S-Classes That I Raised to Devour - Chapter 36

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 36. Dungeon Drop (1)
Chae Mujin gestured for Cheon Ihwa to wait a moment, then turned to Lee Minji.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it, I promise. Part of this is my fault for introducing Majohn. Go catch your breath out on the balcony.”
He asked Kim Yeoul to stay by Lee Minji’s side, then stepped back into the main room.
Cheon Ihwa was perceptive. She’d already sensed that Majohn had caused something serious, and cut ties with him immediately.
“Are you all right?”
The formal speech was partly because there were many eyes and ears watching, but it came from genuine concern for Chae Mujin. To that, he offered a different response.
“Thank you for the invitation. Thanks to you, I’ve enjoyed expensive spirits, admired the view, and met distinguished people.”
‘Don’t ask if I’m fine—it puts me in an awkward position.’
Cheon Ihwa caught his meaning and smiled as she replied.
“I’m the one who should thank you for accepting. How have you been keeping?”
The conversation drifted into inconsequential pleasantries. Chae Mujin made small talk while mentally preparing his exit.
‘I’ve made my appearance, the kids have had enough political experience. Time to go.’
Ordinarily, one doesn’t leave a reception before the host.
But Chae Mujin wasn’t her subordinate, and he had no intention of fawning over her.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
In the middle of their exchange, he picked up his phone and went to the balcony to meet with Lee Minji and Kim Yeoul.
“Have you calmed down?”
“I thought I had, but hearing that just made me angry again.”
“Well, you’re calm now. Let’s go. We’ve done what we came for.”
“That’s good. This outfit is making me feel even hotter, I swear.”
A quick glance showed Cheon Ihwa surrounded by people, barely visible beneath the hem of her dress.
“All right, this is it. Let’s slip out.”
Leaving openly would be an insult to the host, Cheon Ihwa. But leaving quietly? She wouldn’t like it, but that was exactly what he wanted.
The three of them reached the elevator discreetly and swiftly, pressing the button.
Usually the VIP Lounge uses a private elevator with no wait, but strangely, the button was pressed and nothing came. Looking closer, the lights weren’t on—the elevator was dead.
“The elevator must have broken down.”
Kim Yeoul accepted the explanation easily, but Chae Mujin and Lee Minji found it odd.
“How? This isn’t some rural apartment building.”
“Both elevators can’t fail at the same time, even if one does.”
Both elevators were completely unresponsive.
A thought crossed Chae Mujin’s mind: had Cheon Ihwa shut off the power to keep them from leaving?
‘That’s a stretch.’
If the elevators lost power, how would the waiters and bodyguards move around?
‘But something feels wrong.’
The emergency stairwell door wasn’t locked.
Yet the stairwell was unnaturally silent—disturbingly so, like the gaping maw of some predator.
Pop!
Then the lights went out. Everyone there noticed the anomaly.
No one panicked. Some even seemed to be expecting some kind of event.
“Please all stand by. This is not an event.”
Cheon Ihwa took control of the situation with composure. The guests were startled for a moment, but not a single one lost their composure.
But her calm didn’t last long. She realized that even the cell phones had stopped working.
If phones weren’t working, then radios couldn’t be either. All electronics had gone dead.
And a situation like this came down to one of two things.
Terrorism, or a Dungeon Drop.
Neither was something to laugh off.
* * *
“I think it’s a Dungeon Drop.”
At Chae Mujin’s words, Kim Yeoul and Lee Minji didn’t understand.
That was understandable. The odds of experiencing a Dungeon Drop were lower than winning the lottery.
“In short, this space we’re in suddenly becomes a dungeon. We’re forced to enter it.”
“Wha—”
“I don’t want to scare you, but this is an incredibly dangerous situation. Don’t leave my side, no matter what.”
The terrifying thing about dungeons is that you only know what kind they are once you enter.
Meaning the first hunters to go in bear enormous risk. There could be a poison zone waiting, or a pitch-black cave.
You never know what monsters appear, and you can’t respond until you see them with your own eyes.
It’s no accident that Dungeon Divers command the highest salaries and the highest death rates.
Exploring an unmapped dungeon was just as dangerous as a boss raid.
‘But why here? Why now? Why in this place?’
Dungeon Drops weren’t common phenomena, and when they did occur, they manifested randomly across the globe.
Yet somehow, a Dungeon Drop was happening in South Korea, in Seoul with its densest population, in the ultra-luxury Hwaran Hotel?
‘This never happened in my previous life.’
Thanks to the Akashic Record, he couldn’t be mistaken. How could he forget such a rare event as a Dungeon Drop?
‘Did my actions cause the Drop’s location to shift? That seems impossible.’
Possible or not, the city outside the windows was gone. Only the Abyss remained—depthless, endless.
Whoosh.
Just a glimpse at the Abyss, and he felt as if tens of thousands of eyes were raking across him.
“Eyes down. Now.”
Humans can’t resist what they’re told not to do. Tell someone not to look outside, and some will succumb to curiosity and gaze into the Abyss anyway.
The weak-minded lose consciousness the instant they see it. Even the strong-willed—the Abyss is a predator that devours stamina and willpower simply by being perceived.
And that applied to everyone here.
“If you want to live, look down! Don’t look at anything else.”
How many people here knew about Dungeon Drops? Among those who did, how many knew not to look at the Abyss? Likely almost none.
“Non-Awakened Individuals will be ejected back to the real world on their own. All Awakened Individuals will be forced to dive into the dungeon. Group yourselves in threes. That gives the best survival odds.”
