Chapter 167

Chapter 167

Chapter 167 – Reorganization (4) Heinrich’s Law

This is a well-known principle, often referred to as the 1:29:300 rule, which serves as a stark warning against overlooking minor safety hazards.

According to this concept, before a catastrophic failure takes place, there are typically 300 minor anomalies and 29 smaller-scale incidents that occur beforehand. It teaches us that devastating events do not materialize out of thin air; rather, they are the culmination of a sequence where smaller, ignored issues continuously repeat themselves.

I exhaled a quiet sigh as I listened to the details of Kim Dabin’s briefing, before finally speaking up.

“So, this is the thirty-first incident of this nature, similar to what happened to Kim Myunghwan?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

There had already been over thirty documented clashes with creatures that proved completely impervious to conventional firearms, each resulting in severe casualties.

And just as the ratios in that safety law predicted, if we were to count every single minor encounter involving these firearm-resistant monsters, the total tally easily stretched into the hundreds.

This was an incredibly troubling omen.

Observing the grim expression on my face, the other leaders gathered around the conference table began trading uneasy glances.

Hoping to ease the suffocating tension in the room, I lowered my voice to a gentler register and asked a question.

“How can that be? If these high-threat monsters are lingering so close to our established safe zones, shouldn’t our vassals be hunting them down on a daily basis?”

Kim Dabin offered an explanation.

“The sole reason we haven’t suffered any deaths yet is due to the relentless efforts of the vassals. As more of our forces have been deployed to the front lines, the rate of serious mishaps has actually gone down, which is a major achievement.”

To put it plainly, without the constant intervention of the vassals, we would have been mourning fatalities a long time ago.

“…I still find it hard to comprehend. If these creatures were flagged as genuine threats, they should have been eradicated already.”

With the coordinated efforts of Seo Yejin, who was capable of conducting sweeping reconnaissance using her rats, and Yu Hangil, who utilized his farsight ability, we had systematically identified the most dangerous creatures. The rest of our vassals would then move in to intercept them, effectively purging the entire Seoul territory.

On top of that, when the Ice Dragon made its descent, it had frozen and shattered the smaller hordes of monsters, drastically lowering the overall danger index of the region.

Following those events, the vassals had been organized into systematic patrols to ensure any newly emerging high-threat targets were immediately neutralized.

Yet, despite all those precautions, it seemed our current measures were falling short.

“We believe this is happening because of the monster regen phenomenon.”

Monster regen.

This term described the way defeated monsters eventually respawned and reappeared in areas where they had already been slain.

It was a theory formulated after noting how monsters consistently returned to the wild zones beyond our secure borders, a pattern further validated by the accounts of survivors who had recently enlisted with us.

“But didn’t we previously reach a consensus that the monster regen phenomenon wasn’t a major cause for concern?”

In places like Busan or Ulsan, the vast majority of these respawn incidents only involved relatively weak creatures like orcs or goblins.

Because the entities that reappeared in the paths of the survivors were almost exclusively low-tier orcs, we hadn’t categorized the phenomenon as an imminent danger.

“However, when we conducted a side-by-side analysis of the recorded statistics, we identified a massive disparity between the situation in Busan and the one here in Seoul.”

“What kind of disparity?”

“The classification of monsters that respawn in these two territories is completely different.”

Kim Dabin projected the comparative data to illustrate her point.

“The beasts that manifest on the fringes of Busan are almost entirely goblins, with their strength averaging around level 13. In contrast, the average level of the regenerating monsters in Seoul sits around 35, and we are seeing far more elite, high-tier entities appearing on a regular basis.”

In other words.

“So you’re saying high-ranking monsters are actively respawning within Seoul?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what is happening.”

To put it in simpler terms, if Busan could be likened to a starter zone for low-level hunting, then Seoul was a grueling, high-level battleground.

It wasn’t a difficult concept to grasp.

‘I’ve known since the very beginning that the strength of the beasts here was on a different scale.’

The sheer presence of dozens of boss-tier creatures—something that was incredibly rare back in Busan—made the difference in difficulty obvious from the start.

‘Come to think of it, the concentration of powerful, high-level awakened individuals was also much greater here. Could there be an underlying link between the strength of the awakened and the caliber of the monsters that spawn?’

While I was lost in these calculations, Kim Dabin continued her explanation.

“Most alarming of all is the speed of the respawns. The monster regen cycle in Seoul is vastly accelerated compared to Busan. While it remains a working theory, it appears that every distinct territory has a predetermined cap on the level, density, and species of monsters allowed to exist within its borders.”

If her deduction held true…

“Then we are going to have to drastically overhaul our current strategy.”

