The Joy of Grinding

Party play was inherently harder than going solo. Naturally, the rewards scaled up to match. What would have been a modest eight points for an individual climber had surged to thirteen. Better yet, because his contribution stood at a clean one hundred percent, he scooped up every single point for himself. In terms of sheer stat growth, clearing this single run was virtually equivalent to conquering two entire floors back-to-back.

And that was merely the baseline reward.

A cascading cascade of system banners rolled across Mu-saeng's field of vision. Enemy of this, nightmare of that, a brand-new skill, bonus damage modifiers from contribution margins... An astronomical windfall.

Was there time to bask in the euphoric joy of it all?

"Enemy of the tribe! Kill him!"

"Grind him to dust! Drink his blood!"

The furious roar of orcish wrath shattered the night air.

"Whoa, damn it! Don't cover my entire field of view while I'm in the middle of a brawl!"

Mu-saeng leaned his head back by a hair's breadth, dodging the vicious thrust of a high orc's spear that nearly skewed him through the eye. It was a reaction so blindingly swift that the lunging high orcs momentarily froze in disbelief. From this point-blank distance, a mere human had evaded a full-power thrust?

"Kkyakyakyakyat! What's the play now, Kim Mu-saeng?" Wahsh cackled, bobbing through the air. "If you try to scurry down into your little tunnel, those brutes will chase you straight into the dark."

"Wahsh. Floor 11 is cleared right now, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is."

Floor 11 had been officially conquered. However, the moment a floor was cleared, the world did not freeze in time. The monsters, every living organism inhabiting the expanse, and the natural ecosystem itself continued to breathe and operate. Which brought up a crucial question.

"Then I can still earn 'rewards through repetitive actions,' right?"

"...Presumably so. The completion condition was satisfied, but the zone has not been halted."

"Perfect. That's what I wanted to hear."

It meant good old-fashioned grinding could still yield juicy stat gains.

Mu-saeng steadied his breath.

Fhuuuu...

A long, measured exhalation flowed from his chest, followed by a slow, deep draw of cool night air.

"Human... is he... human?"

He had not made a single aggressive move. He simply drew a deep breath. Yet the surrounding warriors stammered.

"Chieftain's killer... our sworn enemy..."

The trait Enemy of the High Orc Tribe meant that across any floor of the Tower, whenever a high orc crossed his path, their blood would boil and their eyes would turn red with murderous frenzy. And yet, none of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them dared to step forward.

"H-Human... this human..."

"Khhk, kurgh..."

On the contrary, the towering high orcs flinched, their massive frames shrinking back as they began to retreat step by step.

The trait Nightmare of All Orcs had etched Mu-saeng's essence into the marrow of their instincts. The instant they recognized him as the butcher who had slain their chieftain—the undisputed pinnacle of all orckind—a primal dread took hold.

On top of that, the passive skill Intimidation kicked in. Confronted by a predator whose numerical stats towered vastly above their own, their nerve shattered. Their minds screamed for vengeance, but their trembling muscles only begged them to flee.

Watching the towering beasts waver in indecision, Mu-saeng let out another leisurely breath. One purpose of the deep breathing was to settle his mind and center his balance for the upcoming slaughter. The other was purely practical.

"Alright, took care of my status window while I was at it..."

Having neatly sorted his unallocated stat points, Mu-saeng's lips curled into a predatory grin.

"Time for some delightful grinding."

Whoosh.

His silhouette evaporated into thin air. The high orcs did not even have the luxury of searching for him. A heartbeat later, cavernous holes tore through the chests of two front-line warriors. It was an ambush executed at such absurd speed that they never even registered the strike.

Monsters possessed eyesight vastly superior to ordinary men; the pitch-black shroud of night was no impediment to their hunt.

"Over there! In the shadows—!"

"Catch that human!"

"Where? Which human? Where—kyaaargh!"

Yet right now, the horde was plunged into utter disarray. Just how many humans were assaulting them? From which direction were the strikes coming, and how?

