The S-Classes That I Raised-Chapter 782: Waves and Waves (2)

“Sinking fragments of spring.”

Light spilled from the signboard. Bright beams glowed through shop windows and strings of windows. Though this was the City of Dreams, where only faint forms of dreamers drifted like ghosts, the dazzling nightscape was indistinguishable from reality. Music wafted in from somewhere. White-clad nonhumans swayed and danced to the tune like fluttering cloth.

This fish snack is tasty.

A long fingernail prodded a street vendor’s carp-shaped pastry and lifted it up. A dreamer—unable to see the subordinates—poured the batter into the mold with practiced ease. Attracted by the delicious aroma, another subordinate slinked forward. On the wide-open road, a humanoid subordinate was yanking a motorcycle back and forth.

“It seems you insert the key here to start it.”

We had something similar back home.

“Wheels are used by most civilizations.”

How long has it been since I saw a world this lifelike?

The subordinates were Awakened contracted by Transcendents from various worlds. It was said that when a world neared destruction, those with abilities too precious to be swallowed by the Root were rescued by contract.

In truth, that wasn’t quite accurate. Few subordinates possessed truly useful skills. Unless a skill was special enough to benefit even Transcendents, they tended to remain mere attendants. They were companionship for lonely Transcendents who’d left their home worlds—nothing more for most.

I heard that System Creators could turn past worlds into dungeons that feel real.

“We should’ve signed only after checking the Transcendent’s stats. We were too naive when contracting.”

“You talk as if you had a choice.”

Klik, skreee

Still, not every Transcendent fails to secure their own realm. Otherwise they’d be nothing but prisoners clinging to life.

“They say the Gardener’s Garden rivals a nation in scale.”

As one of the oldest Transcendents, that made sense. Yet I’d never heard the Gardener kept subordinates—except for a stranger who’d just appeared.

At that moment, pad-deuk, a black-winged dragonkin subordinate alighted on a streetlamp. Its gaze swept downward. Other subordinates turned their heads too. In the hush that fell, silent footsteps echoed. Each step made the blue-feathered ornament on their helm sway.

One pair of eyes staring at Han Yuhyun narrowed. A human of this dream-world yet strikingly like the Gardener’s subordinate. A few black butterflies fluttered around Yuhyun. The shop-window light overlaid him, stretching his shadow long against the pavement.

Gr-r-r, someone growled low. The subordinates’ skills began flickering back online, as if the system reactivated them. Most were at least S-rank, many SS. Their stats neared or met SS standards. By comparison, Yuhyun’s own rank was only S.

Yet no one dared approach him. Not merely because they recognized the Gardener’s subordinate’s status, but because an instinctual warning prickled at their skin. There was no reason to extend a hand.

[Message from Han Yujin]

A text blinked at the edge of Yuhyun’s vision—a message blocked, yet still arriving. Even knowing it was cut off, Yujin sent messages now and then. Yuhyun hadn’t opened them, but he guessed their content:

‘...Dinner.’

A caring reminder to eat. Though Yuhyun had left him and tried to stop him, Yujin remained the same. If he delayed further, another message—“sleep well”—would surely come. He kept walking. Light mottled across his path and vanished in turns. Then he halted before a shop with tables and chairs outdoors. Yuhyun sat. Rin scurried over and perched atop the table, flicking his tail.

Rustle. Yuhyun took out an instant meal from his inventory. He felt no hunger. What spurred him onward was Yujin. He snapped off a piece of the bar-shaped snack and popped it in his mouth. Rin leapt onto Yuhyun’s hand at once. Then—with a thud—a bottle of water appeared on the table. Yuhyun slowly raised his head. A familiar face came into view.

“.......”

“You have to look after your brother.”

Yuhyun spoke. One living person was needed, and he must remain safe—for Yujin’s sake.

“Move farther away, toward City Hall or Gwanghwamun.”

Their eyes met with near-indifference. Yuhyun was telling himself to back off. He said nothing in reply but understood. Without waiting, he turned away. He vanished a moment later. A red lizard circled on the empty white palm.

‘What I must do—’

Was to bring my brother back home safely. Nothing else mattered. Still, uncertainty flickered in Yuhyun’s eyes. His gaze drifted to the water bottle. It brimmed calmly, reflecting the streetlamp’s glow.

Though his goal was clear, he felt lost. A black butterfly ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) alighted on the bottle, folding and unfolding its wings.

[Your place is vanishing.]

The butterfly whispered.

[You’ve been pushed from your post of protecting what’s precious.]

Yuhyun’s fingertip trembled on the table. Rin, trembling with foreboding, bit the butterfly’s wing. The black moth crumbled into fragments, then rose again to flutter around him.

[Even if you die and dissolve, you’ll remain in the heart. Always the first.]

Such is human nature. Yuhyun closed his eyes.

Light glittered above and below the surface. Despite being flooded, electricity still powered every lit building. The nightscape swayed with the water— indescribably beautiful, yet tinged with sorrow.

“Those must all be people working late.”

Even the residential blocks stayed lit. The same held for the commercial district. This dream-world mirrored reality—proof that people burned the midnight oil down below.

“Sesung Guild’s bright too.”

“Dungeons don’t observe day or night. Large guilds run twenty-four-sevens.”

The Sesung Guildmaster, clad only in a light shirt despite the cold, spoke aloud. Haeyeon had shift work too. A guild left dark overnight would unsettle citizens—they’d feel safer knowing upper Hunters were alert.

“Director Song, go inside and sleep.”

