Pressing buttons in a specific order, or grabbing and protecting a core that generates the Corrosion Zone—things like that, with special rules attached. All of that gets lumped together under the term "gimmick."
Originally, the word gimmick is used differently overseas, but in Korea it's a term you see in boss raid strategy guides for games.
And since hunting Corrosion Zones is a field led by Korea, the rest of the world has come to use the word gimmick in the same Korean sense, limited specifically to eliminating Corrosion Zones.
A Rank 2 might exist, or it might not. But from Rank 1 upward, they always exist—that was Han Sang-ah's explanation.
"You didn't graduate from the Academy, sure, but you should've had a guide on your phone."
"You mean that 1,500-page one? I read it. I just didn't memorize it."
Seriously, if I had the talent to read something like that and store it all in my head, I'd have taken the civil service exam and become a Grade-5 official by now.
Anyway, engraving Han Sang-ah's advice into my mind, I threw myself into the hole leading to the Corrosion Zone.
The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by that tragic thing she'd mentioned—the so-called gimmick.
"What the hell is this?"
On the back of my hand, like a tattoo, were the pips of a die. And that tattoo wasn't still—it rolled around on my hand as if alive, periodically changing to a different number.
"So what, exactly, am I supposed to do with this?"
Right on cue, monsters appeared in front of me, as if they'd been waiting.
"Quite the stunning appearances you've got."
At their core, they were corpses. Corpses with chonmage—that samurai-style half-shaved hairstyle—wearing men's kimonos soaked and dripping with the fluids of decay, advancing toward me with swords gripped in both hands.
"And what's with the teeth? You should've laid off the candy."
Inside their gaping mouths were rows of teeth stained pitch black.
Setting aside their bizarre outfits for the moment, there were numbers floating above their heads. I had a rough idea of what I was supposed to do. If this was a gimmick, it was a pretty straightforward one.
To test my theory, I deliberately stabbed the chest of a monster with a floating 6 when the number on the back of my hand read 3.
The spear passed straight through its body, as if it hadn't hit anything at all.
"So it's a matching game."
Unless I attacked when the numbers matched, I couldn't deal any effective damage. On the other hand…
When I raised my spear to block the creature's counterattack, the impact came through loud and clear.
"What a shamelessly one-sided setup."
Looks like I was the only one who had to play by the numbers. The loneliness really cut to the bone.
"Yeah, no way I can burn this."
With the Corrosion Zone's gimmick in play, I had no idea how intense Paradox Flame would need to be before it could burn through it.
I'd burned just about everything at one point or another, excluding blunt concepts like time and space—so did that mean this gimmick was something on that level? A concept that hard to burn?
"Fine. Come at me."
About five corpse samurai, gripping their katanas, crept closer before suddenly charging with shrill screeches.
"…Honestly, this is kind of a blessing in disguise."
If I'd come in unprepared, this would've been a nightmare. If the number on my wrist didn't match the number above their heads, I couldn't even attack, which meant I couldn't easily set Paradox Flame on them either.
If I hadn't reinforced my blood vessels until they were tight and resilient during my fight with that Taekwondo-piercing girl—Kim Ji-hyun, was it?—I'd probably have had to brace myself for being half-dead by now.
"Even as corpses, you sure know how to use a sword."
I'd already timed it. The number on my arm changed every fifteen seconds. The numbers above the heads of those half-shaved samurai changed every three seconds.
"Got one."
Clack. The spear tip, blazing with Paradox Flame, struck the shoulder of a monster whose number matched mine. The number changed soon after, but the flame didn't go out—it kept burning.
So once an attack counted as effective, any additional effects chained off it continued. Makes sense. Otherwise, every time the die rolled, wounds would just magically heal.
"Well, at least you've got the bare minimum of a conscience… thank God!"
At this point, smashing five corpses was no real challenge, so they were destroyed in moments.
Crunch. A kick tore a corpse's head clean off, and flames clung to the remaining body as it collapsed. In the meantime, I fixed my gaze on the massive Japanese-style castle visible in the distance.
"How many floors does that thing have?"
It looked absurdly far away, yet it was still clearly visible from here.
It was exactly what came to mind when you thought of a Japanese castle—masked perverts running around pretending to be ninjas on the rooftops, and women with faces painted white plucking away at shamisen…
"What do you call those again? Flatland castles?"
I vaguely remembered hearing the term somewhere.
"There is a fast and easy way to handle this, even if it costs me a lot."
I could grab a large rock nearby, coat it in Paradox Flame, and hurl it at the castle. At my current output, I could even set durability itself on fire.
After that, I wouldn't control it. Paradox Flame would spread like a forest fire, burning down the enormous castle and every scrap of durability inside this Corrosion Zone.
The corpses' flesh and organs would melt and slough off like ice cream left out on a summer day, and their bones would snap in the gentlest breeze.
Everything about that plan sounded great… except that once Paradox Flame grew into a blaze that massive, I'd never be able to control it.
Without control, it wouldn't choose what to burn—it would burn everything.
"I might end up charged with public indecency."
The only thing uncontrolled Paradox Flame wouldn't burn was its owner—me. Which meant everything I was wearing and carrying, including my spear and the shoulder guard I'd been gifted, would lose all their durability and burn away.
"There's no reason to do that right now."
Sure, most of my equipment was just tough and had no other redeeming qualities… but these gloves were a waste to lose.
And that wasn't all.
