Hope for Sale
Naturally, I bought it first and asked questions later.
Even looking at games alone, you could see why. Slap the keyword growth-type onto the same weapon or skill and its value skyrockets into the absurd.
Enemy mid laner just bought a Mejai's with infinite stacks. And for some reason, the bastard never dies? Yeah, no — I was not sitting that one out.
The moment I hit the purchase button, the number for my money drained away in a rush — and at the same time, a ticklish sensation crawled across the back of my left hand.
Then, as if some invisible hand were etching a tattoo into my skin, a black coffin the size of a pinky finger slowly drew itself into existence.
I stared at that plain black hexagon, empty of any other design, and spoke.
"So, roughly speaking — every time I put down a corpse, how much do my physical abilities go up?"
Uh... well? You're the first Master I've ever seen purchase the Undertaker Tattoo, so... let me dig through the data real quick.
"....."
That half-assed answer from the salesperson suddenly made me nervous.
Exactly one hundred zombies. Honestly, I hadn't personally beaten every last one of them to death, but I'd treated it like hitting the lottery — and if a product I'd dropped that kind of money on turned out to be nothing but overhyped packaging, there was no worse feeling in the world.
"...It does increase raw strength and all that, right?"
Of course it does! Come on, even I wouldn't go so far as to lie to Master about something like that... Aha! Found it!
The crow rolled its eyes, rummaging through something we couldn't see, then lit up as it spoke.
Looks like this is a high-grade mark you absolutely can't get in the early game — and the effect is so long-term that there are basically zero purchase records. But the worlds across the greater dimensions are infinite, so if you dig hard enough, of course you can find one!
Hmm... as expected, it was rated as a straight upgrade over the Stray Dog Mark. Makes sense — upper management would never greenlight a product with basically the same effect.
"...You're rambling a lot of useless noise. So what's the answer to my question?"
Geez, I'm reading the records in real time, so give me a second... Right, so unlike the Stray Dog, which requires direct consumption, the Undertaker's activation condition is extremely simple. Kill a soul-bearing organism within five meters, and the fragments get injected into the buyer's soul as...
"What? Hold on — inject what into my soul?"
Don't worry — it goes through complete purification during collection. Anyway, as for how much the buyer's body gets strengthened through that injection...
I was watching the crow with a vaguely unsettled look as it stared at one fixed point in total concentration — when I suddenly felt Yejin's hand lightly catch my wrist.
Wondering what it was, I looked at her. She avoided my eyes, hesitating, then managed a single line through pale lips.
"What if... there's some kind of side effect? Looking at it, I just can't believe a power like that would come for free..."
"It's fine. My body is already so abnormal there's no fixing it. A few more problems on top aren't even going to show."
"...Oppa."
"Hey, I was just saying."
At that one word, the girl who'd been avoiding my gaze locked onto me and stared hard. Even I couldn't help finding a look like that heavy.
I'd brushed off the greasy malice of humans and the seething killing intent of that Beta like it was nothing — but when eyes sparkled at me with pure goodwill, I genuinely had no idea what to do with myself.
Finally found it! For both Necro and Human kills, the fragments injected vary wildly depending on the mass of the soul. But compiling reports from the most recent 123,215 dimensions: standard-type Necros average a 0.5% increase, while same-species slaughter shows a more efficient rise of about 1.8%.
"...What?"
For a second I froze, hit with too many things that needed calling out at once.
The decimal-point scale was already enough to leave me speechless — but more than that, what the hell was same-species slaughter? It had clearly said Human specimens, so it had to mean people like me. Humanity.
"What kind of bullshit is 'same-species slaughter'? No — more importantly, 0.5 percent? What kind of scam is this? I'd have to kill a hundred just to get a 1.5x boost."
I didn't set it — that was entirely upper management's call — but from a balance standpoint, it was probably inevitable. For ordinary people who can barely handle a single regular Necro, this is a product they couldn't even dream of using. Something only a human like Master can actually put to work.
And Master — decimals or not, this is still plenty incredible. A human bound by the laws of the physical plane who solo-hunted a Beta Type? You of all people should have zero problems with this.
"Zero problems, my ass. You think I live on a diet of nothing but zombie hunting?"
I understand Master's frustration, but speaking from humanity's perspective, you should be grateful for even this much. And on that note — just one more thing.
It gestured for me alone to lean in close to the screen. The moment I brought my ear near, the crow's whispering voice arrived not from the display, but directly inside my head.
If you were going to do it this way, why make me come closer in the first place?
Those higher-ups I keep emphasizing? They're full of beings who would actively prefer that Master — and humanity across other dimensions — go extinct. So there's no way they'd just leave you free to have fun with this.