"H-Human! It's a human!"

"Kwoaaargh!"

How had this nightmare even begun? Where was the chieftain? Where were the elite high orcs who were supposed to lead the grand alliance?

"Chwaak! Seize the human! Tear him apart!"

"Kiiit?! Screee!"

"Guh, grrrk...! Woof, bark!"

Race made no difference. Orcs, trolls, goblins, kobolds... Every breed of monster that had spent centuries tormenting mankind met the exact same swift, indiscriminate demise.

Rumble! Crackle!

Blazing pillars of crimson fire roared into the night sky as multiple encampment pavilions ignited. The blaze burned with such ferocious intensity that it was clearly visible from the distant ramparts of the human fortress, leaving the sentries there just as bewildered as the beasts. Neither human nor monster could comprehend the sudden catastrophe unfolding across the plains.

Only the sole architect of this chaotic massacre wore a radiant expression.

"Whew."

With a flick of his wrist, Mu-saeng drew Sreyken's Poison Fang across a troll's throat. The wound tore open so deeply that the head wobbled on the neck. Pale foam instantly bubbled as the flesh tried to knit itself together, but mundane regenerative healing was entirely useless here.

"Ch-Chukuuurgh..."

Poison. Unless a creature possessed an innate biological cure for S-grade neurotoxins, death was an absolute certainty. That was precisely why Mu-saeng never bothered to look back after landing a single strike, immediately darting toward his next mark.

"Beware the poison! It is lethal!"

"Aim your spears at the human!"

The trolls were not complete fools. Standard flesh wounds would regenerate after a brief sting of pain, but that green venom was fatal.

"Throw! Throw them now!"

Thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip, thwip—!

Even if they risked impaling their own comrades, eliminating the human came first. Dozens of heavy javelins tore through the air toward Mu-saeng. A direct hit from even one of those massive iron-tipped logs would crush bone and cause catastrophic internal damage. It meant certain death.

"Painfully slow."

...Assuming they could hit him, that was.

To the trolls, the volley was a lightning barrage, but to Mu-saeng's heightened senses, each javelin crawled across the sky. He weaved between them with effortless grace. The spears plunged harmlessly into the earth—which, ironically, proved far more fortunate than what happened to the trolls standing on the opposite flank. Half a dozen javelins punched clean through the chests and bellies of their own brethren, skewering them in agony.

Spotting the staggered, bleeding creatures, Mu-saeng's mental checklist ticked off seamlessly.

Slit only their throats. Exactly one strike each. Evade every incoming attack the instant I perceive it.

Closing the distance in a blur, Mu-saeng accurately severed their windpipes in single, surgical strokes. Even amidst this wild bloodbath, the thought of 'how to survive' never once crossed his mind. Just as he had asked Wahsh moments earlier, his focus remained laser-sharp: screen the weakened beasts, strike identical vital points across each specimen, maximize perception, evasion, accuracy, and agility... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Do whatever it took to squeeze out incremental stat points.

"Are you not going to exploit their structural weaknesses this time, Kim Mu-saeng?"

Wahsh drifted leisurely beside his ear, entirely unbothered by Mu-saeng's breakneck velocity. No matter how fast Mu-saeng dashed, the yellow duck matched his pace perfectly.

Mu-saeng tilted his head in mild confusion, parrying another clumsy blade. "Weakness? I'm already slitting their throats, aren't I?"

"Kkyakyakyat! I do not mean simple decapitation! Weren't you always prattling on about being a dungeon sherpa? Is the sheer multitude of these vermin finally proving too much for your humble little tricks?"

Wahsh's high-pitched squawk carried a heavy dose of playful mockery—a sly attempt to gauge the limits of Mu-saeng's mettle.

"Ah. Pfft! Why would I bother with that?"

"What?"

Mu-saeng chuckled with breezy confidence. Up until now, his battles had indeed unfolded just as Wahsh described. He would analyze the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ecology, habits, and physiological flaws of the monsters, utilizing terrain and environmental hazards to turn the tables. It was an approach born of thirteen grueling years as a dungeon sherpa, surviving purely on wits and preparation.

