Hunting the Weak
It was broad daylight when the mysterious phenomenon struck once again—people plummeting into an unfamiliar world.
This marked the 372nd occurrence.
The currents of dimensions were peculiar things. Every last person transferred this time was Korean.
Upon their summoning, each of them found a strangely shaped Terminal clamped around their wrist.
The device’s first message read as follows.
You must kill the Demon Lord to return to reality.
No one knew what the Demon Lord was or what manner of being it might be.
Yet for all those who had been dragged across worlds, the same objective had been set.
Raise their levels, choose powerful classes, slay the Demon Lord when he eventually appeared, and return home.
The new world, however, did not welcome them.
On the very first day, a monster with the head of a bull and a massive warhammer— a minotaur—appeared and began slaughtering people.
Countless died. Those who barely survived scattered in every direction.
“Where the hell are we?”
“Why were we dragged to a shithole like this? Damn it.”
The survivors sat hunched in a corner of the wasteland, faces grim.
Nearly twenty of them had gathered here, yet the total number of people transferred to this world so far reached into the tens of thousands.
The night was pitch black.
“Let’s get the situation straight first,” a middle-aged man seated before the campfire said, calming the restless group.
“My name is Hwang Yong-ho. I appreciate all of you following me. Introductions can wait. I think it’s more urgent that we share the unbelievable experiences we’ve each gone through.”
Hwang Yong-ho was a bear-like man with a thick frame and patchy beard. Among the relatively young crowd, he was the eldest.
“This is what happened to me this afternoon. The moment I arrived, I gathered a team and scouted the surrounding area. The place was full of dense forest and plants I’d never seen before. It was clearly nowhere in South Korea.”
The men who had accompanied him nodded.
He continued slowly.
“We kept climbing the mountain. We were looking for food and trying to survey the terrain from the peak. That’s when we witnessed something impossible.”
By now the others had fallen silent, hanging on his every word.
Hwang Yong-ho lowered his voice as if sharing a secret.
“He was probably in the same situation as us. A lone man was climbing the mountain, perhaps searching for something to eat. We were about to call out and ask him to join us when a huge, vicious… orc burst out of the bushes.”
“An orc? You mean the green-skinned ones with tusks?” an man wearing glasses asked, eyes wide.
The rest reacted the same.
Hwang Yong-ho, however, nodded with a grave expression.
“That’s right. That orc. It was so big and ferocious that even our group of five knew we stood no chance. It carried a huge club and beat the man to death with it. The poor bastard’s forehead split open and he collapsed. The orc then mashed the corpse into something resembling minced meat and devoured it.”
Cold sweat trickled down the listeners’ foreheads and spines.
So even the mountain behind them harbored such monsters.
This was a lawless land of pure brutality.
And orcs, no less.
Perhaps this really was the medieval fantasy world they had only read about in stories.
“That wasn’t the only strange thing.”
What else could there be?
The group stared at Hwang Yong-ho, expressions caught between curiosity and dread.
Seated before the campfire, he currently held more anticipation than any storyteller they had ever heard.
Hwang Yong-ho tapped the Terminal on his left wrist.
“You all know by now that these Terminals we’re wearing contain a special system.”
They nodded.
Each of them had been given unique tools of power upon arriving in this other world.
A knife that inflicted mild poison, greaves covered in sharp spikes—items like that.
When equipped or held, the Terminal displayed their functions.
Touching the screen revealed useful information: acquired stats, the date, nearby geography, and more.
No matter how hard it was struck or how far it rolled, the Terminal never broke.
And unless one severed their own wrist, it could not be removed.
The Terminal was both an indispensable item for those stranded in an alien world and the proof that they were outsiders.
“As you know, killing living things grants us experience and lets us grow. We still don’t understand the exact method, but it seems we can even change into specific classes. The problem is that this system applies to ‘monsters’ like orcs as well.”
Several faces turned pale. Someone asked urgently.
“What do you mean? The system works on monsters too? You’re saying this power wasn’t given only to us?”
“Unfortunately, that’s correct. The instant the orc killed that man, a clear message appeared on our Terminals.”
The level of the wandering orc Ashrem has risen.
Anyone could tell what that meant.
Despite Hwang Yong-ho’s calm tone, the others wore expressions of utter despair.
Monsters could raise their levels by hunting too.
The difference between the games they had played back on Earth and this world had become painfully clear.
It meant that they—the would-be players—had instead become the prey.
A woman, unable to contain her despair, asked through tears.
“Then… what are we supposed to do?”
“It’s simple. We raise our levels too. We just have to become strong enough that no one can kill us.”
“But how? We’re weak. Even climbing the mountain behind us puts us in orc territory. People like us will be hunted down before we can even try to fight back.”
When one of the men spoke in a defeated voice, Hwang Yong-ho gave a dry chuckle.
In a situation like this, his relaxed smile made the others envious.
Yet that smile carried a strangely cruel edge.
“Then we simply hunt the weak.”
“Sorry?”
“If the monsters are too strong, we can raise our levels by killing people instead.”
Silence fell over the group.
Someone asked.
“You’re suggesting murder?”
“It’s the most efficient way to survive here.”
The others only exchanged glances. No one offered a reply.
Strangely, not a single person spoke of conscience or guilt.
They had all seen people slaughtered by monsters. None of them wanted to end up the same way.
Hwang Yong-ho had anticipated this reaction. He had carefully selected only the cunning ones to bring with him.
The fact that no one refuted his suggestion was proof of how sharp his judgment was.
One man swallowed hard and mustered the courage to ask.
“Then… how exactly do we kill them?”
“We strike at dawn. The target must be someone separated from the group. To measure experience distribution when multiple people hunt together, we’ll tie the victim’s mouth and limbs, then stab them repeatedly. Equipment and loot the prey carries will go to whoever contributes the most.”
Though simple, Hwang Yong-ho had laid down rules.
The others felt slightly reassured.
At last they had a goal.
A woman, somewhat excited now, asked.
“Who should we choose as the target?”
“I already have someone in mind.”
Hwang Yong-ho pointed toward a small wooden building visible in the distance.
It was a shabby, dust-covered workshop.
A faint light leaked from inside, suggesting someone was there.
“I heard something breaking and took a look. There’s a man alone in that workshop. He didn’t seem particularly cautious, and his eyes looked like those of someone who has grown tired of life. How about we make him our first prey?”
They nodded in agreement.