The Strongest Player
Anyway, I shifted my consciousness into the chat room, summoned my avatar, and sat it down on one of the chairs.
The moment the other party’s avatar stepped into this private chat space, it felt like the nonexistent sky split open and every flow of the cosmos—every law, every current across the universe—was being sucked straight toward him.
BANG!
The one who kicked the door open was a creature that looked exactly like a Tyrannosaurus Rex from Earth. The instant it entered, it let out a roar that shook the entire space.
It was as if every single thing in the world was vibrating with joy at meeting its true master, and even the system windows seemed to be applauding him.
Then he narrowed his clear, innocent eyes and flashed me a ridiculously refreshing smile.
I had literally nothing to say, so I just stared at the guy. Naturally, he kept talking on his own.
A little late, a sparrow-like angel followed him through the door.
I stared blankly at the creature. Despite being a T-rex, it had ridiculously muscular arms, and one of those arms was even holding a folding fan.
This was a game played across entire dimensions and it was connected to fantasy worlds, so I had expected all sorts of weirdos to show up.
But wasn’t this guy’s setting a little… excessive?
“Of course I’m shocked… I’ve been playing a game with fragments of a shattered god, and now the actual owner of those fragments is standing right in front of me.”
“……”
Tyrannosaurus immortal? Daoist? Transcendent? I wasn’t sure what to call him, but Mihun appeared to be some kind of theropod dinosaur. After listening to his explanation, I learned that the avatar I was seeing was merely modeled after his mortal body from long ago. In truth, he had transcended that form hundreds of thousands of years earlier and had become some higher being far beyond humanity.
But he claimed he wasn’t a god.
I immediately turned to the angel and complained.
“You said it was a fragment of a being that was called a god?”
“I never directly called it a god.”
“No, you definitely said god.”
“That was simply the easiest way for ordinary people to understand. And it is true that, by Earth standards, Sir Mihun possesses power worthy of being called a god. He can freely rewrite history and change the future through time manipulation, wield enough strength to destroy galaxies, and exercise all sorts of other absurd authorities.”
True Immortal, Divine Immortal—whatever those terms were, they clearly weren’t speaking in literal Chinese characters. They had to be referring to some other conceptual hierarchy.
Since I knew about the xianxia genre from subculture, I roughly understood that they were using similar terminology.
“Correct. You understand perfectly.”
It was extremely bewildering, but if I had to summarize my first impression—
“So in the end, the organizers’ goal isn’t to reassemble all the scattered god fragments to resurrect the original god.”
“You’re laughing at the idea, but I guarantee that the vast majority of participants who figured out the terrain is made of god fragments thought exactly that. Honestly, I thought so too.”
Fine. If both the organizers and this guy were telling the truth, then the next question was obvious.
“Aren’t you basically the predetermined winner?”
An ally? One of his subordinate gods? He didn’t seem to mind using the community, so maybe he meant some kind of alliance.
“You’re strong enough to be called a god, yet there are still things you don’t know?”
It wasn’t a completely unreasonable explanation, but…
“The part that needs the most explanation is this. What happens if you lose? In other words, if you end up in a situation where your soul would be annihilated?”
“Lives?”
“That’s it? That’s all?”
“Then why would you risk something so precious as stakes in a game?”
Hmm… Honestly, as an ordinary human who used to live on Earth, hearing someone say they’re basically a god who can manipulate time and destroy galaxies didn’t really stir much emotion.
I couldn’t prove whether it was true right now anyway. There was also the possibility that he was just some con artist planted by the organizers.
But there was no evidence he was lying, and the organizers had no reason to pull off such a complicated scam. So by simple logic, it was better to just believe him.
“I’ll believe all of it. To be honest, it’s not that I genuinely believe it’s true—it’s just that whether it’s true or false doesn’t really matter to me.”
“But let me ask one last thing. How should I put it… Is it really okay for such a great being to play games with insignificant creatures like us? As you said, there will probably be many who act rudely toward you.”
At that, Mihun smirked and let out a low chuckle.
“……”
Drool was literally dripping from his mouth.
“I think it’s right now.”
If you didn’t get it, that’s fine… Yeah. Even though things got strangely tangled, when you got down to it, he was just another player on equal footing with me.
Then there was only one thing I wanted right now.
“Sorry for bothering you with all these questions because I was too surprised. Mihun. Can you instill a firm competitive drive without intelligence into the seemingly non-living organisms of my ecosystem?”
