Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Crisis is Opportunity is Crisis (1)
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Swish, scratch, swish.
Screech, tap!
Around the time the sun dipped low, a long line of people stretched in front of Turan City’s gates, all eager to head inside after finishing the day’s work. And among them sat a giant who, even hunkered down, matched the others in height, idly scribbling on the ground with a wooden stick.
“Let’s see... Blue Line way off to the west, Notum’s forest around here. Wheat fields lining both sides of the central avenue, and the gate... this spot work?”
Ding-!
[Area information updated - New area: Lordric North Turan City]
“Ah, perfect.”
What I was doing right now was something called mapping—saving regional data to the system.
The system didn’t even provide a basic map, but you could register areas yourself by recording the paths you’d traveled or buy one from a nearby shop.
Buying a map was obviously way easier, but at my level, the ones available were crude sketches lumping terrain, cities, and roads into vague blobs. So it was more accurate to do this myself whenever I had time.
“This came out pretty good. With this... I could buy some paper later and make a proper map.”
The map I’d just registered with the system showed not just terrain, roads, and key landmarks, but even rough contour lines. The first time I’d mapped with a previous character, it was just circles for cities and dotted lines for roads—nothing more. This quality was something else. It was the effect of the high perception I’d unavoidably gained from the start, plus traits like [Sparkling Gaze].
“Could probably draw it even better... Should I erase and start over?”
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Professor, didn’t you say you didn’t have time earlier?
- Jokasss: Weren’t you busy? You said every minute counts in this game.
Swish, scratch!
“I’m in a rush too. But what can I do about all these people trying to get in?”
Professor lifted his head slightly from where it had been buried, eyeing the line of people stretching out ahead and behind him.
Whoosh!
“Mandy’s cow had a calf...”
Whoosh!
“We’ll manage somehow...”
Whoooosh!
“Through! Next! Move it, quick!”
“Ugh! Damn it!”
The effect of [Mental Fragility] felt like having a late-stage anxiety patient crammed in your head. No matter my will, the heightened perception shoved every bit of info it picked up straight into my brain.
‘What? A cow had a calf? Suspicious!’
‘We’ll manage somehow? Planless fool! Suspicious!’
‘Move it quick? Guards rushing? Suuuuuspicious!!!’
Ringing alarms blared nonstop in my mind. Gathering info was fine. But distinguishing what mattered? No, it jammed everything—people’s chatter to the number of pebble-sized rocks on the ground—until I was going insane!
That’s why even mapping had turned into this. Just sitting there scanning around made my head throb like it’d burst. Focusing on one thing dulled it a bit.
Crack!
The moment Professor raised his head, pain slammed into him. He reflexively hunkered down and squeezed his eyes shut.
“Focus... something, anything to focus on, ugh... Right, maybe sketch out future plans?”
- Take a Look: Didn’t you already plan all that earlier?
“Plans are better the more detailed! Just double-checking for anything I missed.”
Professor started to wipe the ground map with his hand, then pulled back and carefully scuffed the dirt with his foot instead.
“Alright, big picture first. What’s the goal?”
Truth be told, setting goals at this stage didn’t mean much. Events like the one with Notum could pop up anytime, anywhere, demanding flexible action based on what helped me most. But the endgame—clearing—the I could mull over now.
“I kinda wanna go for the long-cherished clear... Tough, huh?”
- Speed Wagon: Tough either way. World clear’s got clear character limits, and long-cherished has timing issues.
- Take a Look: Thinking about clearing at all is nuts to begin with.
- Highway Nacho Man: If forced to pick, obviously long-cherished.
World 3’s main story spanned roughly ten years, from Solar Year 121 to 130, with two main clear paths.
First: Clear only the [Long-Cherished Quest] tied to your origin at character creation and hit your character’s ending. Aka long-cherished skip.
For my character, [Bastard Son of a Fallen Knight Family], that meant rebuilding the ruined house and sobbing at the family graves. Easy, fast, and no need to touch the extinction scenarios lurking in every world.
But since the player never impacts the world’s flow, humanity still perishes, so no ticket to the next world.
Easy mode, basically—viewers hate it, and so does my stream revenue.
Second: Rally humanity’s full strength against the extinction scenarios head-on.
Clearing this way logs a purification rate, unlocking perks like carrying over surviving factions to the next world based on that rate. Nail your long-cherished quest mid-extinction? Your character gets etched in history, even shows up as an NPC later.
For me, long-cherished clear was the obvious pick—no question. So why was I agonizing?
‘Origins like [Fallen Knight Family~] lock you into at least five in-game years for the quest. But the path here’s been too damn peaceful.’
Yeah. Harvest swaying in wheat fields amid farmers’ laughter, roads neatly packed—signs of perfect order. Good, right? Depends.
World 3’s start, Solar 121, was a free-for-all among rulers who’d forgotten the crisis seventy years back. Nobles squeezed peasants for war funds, raided neighbors; the king egged it on to distract from his throne.
Lawlessness everywhere: bandits in woods, plains choked with corpses moaning as ghouls and wights, hellscapes forcing folks into villages—only to get conscripted as arrow fodder. Standard 121 vibe. Era of great wars where nobles vanished and new houses rose. Perfect for family quests.
