Awakening in the Starting Village
His blurry vision gradually cleared.
The musty smell of mold pricking at his nose, mingled with the scent of wood.
The rough, straw-stuffed mattress digging harshly into his back.
Lee Han pushed himself up, pressing his throbbing temples.
In his mind, two rivers collided fiercely and merged, swirling with a vortex of intense information.
…I remember.
Lee Han became aware of himself.
This wasn't reality. Or rather, it was.
To be precise, this was the world of the "eroge" he used to play.
An indecent game plastered with provocative labels like adult, hardcore, 18+, and so on.
Its main selling point was indeed the stimulating events with beautiful girl characters.
But the reason he'd poured time into it was something else.
The bizarrely vast and intricate Trait Collection & Combination system.
Swing a sword tens of thousands of times for a slim chance at the Swordsmanship trait.
Throw stones thousands of times pointlessly to maybe unlock Throwing.
Awaken mana and infuse it into objects to gain Telekinesis.
Then max out those three for Imperial Sword Flight.
That kind of game.
Every action triggered an internal mechanism, probabilistically granting traits in a sandbox growth structure.
A highly addictive progression system.
And yesterday—or rather, in his last memory on Earth—Lee Han had been creating a new character.
He'd slotted in the most overpowered, balance-breaking trait in the game.
Trait Collector.
Lee Han murmured softly into the air.
"Status window."
You are blessed to absorb the essence of the world's principles and techniques. The probability of acquiring traits from all actions is extremely increased.
It was there.
The trait he'd slotted in before starting the game was imprinted in the system window without a single discrepancy.
Traits that normally required piercing a 0.0001% freakish probability.
But with Trait Collector, everything changed.
Every action became a serendipitous opportunity, even breathing a step toward growth.
…This is the best part.
His 24 years of life on Earth remained in his mind.
Thus, the solid trajectory of living as "Woodcutter Lee Han" anchored his sense of self.
Memories of losing his parents young and chopping wood alone in a mountain cabin teeming with beasts—rough and solitary.
The memories as "Lee Han" melted gently into the sturdy ego of the woodcutter, like a vivid dream from a long sleep, a past life recalled upon waking.
"For now…"
Lee Han rose from the bed.
His bare feet hit the cold wooden floor, reality sinking into his bones.
"Let's do what needs doing today."
He had no intention of rushing down the mountain in excitement or hunting monsters right away.
He was just a woodcutter with decent strength now.
His game knowledge and woodcutter experience both warned him how merciless this world was.
Lee Han picked up the axe leaning in the cabin corner.
The familiar grip wrapped around his palm.
Creak—
He opened the wooden door and stepped out into the chill dawn forest air.
Lee Han walked toward the logs scattered in the yard before the cabin.
With familiar motions, he stood a thick log on the anvil.
He raised the axe high.
Shoulder muscles contracted, waist torque flowing through his arm to the blade.
The daily labor for survival that past Lee Han had repeated tens of thousands of times.
But this was the first swing after regaining Earth's memories.
Crack—! A dull friction sound, and the log split perfectly in half, tumbling to the sides.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Lee Han didn't stop.
He set up the second log and swung again.
Crack! Crack!
Simple, repetitive action.
As his breath rose to his jawline and heat rose between his rough palms and the axe handle.
Ding—!
Trait Collector Lv.Max has activated.
You've pierced the essence of repetitive labor!
New trait acquired: Firewood Chopping Lv.1
The moment the message appeared, a clear change swept through his body.
Optimal angles and force distribution for chopping firewood flooded his mind as knowledge, instantly syncing with his muscles.
Lee Han gripped the axe again and set up a new log.
This time was different.
No need to swing with force.
Just let the axe's weight guide a fluid arc, and the blade sank perfectly into the grain.
Split—!
With less effort than before, the log cleaved perfectly in two.
Staring at the split log, Lee Han could only zone out.
"…With this, I can do anything."
He muttered to the empty air like a madman.
That afternoon.
Having piled the yard with a mountain of firewood from morning swings, Lee Han moved to the wide clearing in the back mountain.
Dozens of pebbles gathered from the riverbed littered the ground.
What he was aiming for now was the Throwing trait.
One of the most versatile combat traits, useful right up to the game's ending.
Lee Han targeted a thick tree trunk about 30 meters away.
He lightly gripped a stone and drew back his arm.
Whoosh—thud!
The stone missed the trunk by a mile, burying into nearby bushes.