Our grand design to push outward from Seoul and secure Gyeonggi Province was bound to end in disaster.

The original blueprint had been structured as follows:

By systematically purging the monster populations surrounding our hubs at Seoul Station and Sindorim Station, we intended to carve out a massive buffer zone.

The goal was to project our absolute control over Seoul, establishing it as a secure sanctuary that would allow survivors scattered across Gyeonggi Province to make their way to us safely.

To accomplish this, we had been aggressively sending out hunting squads composed of players level 30 and above to relentlessly thin out the monster ranks.

But if high-tier threats were just going to continuously respawn at this rapid pace?

‘Plan A is officially dead.’

In all honesty, it was a stroke of pure luck that we hadn’t lost anyone yet.

Given the volatile nature of the current landscape, it wouldn’t have been shocking if an entire squad had been wiped out without warning.

‘It would be far more practical to establish fortified outposts and deploy our titled vassals to construct secure territories, precisely the way we managed things in Seoul.’

This was Plan B.

Replicating the territorial expansion method we used in the capital on a national scale.

As I analyzed the logistics of the new approach and studied the map of the Korean peninsula, a sudden curiosity struck me.

“Now that I think about it, why was the situation in Ulsan so different?”

Following the downfall of the vampire king, Jinjo, we began receiving reports of monster regens in Ulsan as well.

Prior to his defeat, however, the only entities inhabiting Ulsan were vampires.

It was to the point where the general public of survivors didn’t even realize other types of monsters existed there.

“If the strength and population of monsters are hardcoded into each region, shouldn’t we have seen high-level monsters spawning in Ulsan from the start?”

The vampire race possessed an incredibly high level of power.

This was especially true of Jinjo, who was a caliber of monster I had never seen matched in Seoul—with the sole exception of the Ice Dragon that came down from the northern territories.

“And yet, weren’t the monsters respawning in Ulsan after his fall identified as mere orcs and goblins? If Dabin’s theory is correct, shouldn’t vampires have been the ones regenerating there?”

“Well, about that…”

Kim Dabin paused to organize her thoughts before offering a tentative reply.

“Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you personally delivered judgment upon the vampires.”

She was most likely referring to my activation of the Divine Descendant skill.

In our initial clash, I had utilized that power to systematically subjugate the vampire forces, using the authority of the system to bind them.

‘But if I remember correctly, it was actually Oh Eon-ju who dealt the killing blows to clean them up.’

Suddenly, the memories of what transpired in the aftermath of that battle began to resurface.

‘Ah.’

After Jinjo was slain, a female vampire had come to seek him out.

She was a high-tier noble who had served directly under Jinjo’s command.

The crucial detail was that, during the climax of their dark ceremony, she had absorbed a volatile, sinister energy that had seeped out from Jinjo’s dying form.

Immediately after I put an end to that female vampire, a dense, dark miasma had seeped into the surrounding territory, rapidly condensing into an active dungeon.

‘It gave off such a highly volatile vibe that I made sure we cleared every trace of it the moment we located it.’

Once that dungeon was entirely purified, we unlocked the ability to generate a specialized instance dungeon modeled after the vampire faction.

‘If that entire sequence was actually the process of our system absorbing and integrating the vampire-related authority…’

Then it was perfectly logical that no additional vampires were spawning in Ulsan, a region that had once been completely overrun by them.

‘If this phenomenon is tied directly to the dungeons that naturally generate within our active territory…’

Then it also explained why the creatures roaming the outskirts of Busan were of such low caliber.

‘Our territory’s projection of power isn’t nearly as potent away from our primary stronghold.’

It was a somewhat frustrating realization.

‘If only our territorial range was wider…’

Our initiative to bring the survivors of Gyeonggi Province under our wing would have progressed much faster.

Suddenly, another piece of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind.

‘…Now I remember.’

Ever since the crisis with the Ice Dragon, he had been so consumed with resolving the immediate fallout and restructuring their forces that this particular matter had slipped his mind entirely.

‘…I need to pay a visit to the main house.’

On the rugged slopes of Seunghaksan, situated right alongside the flowing waters of the Nakdong River.

There stood an imposing dungeon portal, rising 5 meters in height and stretching 3 meters across.

A figure stepped through the swirling energy of the exit.

“Phew.”

Kim Donghyuk, who also happened to be the father of Kim Jaehyun, had been pushed to his absolute limits lately.

His primary responsibility of late involved traversing the various districts of Busan to systematically clear out active dungeons.

The dungeons he was tasked with tackling were far from ordinary, boasting exceptionally high difficulty ratings.

