Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: 1. A Common Setup?
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"Sorry, but could you say that one more time?"
"Make one more... cough... give it to me...."
At some point, it had switched to informal speech, but there was no intention of making an issue out of it. Far more incomprehensible was Sung-hoon's behavior. What could be the intent of a guy who had barely killed one dog, vomited his guts out, and trembled with both hands, now asking for another dog?
Was he planning to apologize to it or something?
In this Starting Room, it was impossible to gain experience or improve skill proficiency anyway. In other words, whether they trained in combat, slept, or indulged in self-comfort—as long as they didn't commit suicide—it wasn't really their place to interfere. And as soon as another dog was created, Sung-hoon staggered to his feet.
"Careful there."
With Jerry's support, Sung-hoon barely managed to stand. His face was a total mess, his hands trembling faintly. His pupils shook. Yet Sung-hoon didn't hesitate and swung his sword once more, decapitating the dog.
"Uweeeek!"
He vomited for a good while, completely drained, now struggling even to stand properly. But Jerry watched with a strange sense of anticipation. And Sung-hoon did not betray that expectation.
"One more... can you make it and restore my stamina?"
"Of course."
As white light enveloped his body, it felt much lighter, strength returning. His body shook as if a screw had come loose in his head, but he could definitely stand and assume a stance now. Gripping the sword, he swung it from left to right.
Kwajik!
The body split open, entrails spilling out. But this time, Sung-hoon didn't collapse. Clenching his teeth, body trembling, he planted both feet firmly on the ground and stood steady. It was only the third time killing the dog, but he'd finally managed to maintain his stance.
"Huuuuh."
He exhaled.
He had purchased the basic Three Materials Heart Method, but he wasn't using it. Just quietly inhaling and exhaling. There was something called tactical breathing. For calming down in a state of panic—long inhale, hold, long exhale. Nothing special.
But repeating it steadily began to settle the trembling in his body bit by bit.
"One more."
Now, the dog appeared before Sung-hoon even finished speaking. And before the white light faded, the sword swung. He wasn't enjoying the process at all. He just needed to get 'used' to it. He was already someone who had killed a person out of necessity. He couldn't afford to tremble in fear at killing a single dog now.
In that sense, this Starting Room was truly an essential place. The simple act of holding a sword and stabbing. But if the target was a living being, the vast majority of people would hesitate. And even if they managed to stab, recovering from the shock wouldn't be easy.
But here, at least, he could safely kill lives countless times.
In other words, get accustomed to the act of killing.
'Better to take the first beating.'
Recalling Jerry's words, Sung-hoon swung his sword repeatedly.
After swinging for dozens of minutes, the surroundings had transformed into a scene straight out of a B-grade horror movie. Dog corpses, entrails, chunks of flesh scattered everywhere, pools of slippery blood. In the midst of it all, Sung-hoon gripped his sword, regulating his breath.
'I'm weak. But I'm not stupid. If it's something I have to do, I do it thoroughly.'
At least, killing dogs had become quite familiar. Creating several dogs at once and swinging his sword like a windmill to take their lives, Sung-hoon let out a long breath. Jerry, who had watched the process with interest from behind, muttered.
"That was quite impressive. I don't know how many times I've been surprised today. And my evaluation of you, Mr. Yoo Sung-hoon, has changed just as many times."
He wanted to smile, but he couldn't.
Even with the effect of Hidden Dagger in Laughter and pouring in his mental strength, maintaining a blank expression here was his limit. Giving up on smiling, Sung-hoon brought up the next topic right away.
"Can you do other things?"
"Other things?"
"Besides dogs—other animals or monsters, and..."
Sung-hoon paused for a moment, then slightly lifted the corner of his mouth.
"Humans too."
"As many as you like."
With a pure white light, the silver-gleaming sword swung. And red blood sprayed in all directions.
"Huuuuh."
Plop!
Sung-hoon threw himself onto the bed, exhaling for the umpteenth time. His clothes, soaked in bright red blood and crudely stuck with chunks of flesh, had been cleanly laundered and neatly hung on a hanger. Staring blankly at them with dazed eyes, Sung-hoon smiled. He didn't know why. The smile just wouldn't stop on its own.
