004.
The barrier’s… gone.
Byungha’s already blood-drained face went even paler.
Now that he could sense spirit energy, he felt the Spirit Barrier around the house shatter.
Pop!
The pine needle that had guided him flickered out and dropped to the floor.
His only light source was gone; darkness closed in, and with it a fresh wave of panic.
What now?
No guide, no plan.
Run. Gotta run.
The debate didn’t last long.
He had zero interest in fighting monsters he’d met only minutes ago—especially half-bled and half-drunk, even if that new “Awakening” had juiced him up.
【F】 Naturalist (30 / 100)
Strength 5 Spirit 5
Agility 5 Focus 5
Endurance 5 Resistance 5
Could I smash that generator now?
Doubtful. Those goblins crushed solid steel. He wasn’t betting on an even match. Escape was smarter.
But fright made him move slowly and carefully.
He crouched, clamped his mouth shut, forced his breathing low—and something amazing happened.
[Wood-Element Affinity]
The scent of greenery wraps around you.
Your presence fades.
[Earth-Element Affinity]
The smell of soil wraps around you.
Your presence fades.
[Yin Affinity]
Deep shadow covers you.
Your presence fades.
…Huh?
He sniffed himself—no more coppery blood, no sweat stink.
Only a heavy mix of grass and damp earth.
Those elemental affinities were basically an “Invisibility” buff.
This might actually work.
Heart thudding, he crept outside.
KIEEEK! KIII-EEK!
Yep, the barrier was down.
The goblins had swarmed the yard again, scooping up the weapons they’d dropped.
But—what?—they weren’t hunting him.
Instead, they circled the Spirit Tree and started hacking at it.
Kieeek! Kiek! CRAAACK! THUD!
Clubs, axes, swords—everything smashed against the trunk.
Had they figured out the tree was the source of that blasted barrier?
Perfect time to bail, a logical voice said.
His stealth was up; the goblins were distracted. Easy getaway.
Yet he couldn’t move.
The tree—taller now, thicker—stood firm, taking every blow.
For a heartbeat, it looked exactly like his father:
solid, unyielding, shielding him.
Dad…
Maybe, just maybe, Dad was in that tree—the barrier, the guiding pine needle, the way the monsters’ attention was locked on it… all his father’s will?
If so, those goblins were beating on his father’s grave, his headstone, his urn—everything at once.
Those… sons of bitches.
Anger flared white-hot, burning off the alcohol haze.
He clenched the club so hard his knuckles cracked.
Logic whispered Run.
Emotion roared Fight.
‘Can I stop them?’
He’d labeled escape as “practical”; now he ran the math again.
Goblins: F-rank, eight of them, armed.
Him: also F-rank, but green as grass and outnumbered.
Same rank doesn’t mean equal, he knew—just like weight class doesn’t make a newbie equal to a pro fighter. Odds were ugly.
Unless… he upped his own class.
The idea clicked, and he wheeled back into the cellar.
No glowing needle this time, just darkness—but his eyes had adjusted, and the thistle liquor had nearly closed his wounds. He could jog now.
If an E-rank brew healed me like that…
He stopped in front of the big jar he’d eyed earlier.
【S】 Bellflower Root Liquor
Aged 20 years, brewed with a 133-year-old root.
Superb for respiratory healing and immune boost.
Effect scales with dose; overuse causes side effects.
*Permanent Strength ↑*
*Permanent Spirit ↑*
*Permanent Agility ↑*
Permanent stat boosts—exactly what he needed.
Side effects? He didn’t have time to care.
He yanked the lid, hefted the jar, and chugged.
Gulp—
One mouthful felt like swallowing liquid fire. A migraine thundered in instantly.
Definitely stronger than at the memorial, he thought, eyes watering.
Way nastier than the thistle stuff.
His stomach heaved—he nearly spewed—but forced it down and drank again. Effects scaled with dose.
Gulp, gulp.
Head splitting, throat blazing, every nerve alight—yet power flooded in with the pain.
And the system chimed:
[Permanent stat increase applied!]
Strength +2
Spirit +2
Agility +2
Raw fire coursed through his veins, but he was stronger—he could feel it.
[Strength +20!]
[Spirit +20!]
[Agility +20!]
【F】 Naturalist (90 / 100)
STR 25 SPR 25
AGI 25 FOC 5
END 5 RES 5
With stats like this…
Byungha finally got how rank and stats were tied together.
90 was his total stat points, 100 the target.
Hit 100 and an F-rank would graduate to E-rank.
Right now, he was an F teetering on the edge of E.
Close enough to go toe-to-toe with F-rank goblins, right?
He wanted one more swig to push himself over the line, but another drop and he’d pass out cold.
So he grabbed the club and limped back outside.
The goblins were still hacking at the Spirit Tree; branches were cracked, bark split—Dad’s tree was taking a beating.
Byungha’s vision went red.
“Huff… huff… You bastards!”
He’d never liked drinking—the way it dulled his reasoning.
Tonight, that dullness helped; the hole in his logic filled with raw anger and reckless courage.
Teeth chattering with fear, he charged.
WHOOSH!
Every step, every squeeze of the club lit up muscles he’d never felt before.
[Wood-Element Affinity]
Your wooden weapon is empowered!
All that power funneled into one wild swing—
CRACK! SPLAT!
Sneak attack landed. A goblin didn’t even squeal—its skull caved in and it dropped, stone-dead.
Proof he now matched their weight class—but proof, too, that weight class isn’t everything.
He staggered; the club felt weird in his hands. Too much force, no balance.
The goblins, on the other hand, were born brawlers.
KIIIK!
Thud! Thud!
“Agh!”
An axe skimmed his shoulder—he’d barely jerked aside in time.
If he hadn’t boosted Agility with that bellflower brew, his head would be split.
Swish—
“Ghh!”
A sword caught his side—just a graze; the booze-fueled frenzy kept the pain distant.
[Bleeding stopped!]
[Natural healing in progress!]
The thistle liquor was doing overtime—cuts sealed almost as fast as they opened.
The goblins closed, blades and axes flashing; arrows zipped from the archer in back, thunking into his arm, grazing his shoulder.
“DIE, YOU—!”
CRUNCH!
Byungha answered with kill shots: every swing pulped a head, snapped a spine.
“Hah—hah!
Die, you motherf— die!”
WHOMP! SPLAT!
By the time his body was shredded, seven arrows stuck in him like pins, and his clothes were ribbons—five goblins lay mangled in the dirt.