Game 22: The Mask, the Tiger, and the Barrier
The tiger growled. Not a simple growl either, this was the kind that rattled glass, shook stomachs, and made even the bravest idiots wish they were home sipping hot soup instead of staring into a pair of gold-lit predator eyes. Kim Roji shivered so badly her knees almost gave out. She pressed her lips together, then forced a smile that looked like someone about to faint at their own birthday party.
"O-okay, okay! I'll give it to you, alright? Don't eat me!"
Her hands fumbled with the straps of her bag. The leather sack rattled with the clink of relic fragments and odd trinkets. She yanked out scrolls, gems, and what looked suspiciously like a bag of roasted chestnuts, before finally pulling out a gleaming mask. It was the kind of mask that made you wonder if putting it on would grant immortality or just suffocate you in three minutes.
The system pinged the instant it touched the air.
> [ You have obtained: Mask of Tutankhamun – Replica Creation. ]
Han Tae-yang's expression relaxed, just a little. He rolled the mask in his hands, weighing its history, its worth, and its potential resale value on some shady black market. But mostly, his brain was already racing three steps ahead.
Excellent. With this, I can get the second creation.
His lips curled in satisfaction, though inside his chest, his heart was pounding. Another piece of the puzzle. Another shard of his plan. Another cheat code disguised as archaeology.
Kim Roji tilted her head, curiosity nibbling at her fear. "Wait… are you aiming for the Great Eastern Map?"
That line hit him like a frying pan. His eyes widened.
"Oh, right." Tae-yang smacked his forehead, the sound echoing like a cheap slapstick gag. "I almost forgot about it."
Inside, his thoughts spiraled. How could I almost forget the map? The one thing that points straight to treasure, mazes, ruin-locations… Did my gamer brain just lag?
He turned to her with a casual wave, pretending nothing happened. "Don't worry about that."
Roji blinked. She'd just handed over her life-saving trump card, and he was treating it like he misplaced his house keys.
Tae-yang ignored her wounded pride and instead crouched beside the towering tiger. The beast's fur shimmered like rippling ink strokes, its body still half between painting and flesh. Its breath steamed hot enough to curl dust motes in the air. Tae-yang patted its massive head as if it were nothing more than a housecat begging for tuna.
"Listen, big guy. Don't let anyone pass. This whole place is lockdown mode now."
The tiger growled again, lower this time, like a car engine revving under his palm. The command was set. This beast wasn't just muscle, it was authority, a walking deterrent, the kind of thing that made would-be thieves suddenly remember urgent dentist appointments.
Tae-yang straightened, eyes sweeping across the hall of the National Museum. The once-pristine exhibition space now resembled a battlefield staged by overenthusiastic LARPers. Statues cracked. Glass displays shattered. The ceiling lights flickered, struggling against the mana surge that turned every relic into something alive and dangerous.
He thought, Good. The preparations are complete.
At the far end of the chamber, a barrier shimmered, translucent blue, shaped like a curved wall of water frozen mid-wave. Its glow lit up fragments of pottery and half-broken sarcophagi. The barrier blocked the entrance to the inner antiques room, where the true prizes waited. And standing in front of it like a stubborn gatekeeper was Park Min-jae.
The old man's robes fluttered faintly, though there was no wind. Sparks still clung to his fingertips from his earlier lightning display. His posture was calm, but his eyes weren't. He was staring not at the barrier, but at Tae-yang.
Beside him, Roji hung her head, still shaken.
Min-jae's voice was slow, heavy. "Kim Roji… why did this happen?"
She swallowed hard. Her fingers clenched the hem of her tunic, and her lips parted as if to explain, but words tangled in her throat.
Han Tae-yang stepped forward, silent, studying the barrier. His brows furrowed, his mind turning gears as if everything else were muted. For a moment, his usual cocky grin was gone. He looked almost… pensive.
The old man narrowed his eyes. His expression darkened as a shadow crossed his face.
Who is this kid? Min-jae wondered. How did he even reach this far? Don't tell me… he actually defeated Roji to get here?
The thought unsettled him. Roji, despite her youth, carried ancient relics and guardians strong enough to overwhelm most adults. For this boy to dismantle her efforts so easily, no, so calmly, was something beyond strange. It was terrifying.
The silence thickened until Tae-yang finally broke it, his voice smooth, almost bored.
"I think this is a one-star barrier."
That snapped Min-jae's attention like a whip. "Oh? So you know of this."
He moved closer, his hand brushing against the shimmering surface. Mana sparked and hissed against his palm, pushing him back with invisible weight. His jaw tightened. "But this one is unusual. Neither magic nor physical force has any effect on it."
To demonstrate, he pressed harder. Lightning crackled from his fingertips, sizzling against the blue wall, but the barrier didn't even ripple. It absorbed his attack like water swallowing sparks. The effort left scorch marks on the marble floor instead.
"See?" he muttered. "No dent. No burn. Nothing."
Han Tae-yang listened quietly, then reached out himself. His palm pressed against the cold surface. He shut his eyes, shutting out noise, shutting out distraction. His breathing slowed.
Inside, he reached, not with strength, not with lightning, but with instinct. Years of gaming, years of fighting pixelated bosses with insane gimmicks. He wasn't just looking at a wall. He was feeling the flow behind it, tracing invisible lines like a hacker searching for backdoors.
A chill ran through his arm. He followed it deeper, sensing the ebb and surge of mana. Not random. Not chaotic. A pattern. Like veins in a leaf or tunnels in an anthill.
And then he felt it.
A point where the flow branched. The weak spot. The hinge of the whole construct.
His eyes flew open.
"Here it is."
He pulled his hand away and turned calmly to Min-jae, as if announcing where the bathroom was instead of discovering the flaw in a mythical barrier. His tone was steady, but his gaze was sharp.
"I think there's a way to destroy this," he said. Then he paused, letting the silence drag until the air felt heavy enough to choke on.
"…but there's a condition."