Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Stronger Attack Power
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“Move all the vessels to the cult.”
“The ritual seal is perfect, right?”
An unpleasant voice caused my eyes to open naturally.
I cracked my eyes open, and a glass ceiling came into view.
Dozens of people lay there as if dead, and among them, the reflection of a lone boy with his eyes open stared back.
A child with ash-gray hair and red eyes.
As the boy in the mirror mimicked my movements, I realized that child was me.
‘What the hell?’
I’d only started the game in my room, but when I came to, I was in a strange new body.
I turned my head slightly to the side and saw people in black robes busily pulling carts.
The emblem on their robes looked familiar.
A pitch-black moon. That was unmistakably the mark of the Tartarus Cult, the main villain group in Apocalypse Academy.
What is this?
It was a situation that defied all common sense. So my thoughts veered into the irrational.
My last memory was pressing the start button on the game in my room.
‘Did I get possessed into the game or something?’
Clutching that hard-to-believe hypothesis, I looked back at the boy reflected in the glass ceiling.
The boy’s appearance felt strangely familiar.
‘…Wait, isn’t that Haribal?’
Haribal Belder.
A run-of-the-mill extra student at Ruidel Academy, the setting for Apocalypse Academy.
As the story progressed, he was revealed as a follower of the Tartarus Cult, putting the protagonist’s party in dire straits.
The boy in the mirror was unmistakably young Haribal.
In other words, I’d been possessed into Apocalypse Academy.
And at a point before the game even started.
‘…Fuck?’
The reason a curse slipped out the moment I realized whose body I’d possessed was simple.
Haribal was the character who frustrated players the most in Apocalypse Academy.
100% hit rate on attacks, 0% evasion.
He took every player attack, and in return, all his attacks always landed.
Countless players had given up achievements and quit the game because of this bastard.
I’d botched countless achievement runs because of him too.
Eventually, I’d started wondering.
‘Why the hell does he just take every hit?’
Even if I conceded that players couldn’t dodge his attacks, why did he have to eat every single one?
His lore was about a knight’s pride and honor, but that didn’t fly with modern sensibilities.
And now, I was clearly here at the moment just before he became a student—no, right before he became a follower of the Evil God.
“Prepare for the next baptism.”
Right after the voice spoke, I was loaded onto a cart with the others and dragged into a dark tunnel.
An enormously ominous aura emanated from the end of the tunnel.
‘What baptism? It’s brainwashing by the Evil God.’
In the story, Haribal entered the academy after being brainwashed by the cult.
The atmosphere suggested this was that exact moment.
‘No, if you’re gonna throw me into the game, make me the protagonist or at least a party member.’
If I stayed put, I’d get brainwashed, turn into a monster, and get slaughtered by the protagonist’s group—it was obvious.
That’s when it happened.
A single piece of glass on the tunnel ceiling wobbled precariously. It looked like the slightest jolt would send it crashing down.
Instinct told me.
‘That’s my only way out.’
I wriggled my hands to test my range of motion while bound, then subtly moved my legs to check if I could run.
Luckily, I wasn’t injured, and I seemed able to move somehow.
Meanwhile, the cart kept heading toward the tunnel’s end, which was narrowing until my feet nearly brushed the walls.
This was probably my chance.
Just as the glass shard reached above my head.
Thud!
I kicked off the wall hard with my legs.
“…What?”
With a snap from above, the glass shard dropped right near my hands.
I grabbed it immediately and cut through the ropes.
“What?! How did you break free of the ritual seal?”
A panicked shout came from the cultist.
The ritual seal was the magic cultists used in Apocalypse Academy.
They must have skimped on the bindings, trusting it.
‘Lucky break.’
I pointed the glass shard straight at the cultist in front of me.
Quickly scanning around, I realized this place’s layout.
‘Good, not the main headquarters.’
The Tartarus Cult was divided into headquarters and branches, and the branches had copy-pasted terrain due to dev limitations.
Thanks to that, I recalled the escape routes perfectly.
No other cultists in sight either. This section must only have one pulling the cart.
‘Take this guy down, and I can make it.’
“Tch. This brat’s pissing me off!”
You think you’re annoyed? Try me.
I charged at the cultist and slashed deep across his chest with the glass shard.
“Guh!”
Blood sprayed.
Only after striking did an odd sensation wash over me.
‘…I just cut down a person?’
Even if I was possessed into a game, as someone from modern Korea, I should feel revulsion—but my body moved so naturally.
‘Adrenaline from the crisis?’
