Chapter 39
Chapter 39
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: Overflowing Newcomers
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A man heard Siron's cold tone.
It was a rude remark, but somehow, that man sensed an instinct deep within: he absolutely must not defy Siron.
He was an ordinary rural youth named Arthu.
Yesterday, in the still-chilly Earth morning.
Arthu rolled his shoulders as he headed to the backyard garage.
Living in such a rundown village, the roads were treacherous, so he rarely ventured out.
That day happened to be one of those rare occasions.
'While I'm at it, I should pick up a new saw.'
Remembering the items he needed from the nearest big-box discount store, at the very moment he turned toward the garage.
Whoosh!
"Ugh, what the—!"
A sudden blade came flying at Arthu.
Fortunately, his quick reflexes let him whip his head aside just in time, avoiding injury.
'That thing... if you can get past it...'
Recently.
At the heart of the world-shaking events was one of those wooden puppets.
Arthu grabbed the nearest blunt object from inside the house and smashed the puppet.
There was more than one in the yard.
Their blades were menacing, but Arthu—tall and handy with a club—managed to take them all down.
The next day, a system message appeared before his eyes.
At that moment, Arthu thought to himself.
I'm a lucky bastard.
Thwack!!
A middle-aged man standing beside Arthu took a fist to the face and crumpled to the dirt.
Siron saw no need for lengthy chats with these types.
Violence was far simpler.
'Hit the first one who mouths off, and the rest fall in line.'
The others looked stunned or terrified. Siron eyed them coolly.
Hm?
Siron, who had run this routine countless times with fresh batches, paused at today's oddity.
Way too many people.
Eleven, even after double-checking.
Really eleven.
Impossible. No dimension had ever reported eleven.
As Siron stared off in thought, the group mistook it for a glare.
Siron parted his lips slowly.
The oppressive silence broke, but no one could guess what would come next.
"Why eleven? Any of you know something?"
Slim chance they did, but asking beat ignoring it.
They exchanged clueless glances.
Wondering why he'd even bother asking.
Siron turned away, disappointed, and started walking.
Work needed doing, with or without him around.
"Follow. Drag that downed guy too."
The newbies, Arthu included, sprang into action.
Zones 2 and 3 quests awaited.
Minimal monsters only, of course.
Even sans Oh Heon, Siron executed orders to the letter.
Obedience was etched deep in his core.
The rest of Dimension 64's crew—minus Siron—were already teamed up, hunting wolves.
Clueless about destinations or dangers.
Arthu trailed Siron, one thought looping in his head.
I'm one unlucky bastard.
[Dimension 34]
Just before noon.
A massive domain sprawled across the meadow.
At its heart sat a lone man.
Oh Heon.
Demi-god power churned wildly within him.
Dimension 34's sole survivor trained his skills, biding time till noon.
The lazy post-hunt waits were ancient history.
Today, his sessions burned fiercer than ever.
Simple reason.
Upgrades loomed.
Every skill—Precision Enhancement included—hovered past 90% proficiency.
What shifted at 3rd grade?
Grasp Complete? Precision Enhancement?
Three job skills, one limited.
Oh Heon's class: Divine Aspirant.
Prime growth stock—stat bumps on every upgrade.
Demanded Herculean effort beyond other jobs, but the payoffs were massive.
Two hours of brutal drilling later.
One down.
Good news rang, yet he pressed on.
Kept moving, prioritizing the unupgraded Domain.
Fired off cooldown skills too.
Third Precision Enhancement today already.
Fourth now.
Activated fine, but no dice on effect.
Small mercy: proficiency ticked up even sealed.
Precision Enhancement wasn't casual-use fare.
Trump-card territory.
One minute ticked down.
Faster than expected.
Precision beat Domain to the punch.
1st vs. 2nd grade meant Domain's total grind dwarfed it.
Even accounting for that...
Domain proficiency crawled upward.
My cycles existed to regen demi-god power burned on Domain.
Couldn't slack on Domain, though.
I knew its power best.
Domain force danced freely around him.
Its flow revealed truths.
Domain force akin to—but not quite—demi-god power.
Internal control: Demi-God Body.
External: Domain.
Senses governed my demi-god power.
Thus, external flows too.
Domain handled outer senses—a different grain from internal stores.
Secrets aplenty lingered in both skills.
Noon crept closer.
My internal clock, honed razor-sharp, clocked minutes remaining.
Pity—Domain would tip over mid-hunt.
That thought crossed as he willed the Domain to retract.
At last.
Back-to-back bumps netted +3 Strength, Defense, Mana.
Exhaling joy, he finally scanned skill details.
3rd grade unlocked extras.
Info reviewed, village-bound.
Training yoke shed.
Steps felt feather-light.
The spawn glyph flared familiarly.
Been a while.
Brief nostalgia—new meat needed questing.
Tedious, but sole path to resource growth.
He'd always wished for crowds.
Dimension 34 delivered.
Spawn point brimmed: thirteen souls.
Oh Heon clocked the anomaly instantly.
Thirteen shattered norms.
Why?
Two to ten was standard, right?
This ever happen?
Yet his own debut: solo spawn, freak outlier.
Diverse faces, builds swam into view.
Most grimaced through headaches.
He clenched a fist, flicked a wind gust.
Attention-grabber.
Blast rocked the crowd.
A few toppled.
"What the hell was that?!"
"Whoa!"
"Who just used a power?"
They flailed, scanning wildly.
Time burned— curt reply.
"Grab weapons. Follow."
No soul bit on the barebones pitch.
He knew it.
Predictably, one stirred to yap.
Oh Heon's blade rose.
Schwick—!
Rip of rending flesh.
One person's EXP? Pocket change now.
Flash power gap and terror, then grind hunts and skills—profitable.
Slaughter's goal shifted past EXP and gold.
Dead guy's words? Irrelevant.
One deed outdid endless yakking.
Humans: chatty mobs.
Dialogues wasted breath.
Still, he spoke.
"Don't follow? Die."
Ultimatum dropped.
With that, he sauntered meadow-ward.
Silence gripped them briefly.
Sharp ones trailed first—snowball effect swept the rest.
Minds raced: decode, escape.
Fate locked in.
Zone 2 entry tensed them amid foreboding woods.
Or maybe him.
Quest and gear briefs done, he aided wolf hunts.
Domain-frozen wolves, picked off assembly-line style.
Slaughterhouse vibes.
Then: rote labor loop.
Early mix of ease and edge in their hunts.
Faded quick.
Dozens of minutes later: level-up euphoria.
Quests cleared.
Man-slaying forgotten, friendlies approached Oh Heon.
"Thanks for the help."
"Name's Karmang. Looking forward to working together."
"That kill a test? You shocked me!"
Half-plus still eyed warily.
One middle-aged guy, spooked, prepped bolt.
Futile.
'Domain.'
[Domain 3rd Grade]
Activated
Domain snapped online.
3rd-grade drain registered; force lanced at the twelve.
Sub-second blink.
Crunch!!
Omnidirectional crush pulped them instantly.
Moments ago vital, now formless meat.
Beyond "corpse."
Not assault.
Erasure.
Sole witness: Oh Heon.
Siron viewing? Speechless for days.
...
EXP, gold, prime Soul Origin absorbed.
Weapons reclaimed, wolf culls resumed.
'People ate time. Grasp Complete sealed too—hunt pace lags.
'Hustle.'
Nearby wolves cleared, he bolted wolf-thronged turf.
Truth be: today,
Strangers though they were,
Oh Heon and Siron's dimension doings converged on one goal.
Methods diverged, that's all.