Newbie Slayer (1)

The trash game I once ruled as rank one was called Oriental. It had snagged early players by leaning hard into that Oriental-dressing aesthetic, then held onto the hardcore crowd with its brutal lack of hand-holding and sky-high mechanical difficulty.

True to its competitive roots, you could open a room and invite someone, or queue into random matchmaking. Ranked, though, only allowed the latter.

They'd offered both at launch, until people started taking money to throw matches. Every time I ran into some scrub whose skill didn't match their rank, I'd roast them as a paid thrower and toy with them. Good times.

"Yohan! Today we're skipping the friendlies and queuing random matchmaking!"

"Ranked?"

"Yep! I was gonna run normals, but you fought so well yesterday that we're going ranked! Plus, normals have those scummy trainers who prey on newbies... and ranked pays better."

Then of course it was ranked.

"Sophia, you're broke."

"Hiiing..."

What came out of my mouth was the opposite of what I'd meant to say. Even her dejected little pout was cute.

"Anyway, ranked, huh. Looking forward to it. Wonder what kind of minion we'll get."

I'd almost said "woman," but Sophia's eyes went axe-blade sharp, so I switched to "minion." What had I even done? All I'd done was impregnate a friend's minion and make her lay an egg.

We each got one egg out of it. Net gain, right?

"Right, Alali?"

The place we were about to queue from was my workshop. I stroked Alali, nestled in the corner. Sophia's fingers twitched.

"Anyway! Queuing up!"

"Go ahead."

The match locked in the instant the signal went out. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Newbie ranked popping in one second? Was the War of the Gods actually a god-tier banger?

"It's newbie trainer debut season, so matches are flying! Let's go!"

Sophia waved her hand through an explanation aimed at no one in particular, and the space flipped. Same old arena. Across from us, a man I'd never seen before struck a full-blown chunibyo pose.

"Kwahahahat! Consider it an honor! You have become the first opponent of this seat, sovereign of the Appsol planet!"

"Sophia. Can gods catch mental illness?"

"Mmm. There are gods of disease and gods of curses, so... yeah, they can get sick. Looks like that one has made a lot of enemies."

"What are you two whispering about? Haha! No need to say it! Have you fallen for this seat's majesty? Praise me to your heart's content."

"..."

Whoosh.

By the time I came to, I was inside the Colosseum. Sophia, summoned into the coaching zone sealed off from the arena floor, stomped her feet.

"Yohan! Beat that guy's minion into the dirt!"

"I don't even know what it is yet?"

"Just do it!"

"Understood."

Why was she so mad at a plain chunibyo? Short on anti-magic resistance, maybe. If I hadn't gamed so much myself, I'd have been coughing blood by now.

But concept junkies of that caliber were everywhere in VR. Early on, half the female characters were netorare-bait guys, which is how we got that special VR law saying you couldn't just swap genders.

"Heh. Embarrassed, are we?"

"Just send out your damn minion already!"

"Tsk. I still had more to show. What an impatient child."

"Kyaaaak!"

"Sophia. That's a low-tier taunt. Don't take the bait."

"Huh? Uh-huh. Right. I got too worked up."

"You took it as a taunt? How truly lamentable. I shall have to teach you my magnificence. Go forth!"

"Banzai! Banzai! Ten thousand years! Infinite glory to Lord Absol!"

Martial robes woven from hemp. A single sword dangling at his hip. A hero's headband tied with flair across his brow. The textbook murim warrior straight out of fiction had arrived.

The minion's name was Chinese-style, so why was Absol English? And his ears were pointed, too. Not human — a murim hybrid? A rootless mutt of a concept.

"Jincheon! Spread my teachings to the heretic!"

"As you command!"

"Hey, your god speaks a foreign language. Why are you speaking Chinese?"

"How dare you compare the great Appsol tongue to some strange mongrel speech! Do you mock the authority of a god?!"

Like god, like minion.

"Short version: LGLM."

"Yohan?"

Sophia's pupils went into full earthquake mode. Any more and she'd die of secondhand embarrassment. I drew my sword; Jincheon drew his.

"I shall convert you!"

"A man, converting me? If you want to convert me, bring a woman!"

"Kwahahahahat! What an unhinged minion!"

"Yohan..."

