Terraforming
Whoosh-! Thwack-!
“Ugh…”
“You fucking dog. Keep your stance straight. If you can’t block it, your bones are gonna snap?”
Crack! Thud-!
Chris lunged forward again with explosive speed. The man facing her dodged and blocked by the narrowest margins, like a sheet of paper. His handsome face twisted in a grimace—it was clear even evasion was pushing him to his limits.
And it had to be. Chris moved at inhuman speeds no one on Earth could match, zeroing in on the protagonist’s blind spots with ruthless precision. While Lee Kangin’s counters sliced through empty air, Chris’s fists landed solidly on his body, one after another.
Name: Lee Kangin
Job: Regressor
Strength: 12 | Agility: 13 | Vitality: 15
Intelligence: 9 | Technique: 13 | Charm: 63
Traits:All-Rounder | Resilient
Two traits, just like a protagonist should have… and ones that looked incredibly strong at a glance. Even for a protagonist, the gap in base stats was several times over. The fact that he was holding out at all proved his talent.
And that was probably Lee Kangin’s goal: prove his talent, win the instructors’ full support. It was a gamble, but success meant faster growth than anyone else.
‘Damn it! This isn’t the time to worry about that!’
Why had the story deviated from the novel already? Had the god who created this world tampered with it? No, that couldn’t be. Baby Angel had nailed it down: this world was exactly as in the novel. He’d asked her beforehand, so it was certain.
That left only one possible reason.
“My presence as a variable changed things…? Already…?”
He couldn’t believe it. He’d only entered the novel less than an hour ago! And this was the exact situation he’d been most cautious about, the one he’d tried hardest to avoid.
Having read the novel, he knew the future up until the midpoint. To use that knowledge efficiently, the story needed to follow the original as closely as possible—minimize variables at all costs. That’s why he’d restrained himself, acting as inconspicuously as possible to avoid influencing the future!
Did he miss something? He quickly reviewed his actions so far.
…Damn, no clue. He couldn’t guess why Chris’s behavior had changed. He hadn’t done anything to stand out…
Why had the future shifted already?
Chin! Crack! Chin!
“Tired already? Your arms are slowing down? Hmm… fine, I’ll admit it. You’ve got enough skill to fuck up an average retard. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you. You earned a beating, so take it. Right?”
“Hah… hah…”
“I fucking hate clueless bastards. On Earth, no social awareness just screws you over personally. Here? It wipes out the whole team. So… you and that guy? Deducted points. Got it?”
Chris pointed at the middle-aged man still sprawled on the ground.
‘Whew… good. Calming down.’
His wildly churning emotions settled rapidly. He could feel it clearly.
‘Natural Healing… way better than expected.’
This level meant sudden ambushes or betrayals wouldn’t faze his mind much. The future had shifted, but it was fine. He’d never planned to follow the original forever anyway. He’d intended to bend it for his gain eventually—and now was that time. Plus, the major events would happen regardless of Chris and Lee Kangin’s relationship. He still had plenty to exploit.
From now on, though, he’d need to stay hyper-focused, tracking every shift. No one knew how big this variable would snowball…
He glanced at Chris. She wasn’t using mana-infused strikes—holding back, clearly. Yet she still dominated the protagonist effortlessly. She was a madwoman, but astonishingly, a warrior and instructor acknowledged by all. No matter how trashy the recruit’s mindset, her training forged elite combatants.
A full cohort took three months—and in that time, dozens emerged as full warriors under her hand.
Their bout was winding down. He couldn’t dodge forever; valid hits now outnumbered blocks.
“Ugh!…”
It looked painful just watching… His stamina was shot; he was hanging on through sheer spite now.
Only then did Brack, who’d been watching arms crossed, step in. He grabbed Chris’s fist as it arced down toward Lee Kangin’s face.
“That’s enough.”
“Let go. He’s got a ways to go. Look at his eyes—he’s not broken yet.”
“Any more, and tomorrow’s training suffers.”
“Just break a few bones, heal for four months, train with the next cohort.”
“You wanna see this trainee for seven months? Stop now, ship him out in three.”
“…Fuck. Fine, let go.”
Thwack!
Chris yanked her arm free and stalked behind Brack. He let out a deep sigh at the sight.
He approached Lee Kangin, sprawled starfished on the ground, and the middle-aged man, checking them over.
“She pulls punches—no cracks anywhere. Get up and rejoin the ranks.”
“Yes… sorry for causing trouble.”
Lee Kangin obeyed without protest, dragging his exhausted body back to the group. Sincerity laced his apology; Brack shot him a surprised look.
Made sense. Lee Kangin’s goal wasn’t clashing with instructors—it was proving himself for their backing. He knew where to draw the line.
The middle-aged man, though? Different story.
“Ugh! I think my leg’s broken. When that bitch hit me earlier, I heard a weird sound from my leg…”
“Hm? No way…”
“Agh… my leg hurts so much… I’ve got weak bones since birth…”
The man clutched his leg, face contorted in agony. He understood the situation perfectly.
‘That’s… malingering.’
If it were really broken? No chance. No one controlled beatings like Chris. She wasn’t an amateur to make that mistake.
“You fucking shit!”
Sure enough, Chris—who’d been slacking off with a sour face—overheard and charged over in a rage. Even he knew it was fake; how could she, who’d thrown the punch, miss it?
