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Author: Renegade

  • The Incompetent Mage’s Infinite Regression Chapter 5

    Bohn grabbed Ethan by the collar and dragged him into his room, shoving him against the wall.

    “That’s not a very funny joke,” Bohn said.

    “Do I sound like I’m lying?”

    “Wouldn’t it be better if you were? If you were telling the truth, I might have to kill you to keep your mouth shut.”

    “Not a great idea.” Ethan smirked. “Would I approach you, knowing your secret, without a plan? If something happens to me, a letter will automatically be delivered to someone.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you have any proof that I work for the Imperial Inquisition?”

    “You have a very precious book, don’t you?”

    Bohn drew a dagger.

    “How do you know about that…?”

    “Like I said, I’m a well-known scoundrel. I’ve been short on money lately, so I took a look around to see if there was anything valuable in other people’s rooms.”

    Bohn remained as level-headed as Ethan had expected.

    “If you knew I was with the Inquisition, you could’ve just reported me.”

    “Honestly, what good would that do me?”

    “You want money?”

    “If you were some rich noble’s kid, maybe. But what I want from you is something different.”

    “Different?”

    “You’re the top student in our first year.”

    “…Am I supposed to acknowledge that myself?”

    “Aren’t you?”

    “…It’s embarrassing.”

    Bohn averted his gaze behind his glasses, his face turning slightly red. Ethan found it an unexpected side of him.

    “Anyway, you saw how I barely passed Basic Magic Practice, right? If I stay like this, I won’t survive the second semester’s Fundamental Magic Practice.”

    “…No way.”

    Ethan spoke.

    “Teach me magic.”

    Bohn’s expression became complicated.

    Ethan’s plan was simple.

    <If I don’t have to kill Vine, the best option is to get him expelled. To do that, I need proof that he’s connected to the Inquisition. And to find that proof, I need to get close to someone involved—Bohn Palmaise.>

    <That’s a good plan.>

    Demi approved but also raised a question.

    <But was it really necessary to ask him to teach you magic? Feels like you just wanted an excuse.>

    <An excuse? What’s wrong with learning magic?>

    <It’s not wrong… but wasn’t it already confirmed that you have no talent for magic? Even Lady Arca said so.>

    It wasn’t just Arca. Count Charasen himself, the mages of the family, and even the family’s ‘guests’ had all, for various reasons, confirmed that Ethan had no aptitude for magic.

    But unexpected things happen all the time.

    <My contract with you succeeded, didn’t it?>

    <You should already know that what this world calls black magic is…>

    <Enough. I don’t want to hear it.>

    Ethan was still too young to give up.

    <And even if Bohn gets suspicious of my approach, he’ll just see me as someone trying to use a public issue for personal gain. From his perspective, that’s someone he can control.>

    Ethan was right.

    “Fine,” Bohn said.

    “Really?”

    Of course, there were parts Ethan hadn’t anticipated.

    “But there’s a condition.”

    “A condition?”

    A new quest appeared before Ethan’s eyes.

    [Quest Triggered!]
    [Quest: Deepen Your Relationship with Bohn Palmaise (D)]

    As Demi said, the appearance of a quest meant it was a worthwhile challenge.

    Ethan responded,

    “Alright. What’s the condition?”

    Three days later, Ethan was fighting a sword-wielding automaton and deeply regretting accepting Bohn’s condition.

    Automatons were weapons controlled by puppeteers. They were usually made of wood, but some were crafted from metal, stone, or even clay. Most had humanoid shapes, with arms and legs attached to a torso, though their appearances varied by puppeteer.

    The one Ethan faced now wasn’t much different from a scarecrow chasing birds—except for the fact that it had legs and was swinging a sword.

    ‘Normal scarecrows don’t try to kill me, though.’

    Ethan barely dodged the automaton’s blade. Its movements didn’t feel like proper swordsmanship, just wild slashes. But even that was enough to kill a person. It was still dangerous.

    “I dulled the edge, so you probably won’t die even if you get hit,” said a voice.

    “Probably?”

    The speaker was Linav Promorus, a senior student and the president of the Combat Magic Society.

    Linav had dark skin, shinier than that of Yurmuth people, and golden hair, a characteristic of the Patalain race. Due to ancient magical influences, some Patalain had white diamond-shaped patches on their faces—Linav had one on the upper part of his nose.

    Linav continued,

    “But boy, don’t forget—just not dying isn’t enough to get into the society.”

    “Who are you calling a boy?”

    Ethan barely avoided another swing and scowled. Linav laughed.

    Bohn’s ‘condition’ had been Ethan’s admission into the Combat Magic Society.

    Bohn claimed that he would be too busy over the break due to his involvement with the society and that their meeting space was large, well-stocked with resources, and ideal for teaching magic. He also noted that Ethan could learn from other senior members and peers.

    Combat magic focused on spells used for self-defense, duels, and warfare, along with practical applications of magical combat techniques.

    Though still a student organization, the society was watched closely by graduate mages with interests.

    Ethan had readily agreed to Bohn’s condition.

    He couldn’t assume that only Bohn and Vine were part of the Inquisition. Getting close to others connected to them was worthwhile.

    But in hindsight, this had been a trap.

    To join the society, Ethan had to defeat an automaton.

    Linav smirked.

    “Still, for someone who barely scraped through Basic Magic Practice, you’ve got guts to take on an automaton. …Or is it just ignorance?”

    Despite its crude form, the automaton mimicked the movements of a trained soldier.

    “If you ever get good at combat magic, this is the weakest opponent you’ll face in real battle. No one in this society loses to an automaton.”

    “I never said I’d lose.”

    “Determination is a good start. But it’s not enough for admission.”

    Linav laughed.

    “Bohn, you’ve brought an interesting one.”

    Bonn answered,

    “We’re not friends.”

    Ethan had thought he could handle the automaton alone, but it wasn’t easy.

    If it had been sluggish, he would have sneaked behind it and twisted its neck.

    But just as Linav had said, it was quicker and smarter than he expected.

    Ethan spoke to Demi.

    <I think I have to use it.>

    <Understood.>

    Ethan tucked the dagger he was holding into his coat.

    “What, are you giving up?”

    “No.”

