Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: First Job Change (2)
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“Familiar skills.”
A Berserker’s skills were quite straightforward.
Rather than flashy techniques, their combat style was all about charging straight in and smashing the enemy’s skull. That was why they didn’t need a ton of skills.
Plenty of players who didn’t know that would test the waters against a Berserker early on, only to die before they could do anything.
On top of that, Berserkers got a pretty hefty stat bonus upon class change, making it easy to overwhelm foes with raw power.
“Not bad… but does that mean party play is off the table again? Not that I ever planned on it.”
Still, the reason so few players chose Berserker was that one skill: Berserk.
Just activating it bloated your stats by 200%, gave infinite mana, and even granted immortality—a cheat among cheats.
In terms of raw power, it was top five across all classes. But it had two fatal flaws.
“Least this time I’ve got Unyielding Will from the start.”
Namely, no ally/enemy distinction and the aftereffect penalty.
The moment you activated Berserk, your vision turned blood-red, showing everything as silhouettes, making it hard to tell friend from foe.
Sure, against monsters with clearly different forms from humans or in small skirmishes, you might manage. But in chaotic melees or against humanoid monsters, you could end up as a walking time bomb harming your own side. No wonder party play—or even joining a guild—was a pipe dream.
That was a big reason Rokan had become a solo player.
Before Unyielding Will, he’d been rejected for the no-distinction issue. After, he’d already made too many enemies.
Rokan hadn’t chosen solo play just because he wanted to be alone.
“Well, solo’s easier for sticking to the plan anyway.”
And this time, no one would follow his plan regardless.
No, he had to go solo. What he was about to do bordered on the impossible.
“The aftereffect issue… guess I’ll have to level the skill fast.”
The aftereffect was another popularity killer. Compared to Berserk’s 10-minute duration, the 30-minute debuff felt eternal. The percentage-based stat drop was brutal at high levels, so why slot in a class that left you useless for half an hour after fighting for ten minutes? Better to grab any other class.
Sure, Berserkers could still dish out serious damage without it, but with so few skills, it relied heavily on player control.
That dragged down their solo play rep too.
With all that negativity piling up, barely anyone searched for Berserker lately.
But Rokan saw it differently. To him, those opinions came from folks who didn’t get The Lord or what Berserk really meant.
Accomplishing near-impossible feats and claiming the rewards. Gaining power far beyond the rest.
Berserk was tailor-made for The Lord’s title system.
Every one of Rokan’s legendary feats had been with Berserk, hadn’t they?
In a game where normal play yielded normal strength,
The Lord rewarded the extraordinary.
‘Lucky in all sorts of ways.’
Plus, this time he had a title slashing job skill XP by 30%. He’d level Berserk faster and cut the penalty sooner.
“20 silver… hope it’s enough.”
Rokan jingled the silver coins in his pouch and headed to a nearby general store.
He passed the armor shop without a glance. In a world where rags cost a few silver, blowing cash on low-level gear he’d replace soon was wasteful.
Better to stock up on food and recovery consumables. With his HP and toughness, he wouldn’t take much damage anyway.
< Rokan >
[Race] Human [Gender] Male
[Level] 1 [Class] Berserker
[Held Titles] Born Fighter, Heavenly Fighter, Descendant of David, Man of 17 vs 1, Nothing is Impossible!, Super Hard Worker, Local Champion, Unyielding Will
[HP] 700/700 [Mana] 150/150
[Hunger] 0 [Thirst] 0 [Status] Normal
[Strength] 79 [Agility] 63 [Stamina] 70
[Toughness] 65 [Intelligence] 15 [Wisdom] 12
[Weight/Total Weight] 37/300
[Spare Stat Points] 45
His only gear was the axe from the class change reward, but these stats were insane.
Base stats for all players started at 10. You got 5 spare points per level, so hitting level 10 for class change meant 45 spares.
Add minor title bonuses, class extras, and you’d usually gain about 50 total stats from level 1.
Total, not average. Even spreading Strength, Agility, Stamina 1:1:1—the most common fighter build—barely pushed 30 each.
But Rokan’s were already double that.
Pure spares alone put him on par with top-tier level 50s stat-wise.
‘Can you even call this level 1?’
Low Intelligence and Wisdom stung a bit, but no magic-using monsters yet, and he had no magic damage skills anyway.
A monster disrupting the ecosystem had been born.
Rokan knew it best. And what he could do.
So his next move was set.
“Bus driver wanted! Destination: Orc Camp interior!”