But there was no time for such thoughts in this dire situation.
I prepared a follow-up to finish him.
?
My body wouldn’t move.
‘Fuck, what is this?’
“You little shit! Time to feel some heat and snap out of it!”
The next instant, a fireball slammed into my back.
“Guh… Ack…!!”
It hurt worse than any pain I’d ever felt, searing to the bone.
But I couldn’t scream. That would bring every cultist running.
‘I’m screwed.’
One more spell from him, and it was kidnapping-brainwashing-death route confirmed.
Glare at him with utter resentment.
……?
But he’d frozen in place.
Right in the pose after casting.
And somehow, a large gem had appeared above my head.
The familiar design hit me with déjà vu.
Why Haribal in the game had that insane 100% hit rate. Why he took every hit.
“Fuck.”
Because only this bastard was turn-based.
Players fought in real-time, so I hadn’t noticed.
The gem above my head clearly indicated turns.
Blue for my turn, red for the enemy’s.
I gripped the glass shard tighter and stabbed it into his chest.
[Weak!]
‘Critical hit?’
But the wound was shallow; he didn’t go down.
Still, I’d rattled him.
“Wh-what? How? I can’t see your attack at all?!”
My attacks only registered for him ‘after’ they hit, in real-time.
Normally in turn-based, enemy turn follows yours without fail.
‘So now I eat a hit?’
I steeled myself, but no.
After he spoke, he froze solid.
The gem above my head was still blue.
Just a bit smaller.
‘Extra turn?’
That [Weak!] pop-up must mean something.
Stab a weak point for an extra turn?
No hesitation—I stabbed deep again with the glass shard.
[Weak!]
It landed solidly this time.
‘Another extra turn?’
That instant, my body froze.
The enraged cultist gathered black flames at his fingertips.
Black Flame, used only by Evil God followers.
“This ends it!!”
Boom!!
Extra turns maxed at one, apparently.
Knowledge gained. Along with agony as half my upper body burned.
“Gaaahhh…!!”
They said burning at the stake was brutal; now I knew firsthand. I was alive, but death sounded better.
Honestly, I wanted to chuck it all.
Didn’t know it’d hurt this bad.
But quitting meant tax-paid death, which I hated more.
Death even more.
Enduring the agony of peeling skin across my body, I mustered my last strength.
“…My turn now?”
Slash!
“Forgive your servant… for perishing without beholding you…!”
Forgiveness my ass.
As he collapsed, relief hit, and my mind grew hazy.
Perfect time to crawl under a blanket and sleep—then voices of other cultists echoed from the tunnel’s end.
‘Fuck…’
I had no choice but to drag my searing body desperately onward.
To survive.
⁎⁎⁎
‘…So where the hell am I?’
After fleeing blindly, I finally escaped the cult branch.
The exit was hidden between small rock crevices—probably underground.
‘I’ll come back and wreck this place someday.’
Once I surfaced, the pursuers vanished.
Cultists didn’t want Empire attention either, so they wouldn’t chase far.
Coming to my senses, I checked my upper body: Black Flame infused with demonic energy had left clear burns.
My reflection in the lake was wretched.
Originally quite handsome, now just shriveled monster scars. Far worse than game Haribal.
‘Might’ve been better as a monster.’
But what could I do? Gotta live.
I checked the sun’s position and walked blindly.
Apocalypse Academy’s stage was the Solanis Empire to the east, so heading there would hit a city eventually.
When I arrived, cold stares from people and stones from kids pelted me.
This damn burn scar.
Instead of Evil God baptism, I got a stoning baptism—and chewed on one thought.
‘I don’t want to hurt anymore.’
Not a masochist; who enjoys getting hit?
I’d already suffered pain beyond a lifetime’s worth.
The burns still scorched hot to the touch.
Problem was Haribal’s combat: only he was turn-based.
Enemy turn meant I ate a hit guaranteed.
One solution.
‘Don’t give the enemy a turn.’
End it in one hit before their turn.
No hits, no pain.
For that, I needed attack power.
Stronger attack power.
Naturally required systematic training.
A signpost caught my eye.
I’d reached Belheim, frontline city against Evil God dungeons in Apocalypse Academy, garrisoned by military.
The options are slim for me now.
‘…No choice.’
I headed to the barracks and uttered words I’d never dreamed of.
“I want to enlist.”
“The recruitment period’s over.”
“Still want to enlist.”
“Your spirit’s commendable. Fine. Show me your potential. Land one hit on me, and you’re in as a recruit.”