    “Then you’re going to fight barehanded?”

    “Yes.”

    Ethan planned to use a ‘skill.’

    00

    Before facing the automaton, Ethan had entered Limbo that morning.

    He had known since the first day that he could enter Limbo whenever he fell asleep, as his consciousness was treated as lost upon sleeping.

    Upon entering the Limbo Ethan said,

    “I don’t have to come every day, but today is different.”

    Ethan checked the completed quest window.

    [‘Quest: Survive for 3 Days (D)’—Success!]
    [Reward: 12 EXP]
    [Reward: D-Rank Lottery Ticket]

    Digging into his pocket, he found the D-Rank ticket.

    Demi asked,

    <Would you like to draw a prize?>

    “No.”

    Ethan walked up to the merchant.

    “Can you recommend something I need?”

    <If I have it.>

    “One more question. You said ‘items,’ but I can use the lottery to not only get ‘items,’ but also ‘archives’ and ‘skills,’ right?”

    The merchant lifted his head and looked at Ethan.

    <Of course.>

    Ethan held out the D-Rank ticket.

    “In that case, I’ll buy a skill.”

    <What kind of skill do you want?>

    00

    The automaton stared at Ethan in confusion before tensing up and approaching.

    <As expected. It’s reacting like a human.>

    Demi said,

    <But, Master, when I say it’s ‘like a human,’ I mean that automaton isn’t just a programmed robot. It reacts and behaves like a person.>

    <A robot? You mean like a golem?>

    <That interpretation is acceptable.>

    <Golems have their own sluggishness. But being human-like also means it has weaknesses.>

    Ethan took off his coat.

    He prided himself on being quick, which had allowed him to dodge the automaton’s sword so far.

    But just dodging wouldn’t bring it down.

    <The automaton mimics a soldier’s movements, right?>

    <Correct.>

    <Then skills must work similarly.>

    <I’m not knowledgeable about magic, but I assume so. Generally speaking, a D-Rank skill is based on the proficiency of someone who has practiced for about three years. So, you could say you are imitating the movements of someone with three years of experience.>

    The automaton rushed forward, swinging its sword downward.

    A simple downward strike—but it could easily transition into a lateral slash.

    At that moment, Ethan flung his coat, which wrapped around the automaton’s sword.

    The automaton didn’t panic. It pulled back the blade and retreated.

    Linav watched with amusement, while Bohn observed quietly.

    -Pop!

    A firecracker, which Ethan had pulled from his pocket, exploded right in front of the automaton’s face.

    Startled, the automaton staggered.

    Its sword was tangled in the coat, and it was already retreating—on the verge of falling.

    Ethan crouched low and grabbed its thigh.

    Then, using his shoulder, he shoved the automaton down.

    With a loud crash, the automaton toppled over.

    <Takedown…>

    The automaton tried to swing its sword again, but Ethan had already seized its wrist.

    With its wrist locked, it had neither the strength nor the angle to swing the sword properly.

    <From the ground…>

    Ethan grasped the automaton’s arm, lifted both legs onto its chest, and curved his back.

    <Armbar.>

    A technique for hyperextending the elbow joint.

    In Terra, this technique was used to apply pain and force an opponent to submit.

    But here, in Damarat Yurmuth, things were different.

    Ethan poured all his strength into breaking the automaton’s elbow.

    -Crunch!

    The skill Ethan had purchased from the merchant was—
    <Skill: Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu (D)>.

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 90

    The moment the prince’s fate became uncertain, Murad lost the momentum he had displayed until now.

    The one he wished to fight was the man heralded as the last hope of a thousand-year empire—not some insignificant lieutenants lacking even a shred of fame. The only consolation was that, despite Murad’s open disappointment, discipline within the army remained unshaken. In fact, his troops burned with even greater resolve. The best example of this was the Greek officers who had joined them late.

    “Your Majesty, now that the enemy has scattered, this is the perfect opportunity to annihilate them completely. We humbly request permission to lead a detachment and exterminate the fleeing remnants.”

    Their request was reasonable. Having hesitated before pledging allegiance, they now sought to prove their worth and secure some measure of standing in Murad’s favour. More importantly, deploying them meant preserving his own core forces. There was no reason to refuse.

    “Very well, I grant you the opportunity.”

    “We are deeply, profoundly grateful for the Sultan’s boundless generosity.”

    Thus, three thousand Christian soldiers, having volunteered for the task, set out to hunt down the remaining enemy forces. As Murad watched their eager departure, he considered the consequences of his decision.

    If they succeeded, it would serve as undeniable proof that central Greece had submitted entirely to his authority. If they suffered losses, he could use their protection as a pretext to station troops, further pressuring Venice.

    A campaign, with all its immense costs, must bring not one, but multiple gains in a single stroke. As a ruler, Murad reassured himself that he had chosen the most efficient course of action. It was a sound decision. Yet, as he issued orders, his voice carried an uncharacteristic laziness.

    “Establish fortifications. This will be the final opportunity for those who have yet to declare their submission.”

    Even if the prince was dead, Murad had no intention of loosening the noose that had been placed around his neck. He would leave no room for doubt or resistance. He vowed again and again. By stationing his forces and conducting a silent show of strength, he would press the cities of central Greece into casting off Morea’s influence completely.

    With that, Murad’s army moved swiftly to construct their base. Engineers led the way, erecting wooden wall, while tents rose upon leveled ground. The resulting fortress-like stronghold was as solid as any permanent fortification. Inspecting its completion, Murad eventually made his way to his quarters.

    His mind was restless.

    Seated on the edge of his bed, he muttered mockingly about the man he had once regarded as his greatest adversary.

    “No matter how exceptional one’s abilities or how unyielding one’s will, in the end, all unfolds according to Allah’s will.”

    The prophecy would be fulfilled. The will of God had already determined the outcome. Against such forces, human resistance was pitiful and insignificant.

    And yet…

    What was this lingering regret and unease stirring in his chest? The same thoughts ran over and over in his mind. Shaking his head, Murad finally closed his eyes.

    —

    How much time had passed?

    When Murad opened his eyes again and turned his head, the world outside his tent had already been swallowed by darkness. A sharp gust of cold wind brushed against his face. Sitting there in a daze, he soon realized sleep had completely abandoned him.