"Figures it wouldn't happen in one go."
Even with Trait Collector, the system wouldn't hand out combat traits after a single try.
Better that way. He had time to burn.
Lee Han picked up another stone.
Adjusted his stance, focused his gaze.
Whoosh—thunk!
A bit closer.
Lee Han didn't stop.
Even as his fingertips blistered and his shoulder throbbed like it might dislocate, he kept throwing.
Time flowed on.
A day, two days. A week passed over the cabin.
That week, Lee Han's routine was monotonous but intense.
Rise at dawn, chop a mountain of firewood; afternoons hurling stones until his body screamed.
And finally.
Ding—!
Trait Collector Lv.Max has activated.
You've comprehended the physical trajectory of thrown objects!
New trait acquired: Throwing Lv.1
Proficiency increase: Firewood Chopping has reached Lv.2
Lee Han rolled a stone in his callused hand, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Fun…"
What was it? Feeling yourself grow was truly addictive.
"This is why I loved this game."
He'd love this world too. Sincerely.
"Next…"
Time to test the Throwing skill.
Come to think of it, there was a goblin nesting area nearby.
***
"Hah…! Heuk…!"
Lungs tearing with pain.
Blood-tinged sweetness boiled up her throat.
The woman's figure fleeing through the dark, dense forest was utterly wretched. Her pink hair, which should have shimmered beautifully, was tangled in thorns, caked in dried blood and mud, long since lost its color.
Her voluptuous, ample body was nothing but a cursed shackle in her escape. Tree branches mercilessly clawed her pale, soft skin.
Each step made her breasts sway, shortening her breath; squeezing through narrow tree gaps snagged her hips and rear on rough branches, killing her speed.
"Hic… Uhic…!"
Terror and despair filled her tear-soaked pink eyes.
As she ran, hellish memories flashed: her sturdy tanker comrade's neck severed by a bluish blade, rolling on the ground.
The mage girl she'd shared a room with, gutted and dragged by beastly foes gripping her legs.
No… I… I can't end up like that…!
Ariel gritted her teeth, clenching so hard they might shatter.
She knew instinctively: capture meant a hell worse than death.
So she clutched her bursting heart and ran, ran more.
But.
Thud—
"Aak!" Cruelly, her toe snagged a protruding thick kudzu root.
Her unbalanced body flew into the air, crashing onto a pile of rotten leaves.
"Ah, aa…!"
Agonizing pain shot from her ankle, like it might snap.
She tried to rise, but her limp legs wouldn't obey.
As she crawled and flailed, ominous footsteps approached from the darkness behind.
Rustle. Rustle.
"Kikik! Kickick…!" "Female! Female! Female!"
Crude, repulsive speech.
Or less language, more beastly panting.
Emerging from the bushes: grotesque, twisted green-skinned monsters.
A goblin pack.
They clutched crude, rusted swords and clubs clotted with comrades' blood and flesh.
Their murky yellow eyes lecherously scanned Ariel's fallen, curvaceous form.
Chills ran over her at those mating-crazed gazes.
"Stay back… Please… Stay back!"
Terror-stricken, Ariel scrambled backward, but a massive boulder blocked her path.
No escape.
The goblins bared yellowed fangs, closing in on her face.
Fetid blood and filth stench assaulted her nose.
One goblin drooled, filthy hand reaching for her exposed thigh through torn clothes.
It was over.
The hellish future vivid in her mind, Ariel squeezed her eyes shut, abandoning resistance. And in that instant, awaiting despair deeper than death.
Whoosh—!
A merciless air-ripping whoosh echoed from somewhere.
Then.
Splatter—! Crunch!
—Kikik… Gruk?
Eerie sound.
Hot, sticky liquid and tiny flesh flecks splashed her cheek like raindrops.
Wha…?
Ariel tremblingly lifted her eyelids.
First in her sight: the goblin that had reached for her thigh moments ago.
More precisely, its headless body.
Like punched by an invisible giant's fist, everything above its neck had exploded formlessly, spraying red blood and bone shards like a fountain.
Whoosh—! Crunch!
Another air-rip, and a second goblin's head shattered with a thud.
Only then did Ariel clearly see at vision's edge what flew in.
A stone.
An ordinary pebble, fist-sized for an adult man, common anywhere.
That single stone flew like a boulder from a siege weapon, sequentially smashing goblin skulls.
Wha…?
Ariel couldn't comprehend the situation.
How… how was this possible?