like the guy would understand and hand over a quest just because of that. That was why she’d thanked ‘Primal Trickster’ out loud earlier.

Of course, even if she demanded a quest out loud, there was no guarantee the guy would give one.

‘Useless bastard.’

Grumbling internally again, Hyeonseong checked the situation around her.

‘No one’s dead yet.’

Everyone was desperately running and rolling in the dirt, but thankfully no one had been seriously injured. No one had died.

The two C-rank hunters were protecting the gatherers as much as possible.

With too few combatants compared to the number of gatherers, it was impossible to protect everyone. Even so, the two C-rank hunters somehow protected anyone who was in immediate danger.

Meaning, their earlier message about trying at least wasn’t a lie.

‘But at this rate, it’ll never end.’

It was good that no one had died. But it was also true that because the C-rank hunters were busy protecting gatherers with zero combat power, they couldn’t find an opening to attack the monsters.

While fleeing and rolling across the ground, Hyeonseong evaluated the other Awakened’s abilities—especially the two C-rank hunters again.

From what she could tell, even if the juvenile Flightless Wyverns were A-rank, the two C-rank hunters could probably bring one down if they teamed up and focused solely on combat.

‘If we pick them off one by one, we might barely be able to do it.’

But first, they’d need to get the gatherers to safety.

‘But this is a plain. There’s nowhere to hide…….’

She threw herself sideways to avoid another slow breath attack. As she rolled, she deftly operated the hunter terminal. The screen displayed terrain information for the area they’d already scouted.

‘In the area we’ve been running around while dodging them, there’s nowhere to hide. The best option is…….’

Her attention fixed on a string of triangle markers outside the explored range. A mountainous region that was still visible if she lifted her head even now.

‘They’re Large-sized. In the mountains, moving around will be inconvenient for them.’

Unless it was a barren mountain with no vegetation, in a dense forest with thick trees, that bulk would be awkward to maneuver.

‘Yeah. We need to wake them up and lure them into the mountains, then…….’

“U-Uh……!”

A foreboding voice rang in Hyeonseong’s ears right as she reached that thought.

She looked to the side and saw one of the gatherers stumbling and falling. Their feet must have tangled while running to dodge an attack.

Behind the fallen gatherer, one Flightless Wyvern swelled its chest. It was taking the breath-firing stance.

The other gatherers spotted the sign of incoming breath and moved away. The two C-rank hunters were busy protecting other gatherers from the other wyverns.

The fallen gatherer desperately tried to get up, but whether they’d sprained an ankle or lost strength, they couldn’t rise properly.

In the meantime, the Flightless Wyvern that had been swelling its chest stopped breathing—meaning its breath was fully charged.

At that timing, amid the Constellations’ chatter, a new message came flying in. The moment she saw the word “Quest,” Hyeonseong checked the contents.

“Hey, you son of a biiiiitch!”

Hyeonseong screamed as soon as she confirmed the forced quest acceptance.