    A breath of fresh air. That was what he needed.

    Stepping outside, he found the night utterly still. The full moon had vanished, leaving only the torchlights flickering along the perimeter of the camp.

    A peaceful night.

    Aside from the hushed whispers of a few soldiers, the atmosphere within the encampment was the very image of an ideal army—rigid discipline, watchful eyes scanning the surroundings, patrols moving in tight formations, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

    And yet, an inexplicable unease gnawed at Murad.

    “…Am I simply lacking sleep?”

    Pressing his fingers against his forehead, he turned to head back into his tent—

    Then he heard it.

    A sound concealed beneath the crackling of fire. The wail of the wind.

    A strangely familiar sensation…

    His narrowed eyes barely had time to register the thought before a sharp, metallic clang shattered the night.

    — Tchaang! Ching!

    A split second later, the unmistakable whistle of arrows slicing through the air reached his ears. Soldiers collapsed the moment the projectiles found their mark.

    Murad’s lips twisted into a smirk.

    “A raid, is it?”

    So this was the desperate measure they resorted to when backed into a corner. Murad could not help but pity the prince once more. Had he been surrounded by more experienced and capable officers, he would never have needed to take to the battlefield himself. And now, these incompetent fools, who had already sentenced their lord to death, were offering up his final hope in one last, futile act of defiance.

    How could he not pity them?

    Without hesitation, Murad strode toward the direction from which the arrows had been fired. The enemy seemed to be reloading, as no further shots followed. But now that their presence had been revealed, preparation was necessary. The soldiers raised their shields, staring into the darkness.

    It was then that a lieutenant turned his head, startled by Murad’s presence so close to the front lines.

    “Your Majesty, why have you come here—”

    “Enough. What are the casualties? How much damage has been sustained?”

    “It was a sudden ambush, so we expected severe losses, but… the enemy force appears much smaller than anticipated. Only a dozen or so have been wounded.”

    “A feint, then.”

    Murad had considered the possibility of a large-scale attack, but the minimal casualties suggested otherwise. Were they merely trying to draw attention? If so, the delay between volleys indicated they had used inexperienced soldiers as bait. A pitiful, crude tactic. Worse still, now that their plan had been uncovered, they would have to brace for near-total annihilation.

    If they had launched this assault without fully accepting that risk, they did not even deserve mercy.

    They were mere beasts, willing to throw away lives for the sake of their own petty self-indulgence.

    Murad immediately surveyed the area and gave his command.

    “It’s a diversion. Reverse formation at once. The real attack will come from the rear.”

    “As the Sultan wills.”

    The moment the order was given, the entire camp was filled with the sound of loud instruments. Murad, having already guessed the direction from which the enemy’s main force would strike, turned his body toward it. How many still followed the prince’s lieutenants? No matter how numerous they were, they would still be nothing more than a handful compared to his own army.

    Mounting the horse that his attendant had brought, Murad spurred it forward, galloping swiftly toward the other side.

    He had nearly arrived when—

    Clang! Clang! Clang!

    Just like during the initial ambush, the sharp clash of steel rang out, and a group of men burst forth from the darkness. They were heavily armored infantry clad in chainmail—undoubtedly the remnants of Morea’s shattered forces. They had crept forward in silence, suppressing even their war cries in an attempt at stealth, but their armor betrayed them. The resounding noise rendered their efforts meaningless.

    For now, a skirmish had broken out due to the Ottomans being caught off guard, but once the army fully reversed its formation, the enemy would be crushed in an instant—mere grains of sand against the tide.

    Murad gently stroked his horse’s mane and slowly closed his eyes.

    This was the final stronghold.

    As the Sultan of the Ottomans, as a commander witnessing assured victory, and as a warrior who had longed for a battle with his greatest foe—Murad’s judgment was sound. There was only one fundamental flaw in his reasoning.

    And if one assumption was wrong, no amount of effort could lead to the correct answer.

    A deafening roar erupted from behind.

    Murad’s mind went blank.

    The enemy before him was already on the brink of annihilation, so how could such a fierce and resolute battle cry arise from their ranks?

    No—was there even a commander left on their side capable of rallying morale like this?

    As questions flooded his mind, a single thought flashed through him—his own strategy.

    Separating the Janissaries, concealing his position by avoiding banners—his own stratagem for deception.

    But what was more effective at hiding one’s location than death itself?

    A flicker of realization returned to Murad’s vacant gaze.

    As he hastily scanned the battlefield, it was already too late.

    From the direction of the earlier ambush, a contingent of well-drilled Morean soldiers was advancing, their spears leveled against the Ottoman army’s exposed rear.

    Leading them, of course, was the most battle-hardened commander remaining in Morea—a golden-haired, blue-eyed mercenary captain.

    “Advance! Drive them back! Press the attack!”

    Even if Morea lacked experience and skilled officers, they had one decisive advantage—the superior armament of their soldiers.

    Ottoman troops, struggling to form a proper defensive line against the sudden assault, began to fall one by one.

    The agonized screams and cries of the dying sent a surge of adrenaline through Murad’s veins.

    “Send the Sipahi to the right flank. Cut them down.”

    He clenched his teeth, but he would not lose his composure.

    Even through the rising fury, his mind remained cold and calculating.

    The enemy had formed a pincer maneuver, attempting to encircle his forces, but their formation was not yet complete.

    The Sipahi cavalry on the flanks were still intact. If they could strike before the trap was fully sprung, they could break through.

    The Sultan’s command was relayed instantly.

    The Sipahi, led by scouting parties, mounted their horses in haste and charged across the battlefield.

    But as if they had been waiting for this moment, another force emerged.

    “The King’s cousin is here! Bow your heads before him!”

    Knights.

    Western Europe’s living war machines—renowned for their devastating charges and formidable combat prowess.

    The Sipahi, trained specifically to counter them, collided with the enemy cavalry in a brutal clash that stalled their advance.

    To make matters worse, some of the approaching infantry suddenly shifted off course, rushing to reinforce the knights and ensure the Sipahi were tied down.

    It was only then that Murad realized—this was no mere ambush.