Fortunately, thanks to the stat-boosting benefits provided by the citizens’ support and his own bloodline traits, his combat attributes were scaled to their absolute limits, making the actual hunting process manageable.

With a single punch or a devastating kick, the majority of the beasts he faced were easily put down.

Hummmmm—

The portal that had just deposited Kim Donghyuk back into the real world began to flicker unsteadily before dissolving into thin air like a fading illusion.

“So this sector is officially cleared as well… I can finally take a breather.”

He shook his head slowly, thoroughly exhausted as he watched the portal vanish.

Just a short while ago, he had been fighting inside a literal fortress of the damned.

The sheer volume of hostile entities pouring out of that single dungeon numbered in the tens of thousands.

It was a grim, terrifying environment, packed to the brim with skeletal infantry wielding rusted swords, spears, and longbows, alongside spectral entities that wailed without pause. Even the lowest-ranking grunts in that place possessed levels hovering in the late 30s and early 40s—it was an incredibly high-tier dungeon.

To make matters worse, the ultimate adversary of the zone, a formidable ‘Death Knight,’ was a level 55 monster that posed an extreme threat to anyone who entered.

‘If those creatures had managed to break past the portal, it would have resulted in an absolute slaughter.’

Even with his monstrous physical stats, it had taken him over ten days of continuous, grinding warfare to completely subdue the zone.

The only saving grace was that the system only required him to clear the instance four times.

After more than a month of ceaseless, grueling combat, the threat of the dungeon was finally extinguished.

‘I assured my son that everything would be fine, but in this world, you can never take safety for granted.’

If Kim Jaehyun was truly certain of his own security, he would have never requested his father to step in and clear out such exceptionally high-risk zones in the first place.

‘After all, caution is always the best policy.’

Kim Donghyuk slowly began his descent down the mountain trail.

‘I am incredibly tired.’

The oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon had made it impossible to get any decent sleep.

Having been confined to that bleak, hostile environment for ten consecutive days, the accumulated fatigue was weighing heavily on his shoulders.

At this point, he was moving forward purely on sheer stubbornness.

However, the moment he stepped into the parking area, it felt as though all of his physical exhaustion suddenly evaporated.

“Heh, heh, heh.”

Parked right ahead of him was a pristine supercar.

With his current standing, he could easily purchase a fleet of ten such vehicles without breaking a sweat.

Finances were no longer a concern for him.

When you spent your days systematically hunting high-tier monsters, running low on funds was virtually impossible.

All he needed to do was have his son use his abilities to restore a supercar to perfect condition and register it through the specialized shop, and he could acquire it immediately.

‘Even if my body is screaming for rest, I have to take this beauty out for a spin. I’ve been waiting far too long for this, haven’t I?’

Though the car’s exterior was coated in dust and grime after being left unattended for ten days while he was trapped in the dungeon, it didn’t dampen his spirits.

‘A quick wash will fix this right up!’

He retrieved his car-cleaning gear from the rear compartment and set to work, scrubbing down the body panels with practiced, efficient movements.

“La, la, la—♪ Hmm, hm, hum ♪”

As he hummed a cheerful tune, watching the metallic paint begin to gleam under his cloth, a voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Dad. It has been a while.”

It was his son.

“Oh? Jaehyun? What brings you all the way out here…?”

“I just wanted to drop by and see how you were doing.”

“Ah, is that so?”

While seeing his son’s face brought a smile to his lips, an instinctive trace of apprehension crept into his chest.

Based on past experience, whenever his son went out of his way to seek him out like this, it almost always signaled that he had a complex or serious matter to discuss.

“Would you like some help with the car?”

“Hmm? You’re offering?”

“Haha, I figured you must be completely exhausted after clearing that zone…”

Right at that moment.

Whoosh—

Moisture rapidly condensed in the open air, and a creature with an elongated, serpentine form materialized above them.

Instantly, Kim Donghyuk’s gaze turned razor-sharp, and his physical form was reflexively shrouded in a dense layer of protective energy.

“Dad, calm down. That isn’t a hostile monster.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

And then.

Whoooooosh—! Splash!

The summoned entity hovering in the air began to unleash a controlled torrent of clean water, completing the entire washing process in a matter of moments.

Shortly after.

“What do you think? It’s spotless now!”

Kim Donghyuk could only offer a slow nod in response to his son’s self-satisfied grin.

“Yes, indeed. Excellent work.”

Right then, his son’s expression shifted, and he spoke.

“Dad. There is something I need to ask you.”

“…”

It was an expression Kim Donghyuk recognized instantly.

The exact same look his son wore whenever he was about to propose an incredibly difficult or delicate arrangement.

“Have you and Mom ever given any thought to relocating to Seoul?”