"The rewards that are supposed to be mine for clearing the Corrosion Zone would probably burn too."
Even if I succeeded in destroying the zone, if all the durability inside it was already on fire, the Paradox Flame would jump to my rewards in an instant.
"…If there's truly no other way, I'll use it then."
The easy and convenient solution would cost me far too much.
"That's how easy roads usually are."
A Rank 3 Corrosion Zone was small enough that even if you burned things like vitality, Paradox Flame would spread just fine. But this place was far too vast to start a wildfire by burning concepts limited only to living, moving things—like vitality or physical strength.
It felt about the size of Ganghwa Island.
With a casual motion, I slung my spear over my shoulder and headed toward the castle.
"…"
Surprisingly, there weren't many monsters along the way. Even more surprising—the inside of the castle was completely empty. No sounds. Nothing visible.
If none of my five senses were picking anything up, then at this level of Corrosion Zone, that meant the castle was genuinely deserted.
"So that hooded military guy wasn't lying."
Looks like he really had succeeded in controlling this Corrosion Zone. Did he drag all the monsters inside out and use them to attack Japan?
Otherwise, it made no sense for there to be no monsters guarding the place. I sprinted through the castle and quickly reached the top.
When I slid open the door, I saw an old man kneeling in armor amid the flickering light of a few candles. A helmet lay set aside beside his knee.
Maru-do-yoroi, was it? In Korean, it was called Hwandonggae. Nothing particularly special—just the kind of extravagantly ornate armor people picture when they think of Japanese armor.
"Well now, old man. In the middle of the night, where did all the kids go, leaving you alone to guard the house?"
On top of that, he was wearing something like a dog collar—a choker—around his neck. It was clearly enchanted, and the design was unmistakably alien.
The structure was ridiculously complex. I couldn't even tell how it worked. Was this something the so-called descendants of Dangun had fitted onto him to control the Corrosion Zone?
"Who are you?"
Unlike the others, his voice was perfectly human. Still, it sounded heavy and dark. Not surprising, given the situation—anyone wearing a dog collar like that would sound the same.
In front of where the old man sat was a square hearth dug into the floor.
"I was wondering what you did with the people you took. So this is it."
A cauldron nearly the size of two oil drums sat atop the hearth, bubbling violently from the heat. Seeing human legs and heads sticking out over the rim made my stomach churn.
"Human sacrifice."
Unlike the collar around the core's neck, I could analyze this thing's purpose instantly. And it was well made, too.
"So when you toss people in, the corpses sleeping in this giant grave rise up, huh?"
"Corpses? They are loyal retainers who died fighting for me—and swore to serve me even in death."
Watching the old man rise from his seat, I replied with a mocking tone.
"Then let's call them loyal retainer corpses. Satisfied? Serving their master with a dog collar even after death—what a pitiful lot."
He listened quietly, then stood, tucking the helmet under his arm. At that moment, I felt his malice crash over me, pressing down on my entire body.
"Draw your weapon. Your insolence will become rust upon my blade."
I immediately wiped the playful look off my face.
This was no joke. And this was supposed to be the core of a Rank 2 Corrosion Zone? The threat was intense enough to make my hair stand on end.
This bastard was the real deal.
"They managed to subdue someone like this alive and put a collar on him?"
That hooded guy didn't have anywhere near this level of skill. Killing him, maybe. But capturing him alive? That was a different story.
That hooded archer was absolutely not that strong. Unless you were talking about me from twenty years ago.
"For insult—death."
There was no number floating above his head. Which meant the gimmick didn't apply to him.
"Shut up and draw your sword."
My reply this time was flat and humorless as I adjusted my stance.
"So be it."
As he reached for his helmet, I launched my attack.
"Kh—!"
My spear strike was blocked by the sword he drew in an instant—and then the spear was knocked aside as if it had been struck by something else entirely.
"A man ignorant of honor."
Black energy flowed down his blade like mist. At the same time, faint hallucinations echoed in my ears—the crying of children, the roar of flames, the creaking collapse of buildings.
This fight required everything I had. Even then, survival wasn't guaranteed. Honestly, I felt like I might die.
"Receive this blade."
The instant he finished speaking, his sword was already in front of me.
With that level of skill and strength, this attack should've chained into at least eight strikes in the blink of an eye. I coated my spear with Paradox Flame and braced myself.
First strike. I managed to deflect it, but the impact still rippled through my body.
Second strike. I blocked again, my hand trembling from the shock transmitted through the spear.
Third strike. I dodged, but my posture collapsed. I expected the critical moment to come here.
The fourth was coming. In this broken stance, there was no way I could block it.
Grinding my teeth, I imagined the flow of the battle to come. If I couldn't deflect it, I'd at least reduce the impact.
"…?"
But the attack was simple. Laughably, absurdly stupid.
I threw myself aside, and with a ripping sound, the pressure of his sword swept through the space I'd been standing in. I dodged it with ridiculous ease.
Fast. Strong. And that was it.
There was no follow-up. No chained attacks. Even the initial strike was so simple it made me wonder if I'd missed something.
That couldn't be right…
"Not bad."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"What exactly are you trying to pull with me right now?"
Five more exchanges followed.
"Don't tell me—senile dementia? What are you?"
At first, I thought maybe he was deliberately holding back. But no matter how I looked at it, that wasn't the case.
"…In the process of being revived, much of my memory from life was lost."
"I see."
Only then did I finally find a bit of breathing room.