    The enemy’s true target had been the Sipahi all along.

    And there was only one man capable of orchestrating such a maneuver.

    His suspicions were confirmed by the desperate cry that rang out across the battlefield.

    “Dragaš! Dragaš is there!”

    At that moment, Murad instinctively turned his head—

    And his eyes met those of a knight atop a horse.

    The figure was clad in bloodstained crimson armour, their face hidden by a helmet.

    Yet as soon as their eyes met, Murad knew.

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  • The Incompetent Mage’s Infinite Regression Chapter 4

    “Did I return to Limbo?”

    “Yes, User.”

    “I can go back to the past again?”

    “Of course.”

    Ethan thought it was an astonishing magic, but he could somewhat accept it. The spells casted by the invaders of Damarat Yurmuth—such as the Dark God Yorr, the Tentacle God Musamusa, and the Exiled Dragon Loranquerio—on their contractors were always terrifying.

    The empire had tried to downplay the invasions caused by Demi, but there were people from other countries who had witnessed the horrors first-hand. Records indicated that even during Demi’s invasions, their armies were formidable.

    Two quests appeared in Ethan’s vision.

    [Quest Generated!]
    [Quest: Defeat Vine Wiz Decarun (C)]

    [Quest Generated!]
    [Quest: Survive for 3 Days (D)]

    Ethan asked, “There are two quests?”

    “Quests can appear in multiples depending on the conditions.”

    “And what exactly does ‘defeat’ mean?”

    “It includes killing, as well as forcing the target to leave—whether physically or from their social position. As long as they no longer enjoy their current status and no longer interfere with you, it counts as ‘defeated.’”

    “What does ‘survive for 3 days’ mean?”

    Demi remained silent for a moment, as if choosing its words carefully.

    “Quests arise when they are sufficiently challenging for your situation, provide a reason to be completed, and have value as a challenge. The fact that ‘surviving for 3 days’ appeared suggests that staying alive itself has become a worthy challenge for you.”

    “…I see. Thanks for the explanation.”

    Demi held out a black box with a hole.
    “First, would you like to draw a lot?”

    “Shall I?”

    Ethan was about to reach out but suddenly noticed something in his peripheral vision—something that hadn’t been there before.

    “Wait, what’s that?”

    Ethan pointed to something in the corner of Limbo. It was a figure in a red robe, wearing a golden mask with only eye holes. But beyond the mask and inside the robe, there was nothing.

    It stared at Ethan.

    <I am a merchant.>

    “A merchant?”

    Ethan looked at Demi. Demi nodded slightly, indicating it was okay to converse.

    Ethan approached the merchant.
    “If you’re a merchant, you sell things?”

    <That is correct.>

    “To buy something, I need money, right?”

    <That is correct.>

    “But I don’t have any money.”

    The merchant pointed to the inner pocket of Ethan’s coat.

    Ethan, feeling skeptical, searched the pocket. Inside, he found something.

    It looked like a coin—blue, with white stripes around the edge, and incredibly light. There was something recognizable in the center: the letter “D.”

    “This is…?”

    <It is a coupon that allows you to draw a lot from the administrator. You can either use it for a D-rank draw or exchange it with me to purchase an item.>

    “What kind of items can I buy?”

    <With a D-rank coupon, you can only buy D-rank items.>

    Ethan calculated in his head.
    “Wouldn’t it always be better to buy instead of drawing? Rather than hoping for something useful, I could just buy what I need directly.”

    <However, there are things that can only be obtained through drawing. I do not sell a wide variety of items—everything I offer can also be acquired through the draw.>

    So, while there were times when purchasing from the merchant was the better choice, there would also be situations where drawing lots was preferable if the needed item wasn’t available.

    Ethan said, “Alright. I’ll discuss it for a moment. That okay?”

    <I do not mind.>

    Ethan returned to Demi.
    “Can I trust that merchant?”

    “Yes. I control your Limbo, and I do not allow harmful entities to enter. That ‘merchant’ is permitted because it can be of assistance to you.”

    Ethan nodded.
    “Alright. Let’s talk about what happened after I went through that door behind you. I don’t think I can do things the same way as before.”

    “Why do you think that?”

    “If I go back as I am now, I’ll be in a better situation than before. First, I’ll kill Bohn.”

    “Yes.”

    “Then I’ll kill Professor Vine as well.”

    “Yes.”

    “No, wait. Changing the order would be better. I should assassinate Professor Vine first, then take care of Bohn. Killing them when they least expect it increases the chances of success.”

    Ethan glanced at Demi’s expression and said.

    “I don’t like killing people either.”

    “I never said anything.”

    Demi added, “Once you kill both, you should be able to find proof against the Inquisition.”

    “Yeah. Bohn definitely has something. But there’s a problem.”

    Ethan said, “To kill Vine, I must use a gun.”

    “That would expose you as a dark mage.”

    “That’s not good. The professors at Yurmuth Magic Academy might not kill me, but they would at least try to seal my dark magic. And if the empire has influence over the academy, then the empire will eventually discover my existence. That would make my future uncertain.”

    “What do you plan to do, then?”

    Ethan looked at the merchant.

    “Let’s do this.”

    Ethan opened the door and returned, heading to the Basic Magic Practice classroom.

    When it was his turn, Professor Ribbelton spoke.
    “Ethan, it’s your turn.”

    “Yes.”

    As Ethan stepped forward, he heard whispers.

    “He’s attending class till the very end. Quite the courage. Is this the honour of a noble family?”

    “Well, if it becomes clear he can’t use magic, wouldn’t that be disgraceful?”

    Ignoring the ridicule, Ethan climbed onto the platform.

    “Ethan, this is your final practice.”

    “Yes.”

    “I wonder if you’ve prepared enough.”

    “I did as much as I could.”

    “Begin when you’re ready.”

    Ethan held something in both hands, which he had taken from his coat pocket. Then, he turned toward the students and pulled the attached strings.

    -Pop!

    Colorful confetti and shimmering paper fragments scattered into the air.

    What Ethan had triggered was a party popper he had purchased from the merchant.

    He had thought it was expensive at first, but it came in a set of 100.

    Ethan had bought party poppers to pass the Basic Magic Practice class.