Rokan used Shout in the plaza. It cost some hunger but popped a text bubble over his head for all to see.
Plenty of merchants already hawked via Shout, but his drew eyes.
The spot? Orc Camp.
‘A month in, plenty of folks should be hitting Orc Camp.’
It was a solid high-level hunting ground, level 30s at least.
How many wanted a driver there? Didn’t matter—it’d pay well.
A few interested parties approached. Rokan shot them all down. Scammers, plain as day.
‘Scumbags still everywhere.’
Others might not spot it, but past-life memories let Rokan judge by gear alone. Level, setup, even combat style.
Few could survive Orc Camp. The decent ones didn’t fit his needs.
He didn’t want a ‘leech’ power-leveling him.
But the next party that approached checked out.
Their gear mixed Orc Camp drops—hunters, clearly. Not full sets yet, though.
“Straight to Orc Camp interior?”
“Yeah, just drop me inside. No party. Loot on the way is yours. I’ll just watch fights. 15 silver.”
“Hmm, sightseeing, huh? Tough spot for that…”
The leader pondered Rokan’s offer.
Lately, these requests were common: pay for power-leveling or escorted tours to high-level fields.
Normally he’d refuse outright, but their situation made him hesitate.
“No protection needed after entry. I’ll handle from there.”
Rokan probed, guessing their worry.
They barely held in Orc Camp—no spare for babysitting.
“Deal. Uh, sorry, but… upfront payment? Not distrusting, just broke after a wipe… haha.”
They decided, and the leader scratched his head awkwardly. Wipe had drained their consumables cash.
“Here’s 10 silver.”
Rokan handed it over no hesitation. Contracts weren’t in yet—had to trust.
His generosity sparked misunderstanding: ‘Whale pay-to-win, probably.’
Free-to-play guys footing account and pod fees didn’t love that. But no scamming planned. They restocked and regrouped.
“Since we’re together, intros. I’m Knight Pail. This is Mage Elfi, Priestess Rose.”
The leader introduced before heading out.
Knight, Mage, Priestess—balanced party.
Early on, priest heals lagged consumables, so the other two must be skilled.
Explains three-man runs in high-level Orc Camp.
“Rokan.”
He gave his name but not class. No point drawing stares or worry over Berserker. And no need to bond with randos he’d never see again.
Skilled or not, level 30s weren’t top-tier. Unknown names meant mid-tier futures.
Rokan wasn’t that sociable anyway.
“Let’s go. Orc Camp’s this way.”
Pail read the vibe and moved.
A 30-minute walk. Side paths spawned trash mobs, but per deal, Pail’s crew handled—no issues reaching the edge.
Nearing Orc Camp, Pail led expertly, explaining.
“Watch out here. Scout orcs patrol. Mess up, they horn for backup. Headache.”
Scouts had patterns—veterans learned them.
Closing on the fence, Pail whispered entry methods.
“You might know, but two ways in. Frontal assault—suicide. Or distract with animal corpse, slip through dog hole. Might fight anyway, but small numbers we got. Got one ready—let’s go.”
Rokan knew. He’d tried the front gate in his past life.
But he followed quietly, observing.
Plop.
Corpse tossed in view—immediate reaction.
“Sniff sniff, chwiik! Food!”
Orcs exited fence for it.
They slipped through the pre-scouted hole.
“Chwiik! Humans!”
Clang!
Pail got spotted on entry but parried with longsword, countering smoothly.
“Power Attack!”
Knight skill—Power Attack. Weaker than Strike but flexible for combos.
‘Not bad.’
Skill tricks weren’t widespread yet, but Pail wove them well.
Elfi’s magic backed him up—orc down easy.
“This way.”
No gloating. More coming.
In Orc Camp, securing a spawn spot was 70% of hunting.
Rokan followed to their site.
Technically, contract ended at entry, but they offered extra kindness.
Plus, long time away—he needed the layout refresh.
‘Coming back now.’
Scanning revived memories. He’d farmed here endlessly.
“We’re in as requested, but touring’s tough. Few safe spots. Step wrong, orcs everywhere…”
“Don’t worry. You guys hunt.”
Rokan sent them off first.
Pail looked uneasy—like talking someone off suicide—but respected his wish.
‘That way.’
Alone now, Rokan recalled his target and snuck off, hugging walls, avoiding patrols.
Warrior’s Rest.
Upper-tier spot in Orc Camp—elite orc warriors hung here. Above Pail’s zone.
“Any who know honor! True warrior, face me!”
Deep breath fueled his massive roar echoing inside.