4.

When he had nine Legendary achievements and was just one away from ten, Kim Buja had wondered.

'Why isn't there an achievement for equipping a Legendary item?'

It seemed like the most basic achievement imaginable. And it wasn't easy to get. An item worth trillions, one that the system decreed could only drop in high-tier dungeons with abysmal drop rates. Yet there was no achievement in equipping one. Of course, achievement systems varied from game to game, but it had always felt like a missed opportunity.

So he had stopped thinking about it, assuming such an achievement simply didn't exist.

When faced with the unexpected, people tend to panic. But when the unexpected is a good thing, the joy they feel is far greater than it should be.

"Woooow."

[You have completed the achievement: Legendary Accessory Set (L).]

He could look up the list of achievements if he wanted to. In fact, he often did when he was bored. But achievements of Special Grade or higher were all hidden, impossible to know about beforehand unless you worked your way up from the lower grades. Thus, he couldn't be certain if this opened the door to more achievements. He could only guess.

'There's probably an armor set, too. But since the weapon didn't trigger one, maybe there isn't one for that?'

He soon dismissed the thought. There were too many achievements to chase. Unless he was close to the next level-up bonus, he had decided to just let them accumulate naturally. He had been actively hunting for Legendary ones because of their powerful effects, but now he had even reached his goal.

There was nothing more to wish for. And yet, the completed achievement kept giving.

[Your Level has increased by 1.]

This was his second level-up from an achievement, after the one from the event. He opened his status window and saw he was now Level 9.

"Soon."

He remembered worrying about when he would ever escape the tutorial, wondering if he would be stuck for life as a Level 1 Sword Master like some third-rate fantasy protagonist. A wave of pride washed over him, mingled with a hint of disappointment.

'It would be nice if I could get a few more levels from a Gold Mission.'

He had acquired the cheat item that was the Starlight Ring, but during the stat-normalized international event, it would be nothing more than a shiny trinket. Raising his level by one and boosting his Gold Power would be far more helpful.

But there was still time. And the gifts from the Starlight Ring were too good to complain about.

[10 Legendary achievements are in your list. 'Legendary Achievement Effect Lv. 2' will be activated.]

▷ Legendary Achievement Effect Lv. 2

→ Additional Attack Power +4%

→ All Stats +2%

The number of Legendary achievements needed for the Level 3 effect had increased to twenty, a new bonus had been added, and another 2% had been tacked onto his 'Additional Attack Power' stat. It was an awe-inspiring reward. It was hard to dismiss it as "just 2%" when the effect was so overwhelming. Not one stat, but 'all' stats. Furthermore, it was a multiplicative bonus applied at the very end, after all his other stat boosts. He was slightly annoyed that it rounded down decimals, but the fact that five of his stats had already increased by one point each made him excited for the future.

"All that hard work chasing Legendary achievements paid off."

[You have completed the achievement: Ten Legends! (L).]

Finally, one last Legendary achievement to help him reach the next level. His shopping trip was a perfect success.

"Ah, I'm dying to go beat up some monsters in a dungeon right now, but our flight back is tomorrow morning, right? To celebrate getting a great item and still having $400 million left over, it's my treat. How about we go to the sauna?"

"Will you scrub my back?" Seora jokingly wondered.

"Is that all you want me to do?"

And so, their trip, disguised to attend an auction, was spent fruitfully before they returned home.

* * *

The atmosphere in the SJ Guild headquarters was heavier than words could describe.

No one could bring themselves to say it was okay. There was no excuse. There was no reason they should have lost.

The public was saying they were washed up, past their prime, that they were stagnating because they poured all their resources into Park Sijun. But in truth, the SJ Guild had grown more this past year than ever before. Promoting Park Sijun had been a strategy to solidify their guild's image based on that growth; engaging with casual players and the public was just as important as the exploits of their top rankers.

Of course, they knew other guilds were catching up. Skill equalization was inevitable, in games as in reality. In the end, what mattered was performance under pressure and the strength of your accumulated gear and stats. In that, SJ had been confident. That's why they had agreed to the unprecedented public qualifiers without a single objection.

They never dreamed they would be brought down by a single misstep. The mood was grim. The only one willing to break the silence with sharp criticism was Park Sijun.

"Ugh, you morons. The so-called number-one-ranked player of Korea can't even beat a tutorial player, and our top raid team loses to the third-ranked guild by a single floor after boasting that you could win by at least three. It's fucking embarrassing, you bastards. Why am I taking the heat for you? Is it my fault we got knocked out of the nationals? Fuck!"