    ‘If I use a gun, Bohn will find out. This party popper is also a product from Terra, but according to Demi, Damarat Yurmuth has never seen or used such an item before.’

    Though his performance seemed lackluster compared to the other students’ magic, the class burst into laughter.

    Ethan subtly observed Professor Ribbelton.

    Fortunately, Ribbelton did not laugh.

    As the confetti and paper settled on the ground, Ribbelton asked,

    “That’s it?”

    “No, there’s more.”

    As Ethan took out another identical party popper from his pocket, Ribbelton intervened.

    “If it’s the same magic, there’s no need to continue.”

    “Understood.”

    Ribbelton checked the evaluation sheet with his quill and asked a few questions.

    “It seems to be alchemy, correct?”

    “Yes. As far as I know, alchemy falls under the broad category of magic, and renowned alchemist families are also treated as mage families—”

    Ribbelton raised a hand to cut him off.

    “Just answer the question.”

    “Yes.”

    “Can it be activated instantly?”

    “Yes.”

    “Can you increase the explosion size if necessary?”

    “Yes.”

    “You used visually striking materials. Why?”

    “Because they effectively draw the enemy’s attention.”

    “I see.”

    Demi interjected.

    <In ‘party poppers,’ the word ‘party’ refers to a joyful gathering to celebrate an occasion.>

    <I’ve already heard that explanation. But this is a magic academy, not a school for parlor tricks. To gain extra points, the magic must have some guaranteed usefulness—one that aligns with what the academy traditionally recognizes. Combat magic is intuitive and easy to understand.>

    <Understood. But it seems Professor Ribbelton is asking more questions than before.>

    <I noticed. Be quiet.>

    After a few more questions and answers, Ribbelton nodded.

    “Ethan.”

    “Yes.”

    “You pass.”

    “Thank you.”

    Ethan sighed in relief. But that relief didn’t last long.

    “Ethan!”

    00

    When he turned around, Arca was standing just as before—arms crossed, leaning against the stone railing of the second-floor corridor that connected the lecture hall and the dormitory.

    “What brings you here, sister?”

    “I heard you passed the Basic Magic Practical.”

    “Yes.”

    So far, the conversation mirrored their past exchange, but what followed was no praise.

    “Passing the practical exam with such a cheap trick? I have no idea what you’re thinking. Aren’t you ashamed, not just before our family, but before Father as well? And alchemy? What do you think people will say when they hear that a house as renowned as ours is dabbling in alchemy?”

    “…I’m sorry.”

    “There’s no need to apologize to me. Where did you get that trick? Did you make it yourself?”

    “You’re calling it magic, right? Fine. But even if you managed to pass the basic practical this way, what’s your plan for the real one?”

    “…I don’t have one.”

    “I thought as much. You may have found a way to get by this time, but improvisation will only take you so far. Go back and reflect on this. No matter how urgent it was, this isn’t right.”

    With that, Arca turned and walked away.

    Ethan spoke to Demi.

    <This is why I didn’t want to do it.>

    <Is the party popper really such an issue?>

    <The Charasen family is one of the five oldest houses in the Mage Assembly. We’ve frequently held the chairman’s seat, and everyone in our family takes immense pride in magic. They don’t just have talented mages—they have geniuses. In fact, my sister is one of those rare ‘true’ geniuses, the kind even the most arrogant of mages acknowledge. So, of course, she’s angry that I passed with something so trivial.>

    <I see.>

    Just when Ethan thought Arca had left, she came running back toward him.

    “Sister?”

    “I forgot to say something.”

    “What?”

    “Congratulations.”

    “…Thanks.”

    Arca pointed a finger at the corner of Ethan’s lips.

    “Don’t smirk.”

    “I wasn’t smiling yet.”

    “Not later, either. Now go to your room and reflect.”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    After Arca left, Ethan stole a glance behind him before heading to his room.

    As he expected, Bohn did not appear.

    “So, Bohn didn’t recognize the party popper as dark magic.”

    <That’s fortunate. Now we can proceed to the next step.>

    Ethan nodded and made his way toward Bohn’s dormitory. When he knocked on the door, Bohn stepped out. His glasses were slightly oversized, and he wore an indifferent expression.

    “Who is it… Ethan?”

    “This is our first time speaking, isn’t it? Did you already know me?”

    “It’s hard to avoid hearing about a notorious troublemaker.”

    “Oh, really?”

    Ethan stepped forward to enter the room, but Bohn blocked the doorway with his body.

    “What do you want?”

    “I just want to talk.”

    “Then speak here.”

    Ethan glanced around. He already knew no one was around, but he did it deliberately to make Bohn notice.

    “I know you work for the Empire’s Inquisition Bureau.”

  • The Regressed Extra Becomes a Genius Chapter 33

    After finishing the meeting with Lee Hee-young, Yoo Ara, Park Inhwan, and I were on our way back to the classroom.

    As we walked down the hallway in silence, Park Inhwan suddenly spoke to me with a face full of dissatisfaction.

    “What’s your deal?”

    “What?”

    “First, it was Teacher Kim Yunjin, and now Teacher Lee Hee-young—why are they all so desperate to get you a scholarship?”

    “I don’t know. Why are you asking me that?”

    I gave a half-hearted response to Park Inhwan’s baseless picking a fight once again.

    “No, but seriously, isn’t it weird? Do you come from some ridiculously prestigious family? Or did you bribe someone?”

    “No.”

    “You’re really a strange guy. You don’t even have mana, and you collapsed from mana depletion on the first day. There’s something about you, isn’t there?”

    “…Sigh. Think whatever you want.”

    [Character ‘Park Inhwan’ feels mild anger toward you.]
    [You have gained 500 points as a reward.]

    “What did you just say?”

    Park Inhwan lowered his voice. But I wasn’t the type to get riled up by such provocations. I simply shook my head and ignored him.

    This guy is something else. If he can’t even control his temper, how’s he going to survive in the real world later?

    Oh, right. He’s destined to become a villain anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.

    “You guys are being loud. Cut it out.”

    Yoo Ara turned around and spoke sharply.

    At the fierce look in her eyes, Park Inhwan shut his mouth for a moment, but soon he spoke again.

