Chapter 330: Episode 330_A Family-Like Atmosphere (5)
7.
In Fantastic World, every class had a grade, which inevitably created a hierarchy among the users. While a class grade didn’t solely determine a player’s strength, it was the first point of differentiation for users starting at level one with a single stat point. When a factor as fundamental as one’s class—the very thing that defined a player’s role—created such a disparity, a gap in growth potential was bound to emerge.
Of course, the biggest variables were a player’s skill, their control, and most importantly, their understanding and application of their class. But those factors were unique to the individual. The fixed power of a class, on the other hand, could absolutely shatter the game’s balance.
Unless BetaGo was a complete fool, leaving the class grade system as it was would have doomed the game. Fantastic World might be the first-ever virtual reality game, a so-called "second reality" that drew in countless users who logged on just to pass the time without ever hunting a single monster. But at its core, it was an MMORPG.
Ever since the days of PC gaming, players had become accustomed to meticulously analyzing and ranking every class to find even the slightest advantage. In the world of virtual reality, which took the concept of role-playing to a whole new level, it was only human nature to want to play the best class available. It was no surprise, then, that players in Fantastic World were already gathering information on unrevealed classes, ranking them, and selling the acquisition methods for desirable classes at exorbitant prices.
Where there was demand, there was supply. And where there was money, people would flock.
Through these transactions, the value of Unique-grade classes and above skyrocketed into the tens of thousands of dollars, regardless of their specific abilities. Special-grade classes were practically priceless—in fact, they were rarely listed on public trading sites and were instead exchanged through private, back-channel connections. The rarity of such classes only added to their value.
It was a win-win for those involved. The sellers made a fortune by playing the game to uncover class acquisition methods, while the buyers could use money, not time and effort, to get a head start and experience a life of prestige they couldn’t in reality.
The ones left to complain, of course, were the players with neither time nor money—which was to say, the vast majority of the Fantastic World population.
The complaints poured in, but they were ultimately futile. From the game’s inception, Goggle Inc. had publicly stated that they had no intention of interfering with the operation of Fantastic World and, more importantly, that they could not interfere with BetaGo.
Besides, the cutting-edge AI had already implemented a sufficient penalty to address this early-game gap, which felt like a glass ceiling to ordinary players: an EXP penalty based on class grade. In a game where your level was everything, this was a heavy price to pay.
Leveling up was already a grueling process. The added penalty made growth a significant challenge for high-grade classes, which were otherwise more efficient than their lower-grade counterparts. Skilled players who understood their class’s strengths could trade the slow progression for superior power and still manage to thrive. However, users who knew nothing and simply bought a good class out of vanity were left to complain, often regretting their expensive purchase.
It was the natural order of things in a world where your class wasn’t the only thing that mattered. A player who overcame the penalty and leveled up with a powerful class was undeniably strong, but it took them far more time to reach that point than anyone else. Assuming equal time and skill, a player with a Normal-grade class would have a higher level, and that advantage could be leveraged in countless ways—just as Kenji had pivoted to building a faction after falling behind Specialist in levels.
Han Simin was a prime example. He possessed not one, but two Legendary classes. While his unique, superpower-like ability was the main reason for his success, he had performed feats that shook the continent and earned him a place in its history books. The price for those classes was that he had all but given up on leveling.
That was the penalty. That was the balance.
And that was why Simin had been so indifferent to the possibility of Han Yeori obtaining a Legendary class.
’A class like that?’ Of course, it was good to have one. But it locked you into a fixed path of growth. The EXP penalty meant you either had to give up on grinding almost entirely or sacrifice your daily life to hunt nonstop while figuring out how to best utilize your class. In a game where outcomes were determined more by character specs than by raw talent—unless you were on Jeong Seolah’s level—a Legendary class meant sluggish growth. It meant it would take that much longer for her to become useful to him.
Getting excited about a Legendary class was something only a clueless newbie would do.
“Simin! Simin! That old man you called a scammer really gave me the class change! Isn’t that awesome? Hehe. I did just what you said—I was suspicious of everything and kept my distance in case he tried anything funny, and it all worked out. I did good, right?”
“Tsk, tsk.”
And there was that clueless newbie, sitting in his house, happily munching on chicken and bragging without a single care in the world. She had no idea what a treacherous path she had just stepped onto.
More than worried, he just felt tired. Still, she was his little sister. The thought of her having to walk through the same EXP hell he had was pitiful. Most of all, even though it was a Legendary class, he wasn’t the least bit envious. It was just like when he’d seen Daino, the Legendary Archmage he had once coveted.