“Good. If you help me with that… Right. I’ll give you the same ecological consulting I gave the others—one contribution point for every four points. No matter what kind of world you have, you’re probably less of an expert on ecosystems than I am.”
We made a non-aggression pact and crossed over to each other’s worlds. I sent one of my clones, while he created a divine incarnation and sent it over. (Since he did it without any special trait, I wondered what that meant for Deity-World Oneness, but apparently his version only had limited functions unlike my perfect clones that shared the exact same senses. He said anyone could do it once they got used to it.)
The clone Mihun sent over messaged me. So he becomes normal when he speaks through messages? What a weird concept he’s running with.
He would take care of things with my clone, so I took a look around Mihun’s world. Dinosaur-like humanoids resembling Mihun had built their own civilization and were living in it.
The interesting part was that there were quite a lot of different races. I wondered if he had alliance gods, but when I checked, there wasn’t a single one. Just like Sesaisa and me, he had wiped out every single opponent and climbed up alone.
So he must have chosen to absorb the races he conquered. I skimmed through Mihun’s world.
Overall, it was a mountainous terrain. The mountains were incredibly tall—so tall that clouds clung to their peaks. There were even floating lands above the clouds.
I had seen them in the game too. In fantasy worlds, there were things like sky islands or aerial continents—I couldn’t remember the official name, but there were floating terrains.
With terrain like that, it should have been extremely harsh, yet there were plenty of basins, appropriate rainfall, and not just mountains—there were also lands connected to the ground. It reminded me less of the barren, towering Himalayas and more of the lush, forested famous mountains of East Asia with rivers running through them.
The main industry was agriculture, and the terrain levels… Wait, what? Why were the terrain levels so high? I had discarded several terrains because I didn’t know how to use them, but this guy had one at level 10, three at level 9, and even the lowest was level 4?
Was it because he was the original owner of the fragment? Maybe he had done some kind of crazy play that raised terrain levels ridiculously high…
And after I finished scanning the rest of the world, I couldn’t help but be stunned.
“Huh?”
Wait. What the hell is this world?
At first I just thought the population density was very low and nature was extremely well preserved… That was all.
But this wasn’t something you could just gloss over.
Now I understood why all the terrain levels were so high.
He had barely touched the terrain at all.
It was practically a miracle that he was even doing anything resembling agriculture. Just how low was his Technology?
It looked like they hadn’t even escaped the Neolithic era, yet this was already after the fifth collision. At the very least, they should have cleared land, increased their population, and reached the Bronze Age with tribal states…
There wasn’t even an army. Yet the Military score was over 60,000 points. What the hell? Where on earth was he getting so many military points from…?
As I looked around, I discovered something shocking.
It was a dinosaur humanoid sitting alone in a mountain cave, meditating. But that wasn’t the important part.
What the hell is this guy?
Right now, Yogur-tosoth, the final boss of my ecosystem, had only just passed level 6. Even after training so hard, he was barely around 60,000 points. Well, “barely” wasn’t really fair—at this point, he could solo most worlds.
But… what? Level 8 at this stage? Total stats around 150,000 points? Are you kidding me? This one guy could take on 2.5 Yogur-tosoths by himself.
Looking around, Yeondan-u was in a league of his own, but there were four more epic-grade entities that were at least level 5. The disciples or children they were raising were all abnormally strong hero-grade entities, and every single one of them had Ascendant attached to their titles.
An Ascendant was someone who had broken through the limits of their species through some powerful technique. Unlike symbols, these were beings whose racial limits simply didn’t exist. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean they were superior or stronger—it had both advantages and disadvantages…
I finally understood why this guy’s titles and speech patterns were being translated like they came straight out of a Chinese xianxia novel.
This bastard had literally raised his world like a xianxia setting.
A world where a tiny number of extremely powerful superhumans monopolized all resources, and ordinary mortals existed only as livestock to feed those superhumans.
No need for armies, society, or civilization. Just the strongest units who had trained for five thousand years and could fight one against a million—sweeping away enemy armies alone, smashing fortresses, and obliterating cities.
It was a technique only possible in a fantasy world.
Yet there was a madman who had actually realized a build that should only exist in theory at this current stage.
His main body looked at me and smiled.
“It’s quite shocking.”
Hmm… It does seem a bit difficult, but…
“I don’t think my ecosystem will lose.”
“And it’s pathetic that you’re leaving such good land completely untouched.”
Of course.
As I keep saying, I’m not some radical environmentalist. If this guy went for an extreme hero build centered around terrain and heroes, then all I had to do was tune the world to match.
Just wait a moment. Your eyes are going to light up.