    “Doesn’t this bother you at all? The lowest-ranked student in the entire school getting recommended for the special class?”

    At his words, Yoo Ara’s gaze turned to me.

    Transparent eyes.
    I had no idea what kind of emotions were behind that look.

    “I think he deserves it.”

    “See?! Wait, huh? What did you say? He deserves it?”

    “Yeah. He sat next to me in the Manifestation class, so I know. He’s got talent. His mana capacity is just terrible, that’s all.”

    At Yoo Ara’s unexpected response, Park Inhwan looked baffled.

    “But still, he’s dead last in the whole school.”

    “That’s just how I feel. Stop asking.”

    With a slightly annoyed tone, Yoo Ara cut him off.

    Finally, Park Inhwan fell silent.

    After finishing all my classes and training, I returned to the dorm.

    Checking the time, it was already past 11 p.m.

    By the time I had showered and changed, it was 11:30.

    Only 30 minutes left until the next day, and I finally felt like my day was done.

    “…Oh, right. I had an assignment due tomorrow.”

    I had to write a report on the historical changes in the properties of classical magic for my theory class.

    This assignment had actually been given a week ago, but with how busy I’d been lately, I kept putting it off until now—leaving me with just one day to finish it.

    “Ugh, what a pain.”

    Looks like getting a full night’s sleep isn’t happening today.

    The theory classes didn’t contribute significantly to grades at the magic academy. But I had worked hard to build my reputation and earn points, so I couldn’t afford to skip a single assignment.

    Besides, if I wanted to rank in the top 80 in the next evaluation, excelling in these theory subjects was crucial.

    “Hmm.”

    Will I even be able to break into the top 80 on next week’s exam…?

    If it were as simple as the public test on the first day—just hitting a target—I’d be confident about making the top 10.

    “Eh, whatever~”

    Today’s training had been rough, and I was exhausted. I wanted to just throw this report aside and go to sleep.

    Still, at least I had the benefit of being an outsider.

    If I focused, I could probably finish it in two or three hours.

    All I had to do was write down the information that came into my head.

    “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

    Thanks to the outsider’s advantage, I managed to finish the assignment in just one hour—twice as fast as I expected.

    I got completely absorbed in writing and ended up filling over 40 pages.

    Even I thought it was a bit excessive.

    This was practically at the level of a professor’s thesis.

    After getting a good night’s sleep, I turned in the assignment the next day.

    The Classical Magic professor looked bewildered.

    “Kim Sun-woo, did you do all this by yourself?”

    “Yes, I did.”

    “Wait, why is the page count so high?”

    Maybe she thought I just added fluff to pad the length, because she started skimming through my report.

    After scanning it quickly, she flipped back to the first page and reread it at a slower pace, her eyes serious.

    “…”

    She looked up at me with wide eyes.

    “Kim Sun-woo, you didn’t plagiarize this from somewhere, did you? …No, never mind. If this were copied, I would have recognized it, so that’s not possible.”

    “I wrote it all myself.”

    [Character ‘Yang Hyun-sook’ is impressed by your diligence.]
    [You have gained 500 points as a reward.]

    So the Classical Magic professor’s name was Yang Hyun-sook.

    “Th-this is amazing. I only skimmed it, but the quality is already impressive.”

    “Thank you.”

    “Alright, go back to your seat.”

    I gave a slight nod and returned to my seat.

    From two rows ahead, Yoon Ha-young turned around and gave me a thumbs-up.

    “Everyone, do you see Kim Sun-woo’s assignment? He wrote a whopping 42 pages! Isn’t that incredible? I hope the rest of you can learn from his dedication.”

    [35 students find you annoying.]

    [You have gained 500 points as a reward.]

    “42 pages? Is this for real?”

    “That’s not a report, that’s a full thesis.”

    “Insane. Seriously.”

    The professor, oblivious to the jealous stares directed at me, beamed proudly at the class.

    “Now, let’s all give Kim Sun-woo a round of applause for his hard work.”

    “Wooow!”

    A weak applause echoed through the classroom.

    Barely audible.

    I glanced around and saw that only Yoon Hayoung, Lee Seo-joon, Shin Young-joon, and Lee Hyun-joo were actually clapping.

    I knew it. Either clap together or don’t clap at all.

    This is just embarrassing.

    The professor, noticing the underwhelming reaction, let out an awkward chuckle.

    [Magic Academy Scholarship Foundation]

    [₩5,000,000 has been deposited.]

    “Oh.”

    The scholarship money had finally arrived.

    With tens of billions already in my hands, ₩5,000,000 wasn’t exactly a fortune, but free money was always welcome.

    I had already decided how to use it.

    [Purchased 12 shares of Hanseong Pharmaceuticals]

    I was going to invest in stocks.

    But even though the article hadn’t been published yet, the stock price had already risen significantly over the past few days.

    As a result, I was only able to buy 12 shares.

    Still, once the article was released tomorrow, the stock price would rise even more, so buying now was the right move.

    Besides, there was no immediate use for the cash anyway.

    ‘…Hmm, maybe I should invest in something else too.’

    As I was looking through my smart student planner and considering other stocks, Yoon Hayoung called out to me from the front.

    “Sun-woo, what do you think?”

    It was Tuesday afternoon’s sparring class.

    Yoon Hayoung held up an ice arrow she had conjured in her hand and spoke to me.

    I observed it carefully and muttered under my breath.

    “…That’s amazing.”

    “Huh?”

    “It’s really good. The conjuring detail is incredible.”

    She must have diligently followed my assignment to memorize the structure of an arrow.

    Her magic form showed clear signs of dedicated practice.

    Her skill had improved tremendously in just a few days.

    She had great talent.

    Maybe not on Yoo Ara’s level, but at least as talented as Park Inhwan.

    Honestly, someone like her should be in the special scholarship class instead of me.

    “The conjuration seems solid, and your fundamentals are decent too.”

    “Really? Then let’s try a light sparring match. We have practical duels in the midterm exam next week, right?”

    That’s right. Now that I thought about it, dueling was part of next week’s midterm exams.

    Sparring with Yoon Hayoung wouldn’t be a huge help to me, but it was a different story for her.