Maybe he was going crazy.
No matter how necessary it was to get used to killing, he hadn't expected to slaughter so many lives. It felt like the him from a few hours ago was a different being entirely.
"How many did I kill...?"
Dogs—at least over a hundred. Then horses, cows, gradually larger animals. Next came monsters. He'd half-expected it in this shitty situation, but when a green dwarf suddenly appeared, he was shocked enough to scream. Anyway, he'd killed goblins, lizardmen, orcs. And the last thing he killed was humans.
The sword flew toward humans with vacant, idiotic eyes. Bolstered by Lowest Swordsmanship, Sung-hoon's blade felled them one after another. At first, he simply stabbed vital points to kill. But later, like a psychopath, he hacked bodies apart, torturing them as he killed. If Jerry hadn't kept restoring his stamina, he would've collapsed long ago—but with infinite stamina recovery, he could continue the process.
And when he felt no emotion at all after killing more people, he stopped the practical training.
Eating a meal conjured with a mere finger snap like a magician, Sung-hoon lay on the bed and quickly fell into deep sleep.
For a moment, he wondered if it was all a dream.
'No way...'
Sung-hoon sneered at himself.
"Names... Pil-seop? Mi-na, and who was the last one?"
He couldn't even remember their names already.
He was an utterly ordinary guy. A typical 25-year-old Korean youth. Liked games, novels, bounced between part-time jobs, had a few drinking buddies. Never killed anything in his life, and even got scared watching horror movies, wrapping himself tight in blankets to sleep.
Yet plunged into this abnormal situation, given three choices, he'd chosen to survive alone without a moment's hesitation. Even though they could've pooled strength to all survive, found an escape, or killed all the monsters. Thinking that far, Sung-hoon suddenly buried his face in the pillow and rolled around.
"Uwaaaah! Back then, I was too reckless. Following that quest wouldn't have gotten us out anyway, but I just charged ahead. I can't do that."
If he'd chosen to survive alone and stayed trapped in that building with the monsters—what then?
It had gone well by luck, but looking back, it was far too rash. He needed to take this as a lesson and restrain such reckless actions next time. That wasn't the only flaw. In hindsight, he'd trusted Jerry too easily.
If he had bad intentions—could he still be alive like this?
'I'm a villain.'
The thought came suddenly. No matter how necessary acclimation was, slaughtering countless lives. Fine, gloss over that. What shocked even him was killing the three he'd met at the start.
He'd vomited and cried simply because it was 'gross.' The squelching feel of slicing flesh and organs, the spraying entrails—it was disgusting, so he collapsed. Guilt wasn't absent, but compared to the remorse depicted in movies or novels, it was negligible.
A guy who'd killed people and animals, feeling no guilt, calmly planning actions like this.
'I won't deny it. I'm a villain. An undeniable villain.'
Repeating 'villain' to himself like hypnosis, Sung-hoon fell asleep as is.
"...Mr. Hoon."
"Mmm."
"...Mr. Yoo Sung-hoon. You need to wake up."
"Hwaaam~. Just a bit more..."
"I won't stop you if you want to sleep more, but I recommend getting up. Unless you plan to start The Mission in your pajamas."
"What bullshit is..."
Half-dazed as he spoke, Sung-hoon finally recalled yesterday's events. Slapping his cheeks with both palms, he felt his senses sharpen.
"How much time left?"
"1 hour."
"Can you make a bathroom? And food?"
Sure enough, a small door appeared in an instant. Opening it revealed a bath; Sung-hoon stepped inside and closed the door. Around him, a large table and countless delicacies materialized instantly.
'He squeezes every benefit out of this place.'
Sung-hoon himself hadn't directly taken anything.
But getting over his aversion to killing living beings—to the point of familiarity—and fully accepting the current situation were praiseworthy. And his first actions upon waking were excellent. Nothing could be taken from this Starting Room.
But if he provided it, anything could be created inside. Ordering a bath and meal upon rising was the perfect choice.