‘But roads this pristine? Means the noble wars are over. This level of maintenance puts us late 123 or near 124. Timing’s awkward.’
If I knew the exact year, half my worries would vanish. Asked nearby NPCs in line, but my rough looks made them clam up and look away.
124’s late for long-cherished. Rebuilding takes five-plus years minimum, and 127 kicks off the extinction scenario proper.
World 3 extinction: [Mass assault by Beastkin Mutation Blood].
Post-124 war’s end, Black Mages stir. By 127, they go full rogue.
‘Yeah, crap security, corpses and vengeful spirits everywhere, mages running wild—ideal setup.’
Assuming 124 now, I’d need to hustle. Diplomacy builds warn war-horny nobles of looming doom, unite forces; combat builds hunt every mage.
Community research: Each Black Mage killed skips one mutt legion later. Busier now, easier endgame.
You’d spot [Experimental Mutation Blood] and [Carrier Mutation Blood] scurrying battlefields too—snipe every one sighted.
Miss ’em? They feed collected bio/magic traits to the hive, spawning stronger strains, skyrocketing late-game hell.
‘Scrambling for family rebuild while everyone fights for survival? Backstab bait.’
Push through mutts to Solar 129... third extinction hits.
“So start point dictates priorities, and 124’s past for sure—easy long-cherished skip’s off the table.”
- Speed Wagon: You already decided in your head. Why ask us?
“Frustrated, that’s why. Frustrated.”
124 (est.): Black Mage era. No connections, looks like this—diplomacy’s a pipe dream. Combat below civilian. Plans just get bleaker.
“Next!”
“Whew. No clue. One step at a time. First, snag decent gear in Turan. Haste makes waste, right?”
Professor sighed deeply, the gates now right in front of him.
***
“Hmm, this is... Through!”
Turan’s inspections weren’t too strict. Gideon, the northern front—wait, Molludic Castle now?—anyway, Turan sat a bit inland from Molludic Castle and Pellas, serving as supply depot for those war cities. Frequent mercenaries and merchants meant checks often ended at perfunctory questions.
‘Name?’
‘Professor. No family name.’
‘No family... Fallen noble, eh? Purpose in Turan?’
‘To eat and survive. Thinking mercenary work.’
‘Good. Strapping lad like you’s always welcome. Battlefields always short-handed. Gender, race—whatever, no need. Age?’
‘20.’
‘...Professor.... 50.... Young for 50.’
‘No, twenty. 20! Nineteen proper!’
‘Hah, funny. But I’m swamped. Misheard?’
‘I’m really twenty. Weird constitution.’
‘You punk! Know Turan law allows arrest for dodging guard questions? Spit it out! Age!’
‘20! Twenty!’
‘Grrr! Seize him! Lying on basics means he’s hiding something!’
‘What! Let go! Nooo!!’
That lax check took over thirty minutes.
“Ahem! Keep at it.”
“Sorry. Didn’t know your situation...”
He’d escaped certain arrest—ironically—thanks to this frail body. The moment guards bound him, flesh tore at the ropes, blood gushing.
‘What! What happened! No charges yet—who tortured him?!’
‘No! Just tied him and blood—’
‘Told you! Weird constitution!’
Seizing the flustered moment, he rapidly spun his tale. Super fragile body, face aged prematurely from it.
The suspicious guard’s face softened to pity as he spoke—blood still pooling on the ground, impossible to deny.
Swish—
Wrapping his arm in guard-provided herbs and bandages, he turned to leave when the captain extended a hand.
“What now?”
“No, just... wanted to show respect.”
What’s this?
Glancing back, other guards sneaking peeks, smirks like they knew.
Captain cleared his throat awkwardly, head turned.
“Hearing your story... you seem different now. Surviving family tragedy with that horrific handicap, training your body that far—takes inhuman will. Rare to meet a solid guy; thought I’d shake on it.”
“Uh... sure... whatever.”
It’s been like this since character creation.
As Professor offered his hand, the captain grasped it feather-light, like dandelion fluff. What the—? Goodwill, sure... but creepy! Back there! No sniffling! No dopey grins!
“Said you’re here for mercenary work? Good timing. Turan’s always shorthanded. No luck in town, try Silver Roar inn. See the straight avenue ahead? Head left along it. Biggest merc group in Turan—bound to have work for ‘someone like you.’”
Tap tap!
The captain, gazing warmly up at him, patted his forearm chummily.
“Take care!”
“Keep going!”
“Don’t let curses win, kid!”
“Don’t give up!”
“Uh... yeah...”
Instead of explaining, Professor just waved back at the cheering guards.
Ding-!
[Information updated: Turan guards’ favorability toward player has increased.]
- Deer Drug Please: Whoa! Man of mystery! Trolled the troll, now conquers gate guards!
- Jokasss: Insane utility. Roasted the guards with his face alone.
- Speed Wagon: Gotta note this. Strategy unlocked.
+ Player ‘Soy Sauce Gaybar’ donated 500 sil!
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: LMAOOOO we always find the way LMAO
- Highway Nacho Man: Disability perks? Never dreamed. Respect!
“...Damn it.”
First time NPC goodwill felt this sour. Second? Notum’s was goodwill too.
A nagging thought crept in: ‘Maybe this ugly character really has some weird charm?’
***