The Ninth Collision: The Flaw of Inflexibility

Here, let us pause for a moment and return to the beginning.

To the man named Mitomok. He was once a venture capitalist who had tasted success before everything came crashing down.

So why did he fail?

Mitomok himself answers the question.

“Why did my thriving business collapse? Because those bastards from the competing firms demanded I join their collusion! And on terms that would have ruined me! How could I accept that? When I refused, they smeared me in the press and stole everything I had built! My business decisions were never the problem!”

At least that much is true. Mitomok really did go under because of false accusations.

But were his business decisions truly flawless?

This is where the fundamental flaw in Mitomok as a player—and as a human being—reveals itself.

He treats internal factors and external factors as entirely separate things.

In his mind, “business decisions” only cover how to run the company, how to hire talent, how to respond to the law, and how to sell products profitably. In those areas, he certainly possessed the talent to become a billionaire, not merely a millionaire.

Yet when it came to external factors—competitors resorting to illegal collusion or weaponizing the media with bribes and smear campaigns—Mitomok had no countermeasures at all.

Of course, refusing to compromise one’s principles is not inherently wrong. Mitomok cannot be called an immoral man. He rejected collusion for the sake of consumers, the nation, and society, even when it would have cost him more than it would have cost his rivals.

Still, he should have considered the situation. What if he had joined the collusion just enough to gather evidence, then reported them? What if he had prepared an escape route in case he was caught? What if he had spent even more money bribing the press than his enemies did?

He never connected the political realities of his country to his business strategy. He should have realized that if his opponents were willing to play dirty, he needed to be prepared to play just as dirty—or at least to survive their attacks.

A little patience would have sufficed. But he clung to his “pride” and was broken for it.

Even after losing everything, he still insists that he made no mistakes and that everyone else was at fault.

He cannot properly identify the true cause of his failure.

That same defect has carried him all the way to this moment. Even the reason he ended up fighting is absurd.

“I already got robbed by those damned bastards once in my previous life. Now they want me to bow to threats again? I’d rather die!”

Think about it. Mitomok’s words make no sense. The same threat, the same refusal to yield, leads to the same ruin. Unless he has some other plan.

But Mitomok has no other plan. He is simply waving his pride around, declaring he will not be humiliated twice.

Does that not sound strange? Mitomok has never compromised with external pressure in his entire life. He built his business on sheer momentum, never bending his convictions, and kept pushing forward. Yet he learned nothing from the failure that destroyed him.

Of course, when a man has succeeded his whole life by doing things his way, changing is difficult. Blaming others for one’s own downfall is even easier.

But his judgment was wrong from the start. Was the premise not already clear?

“Mitomok cannot win this match, so he must endure as long as possible.”

Then why is the defender, the one who should be trusting in his curses and dragging the fight out, launching a raid on the enemy’s strongest creation right in the middle of the enemy capital?

And why are his soldiers fighting with such reckless bravado, convinced they will finish the enemy today?

When Yogur-tosoth caused chaos, Irsan should have shot out its eyes and then fled the capital instead of fighting. Or evacuated the civilians and left only the army behind. Or sent Irsan, his elite champion, to fight alone.

There was never any reason to gather the entire strength of his civilization for a final, all-or-nothing duel. He had a guaranteed winning strategy: endure and let the curses slowly strangle the enemy world. A single decisive battle was the one thing he was unprepared for. He had not even stockpiled enough curse bullets. In fact, he had barely invested in producing them at all.

This happened because Mitomok did not choose the “curse” trait out of preference; he simply picked the best remaining option. So he never bothered to use it properly.

And the result of that recklessness was devastating.

A bolt of lightning conjured in midair by Yogur-tosoth struck Irsan. It was already the fifth direct hit.

Irsan felt something inside him snap. The core that held his humanity together—the rubber band of his will—had finally broken. He wanted to rise, but while his spirit still burned with pride, his body no longer obeyed.

The great hunter who had burst seven of Yogur-tosoth’s eyes collapsed.

“Lord Irsan!”

“Call the healers! Save Lord Irsan at once!”

They shouted desperately, but the mystics only wore grim expressions.

“……It’s too late. He’s gone.”

“What do we do now?!”

If they had simply waged a long guerrilla campaign in the jungle, they might have stood a chance. Their ability to create any lifeform they wished would have been perfect for countering Biin’s strategies. If they had properly refined the curse trait and weakened Yogur-tosoth the next time he appeared, or stockpiled far more curse bullets, things could have gone differently.

They understood that their civilization was “advantageous in defensive warfare,” yet they never learned how to actually use that advantage.

Because Mitomok had not chosen this civilization out of preference. He had simply asked his subordinates for the best way to grow in this environment and built it accordingly.

