The Orange Badge Demands Answers
My fingers flew frantically across the screen, hammering out the response before panic could set in. From my years of browsing internet forums, I knew one universal truth: you never pick a fight with the Main Mod. When someone brazenly flaunts an orange badge next to their handle, only a lunatic would dare cross them. And lunatic or not, I certainly wasn't suicidal enough to try.
It wasn't like I'd been sitting on my hands, after all. I had literally been on the brink of dropping dead from dehydration. I'd practically drowned myself chugging water, and my stomach had been screaming so loud that I shoveled down five entire cans of rations right on the spot.
Sure, looking back, acting like a toxic leach who tossed out questions without bothering to answer anyone else was a pretty scumbag move. Even so, I never imagined it would earn me a direct message straight from the Main Mod himself. Talk about harsh.
The forum might not have been a silver bullet for my problems so far, but losing access to it now would drive me completely out of my mind. Besides, until that notification popped up, I hadn't even realized this godforsaken board had an active moderator in the first place.
My eyes darted around the dim guard post as I waited, breath held. Only a few agonizing seconds ticked by before the reply landed.
Left him on read? What was he even talking about?
A wave of indignation washed over me, but just in case, I pulled up my post history to retrace my steps. That was when a single comment caught my eye.
"Ah..."
It was sitting right there under the flex post I'd tossed up immediately after butchering the Shop Anomaly. Truth be told, surviving had been such an all-consuming priority that I rarely bothered reading replies unless they were answers to my own desperate questions. That was on me. To make matters worse, after making that post, I'd passed out cold, woken up to a brand-new shop window, and gotten lost poking through its menus. Going back through my old threads to check the comments simply hadn't crossed my mind.
When the manager is furious, you swallow your pride and apologize. Simple as that.
His response was instantaneous. An immediate grilling right after accepting my apology... It wasn't that I didn't want to answer, but what was I even supposed to say? I barely understood it myself. Just an extraordinarily pissed-off guy browsing a cursed forum?
Evidently, that was not what he wanted to hear.
Wait, seriously?
Here I thought he was just ticked off about being left on read, but the guy was a full-blown tinfoil conspiracist. Labeling someone a monster just because they were a little different from the norm? He was practically one step away from preaching alien abductions. Still, when the admin demands an explanation, you don't argue—you deliver.
I began laying out everything that had happened since arriving in this place. It wasn't as though I had anything to hide; up until now, I simply hadn't possessed the mental bandwidth to write a comprehensive memoir.
I laid bare my circumstances in as much detail as possible, recounting everything from bludgeoning the Smiling Anomaly to pulverizing the Shop Anomaly, along with the status window and shop interface that unlocked as a result. If Juttak genuinely suspected me of being an anomaly, a permanent ban was only a single click away. That was an outcome I couldn't afford. Besides, this guy reeked of being an ancient veteran; keeping him on my good side might actually yield some crucial advice down the line.
Reading his message, I couldn't honestly fault his skepticism. Having stared down the Shop Anomaly with my own two eyes, I knew firsthand how terrifying those monstrosities were. They were horrifying, overwhelming, and utterly irrational. Even if you deciphered their bizarre rules, actually slaying one was an entirely separate dilemma.
Yet I had done it. Twice. A complete and total irregular. I knew it sounded crazy, but what was I supposed to do about it? It had already happened. I was just reporting the facts.
"Oh..."
The guy was surprisingly chill once he made up his mind. I don't get it, but you don't seem like a monster, so I'll let it slide. Was this level of broad-minded detachment a prerequisite for running a survival gallery? It certainly explained why nobody had posted cursed shock images over the past three days. Or rather, four days now.
[Time Remaining Until Next Floor Unlocks: 3 Days]
An entire day had slipped away while I was unconscious. Releasing my grip on the door handle, I turned back toward the security guard post. It was about time I tried out that gacha feature or whatever it was, but before rolling the dice, I needed to consult the community on the questions I'd promised to ask.
Conveniently enough, the entire front page was ablaze with discussions about me.
• Upvote if you think this newbie is a fucking psycho [35]
• My theory on who the newbie really is [42]
• The Reason the Newbie Is Actually the Hulk [19]
• The newbie made me depressed so I cried [8]
• Newbie, please give us a live update [12]
"What on earth is all this⋯"
Every single thread rising to the top was plastered with people hunting for my whereabouts. Having people pay attention wasn't inherently bad, but watching myself become the gallery's hottest gossip was somewhat suffocating. At the same time, it brought home just how monumental the concept of 'killing an anomaly' was to these survivors. It was time to clear the air. All I could really do was write down what had happened, but that alone ought to sate their curiosity.
A lot of you seem desperate to know who I am, so I'm laying it all out.
First off, the whole thing about being an otherworldly Sword Saint was total bullshit.
I'm just an ordinary guy with severe anger management issues.
I figured none of you would believe me if I just left it at that, so I organized a timeline of everything that happened up until now.
⋯⋯
[Rough summary of events since transmigration]
⋯⋯
Anyway, that's the gist of it. Believe it or not, that's up to you, but I have a couple of questions.
1. Do you guys have abilities like this too?
2. Give me some gacha recommendations before I roll, please.
I hadn't kept any secrets from Juttak, so I laid out everything in plain, accessible terms—from the status window to how losing my temper had led to bashing the monsters into paste. And naturally, I didn't forget to request gacha advice at the very end. First things first, after all.
The moment the post went live, the comment section erupted into sheer madness.
The envy practically oozed through the screen. I had merely laid out the facts as they were, but considering the bleak reality these survivors endured daily, watching someone capable of physically thrashing anomalies was bound to spark jealousy. I hadn't posted to brag or rub it in their faces, but seeing Juttak step in made me realize how it must have looked. A faint pang of guilt pinched my conscience. Still, business was business.
Ah.
It hit me all at once: these people were working with the exact same lack of information I was. Because they had answered all my initial questions so readily, I had fallen into the trap of assuming they held all the answers. Just as I couldn't foresee what would pop out of the prize pool, they had no clue either. If I poured points into rolling a trait and ended up with something absurd like 'You can hold your breath for one extra second,' I'd be utterly ruined. With no reliable method for acquiring more points in sight, a cautious approach was paramount.
Even so...
When you're stumbling through the dark, sometimes taking that first blind step is the only way forward.
Navigating back to the shop screen, I located the button for the Standard Gacha.
Would you like to purchase?
Taking a deep breath, I pressed Yes.