DPGR 63

When most of the espers who used to bully Jiho ended up entering that dungeon, Jiho had a particularly rough time as well—he remembered that clearly.

It was because, before the dungeon raid, the espers had received deeper and longer guiding than usual in preparation for the battle.

As Jiho sank into gloom, Dojin’s car came to a stop at a red light. Jiho tapped Dojin and opened his mouth slightly.

—There was a raid on a massive-scale dungeon. I don’t quite remember the rank, though.

After saying that, Jiho tilted his head for a moment and added,

—But the timing doesn’t add up.

“Huh?”

—The dungeon that broke out in Incheon? That one wasn’t supposed to appear until next summer.

If this dungeon was the same one he knew, then its emergence had been pushed forward by at least six months.

Looking uneasy, Jiho glanced around nervously. Dojin realized that Jiho was sensing the same strange feeling he had, and shared his own theory.

“When I used the resurrection artifact, didn’t time itself rewind?”

Nod.

“Since the timeline was distorted, that might be causing ripple effects. In the worst case, everything you know about the future might be pulled forward—or jumbled altogether.”

“…!”

Jiho’s face turned pale. From his expression, Dojin could tell that something dangerous must be coming in the future.

“What is it…?”

Just as he began to ask, the light changed. Dojin turned his eyes back to the road and started driving again.

“Is there something… something that’s going to happen in the future?”

“…”

“I just thought it’d be good to prepare. So no one gets hurt… We should do what we can, right?”

After hesitating, Jiho finally pulled out a notebook and opened it. Dojin glanced sideways at him and turned on the passenger light.

The quiet was soon filled by the sound of fluttering paper.

A few minutes later—

As soon as the car stopped at the next red light, Jiho tapped Dojin on the arm.

He had opened to a certain section in the notebook and was waiting for Dojin to look.

“What’s this?”

Thud.

Jiho held the notebook up to him. But the writing was messier than usual—so much so that Dojin couldn’t make it out.

‘I think I’ve seen this before… Wasn’t it just some doodles?’

As he tilted his head, Jiho made a small noise—“Ah”—and pulled the notebook back toward himself.

He began to mouth the words he had written.

Incidents of various dungeon outbreaks, and the resulting deaths. The emergence of dual dungeons. And then…

“The final… dungeon?”

The light changed again. But Dojin didn’t move. A horn blared from behind them.

Face drained of color, Dojin quickly turned the wheel and pulled the car over.

He had already been shaken upon hearing that his parents would die. But now—before he could even process that—he was hearing something far more devastating: humanity might be destroyed.

“That’s…”

Dojin parted his lips several times but couldn’t bring himself to speak.

The atmosphere inside the car had grown oppressively heavy, pressing down on him.

For now, Dojin focused on resolving the immediate issue. He calmed his turbulent thoughts and headed to the Center.

From the moment he arrived, there was no time for complicated thinking—there was too much to do as the Alpha Team’s Captain.

He had to gather team members who’d been resting and rushed in after a sudden call, coordinate with the captains of the other teams entering the dungeon, and get a briefing from Center staff.

“These are all the artifacts?”

“Ugh, this doesn’t look like enough.”

“Let’s start by distributing them to the guides and support units.”

The team members were just as busy.

Since it had been confirmed that the terrain of this dungeon was a desert, they were scrambling to collect heat-resistance artifacts, distribute them, and check over their weapons.

Amid all that, Jiho too had finished preparing with help from the other guides and team members.

“Here. This artifact is for you, Guide Jiho.”

Geonwoo approached and fastened a bracelet around Jiho’s thin wrist as he explained.

“Make sure not to lose it—it needs to be returned to the Center afterward.”

Nod nod.

“You’ve packed your handgun, right?”

Nod nod.

“Great. We still need to inspect weapons, and also—”

Even though Geonwoo was pretending not to be overly concerned, the nervousness was clear in his voice. As he finished going over a few precautions, he suddenly seemed to remember something and fished around in his pocket.

“Oh, and this.”

“…?”

What he pulled out was a red whistle—something that looked like a child’s toy.

—What’s this?