    Aside from our previous bet match, she had almost no experience in real combat.

    With just a bit of practice, her skills would improve rapidly.

    “Alright, let’s spar. It’ll help build your combat instincts.”

    “Oh! Really? Okay! Time for a rematch. Hehe.”

    “You’re feeling confident now that your conjuring has improved, huh?”

    “To be honest, yeah. My confidence is through the roof. Plus, I already experienced your fighting style last time, so I know how to counter you now.”

    Oh, really? Is that so?

    “Alright, then show me what you’ve got.”

    I knew it was just a taunt, but it still stirred my competitive spirit.

    ‘I’m also curious to see the results of my training in the physical enhancement room.’

    I put some distance between us and spoke.

    “Don’t treat this as just a spar. Think of it as a real battle and come at me seriously.”

    “Huh? You sure? What if we get hurt?”

    “It’s fine. I won’t get hurt.”

    “…That kinda hurts my pride.”

    Her eyes flashed with competitive fire.

    I smirked and gathered mana into my body, focusing it in my lower limbs as usual.

    I could see the slight tension in Yoon Hayoung’s eyes.

    “Begin!”

    The moment the match started, Yoon Hayoung conjured and released dozens of ice arrows.

    The ceiling was covered in ice projectiles.

    Just as I suggested, she was treating this like a real battle, throwing everything she had at me.

    Her conjuration detail had definitely improved, but her casting speed was still slow.

    I easily dodged the ice arrows with quick movements.

    Thanks to my recent strength training, reinforcing my body with mana no longer felt painful or burdensome.

    I evaded her projectiles with ease and steadily closed the distance between us.

    “Haaah!”

    She had clearly learned from our last duel.

    This time, she released her ice arrows in a way that made it difficult for me to approach.

    Her mana reserves were impressive.

    Even after firing off so many spells, she showed no signs of running out.

    If it were me, I would’ve exhausted my mana after just a few shots.

    ‘But…’

    Magic duels weren’t just about mana.

    Experience and combat sense were crucial.

    Yoon Hayoung still lacked experience.

    Meanwhile, I had spent over five years as a professional mage on active duty.

    I conjured a small magic sphere in my hand.

    It wasn’t packed with a lot of mana, but it was enough.

    I fired it toward her legs.

    —Whoosh!

    —Boom!

    As expected, Yoon Hayoung reacted quickly, twisting her body to evade my attack.

    But that wasn’t a failed move.

    My goal was to create an opening in her attack.

    During her evasive maneuver, she momentarily stopped conjuring magic.

    That was the moment I had been aiming for.

    I gathered mana into my legs and dashed toward her at full speed.

    As soon as I got close, I forcefully pushed her over and conjured a spell in my hand, aiming it at her.

    In just a short moment, the duel ended once again—just like that.

    “…Haa.”

    “Ugh. I was so sure I’d win this time.”

    Lying on the ground, Yun Ha-young muttered regretfully.

    I also learned a lot from this match.

    It was clear that focusing on physical reinforcement helped compensate for my lack of mana.

    At that moment—

    [Character ‘Jang Ancheol’ is impressed by your combat instincts.]
    [You have received 500 points as a reward.]

    ‘Huh?’

    —Clap, clap, clap, clap!

    The sound of applause echoed from the direction of the private sparring room’s entrance.

    Startled, I turned toward the door and saw Jang Ancheol looking at us with an expression filled with admiration.

  • I Am the Only Tower Master Chapter 6

    “Is this what you were talking about?”

    I asked while shaking the diary.

    “Yes, Tower Master.”

    Eia answered and then disappeared, seemingly to avoid disturbing my reading. Left alone, I sat at my desk and opened the notebook, which was stained and worn from frequent use.

    『Imperial Year 191, October 9. My name is Anton Aximus. I am the next Tower Master. This writing records my heroic journey to becoming the Tower Master, and I hope it will serve as an excellent guide for the successors who will follow in my footsteps.』

    As expected, it was written in a strange language, but with my “Sage’s Eye,” I had no trouble reading it. I turned to the next page.

    『Imperial Year 191, October 10.
    The bothersome Tower Master trial has begun.
    Master stubbornly followed tradition, sealing the entire tower on a massive scale before leaving.
    Now, I must break all the seals on each floor using only my own power.
    Why are the old folks so obsessed with this useless ritual? They claim it’s a necessary process to become a true Tower Master, but that’s absolute nonsense. Why the hell do we have to go through this?』

    …Is this generational conflict?

    No matter the world, people seem to have the same struggles.

    More importantly, Anton’s situation was quite similar to mine—a mage tower with most of its functions disabled, except for the first floor and the ninth floor where the Tower Master resided.

    Curious, I flipped to the next page.

    『So-called comrades? Those guys took long vacations and are excited to slack off for months. Just wait, you bastards! Do you really think there will still be a place for you once I take over this tower? It’s time for a grand purge! Kahaha!』

    …One thing is clear: my predecessor was not a sane man.

    Most of the following entries were filled with complaints about his colleagues—who annoyed him and who he despised.
    I skipped over large chunks of what seemed to be insults and moved on to another passage.

    『…I finally reached the second floor and faced my first trial. There was a restriction that allowed only the three basic spells. How laughable. If the old-fashioned mages who rely solely on advanced magic tried this, they might have struggled. But as the youngest-ever Tower Master candidate, I passed without needing a second attempt.』

    “A trial?”

    Now, this was an interesting piece of information.

    It seemed that unlocking the seals on each floor required overcoming these so-called trials.

    I skimmed through more pages, but there were no detailed descriptions of the trials.

    Despite claiming in the introduction that this diary would be an excellent guide for future Tower Masters, it was nothing of the sort.

    Instead of useful instructions, it was mostly an account of how great and talented he was as a mage.

    ‘This feels like one of those curly-haired old men who draw something quickly and say, ‘See? It’s easy!’—leaving me in complete frustration.’

    Realizing that the diary wasn’t particularly helpful, I closed it halfway through and organized the information I had gathered so far.

    This mage tower, originating from a place called the “Erendel Continent,” was a cradle of magic.

    A magical Silicon Valley, if you will.

    There was also a tradition tied to the Tower Master succession.