Song Taewon, checking his gear at the table, gave a brief shake of his head.

“I’m fine. Han Yujin, you should rest instead. No need to stay out.”

“You can’t pull all-nighters just because you’re S-rank. I closed my eyes for a bit.”

I’d told Yerim—young and exhausted—to sleep soundly without shifts.

“I doubt I’ll sleep.”

“Something on your mind?”

Slouching on the table piled with gear, I looked at Director Song. His lowered dark eyes quietly avoided mine.

“I’ll have to confront the Gardener. I need to reclaim Yuhyun.”

“...I don’t know.”

Song exhaled.

“Even if I learn the Gardener’s full truth about me, what good would it do?”

“Hm. Maybe it’s just the journey you want—for yourself.”

“I want Hunter Seong Hyunjae to be safe.”

“Should I look grateful?”

Song ignored me.

“And I hope he causes no trouble.”

“Right, Seong Hyunjae should behave himself.”

“I also hope Hunter Han Yujin stays safe and causes no trouble.”

I wasn’t surprised—expected it.

“Don’t worry. Once this is over, I’ll live quietly. Maybe when Yuhyun says, ‘Brother, want to hit a dungeon again?’ I’ll reply.”

Song didn’t believe me. But it was true. I loved to goof off. I could for the rest of my life.

“Everyone else feels the same. ...That’s all.”

Song pressed his lips together. He seemed to hold deeper thoughts but said nothing. I stretched my arms.

“By dawn, most subordinates will have regained their skills. We’d planned to protect Sigma, but that’s no longer needed.”

Hyuna unnie would handle Sigma.

“No need to worry if Seong Hyunjae dies.”

“How cold. You worry about Song Taewon, but not me?”

“Wish for what you wish.”

“Han Yujin is unusually soft for Song Taewon.”

“Of course. It’s like leaving a troublemaker with a parent—”

Yerim interjected, but I couldn’t raise my head at her mention of Yuhyun’s antics in front of Song. He’d played a big part in Yujin’s safety—without that, Yuhyun wouldn’t have dared a dungeon. Yet my kid caused so much trouble... how could I not feel weak? I bowed my head unconsciously.

“I’ve done my share, too. But Seong Hyunjae’s no saint. Heard Soyeong had a few slashes.”

“Fortunately, Soyeong never cut off anyone’s arm. Nor trespassed guilds illegally.”

Song looked at Seong Hyunjae as if to say more, then sighed instead. You’ve caused three times the trouble my brother has, but still—

“Anyway, Yuhyun will try to grab me again. He’ll tell other subordinates that the pseudo-Root is the goal.”

I gazed at the water’s glinting surface.

“There aren’t many water-manipulating subordinates. It’s best to hold here.”

“But we can’t use Skills in that water.”

Only those with the same attribute—or like Yerim, those acknowledged by the Mermaid Queen—could remain free in water that consumed others’ Skills. Even if I supported her, I couldn’t shift it all onto Yerim.

“No word from the rookies... Hayul.”

[Yes, Brother!]

“Any new intel?”

[Nothing yet. The sky’s clear—no lightning. But the Breaker Guildmaster reached out to us!]

“Hyuna unnie? For what?”

[She said it’s a secret. Should I tell you?]

I pondered a moment.

“Then don’t. First things first—protect what needs protecting.”

If I knew, word might slip to Yuhyun, and he had the Gardener behind him. My lips weren’t loose, but Yuhyun was the stakes.

“For now, focus on defeating the subordinates.”

If we cut off their limbs, the Transcendents will act. The Gardener will reach out directly. I glanced again at the still-blocked message window. Maybe both of them would appear.

Night passed quietly. The moon lingered; the sun never rose, yet the world brightened. White clouds drifted lazily across a deep-blue sky and water. A beautiful day, yet—

“I wish it had rained.”

I set toast from the staff-lounge toaster on the table. If it had rained, Yerim—maybe Hayul with lightning—could’ve helped, and Yuhyun’s Skills would’ve faltered. Perfect.

“Hayul oppa can’t change the weather?”

“He says he can’t. He just rides along with whatever’s there.”

[That’s an extremely difficult thing!]

“Yerim eats clean to the crust. Soon she’ll hit forty and still picky.”

Seong Hyunjae tore his toast elegantly, ignoring me completely. Used to complain; now he just snubbed me.

“Liet, still no comment?”

“Nah. Not enough meat here.”

Liet muttered, piling ham from the fridge. Director Song plated his tenth fried egg. The kitchen in this flooded dream-guild was impressively outfitted—tools, ingredients—enough to live here. Separate cooking area, multiple sleeping rooms.

“Mister, you’d better hide and eat cookies. Han Yuhyun... he’s trying to erase memories, right?”

Yerim, still unsure what to call pre-regression Yuhyun, asked.

“If push comes to shove, I’ll buff you twice, right? With you here, Yuhyun can’t easily grab me.”

I wondered how many subordinates there were. Maybe I’d need double buffs. After breakfast, we headed back to the rooftop garden. The view remained serene—and eerily quiet.

“They’re late,” Yerim said, sitting on the railing. Indeed—time to—

Gu-gu-goong—

The air vibrated as if announcing their arrival. The sky trembled. Yerim sprang up. Peace bristled and matured.

“Mister, something’s off!”

Mana pulsed violently all around. Not a subordinate-level power. Before we could form a plan—

Kwoa-gwa-gwa-gwa!

From afar, water surged skyward. A towering wall of water rose and began to cascade down.