"Then that 'same-species slaughter' thing from earlier..."
It means they want humanity to help wipe itself out. Honestly, they're scheming little bastards through and through.
The crow actually shuddered all over, as if genuinely disgusted. I pulled my upper body back upright and opened my mouth.
"If what you're saying is true, this tattoo probably isn't all upside. There's really no side effect?"
Come on, if there were, I would've told you. The price for the ability was paid clean and simple — one hundred Tar. You don't need to worry.
Then the crow glanced at Yejin, who was visibly relaxing beside me at those words — hesitated for just a beat — and added one more line.
Well, there is one teeny-tiny, completely minor little drawback...
"...This birdbrain thinks it can play me for a sucker..."
As I quietly stood up beside a horrified Yejin and reached for the iron pipe, the crow flapped its wing-hands wildly and scrambled to add more.
No, no! It's genuinely minor! For someone like Master, it really is no problem at all!
"Sure. That's how every snake-oil salesman talks. 'May cause mild indigestion if consumed.' That kind of thing."
I lifted the iron pipe in the hand now marked with the product the crow had sold me, and made a motion like I was about to smash the screen then and there. Chaeyeon and Soeun, who'd been chatting at a café table, went wide-eyed and stared in my direction.
When I finally pretended to swing the pipe down hard, the crow squeezed its eyes shut and shrieked.
Masteeeeer! Even if you smash the screen, it doesn't hurt me at aaaaaall!
"I know that."
...Ugh. Master, you really do have a nasty streak.
I set the pipe down like nothing had happened and just stared blankly. The crow let out a low groan and finally managed to straighten its clothes.
Though I still didn't get why it kept wearing those scrap bandages. What was it, a Christmas tree?
"Tell me what that drawback is before I show you what a real nasty streak looks like."
It's really nothing. The mark itself is a somewhat special symbol on that side of things, so Necros with actual reason might treat Master a little differently.
"If they have reason — what, those Original whatever things?"
Yes. Those low-grade ones are included, but when people say 'has reason,' there's really only one type they're usually pointing at.
Alpha. The true protagonists of the end times — the ones who would appear once the prologue was over.
"Really was nothing, then. Different attitude or not, I just smash their skulls and we're done."
"Oppa, I still think you should be careful. 'Attitude changes' could mean a lot of things..."
Hmm, it's a little hard to put into words, but for example...
A hunter goes out rabbit hunting — only to find the rabbit he spots is holding a gun of its own, aimed right back at him. Something like that.
Hearing that example, I had no choice but to frown and mutter.
"What kind of bullshit is that?"
Or wait — in this case, should I call it birdshit?
Crunch—
Sizzle—
"Chew, chew. Tsk. This one's a little underdone."
"Munch, munch. Yeah, you think so? Should've flipped it one more time. Figured if I just cooked it like a regular steak it'd be fine..."
"Dude, this is seriously weird, though. How does it taste this sour when we didn't even put any seasoning on it?"
"Right? No joke, this is actually fucking delicious. That sharp bite mixed with the umami — real delicacy stuff."
"Hey, but are we even allowed to be eating this? If Grandpa catches us, we getting holes punched through our necks like those club meatbags?"
"Ah, fuck off. I told you no. The glasses bastard said if we want to eat the stuff that spoils fast, go ahead. Never thought there'd actually be freaks like us, though. Heh heh."
"Hahaha. Fair enough. With bread sitting right there, who else but the two of us would bother chewing on human meat?"
But what were they supposed to do? The two of them craved protein more than that carbohydrate crap.
"Can't we cook more?"
"Nope. One thigh per person, that was the limit."
"Ah, shit... what a waste. No other cuts?"
"None. Glasses bastard said only cut and store the forearms and thighs. Dump everything else."
"...I wanna try the other parts too. Tsk."
He'd vaguely heard from somewhere overseas that a woman's breasts were supposed to be incredibly soft.
"Huh? Those things — aren't they nasty as hell because of the milk ducts? Like chewing on tendons every bite. Ugh."
"Nah. Married ajummas are like that. But the firm ones on young girls? They melt right in your mouth."
"Whoa... tsk. Now I'm drooling."
"First chance I get, I'm definitely trying some."
And so the two convicts, roasting meat over a campfire in a secluded corner of the factory, suddenly noticed a tattoo that hadn't been there before — drawn onto the backs of their left hands.
"...The fuck is this?"
A black stray dog, its teeth so vicious they crossed into grotesque, sat with its jaws stretched wide — as if ready to devour the human flesh in their hands at any moment.
And if it came to it, not just the meat — the men themselves, too.