In unmapped dungeons, numerical advantage doesn’t exist. Statistics even suggest solo diving has higher survival rates.
But that’s for experienced divers. Most people here were novices.
Grouping in modest numbers gave the best chance of survival.
Regrettably, some refused to follow Chae Mujin’s instructions.
“Gaaaaahhhhh!”
“Ugh, ugh—”
They’d glimpsed the Abyss beyond the windows and either trembled violently or suffered mental trauma.
They also ignored the order to group in threes. Everyone huddled together instead.
At least Cheon Ihwa and her bodyguards kept their eyes on the floor as Chae Mujin instructed, grouping themselves in threes.
Chae Mujin deliberated briefly, then did what he believed was right.
“I’m going to cast a full Buff on everyone. It lasts thirty minutes and raises all stats by three hundred.”
There were twelve Hunters present, excluding Chae Mujin’s group. He was offering five buffs to each, lasting a full thirty minutes, boosting stats by three hundred.
No one believed it. Such a buff on a single person required enormous mana—applying it to all twelve was impossible.
“How… how much mana do you even have?”
This was beyond even the world’s top-tier Supports.
Unmoved by the unspoken pressure, Chae Mujin continued.
“Once you enter the dungeon, prioritize survival above all else. Even if you encounter a monster worth fighting, survival comes first.”
⁝
“If survival becomes too difficult, hide and wait for rescue. But if you have the resources, seek out other Hunters to save them or find an exit route.”
Conversation became nearly impossible. A crushing gravity began bearing down on everyone.
Not just beyond the windows—the space itself was warping. The phenomenon that occurs just before a space transforms into a dungeon.
Chae Mujin quickly cast Buffs on all present. But there were two people he didn’t cast on.
Kim Yeoul and Lee Minji. He planned to wait, see the dungeon’s nature inside, then Buff them accordingly.
‘Once a Buff is applied, it can’t be changed.’
A moderate dungeon would be manageable, but a high-level one? Three hundred points would be woefully insufficient.
Boom!
With a shock as if the entire hotel were collapsing, light blinked out. In the space of an eye-blink, everything changed.
Whoooooosh!
A snow-covered expanse spread before them, feet sinking deep with each step. Each breath felt like a blade stabbing into the lungs.
* * *
It isn’t only monsters that hunt a Hunter’s life. The dungeon’s hellish environment does the job just as well—like now, blizzard winds cutting visibility to zero, the ordeal already underway the moment they touched ground.
Kim Yeoul’s body went rigid from the sudden environmental shock. Lee Minji, unexpectedly, surveyed her surroundings with composure—the effect of her experience as a professional diver and survival expert, trained by Cheonggyo Kwan.
Of course, training and real combat differ, but her strengthened body and spirit, hardened by Daelyeok Muhon, made it possible.
Chae Mujin, too, though his whole body was freezing, resisted the urge to move rashly, instead assessing the environment.
The violent blizzard severely limited visibility. He couldn’t tell what lay beyond. That meant moving carelessly would be suicide.
Scrape, scrape.
Chae Mujin began digging at the snow with his hands. He dug deep enough to create a hollow where one person could fit.
“Dig the snow. Deep enough for all three of us.”
Kim Yeoul and Lee Minji got to work immediately. An ordinary human would be frozen stiff by now, unable to move, but they were Awakened Individuals.
Working with bare hands, they carved out a pit efficiently.
“Yeoul, take off your jacket and cover your head with it.”
Kim Yeoul draped her suit jacket over her head, and Chae Mujin removed his own, placing it over Lee Minji’s.
Even this simple wind-break cut the creeping cold dramatically.
“Kim Yeoul, Lee Minji. Look at my eyes. How many fingers do you see?”
Chae Mujin held up three fingers. Both answered at once.
“Three.”
“Three.”
“Good. You both still have your wits. Let me brief you on the situation. This looks like Snow Mountain.”
No terrain markers visible, yet Chae Mujin made the diagnosis immediately.
“You felt it digging—the ground slopes slightly. It’s closer to bedrock than soil. Control your breathing. The air is thin. We’re not on flat ground; we’re at high altitude. That’s Snow Mountain.”
“…!”
“That’s… impressive. Were you a Dungeon Diver?”
Lee Minji had been observant enough, but honestly, she couldn’t place where they were.
Yet Chae Mujin had grasped the environment in that short time.
“Conserve your breath. And wait here for now.”
Bad luck had caught them in a Dungeon Drop, but even this was experience.
“Quick thinking is fundamental for a Hunter. I’ll lead for now since this is your first time, but you’ll take turns next time—pay attention.”
“Wouldn’t just waiting here be best? The blizzard leaves no visibility.”
Lee Minji offered a reasonable point, but Chae Mujin shook his head.
“That would be right if this weren’t a dungeon. Yeoul, fire a Fireball skyward. Use one-fifth power.”
Kim Yeoul didn’t ask why. She obeyed immediately, launching the Fireball.
But the blizzard kept it from rising high or traveling straight up.
“A signal flare?”
“Useless in this blizzard.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But humans respond to it differently. Everyone, listen—breathe shallow and slow.”
About ten minutes passed.
Crunch, crunch.
Footsteps in the snow began echoing softly from above the pit.
Chae Mujin poured snow over his own head, then raised his eyes to peer outside. He spotted the source of the footsteps.
White fur whiter than snow. Bulging muscles. Four-legged gait.
A Yeti with a Measurement Level of 200 was prowling the area.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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