’So what? I have his class item, anyway.’
The only saving grace was that her class was a Buffer. She would be useful even at a low level. And if it came down to it...while he had been cold to Daino, he could lend Yeori the Legendary Buffer’s heirloom, Buff the Buff.
He decided not to shatter her bubbly happiness, her childlike innocence. Life was unpredictable. A near-fatal accident had led to a miracle that brought him this far; who was to say what might happen to her? Perhaps this pure, naive girl would suddenly awaken a hidden talent for buffing and become a continent-shaking celebrity overnight.
Pfft. The idea was so absurd it made him laugh.
He shook his head and tore off another piece of chicken, then tossed a piece of advice her way.
“Yeori, being Legendary isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Don’t get too excited. And that old man? Squeeze every last thing you can out of him. Any gear he had, anything his master gave him...hell, make him hunt for you.”
“Huh?”
“Then again, what would you know? A bunch of system windows popped up after the class change, right? If you go back and look closely, you’ll see something about an EXP penalty. All Legendary classes have it, so don’t be too disappointed. Don’t stress too much about leveling, either. You just need to raise your Magic Power for buffs. Leveling isn’t even that hard at the beginning.”
“Okay.”
Han Yeori hadn’t actually read the system messages properly, but she listened intently and nodded. To her, Simin’s word was law, and when it came to Fantastic World, he was practically a god. After seeing him on TV and finally reuniting with him, she had spent entire nights researching his exploits in the game, neglecting the studies she was usually so obsessed with and spending all of her evening study hall time glued to her phone. Through that research, she knew one thing for certain: in Fantastic World, her brother was an amazing, high-level expert.
As she committed his words to memory, she stuffed another chicken leg into her puffed-out cheeks, determined to get a little more free food out of the visit.
*
The old man who had passed on his legacy to Han Yeori didn’t have much time left. He was already at an age where death was a constant companion, and his body had long since given up the fight.
This was his final moment.
’Today is the day.’
He felt no regret, no lingering attachment. As the one who had inherited the will of a Legend, the path he had walked was a worthy one. It bothered him slightly that he had failed to fulfill his master’s last request, but he consoled himself with the thought that it would be all right if his successor was an adventurer as adorable as a granddaughter.
“Grandpa! My brother said Legendary classes get hit with an EXP penalty. What’s that about?”
“Heh. It sounds like your brother is quite a knowledgeable adventurer.”
“Of course! He’s super famous, you know.”
“Adventurers call it experience; the people of this continent call it enlightenment. Naturally, it takes a deeper enlightenment to understand and wield the will of a Legend. But child, you need not worry. My master was an incredible person who transcended even that requirement. A Buffer is a being that blesses all things. He turned even the divine shackles placed upon him into blessings and lived out his days accordingly.”
“Huh?”
“It may be difficult to grasp now, but you will understand soon enough. In the language of adventurers, it means that unlike the other successors of the Legends, you will attain enlightenment more quickly.”
“Oh! So that means I level up fast, right?”
“Most likely.”
“Huh? Now that you mention it, I don’t see the words EXP penalty anywhere.”
“A Buffer is someone who becomes more blessed the more they grow. The more enlightenment you gain, the faster you can grow. Child, I believe it is time for me to take my leave. Prove to the continent that my choice was not mistaken.”
With that final piece of advice, the old man turned to leave, unwilling to let his new disciple witness his final moments.
Han Yeori couldn’t stop him.
“These are the basic necessities you will need to adventure across the continent. Since you have an older brother, I feel at ease knowing this will be enough to get you to him.”
Before she could even open her mouth, he pressed a magic pouch into her hands. It was stuffed with enough money, food, and gear to ensure a comfortable journey.
Naturally, Yeori had no idea whether the equipment was any good. She simply put on the weapons and armor that looked decent enough and tried using one of the skills she could now access.
Flash—
It was only a buff cast by a level-one user, but with a brief burst of light, her body felt instantly lighter.
“Wow. That’s so cool.”
Without hesitation, she charged at a nearby rabbit. She felt no aversion to the idea of killing for the first time.
’He said I just have to kill it, right?’
She ate chicken and beef all the time; killing a monster in a game was nothing in comparison.
The rabbit died in a single hit.
“This is easier than I thought,” Han Yeori murmured, tilting her head. She had been thoroughly intimidated by all of Han Simin’s blustering warnings.
After she killed a few more rabbits, a flare of light announced that her level had gone up.
[Your level has increased.]
[The amount of all EXP you gain increases by 2%.]
It was the firework that signaled the true beginning of this brokenly overpowered Buffer class.
*
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