But here? Now?

"Hu—khoff!"

"Kyaaaak!"

Dodge, slash, parry, cut. Slash, cut, sever.

A relentless frontal assault. A brute-force war of attrition so unrefined it bordered on thuggish. Trapped in the heart of an enemy war camp, did he simply lack the time to draft elaborate tactical maneuvers? That had been the premise of Wahsh's taunt.

"It's just like you said, Wahsh. When dealing with mere bugs... there's no reason to waste effort on fancy footwork."

Against trash mobs of this caliber, elaborate stratagems were an insult to his time.

Wahsh adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses with a webbed wing and cleared his throat. "Ahem! Did you not state earlier that one requires the power of a 25th or 30th floor climber to sweep an entire army?"

"Heheh... Exactly, Wahsh. That's why I'm doing this."

Moving like the wind, striking like thunder. Why could none of these thousands of monsters slow down this rampaging madman?

"Huh?"

The answer was governed by simple, merciless arithmetic.

Back when he disabled Maia's Guardian through the hidden condition—right after clearing the 6th floor—Mu-saeng's total accumulated stats had stood at 572.

And now, having completely conquered the 11th floor in party mode, with his passive skill Steel Bone doubling his base values across the board, Mu-saeng's total stat sum reached an unfathomable 1,162.

Even after achieving that staggering figure, he still held twenty-six unassigned stat points in reserve, just in case.

"In raw ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠numbers, I already blow past high-rank climbers on the 30th floor."

He was a monster. A true outlier. Considering that Section Chief Park Dohyun of Korea One Way Group had cleared up to the 37th floor via party expeditions with an all-stat total of merely 242, Mu-saeng's supreme confidence rested on absolute bedrock.

Furthermore, raw stats were only half the equation. While trolls and high orcs hovered on the borderline of classification, every other creature in this war camp was categorized as a small-type monster. The true 'large' category was reserved for hulking colossi like ogres, cyclopes, and yetis.

"Gyaaargh!"

"Kuh-huuuu..."

"Screee! Kk-kyeck!"

Layered on top of Sreyken's Poison Fang, his pinpoint decapitations benefited from a near-double damage modifier against small targets. The surrounding landscape swiftly transformed into an ocean of severed limbs and burning canvas.

"H-Human... that is not a human!"

"We cannot fight this!"

"Run! Survive!"

The monsters could no longer bring themselves to charge. What they saw before them, silhouetted against the roaring flames and soaked in the steaming blood of hundreds, was an unnatural abomination.

"Oho, up by one in just two hours? You don't even need to spend days on it—grinding down huge packs of mobs does the trick just as fast! Fantastic!"

Watching Mu-saeng beam with pure bliss at the notification of his climbing stats was the final straw. That horrific smile shattered whatever shreds of courage remained in the monster alliance.

"R-Run... Run for your lives!"

"Flee! Just survive!"

"Back to the settlements! Back to the burrows!"

Thousands of surviving monsters broke ranks, scattering into the darkness like roaches caught beneath a torch.

"Hey, wait! I haven't raised my Strength stat yet! Don't run away! Come back, my precious stats!"

Mu-saeng sprinted after them, determined to keep his word. To build his Strength stat through repetitive exertion, he casually sheathed Sreyken's Poison Fang.

"Gaaah?!"

Grabbing a fleeing orc warrior by the belt, Mu-saeng hoisted the heavy brute high into the air with one arm.

CRRAAAACK!

With a terrifying snap, he folded the creature's spine cleanly in half over his knee. The surrounding monsters who witnessed the spectacle lost control of their bladders, their legs giving out as they collapsed in terror.

"...A repulsive, disgustingly persistent lunatic," Wahsh muttered under his breath, shaking his feathered head.

By the time the pale light of dawn broke over the horizon, nothing that could be called an 'alliance' remained upon the ruined plains.