Definitely clueless, as she’d said. He’d heard the promise of treatment and faked it—digging his own grave. Smart people hated that amateur shit the most.
“You open your mouth, you dog? Not beaten enough, huh?”
“Eek! N-no… I really hurt…”
“Sure you do, you fuck. Dodge. Or die.”
Suddenly, Chris hefted a boulder the size of a compact car.
…He knew she was strong, but this strong? Even for her, it strained; her face flushed with effort. Or wait—anger?
She heaved it overhead with a grunt… and hurled the massive rock at the middle-aged man.
“U…uaaaagh!!”
Boom--!!
“Cough! Cough!”
A massive dust cloud billowed, blinding everyone. But he’d seen it clearly before the haze: the man, claiming a broken leg, had leaped up and dove aside.
Proved it was fake. Brutally so. A real break? You couldn’t stand, let alone touch the ground.
“Hey, you fuck. What’s wrong with your leg now?”
“Ah… uh… must’ve been my mistake…”
“What’s your name.”
“Wh-why do you…”
“Answer.”
“I mean… why are you asking…”
“Answer, bitch!!”
“Adachi Kenji!”
“Japanese? Whatever. You’re on my shitlist now. Too stupid to get it? You’re marked. By me. Kiss easy living goodbye. I’m not crazy for nothing.”
“Eek!…”
Chris glared at him with murderous—no, maniacal eyes.
No one in the novel got targeted so openly… The friction between protagonist and Chris had rippled out like this. Not his problem, though. Life with her was hell marked or not. Marked? Pure nightmare…
“Not saying it twice! Every cycle, 100 randoms transfer from Earth! You’re one of those unlucky 100! No one knows why! Same with suddenly speaking an unknown language! God’s will? Higher beings fucking around? No answers, so just accept it!”
The novel’s title: Terraforming. Straight-up colonizing another dimension’s planet.
“Resources here are scarce as fuck! But mouths to feed? Overflowing! Obviously, treatment varies by ability! Docs, engineers, scientists—experts get top billing!”
On arrival, they sorted experts first, then disabled, kids, elderly. Leftovers? Healthy bodies, no other merits. Them.
“You’re judged useless! Useless skills—or none at all! That’s you! Shelter ain’t rich enough to carry dead weight!”
Even kids and grannies worked. Others toiled in specialties. No one else couldn’t pull their one share.
“Even trash like you can be useful! No exceptions for sex, age, origin! All train three months, then straight to combat duty! What combatants do… you get it, right?”
Chris flashed the scars etched across her body. Explanation enough.
No rebellion despite the shock. Who’d mouth off to someone who beat people mercilessly? Throwing that rock? Best case, attempted murder. No one had the guts to defy a literal psycho openly.
“Combatants get better than experts. Chance for mid-tier Earth losers to hit top caste?”
“Uh… isn’t it… dangerous?”
“Obviously. But voluntary dropout? Impossible. Human rights? Free choice? Diversity? Fuck that. Only if instructors deem you hopeless beyond repair.”
“Wh-what happens on dropout? Thrown to the monsters in the woods…?”
Chris grinned wickedly. Everyone but him and the protagonist gulped in tension. He knew the truth—chuckled at her scare tactic. Even in this hellhole, they didn’t treat death lightly. Modern 21st-century transfers. Not as extreme as she implied. Few starved outright… just lots skipped meals.
“Nah, reassigned to other work. Mostly bug-catching or odd jobs.”
Faces lit up visibly. Dropout didn’t mean certain death.
“B-bug-catching…?”
“Literal bugs from the woods. Old folks, kids, disabled, dropouts do it.”
“Pardon? Why bugs…? Food?”
“Whoa, more into bug duty than training? Suspicious as fuck.”
“N-no… just… good to know…”
Sneer.
“Sure. Anyway, why eat bugs? We got eaters for that.”
Screeech-!
Chris nodded at the chickens. Clicked for everyone—bugs fed the livestock. Especially women visibly relaxed. Most here would act out for dropout: defy instructors, disobey… Anything beat monster-fighting death lottery.
…Would instructors let it slide? Violence wasn’t banned here. How far “education” stretched… they hadn’t grasped.
“Don’t worry too much. As I said, combatants get shelter’s best perks. Sure, lacks vs. modern life… but paradoxically, things impossible back home are here.”
“Impossible things?”
“Overt castes here, so…”
“Right! You become bug-catcher… this guy combatant? You service him on demand.”
Whoosh-!
Quick ones gasped, eyes snapping to Chris’s pointed “guy.” His face soured hard.
She’d picked him. Out of this crowd, why him?
He knew why. Stood out—ugly as sin.
“P-prostitute…? What…”
“Sex, you dumb bitch. Sex! Fuck, why so many clueless shits this cohort? Pissing me off.”
“R-really…?”
Sigh leaked from beside Chris. Brack’s.
“…Hey, that’s extreme example. Officially banned… but some do it under table. …Embarrassing, but common.”
“N-no way!…”
“Look, you’re getting it now… Dropout ain’t good. Bottom of the pecking order. See shelter life yourself—you’ll feel what I mean.”
Stares locked on him. Women especially—disgust, like he’d already demanded sex.
Fuuuck… why him, just standing here…?