Chapter 2
Chapter 2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: The King of Violence Returns (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Three months passed—long in some ways, short in others.
Waiting for The Lord to launch made it feel like three years, but finishing all the necessary preparations before open felt breathless.
During those three months, Young-min prepared thoroughly. First, he transcribed everything he knew, remembered, and experienced onto his computer so he wouldn’t forget, backing it up twofold and threefold for safety. Of course, he secured it tightly.
Even just jotting down the major points, skipping the basics, came close to filling a whole book.
Next, he sold off every game account he owned. He needed the cash ready to buy a capsule the moment launch hit.
In the past, he’d held onto some items just in case after The Lord came out. But now he knew: the instant you touched The Lord, no other games would cross your mind.
In fact, after starting The Lord, he’d barely played anything else—maybe a handful of times, just to kill time during maintenance.
No lingering attachments. He dumped every item and account wholesale onto the item trading site.
“Thirty million won. That should be enough.”
Already a name in several VR combat games, he fetched top dollar.
That haul: a whopping thirty million won. Not endless, but enough to coast for a while.
A top-tier capsule ran about fifteen million, leaving another fifteen for months of maintenance fees, living expenses, and gear. After that, The Lord would pay the bills. No worries.
Temptation tugged to invest it quick for a flip, but Young-min reined it in. He knew next to nothing outside games.
He had vague tips—like some stock exploding years from now—but the timeline was too long. More importantly, The Lord was the real jackpot from here on. He shelved the idea.
“Living expenses will dry up soon, so I’ll hold some back…”
He’d trashed his first semester building his body and prepping, then took a leave for second semester to game. Parents finding out meant allowance cut off. Easy prediction.
It had happened before.
Back then, a cheating ex’s breakup sent him spiraling through first semester, then The Lord obsession wrecked second.
Now? Not a minute’s thought on that ex. He’d moved on long before returning to the past.
“Rumors… unavoidable. Not sticking it out anyway.”
Ex was from his department CC. Since returning, he’d ghosted club and skipped classes. Word around was ex drama, not games.
Didn’t faze him. He’d keep taking leaves or just re-enrolling until settled in The Lord.
College was for jobs, right? The Lord era was coming—his job. He’d drop out then, go all-in.
But no repeating past mistakes.
“Open!”
The Lord’s capsule pre-orders vanished in a blink.
No warning—not even gaming sites caught wind—until portal ads blanketed everything, exploding the hype.
Absurd, but effective. Feeds flooded with VR capsule chatter.
Scam claims swirled since the maker was unknown, but Young-min paid top options without hesitation. He knew: hesitation now, regret later when they’re sold out.
Wanted to snag extras to resell, but Falcon Games enforced strict one-per-person. Dropped it.
Capsules were optional anyway. Better ones meant sharper senses, longer play, but any VR login worked fine. That’s why The Lord spread like wildfire.
“Five days to go. Can’t wait.”
Delivery to setup: three days flat. Launch: five days, midnight sharp.
Off-peak hours meant fewer logins, less overload risk. More buffer for bugs.
Users asleep anyway, fewer complaints.
‘But no issues anyway.’
Premium account fees kept launch logins light amid scam fears.
Near-finished product from day one—no problems even as word spread and crowds surged.
Knowing that, payment success let him exhale. Just wait now.
“Leave request window’s two months out. Just manage condition.”
Five more days after three months? Piece of cake. Young-min calmed, swapped to training gear.
Three months steady training transformed him decently.
Fresh off military, base was solid. Not drastic, but solid.
This time, for endless sessions and any edge, he’d even picked up martial arts.
Money no object—diet control and dojo fees got him peak form.
“Hoo! Hoo!”
Local gyms and dojos boasted champ pedigrees aplenty.
Young-min picked a plain neighborhood martial arts spot.
Tiny place teaching judo, hapkido, misc. But he wanted gear and space, not frills. Satisfied.
Focused building muscle and sharpening senses to match his style. Keep real-world feel close for game.
Some might scoff— all that for one game? Play it, and you’d get it. The Lord was worth it.
Worked out so fiercely, the owner joked if he was prepping for pro fights. Muscles screamed.
Even that fell short for his unique class and style. Human limits, tough to prep fully.
“Hard at it again. Thanks to you, everyone’s fired up. Keep it up.”
“Ah, yeah.”
Young-min flashed a hazy smile as the owner patted his shoulder mid-set and moved on.
‘Soon, they’ll have no choice.’
The Lord’s launch would boom every dojo and gym.
Lowbies dying to weaker mobs from bad control? Rampant.
Young-min tried fancy dojos early too, pricey fame-chasers. For real skills.
But mastery took ages, and crowds thought same.
Worse: real-world moves? Spotty in combat. Weapons and tactics differed.
Still, early game, martial artists and fighters shone. Bodywork instinct from lifelong training or hitting ‘lifeforms’ adapted quickest.
‘Just early game, though.’
Early only.
Characters outpacing human strength closed gaps. Body purists lost to game savvy, sharp senses, smart strats.
Game sense, combat sense? Not tied to real fights.
Assassins with killer tech edged ahead a bit faster, but winners? Gamers.
Knowing that, Young-min kept training auxiliary. Extra minute in-game beat gym time. He knew best.
No more muscle torture soon.
‘This is enough now.’
Young-min steeled for the last push, reviewing preps. Memorized to avoid slips.
Thus, The Lord’s launch day neared.
* * *
“Hoo, nerves…”
Gurgle.
Bubbles rose each breath. Special fluid filled his capsule.
Breathable liquid, like that old Evangelion robot anime hit.
Packed nutrients too—blocked health dips from marathon sessions. Vital for Young-min’s no-sleep marathons.
Others would flail in panic, blind to controls. Young-min? Navigated smoothly, logged into The Lord.
“5, 4, 3, 2… 1. Connect!”
Dizzy rush, mind snapped alert.
Not reality. The Lord’s world.
First sight: black void.
Everyone’s entry: character select. No char yet—customization space. Touched full-body mirror. His form appeared.
‘Just as I remember.’
Base: human. Factions picked human, gnome, half-elf, dwarf—or enemy orc, troll, undead, goblin.
Traits varied, early growth differed, but no race dominated to break balance on trends.
OP race hype? One breakout other race flipped meta quick.
Dominators? Guilds or powerhouse solos.
MMO vibes, but growth let ‘superhumans’ solo hordes.
“Race select: human.”
30% morph leeway, but Young-min tweaked hair color, style—kept rest stock. Familiar body over min-max tweaks like longer arms. Limits anyway; mismatched specs worse than defaults. His looked fine.
[Traveler, speak your name.]
“Rokan. I am Rokan.”
Name set, he sucked into mirror-Rokan.
Vision shifted to Rokan’s.
* * *
Eyes met cosmos. And a tree beyond measure.
Rokan knew.
Not a tree. The ‘world.’
Watched calmly. His body dissolved to light particles, orbiting wide.
Flash burst—a message.
[Proceed to tutorial? Skip forfeits tutorial rewards. Y/N.]
Rokan tapped Y without pause.
‘Tutorial skippers’ brag ‘rewards suck!’ Trap. Later trivial, but early? Priceless.
No—here snowballed the gaps.