With only four eyes remaining, Yogur-tosoth roared in triumph and unleashed the grand spell Yogur-tosoth’s Majesty. Without Irsan, Mitomok’s world completely lost its will to fight.

Biin saw no further reason to keep the dimensional gate wide open and closed it. Yogur-tosoth, seemingly drained, floated slowly in the air.

No further offensives followed, but Mitomok’s world was now overrun with frogs in the wetlands and the jungle was completely occupied by the Dessert Legion. The creatures Mitomok had created continued to hunt one another in a desperate bid to survive, but they were steadily being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Their species was being slowly devoured. With their farmlands and rubber plantations seized, they had no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hope of victory left.

It was a cruel irony. In the previous match, Ogolraeot had needed to gather his strength for a decisive strike yet lost by trying to endure. Mitomok, who could have won by enduring, lost by attempting a single decisive battle instead.

It was not a matter of the civilizations’ capabilities, but of the players’.

“Aaaaaah! Why am I so unlucky……! Why won’t the world just leave me alone?! Without those damned robbers, I could have built the greatest world of all!”

Mitomok never realized how foolish those words were, even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in his final moments.

If he could truly build the greatest world by being left alone, then of course the robbers would come for him.

The capital fell to the cursed amphibians. The last surviving ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pockets of humanity were hunted down one by one by bizarre creatures called bread and pudding.

Mitomok’s vision went black.

∞

We won. Barely. The battle had been so fierce that eighty percent of our military forces had vanished.

“I must say, your decision to commit to the charge was correct. If you had sent only a moderate force, we might have been repelled. Yogur-tosoth would have fallen as well.”

“Well, yeah.”

It had not been a reckless gamble. There were several reasons to commit.

First, without support, Yogur-tosoth would almost certainly have lost.

Second, since the match had to end quickly anyway, it was fortunate that the enemy chose to meet us head-on instead of avoiding battle.

Third, our superior scale meant that simply flooding them with troops would overwhelm them through raw power.

Fourth, even if the enemy somehow repelled our entire army, we could restore our ecosystem with Shuc-rimmurath and sabotage their species with Nyaltartep, while they would struggle far more to recover.

Those were the reasons I had gambled so boldly. And we won.

“It does not feel like a gamble. It was a calculated decision. You won through skill.”

The praise was appreciated. The enemy player had simply been too hot-headed.

He seemed incapable of ignoring provocation, yet he had built such a defensively oriented world. It made no sense.

【O God! How is it?! Behold the power of Yogur-tosoth that makes heaven and earth tremble!】

Because the enemy god’s curse ability stemmed from a trait, both the curse that had weakened Yogur-tosoth and the curses spread across our world were lifted at once.

That was why the bastard was acting so arrogant. Damn it. Seeing his burst eyes made my blood boil.

“You stupid bastard. We almost lost because of you.”

【What?! No! If not for my power, we would never have—】

“If I hadn’t sent hundreds of Bisyakheet to support you, you would have been rolling on the ground under that curse. And even then, if I hadn’t kept feeding in reinforcements, we wouldn’t have won.”

【T-that is……】

Even in his arrogance, he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was intelligent enough to understand the situation.

“Still, you earned merits, so I will reward you with land. But forcing me into such a reckless gamble when simply enduring would have cost far fewer resources…… The cost of restoring the world you damaged. As punishment, your Nectar supply will be reduced by twenty percent.”

【Hwaaaaaah!】

Anyway, we won. That was what mattered.

As I thought that, time stopped.

The Angel looked at me with a bright smile. So the business here was finished.

“Biin-nim. Congratulations on reaching the third dropout checkpoint.”

“Yeah. I’m advancing.”

“Still, an announcement is an announcement. Rules were added at the second checkpoint as well, correct? The same applies here.”

For reference, the rule added at the second checkpoint allowed lower gods with enough points to purchase a dropped world. Since I had no lower gods, I had mostly ignored it, but it functioned as a kind of resurrection match where upper gods could grant points based on contribution.

“I will now explain the additional rule for the third dropout checkpoint. From now on, a dropout may sell their world to another player if they wish. In that case, the two parties negotiate the number of points to exchange. Points may be received, refused, or even given. It is entirely up to you.

If you sell your world this way, the seller becomes a lower god under the buyer. They receive contribution equal to their original world score and points, and share their fate with that god.”

“In other words, I can abandon managing my own world and entrust it to another god?”

“That is correct! Of course, you may simply drop out instead. That would mean returning to your original home. However, if you sell to another player, you may be able to advance to the upper rounds more easily if you find a good partner.”

This rule seemed designed to encourage large-scale faction management.

I wanted to discuss it with the other members of the Meteors Cartel, but unfortunately they were still in the middle of their own collisions. I had finished unusually quickly.

Since the fighting was over early, I might as well gather information through community activity.

From here on, proper faction dynamics would begin to form.