Park Sijun had never cared much about the qualifiers or being the national representative. No matter how much SJ promoted him, there was no place for him in such a major event. All he could do was leech off the attention under the SJ banner. Now, because of their loss, he was the one taking the blame. The attacks from the fans of Shin Hyeseong and Shin Hyejeong—who had always been his allies but now wanted to deflect blame from their idols—stung the most.

Seizing the opportunity, he let his anger fly.

Yet the targets of his tirade—Shin Hyeseong, Shin Hyejeong, and the other rankers who disliked him—couldn't retort. They were high-level players who normally ignored him, refusing to give him the aristocratic treatment he expected. But the shock of their defeat was too great.

A loss that made no sense was the hardest to move on from. No matter how many times they replayed it, they could find no reason for their defeat.

"Everything was perfect," Shin Hyeseong muttered.

For him, who had competed in both the individual and team matches, the shock was twofold. His handsome face contorted.

"My condition was perfect for both matches. My performance was even better than usual. But I lost."

If not for the Jeong Cheol Guild, SJ would have emerged from the team match with a legendary video they could have used for years. Their defense of a position that was barely defensible had been so impressive they had considered formally asking the Jeong Cheol Guild for the footage.

And the individual match? Until the finals, everyone had been saying, "As expected of Shin Hyeseong." But he lost. In the finals, that praise was replaced with, "As expected of Kim Buja."

"Hmph."

Excuses were landmines that blocked progress. Admitting and correcting mistakes was the path to growth, and rankers like Shin Hyeseong normally had no pride preventing them from doing so. But he couldn't. Because he hadn't made any mistakes.

After long deliberation, he reached a conclusion—one he had probably known since the moment the qualifiers ended, but had refused to admit.

"The Jeong Cheol Guild is stronger than us."

This wasn't an admission of overall skill, as if they were now number one. Outside of an event, he still didn't believe they would lose. But within the confines of the event, SJ had been completely defeated—in strength and in technique.

The problem was the future. How would they overcome this? Guild rankings were ultimately decided by the annual event. No matter how good your gear, level, or stats were, if you couldn't perform when it counted, you were just a gear-carried scrub who couldn't play.

Shin Hyeseong gritted his teeth. His pride was immense. He was supposed to be aiming for Fly, yet he had crumbled before the wall of the national qualifiers. Kim Buja's words still echoed in his mind, a lifetime of regret, fanning the flames of his inferiority complex.

"If only it weren't for the class gap."

In the end, Shin Hyeseong said the one thing he shouldn't have. But Kim Buja had orchestrated the match to lead him to that very conclusion.

Having settled on a flawed analysis, Shin Hyeseong stood up. It wasn't entirely the wrong path. Setting a goal and striving for it was still a form of growth.

"Starting today, we're downgrading our gear for dungeons. The goal is to clear them with skill, not items."

It was a plausible solution. For players who already had sufficient stats and levels, honing their skills could give them the edge they needed next year. The members and staff of the SJ Guild nodded in agreement.

Without a single day of rest, the SJ Guild began its new regimen. They would break their habit of relying on items. The more gear you piled on, the duller your skills became. Their "Skill Over Gear" initiative had begun.

* * *

Kim Buja, filming a video to test the effects of the Starlight Ring, spoke to the camera.

"Do you know what's most important in a dungeon?"

As he spoke, he held up his hand, displaying the two brilliantly shining rings.

"Items and stats. Class and skill come second."

The two daggers materializing from his magic radiated a new level of power.

"Those of you who have watched my videos from the beginning know my clear speed keeps getting faster. The time spent is about the same, but the dungeon grade keeps rising. How? Skill? Yes, at first, I cleared them with skill. But that only works up to Epic grade. Once you hit Unique and Special, it gets tough."

His words were advice born from hard-won experience.

"What's the point of dodging every attack if your damage doesn't stick? I was lucky to have a good weapon from the start, but great skill is useless if your stats are so low you can't even pierce a monster's hide."

It was his core philosophy, a conclusion reached through innate talent and countless games.

"Of course, my own skill is good enough to cover a lot of ground. But ultimately, skill is just a metric for how much you can close a gap. When the difference is hopeless, you can win just by swinging blindly."

It was a direct refutation of the excuses he had seen people making in online communities for five years.

"Instead of trying to improve your skill with crappy items, put your organs up as collateral and buy good ones. A player's true skill is their items, their level, and their stats. Raw talent? You can practice your whole life and never get it. You have to be born with it."

Coincidentally, his video was uploaded just as the SJ Guild launched their new PR campaign to restore their public image.

* * *

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