Turn-based combat made it trivially easy.
“O.”
My turn came; I slammed a limp fist into the soldier.
‘Just need to hit, right?’
There is no need to hit hard.
I didn’t have strength for it.
“Pass!”
And so, I became a soldier.
⁎⁎⁎
“Haribal, are you a masochist or something?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why do you keep taking hits? You could dodge.”
I can’t dodge, you prick.
“Knight’s pride, sir.”
“I being a knight your dream?”
After enlisting, for a year I was treated like an idiot in the unit.
Half-burned guy skips sword drills for weights? Had to look freakish.
In spars, I’d land one hit, then take the next.
So one day, the captain asked outright.
“Are you an idiot?”
“No, sir.”
“Then what?”
“My dream is to become an honorable knight.”
Now I got why in the game Haribal had that knight pride concept.
It seemed like the most plausible excuse to me.
“…Uh, sure.”
“Tough luck, sir.”
After two years, I became a true one-turn man.
One hit sufficed.
Prevent the enemy turn, and done.
My strategy worked; spars ended in one strike, no counters.
Some comrades even asked my secret.
I answered honestly if asked.
“How do you land attacks at that timing?”
“Because I’m turn-based.”
“…Hah, calling yourself a genius. Arrogant.”
The was no need to correct their delusions.
“Fuck, Haribal you bastard. He keeps one-shotting? He's ruining the spars.”
“Sorry, sir.”
‘But getting hit hurts.’
When I could one-turn kill the whole unit except captain, the first real mission dropped.
Rescue a noble lady from a dungeon.
“I'm counting on you, Haribal.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Apocalypse Academy had Evil God dungeons as main stage, plus others.
This was Spider Dungeon: basic early-game subquest fodder.
“Enemy!”
The dungeon mobs mostly spiders, obviously.
I was now a polished one-turn man from grueling training, they weren’t my match.
[Weak!]
At the start of combat, one slash downed a spider monster.
Tougher ones were finished in extra turns.
Boosting attack power was the right choice.
“As expected of Ashen Wind? Looks like one slash.”
“He's sword master material. A different breed from us.”
Got used to turns; extras seemed invisible to others.
I earned a weird moniker.
Ashen Wind.
One slash, two wounds.
Actually two slashes.
Turns out “ashen” was from the burn scars, not the hair. Racist fucks.
“Follow Haribal!”
Slicing through monsters, we reached the boss room: where the noble lady was mummified in webs.
“That the boss?!”
“Its magic is off the charts—it has to be!”
Boss: human-faced spider, face on belly.
It hung upside-down from ceiling, glaring.
“Load crossbows!”
“Knock it down!”
The plan was simple.
My comrades shoot it down with bolts; I one-turn finish.
I was confident.
‘Its exoskeleton is not too tough; two hits max.’
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
The Boss crashed from the volley; I charged instantly.
Combat start.
…But.
Splat!!
‘Fuck?’
A Preemptive strike mob.
“Haribal!!”
“Damn…!! Haribal’s hit!!”
Not just hit—recovering from my first experience of pain in ages since one-turn mastery.
‘Hits like a boss, huh?’
That fucking hurt.
‘I was always first before… did I miss something?’
I racked my brain: two years weights only, zero agility training.
Power based with speed stats? Bullshit.
Low speed meant no first turn. To avoid preemptive strikes, I needed to raise speed.
‘I need agility training after this.’
I stood shakily; my comrades all wiped out.
How do I explain this to the captain?
But my first priority is to smash this fucker.
The blue gem appeared; I slammed my sword into its head.
[Weak!]
Confirmed. The Head is a weak point!
Second swing—its turn.
Unluckily: I couldn’t one-turn kill it even with speed.
It's annoying to eat two hits instead of one.
It's blade-legs punched three holes; one near my heart.
[Weak!]
“Ah.”
It works on me too.
Thanks for the info.
I ate three instead of one, but lucked out, downing the boss on the next attack.
It's body rag-dolled, but a win’s a win?
“Here…”
“Are you okay?”
The Noble lady in my arms opened her eyes.
I heard Evil God cultists kidnapped her, tossed her in this dungeon.
I'm pissed that my comrades died for her, but in this world one noble > four soldiers.
“Hold on. I’ll get you home soon.”
I scooped her up and bolted to the entrance, glancing back where my comrades' corpses lingered.
Staring at their cold bodies, I thought.
‘Double weights when I get back.’
If I return, no more comrade sacrifices—I must grow stronger.
Cardio in my spare time.