Chapter 5
Big Bo was being dragged along on the shield by Ja-geon.
Scrape...scrape...
Ja-geon hauled both Big Bo and the shield by the rope attached to it, looking like he was pulling a sled. Big Bo couldn't walk due to his severed right leg.
"Fuck, if you don't lose some weight, you're gonna die by my hand later," Ja-geon spat out between bloody sweat.
Big Bo could only nod silently. Truthfully, Big Bo's weight wasn't the issue—an Awakener's strength made dragging him no harder than moving unburdened. If it had been difficult, Ja-geon would've abandoned him long ago.
The real problem was Ja-geon's profusely bleeding side wound.
'At this rate, I'll really fucking die.'
His face was deathly pale, sustained purely by willpower. Even if he rested without stopping the bleeding, it was hopeless—abdominal wounds were harder to staunch than limb injuries. He needed professional treatment.
'Must keep moving.'
In this state, even Ja-geon would struggle against monsters.
「Foolish mortal, not even praying in this situation?」
Suddenly, the voice of Isaac, God of Chaos, echoed through the air. Ja-geon's eyes narrowed.
「Here, take this.」
Space tore open above Ja-geon's head, dropping something.
"Bandages and ointment? What the..."
Big Bo's eyes widened comically. Ja-geon examined them—thick compression bandages capable of stopping abdominal bleeding.
"Isn't this Madecassol? The stuff that makes flesh regrow?"
"Shut your trap before I cram it down your throat. Stop overreacting."
But Big Bo kept babbling excitedly: "Holy shit! That's from the gods, right? For gods to directly bestow something, you'd need at least priest-level faith... Boss, are you a priest?"
Ja-geon didn't answer. With trembling hands, he opened the ointment and slathered it generously on his wound before tightly winding the bandage around his torso with firm pressure.
"Huu..."
He looked slightly better. Just stopping the bleeding might be enough to survive.
'Gods powerful enough to remake my body...and all they give me is fucking bandages.' They always did this—capable of sweeping away entire dungeons yet choosing to spectate. Ja-geon curled his lip.
'Just how high above us are they looking down from...?'
He closed his eyes briefly to rest in light sleep until his body recovered somewhat.
"The exit! Boss! It's the exit!" Big Bo shouted.
Ja-geon saw sunlight filtering through the dungeon exit. His leather armor was filthy with mostly monster blood. As they ascended, monsters grew weaker, making escape easier later on.
'Two days maybe.'
Ja-geon had reached Level 9—much stronger than Level 1 but still unsatisfied.
'Not enough. At this rate I can't even recover my position, let alone get revenge.' He didn't smile even at the exit.
Exhausted, they collapsed outside, breathing clean air instead of dungeon dampness. Too tired to even twitch a finger.
Clank...clank...
Ja-geon jerked upright at unfamiliar footsteps—armed strangers approaching.
"Boss, other raiders. We should ask for help since we can't move," Big Bo suggested.
Ja-geon grabbed his collar: "You fucking idiot! Spouting stupid shit again!" He hurriedly tried hiding the Mimic's Fang Shield but too late—ten combatants and three porters stood before them.
"Hey look! Isn't that Big Bo? Still alive somehow?"
"That fatass who nearly died in traps last time? Haha! Now missing a leg too?"
Big Bo flushed red under their mockery while Ja-geon studied their well-equipped party.
"Still working as packmules in E-rank dungeons at Level 20? How long will you stay bottom-feeders?" one taunted Big Bo.
Ja-geon frowned: 'E-rank? That ogre-infested dungeon was E-rank, not C-rank? Since when did E-rank exist?' In his memory, dungeons went from D to Triple S rank. If standards changed... A chilling realization struck him: 'More time has passed since my death than I thought—years, not months.' Cold sweat dripped as he asked: "Big Bo, what year is it now?"
"Huh? 2015, of course."
Ja-geon's pupils shook violently—he'd died in 2013. Two whole years lost!
The raiders eyed Big Bo's shield greedily: "What's that treasure you're hugging? Looks valuable~"
Big Bo panicked: "I-it's nothing special!" making them more curious until they snatched it away: "Holy shit! A Mimic's Fang Shield! Nearly top-tier for E-rank! Almost D-class equipment usable up to C-rank dungeons!"
Tears welled in Big Bo's eyes: 'We risked our lives for that...' He reached out desperately: "G-give it back!" only to get kicked down laughing: "What use does a packmule have for this? Take this regeneration potion and fuck off. We're being generous here!" The trade was absurd—the shield could buy over ten such potions easily at auction.
"No! I don't want it! Give back my shield!" Big Bo screamed until their expressions turned vicious—ready to beat him when Ja-geon stood suddenly: "Stand down, Big Bo. Accept their deal," he said calmly before smiling at them: "You speak sense unlike some idiots here."
They exchanged shield for potion greedily before disappearing into dungeon depths, leaving Big Bo heartbroken: "Boss...we worked so hard for that..." But Ja-geon immediately poured the potion on Big Bo's stump, making his leg regrow instantly—an expensive troll-blood concoction standard for raid teams. "Had we resisted, we'd have lost both shield and potion," he coldly stated while staring after them intently.
Ja-geon suddenly shook with laughter: "Kuk...kuk...kuk... To think Shin Ja-geon would be treated like this by mere pyramid ants..."
"Boss?"
Big Bo worried he'd gone mad until Ja-geon bared teeth gleaming with manic intensity.
"Big Bo, only seven people who touched my belongings still live today—and I don’t plan to increase that number." He knew betrayers had divided his Seven Dragon Weapons—he’d punish them and reclaim everything. But he wouldn’t tolerate current humiliation either... Isaac had given him new flesh, reducing the once-mighty Fury Dragon into a common Awakener. Yet Shin Ja-geon’s hatred remained undimmed—because I am Shin Ja-geon simply because I am Shin Ja-geon.
Flesh meant nothing.
Shin Ja-geon was Shin Ja-geon.
An unshakable egoist whose self-centered desires allowed no interference—a raw, absolute self that left no room for others. People called him Fury Dragon. Pretentious types called him THE Egoist.
