Even the Humanities Have Status Windows

"What are you doing, Senior?"

"Hm? Organizing the mods like the main body told us to!"

Every time the realm went up, the mods patched themselves however they pleased and started colliding with each other. After the raid boss fight, they'd slapped together a rough cleanup in a hurry — and apparently that was enough for the Field Boss Enhancement Mode to crash into something else.

No matter how you looked at it, that field boss had been disgustingly strong for its level.

Organizing mods was a tedious, soul-crushing chore that ate through time and slaughter energy like nothing else. Of course the main body dumped it on them. She'd done the same mind-numbing work in her past life — no wonder she was sick of it.

With that thought, the humanity nestled into Yeona's arms, soaking up the gentle petting, and mechanically went back to reading patch notes and sorting mods into order. The massive jump in spiritual power meant she no longer keeled over from slaughter-energy drain mid-read, which made the whole thing possible. And while the main body might not have noticed, the moment she fell asleep in the Mental World, captive-exploration time froze — so the humanity had already figured out that time flowed differently inside the base than outside. Which meant she could take her sweet time lounging in a friendly NPC's arms like this—

"Oh, a different senior?"

"Yep! Shift change! C'mon, Yeona, pet me too!"

"Yes, I won't refuse!"

The warm touch of another person's body heat helped the humanity slip free of the skill's grip and recognize this world as real. The fact that the main body still processed all of this as an "interaction" was enough to leave anyone speechless — but that was just how she was.

"Yeona."

"Yes, Senior."

"We like you."

A single offhand line from the main body — four words tossed out on a whim — had ultimately brought them all back to life. That was reason enough.

"I like you too, Senior!"

"Hey, you know women can't dual-cultivate with each other, right? Hee-a?"

"Ah, Cheon Nan-cho. The main body is asleep."

Cheon Nan-cho had wandered over at some point and started spouting nonsense, so the humanity clarified that she was not, in fact, the main body.

"A clone?"

"Not exactly a clone. You know how the main body sometimes mutters questions and answers to herself? That was her talking to us."

"Most people call that a dissociative identity disorder."

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"It's more like… hmm."

Unable to find a clean explanation, she was about to open an emergency internal conference with the other humanities on how to phrase it — when every gaze in the room snapped, unbidden, toward a single humanity sprawled in the corner of the mansion living room that served as their meeting hall. She stood out like a sore thumb.

The humanities all looked more or less the same. They were simply Yu Hee at different ages of growth — black hair and blood-red eyes across the board. Height and chest size were basically the only things that set them apart. Beyond pinning on accessories or restyling their hair like costumes, there wasn't much to go on. Which made this one impossible to miss.

Anyone with angel wings on their back was going to stand out.

The angel regarded them with half-lidded, thoroughly unimpressed eyes, and not a single humanity felt a shred of wariness. Their shared origin — the bone-deep familiarity of souls cut from the same cloth — told them everything they needed. The moment they figured out who she was, they swarmed.

"It's Seong-ah!"

"Yu I-seong! Finally done playing hikikomori?!"

"What are those wings?! We want some too!"

"So what were the options on that mythic item?!"

Yu I-seong's brows knit and the corner of her mouth twisted under the sudden barrage of questions, but the humanities didn't stop — they shoved their faces in close, blood-red eyes sparkling. Naturally, Yu I-seong was the first to fold.

"Like the main body… I transcended."

"The main body transcended?"

"Oh, you mean when she changed races into a giant?"

"So Seong-ah transcended into an angel?"

"…Everyone calm down first."

Yu I-seong dropped her voice and hardened her expression, as if what came next was serious business. The humanities watched with keen interest, waiting for whatever would fall out of her mouth.

"After transcending, I got a Status Window — just like the main body."

The other humanities heaved a collective sigh.

"What, you didn't share the info?"

"We can't even read her thoughts anymore, though."

"I was wondering what she was going on about."

Yu I-seong, who'd tensed up delivering the news, now had a full constellation of question marks floating over her head. One of the humanities answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"We all have them. Status Windows."

No nickname. No stats beyond Mind. A Status Window in every sense of the word — a pure Mortal's window. You might wonder how a Status Window could exist for humanities who weren't cultivators, who weren't even the main body…

"We're the same 'me' as the main body to begin with, and she opened her Status Window back when she was still a Mortal, not a cultivator! An innate ability gets carved into the soul — and since we share the same soul, of course we have Status Windows too. More importantly, hurry up and open yours so we can see it!"