“Captain Baek asked me to give it to you earlier. Just in case, for emergencies.”

Ah. Jiho opened his mouth slightly in realization.

Although he had been practicing speech in therapy twice a week, his breathing and vocal strength were still too weak for proper speech.

The whistle, it seemed, had been prepared so he could signal for help if needed.

Jiho slung the whistle around his neck and gave it a gentle blow.

Pii—

The sound had barely finished when Dojin, who’d been chatting with others nearby, whipped around to look at him.

“Ah.”

Jiho hadn’t expected such an immediate reaction, and in surprise, he quickly spat out the whistle and shook his head.

It was meant to say “nothing happened,” but Dojin didn’t seem to get the message and walked over.

“Is something wrong?”

—No, it’s just…

“You got the whistle, huh.”

Nod nod.

“Make sure to keep it around your neck at all times. If something happens, blow it hard—louder than before.”

Nod nod.

Dojin added a few more instructions before stepping away.

But as he resumed conversation with the others, Jiho could catch faint traces of unease in his expression—something only Jiho would’ve noticed.

He’d been through far more dangerous dungeons before, and yet he looked this anxious.

It was probably because of Jiho himself—and the things he’d told him.

‘Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned the final dungeon.’

If he was going to say something, he should’ve waited until after this raid was over.

I’m starting to feel nervous, too.

Jiho clenched his fingers into a fist. His palm was damp with cold sweat.

He knew nothing about this dungeon, and since it wasn’t one Dojin had entered in the original timeline, there was no way to predict how it might affect him now.

The thought that Dojin might get hurt in this changed future sent a wave of anxiety through him.

And perhaps sensing that—

Whimper—Whiiine—

Heendungi waddled up beside him, letting out a soft cry.

The fluffy fox wrapped his tail around Jiho’s waist, gently nudged Jiho’s clenched hand with his nose, and then gave his cheek a light lick.

Petting Heendungi, Jiho silently mouthed the words:

—It’s okay. It’ll be okay.

***

A vast, endless desert stretched out before them.

Even with the artifact on, Jiho’s forehead quickly broke out in sweat from the sweltering heat.

If it was this bad for him, what about those without heat-resistant artifacts?

Worried, Jiho looked over at Dojin.

Thankfully, as someone who handled fire, he was naturally resistant to heat.

Good, he looks okay.

On the other hand, Kijoon—who stood at the front of the group—did not look well at all.

Carrying a heavy shield was hard enough, but as the frontliner, he also wore extra armor over his battle suit.

“Kijoon, you okay?”

“Y-yeah…”

Even Dojin looked concerned and asked gently. Kijoon responded in a droopy, melting voice, like he was about to collapse.

“All right, should we start by setting up a safe zone?”

Just then, Beta Team’s captain clapped loudly to get everyone’s attention.

Dojin nodded in agreement.

The Incheon dungeon had been small enough to clear in a day.

But in larger dungeons like this one, where the raid could last several days, a safe zone was essential.

Of course, with only two days left before the dungeon break, they didn’t have time to build a properly reinforced camp like usual.

Still, safety had to come first—so Yulchan used his spatial manipulation ability to create a separate area.

“I tried to make it as big as possible, considering how many people we have… Is this okay?”

Yulchan had already used his ability once on the way in, and after creating the safe zone, he looked visibly drained.

But despite his weak voice, even Jiho—who didn’t know much about safe zones—could tell it looked solid.

“Great work, Yulchan.”

“Hehe, it’s nothing.”

“Let’s split into teams and begin the raid.”

“Yeah. Not much time left, so let’s move fast.”

The espers finished their final checks and divided into raid teams.

Delta Team, which had the most members, would move together with the smaller Alpha Team, while Beta Team was paired with Gamma Team.

“Then, Guide Jiho— we’ll head out now. Don’t leave the safe zone under any circumstances, and stay with Heendungi at all times.”

Nod nod.

Despite having steeled his resolve to enter the dungeon, Jiho was left behind in the safe zone.

He wasn’t the only one—several other guides, support-type espers, and even some combat-type espers stayed back too.

With that, Jiho had no grounds to insist on following Dojin into the field.