The battle began, but I stayed put and studied the one called Jincheon. Real experts size up their opponent before they fight.

Even in games, I never charged the first match of a new opponent. I'd feel them out — character mastery, favorite attack strings — then close in for real once I'd clocked every little habit and tell.

Start with conversation.

"Hey, murim guy."

"Murim is the delusion of stuffy old men! I was reborn as an Appsol!"

Enraged, Jincheon closed the distance. No patience? Or a high-level ploy to make me drop my guard?

His footwork was worse than Evrande's, for starters. What was he planning if I used a ranged skill — just charging in fair and square? Did he have a trump card?

"Lightning!"

I thrust my hand forward and shouted. Jincheon hopped sideways.

"What ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are you doing?"

"Y-you dare mock me! You! I will not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠let you die cleanly!"

"The one who fell for it is the problem. Why take it out on me?"

Honestly, I was a little hurt. Evrande never would have bought a fake like that. When the god was a mental case, the minion's level dropped to match.

"Appsol Sword Form One! Mount Tai Crush!"

Jincheon brought his sword down in a perfectly honest overhead strike.

"Come on, ease up. Mount Tai Crush as an Appsol sword technique? That's just Three Calamities Swordsmanship."

Newbies flooding into the trash game Oriental used skills along fixed, system-assisted routes. Worked fine against other newbies. Against a rotten veteran who'd memorized every technique on the roster, you could dodge it with your eyes closed.

A real expert mixed in something of their own. Drift off the set route, change the tempo, or throw in a variation.

Jincheon was no expert. A skill-dependent newbie. And since this was reality — an idiot.

I shifted lightly and slipped the honest downward cut. Easier than eating cake.

"It's not over! Appsol Sword—"

"Even for a newbie."

I thought of Oriental's Ronin Swordsman. In the wuxia novels, Three Calamities Swordsmanship was so common you saw it in every marketplace — and yet a murim warrior had reached first-rate mastery with that alone.

Later lore said he'd learned other arts and climbed to the Profound Realm, but the devs, chasing character identity for the Ronin Swordsman, made that one art his foundation and solved everything else with Three Calamities variations.

"You shouldn't shout the form names."

A horizontal slash. Its name: Horizontal Sweep of a Thousand Armies. But with the profound principles of a Profound Realm martial artist woven through it, the blade traced an exquisite arc.

No internal energy meant I couldn't fully recreate sword qi. But my Iron Man physique filled in for the missing power. Expanded senses read the grain of the wind across the Colosseum, and the steel blade, flowing along that grain, sank into Jincheon's side.

"Kh... huk..."

Even a sturdy body took a toll recreating Profound Realm principles. Muscle tore — but I had a recovery skill.

"Self-Healing."

The torn muscle knitted back together. No need to go all-out on the next hit. Jincheon, side carved deep, collapsed to the floor and spat blood.

"Keuhk..."

I harvested his head right there.

"Yohan! Nice work!"

"Just ruined my appetite."

A boring fight. The praise didn't make me happy. For all the scum I'd been, I'd never bullied newbies.

They might grow through fodder matches and eventually give me a good time — so why crush a newbie's spirit from the jump? Right now, though, it felt like I'd just picked on a newbie, and that left a bad taste.

Wait — the battle still wasn't over?

"Ahem. Jincheon was the weakest among my minions. Come forth!"

"This one's fodder too?"

"It is not over yet!"

"The battle still isn't over? A newbie rolling four-plus minions? How much divinity does this guy have?"

Even after Jinhae went down the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠battle refused to end, and Sophia freaked. Absolu, grinding his teeth, burst into mad laughter.

"Kwahahahaha! You fell for this seat's performance! You thought you were having fun — that was your undoing! Come forth!"

A minion with a name that sounded like it meant business appeared. Unlike the previous ones in plain martial robes, Cheonsol wore ornate vestments like a high priest.

Eyes closed as she entered, Cheonsol sighed and drew her sword.

"The reek of blood... all three Jin disciples have fallen."

If she'd been nothing special, I'd have finished her in one stroke like the rest — but I didn't move rashly. A church leader being stronger than the flock was common sense.

Cheonsol's presence was several times denser than the three small-fry Jins put together.

"Now this is more like it."

I'd gotten sick of stomping newbies. Finally, a real battle.