"Wait, how long have you all known you had Status Windows?"

"We figured it out when we were piloting the body in the main body's place and Reality Denial erosion got so bad we yelled 'Status Window' — and ours popped up. Now stop stalling and write yours out here already!"

The other humanities crowded in and applied pressure until they finally extracted the following:

Compared to the bare-bones windows of the other humanities, this one was in an entirely different league — flashy as hell.

"What's a Celestial Puppeteer?"

"Probably leftover corruption from that raid boss — the evil hasn't fully drained yet! Must be an angel race, right?"

"Okay but what about the mythic item?!"

A deep rumble. A crash.

The chattering humanities all froze at once as the inner world shook with a sudden earthquake. A glance toward the Golden Core revealed the cause: a cloud of killing intent had drifted in and collided with the main body, who was sprawled out asleep beside it. She groaned and twitched, as if about to wake — despite not having drawn a single breath the entire time she'd been out.

"I'm going back in. Ever since I transcended, staying linked to the main body means spiritual power and slaughter energy both pour in at once. It's hell."

"Ah, so that's why you locked yourself away!"

"Hurry, get in! The main body's waking up!"

"Tell us the mythic item options before you go!"

But the door slammed shut in a rush — and at the same moment, Yu Hee, who had been sprawled asleep atop a cloud of killing intent in the Mental World, sat up clutching a head that felt like it was about to split open for reasons she couldn't place.

Unaware that she'd essentially been in a traffic accident with her own Golden Core — skull cracked halfway open and then regenerated — Yu Hee seized control of her physical body again, opened her eyes, and, for starters, grabbed the waiting Cheon Nan-cho with both hands and pulled her straight into a hug.

"What do you mean it's not a split personality, then? Why are there other personalities?! A cultivator who's formed a Golden Core with a dissociative identity disorder? That doesn't even make sense."

"Hmm. If I had to put a name to it, it's something like a soul-cultivation technique. The humanities are me either way — the only difference is that their baseline is set to Mortal."

"Then get rid of them. Why keep a bunch of useless things that only get in the way of your training?"

Cheon Nan-cho's cold words were the merciless judgment of a cultivator's perspective, and a fair one. On the endless road of cultivation toward infinite lifespan, a divided soul was a massive weakness — and a Mortal baseline was a trap that snared your ankles.

"Well, I call them 'Humanities,' technically. And one of them just transcended past Mortal recently, so."

While she was asleep, they'd been up to something. She flipped through the memories like a scroll and found something weird. Wait — they had Status Windows too? Ah. It was basically her innate ability, so of course they would.

"I have zero talent for handling spiritual power and zero talent for fighting. But they do — so they're not completely useless, right?"

"Hee-a. You're saying you have no talent for fighting?"

"Yeah. What I've ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠got is a talent for killing."

Fighting well and killing well were completely different tracks, as far as she was concerned. That conviction had only hardened the moment she watched Yu I-seong one-shot the angel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that she herself had flailed at and failed to put down. It also explained why she always took hits and struggled against humanoid monsters that had clearly trained actual combat skills. You couldn't even say "I survived, so I win!" — not when the main body would have died ages ago without Auto-Battle. Back then there was no Recall and no save points, either. And by now she knew the 100% Captive Mode wasn't perfect — it only triggered on Auto-Battle defeats.

Cheon Nan-cho still wasn't fully convinced, but she dropped the scolding. Everything she'd just said had been a friendly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠NPC's interaction, born out of worry for her. And as a help-guide NPC, Cheon Nan-cho leaned into that role harder than anyone — the advisor who always offered the fastest, most efficient counsel from a cultivator's standpoint. Lately it had seemed like Elder Togo might be stealing that position, but the old man's information was hopelessly outdated. He'd been sealed for ages after losing to his successor in the upper realm, forced to carry the transmission for who knew how long. Besides, Cheon Nan-cho was still the captive she'd spent the most time with.

"So. The materials for my dharma treasure?"

"Haven't found them yet."

"Fair enough. Anything good enough to catch your eye would be rare — I'll wait."

What? If she was going to wait with that much expectation, the perfect plan of just grabbing some random epic-grade material item and calling it done was completely ruined!