    Whenever a new candidate was chosen, the current Tower Master would place massive seals on the tower and embed trials into each floor’s seal.

    The candidate had to overcome all these trials alone.

    Only after breaking all nine seals would they be recognized as the true Tower Master by the entire continent.

    Alright. Now things were starting to make sense.

    “So, Eia, does that mean I also have to go through these trials, just like the past Tower Masters?”

    I asked into the air, and Eia reappeared, her hair fluttering as she answered.

    “I believe the current situation is somewhat different. This large-scale seal wasn’t part of a traditional ritual. It was an ’emergency seal,’ automatically triggered to protect the tower’s knowledge and technology in times of crisis.”

    “So, you’re saying the tower had no choice but to seal itself for survival?”

    “Affirmative. That is a reasonable interpretation.”

    I still didn’t know why this structure from another world had been transported to Earth or why I had been chosen as its Tower Master, but one thing was clear.

    I had to grow stronger, challenge the trials, and unlock the entire tower.

    Even just the potion crafting on the first floor was enough to shake up the current hunter system.
    Who knew what groundbreaking technology was hidden on the other floors?

    ‘Good, good.’

    My motivation was set.

    At last, an opportunity had come my way.

    I could simply hole up inside the tower and live an easy life, but where was the fun in that?

    I would make the world revolve around me.

    I would strike back at the hunter community that had labeled me a non-combatant and rise to the top.

    And then—these trials.

    There was mention of “retries.”

    That likely meant I could attempt them multiple times.

    The second-floor trial restricted magic use to only the three basic spells.

    That would be the three I had already mastered—”Gauntlet,” “Shield,” and “Mana Arrow.”

    ‘I’ve pretty much mastered those three already. Even if I learn stronger magic, I wouldn’t be able to use them in that trial anyway…’

    No need to hesitate.

    I would strike while the iron was hot.

    I decided to challenge the second-floor trial immediately.

    The first floor of the mage tower was vast.

    From the outside, the tower’s structure was conical—gradually narrowing as it rose.
    This meant the first floor was the most spacious.
    With so many staircases and rooms, it was easy to get lost.

    The system labeled the “Potion Brewing Department” as simply “the first floor,” but in reality, it covered an area equivalent to three floors.

    It seemed the tower was divided more by function rather than strict floor levels.

    Eventually, I reached the staircase leading to the second floor.

    Woo-woo-woo-woo!

    Instead of a door, a pitch-black portal—reminiscent of a black hole—stood at the top of the stairs.

    [The magic of the trial has engulfed this space.]
    [To proceed to the next floor, you must clear the trial.]
    [Would you like to challenge the trial?]

    That was the reason I had come.

    Without hesitation, I answered.

    “I challenge it.”

    Shuuuuuuuuk!

    As soon as I spoke, my body was sucked into the darkness.

    “…….”

    The dizziness subsided, and I opened my eyes.

    It was an unfamiliar space.

    Judging by the walls and ceiling, it appeared to be inside the tower, but the ground was made of dirt and covered in grass. Tall trees stood scattered throughout the area. The terrain was uneven, forming large hills.

    If I had to describe it, it felt like a gloomy version of Teletubby Land.

    [You have arrived at the 2nd-floor trial.]

    [Verifying the trial participant’s data.]

    [Adjusting the trial participant’s mana to fit the trial conditions.]

    [The trial rules are now in effect. All magic except for the three basic spells has been sealed.]

    [Proceed to the destination cube.]

    It was just as I had read in Anton’s notes.

    Before setting off, I tested my spells to check their functionality. I casted Gauntlet, Shield, and Mana Arrow once each.

    The magic circles formed without issue. But one surprising thing was that using magic didn’t burden my body at all.

    I could feel the mana draining from me, but it was instantly replenished.

    ‘So that’s what they meant by adjusting the participant’s mana for the trial?’

    Whatever the case, it was a good thing.

    I steeled myself and began walking along the dirt path where no grass grew.

    For now, nothing happened.

    ‘It said to move to the destination cube. Where could it be?’

    — Ki ki ki ki ki!

    — Krrrk, krrrk!

    A spine-chilling laughter echoed around me.

    I quickly turned around, but nothing was there.

    The laughter stopped abruptly.

    As soon as I started walking again, a strange laugh rang out once more.

    This time, I didn’t react immediately and instead waited for the source.

    From behind the trees, eerie creatures peeked out, snickering.

    They were small, about the size of a seven-year-old child, with pitch-black bodies devoid of any features. Only their glowing red eyes stood out.

    I had memorized all the basic monster information at the academy, but I had never seen creatures like these before.

    — Ki kik!

    — Ki ki ki ki!

    Three of them approached me.

    From what seemed to be their hands, long, sharp claws extended.

    They were not friendly.

    ‘Stay calm.’

    Even if I didn’t recognize them, it wasn’t a problem.

    I closed my eyes for a moment, focused, and extended my right hand.

    <Mana Arrow>

    A magic circle formed instantly, and a bolt of pure mana shot forward.

    — Puck!

    One of the creatures took the hit straight to the head. It thrashed for a moment before collapsing.

    ‘That was easier than I expected.’

    — Kik kik!

    — Ki ki ki ki ki!

    As soon as I said that countless glowing red eyes appeared from behind the trees and hills.

    Dozens, hundreds—no, thousands of them.

    “Of course!”

    There was no way a trial meant for a prospective Tower Master would be this easy.

    Despite the urgency, I took a moment to think. Unlike dungeons, this trial was designed by someone.

    That meant there had to be an intended solution.

    Given that, there was no way I was supposed to kill all of them.

    How was I supposed to defeat thousands of enemies with only Gauntlet and Mana Arrow?

    The only logical answer—run.

    Having reached a decision, I sprinted forward.

    — Ki ki ki ki ki!

    The swarm of creatures surged behind me like a black tsunami.

    In an instant, the entire landscape turned pitch black.

    “Damn it!”

    A few of them were already at my heels.

    Still running, I reached back and fired Mana Arrows blindly.

    Some of them were knocked away, but I was failing about half the time due to the lack of concentration.

    I wasn’t used to casting spells while running.

    And I was getting out of breath.

    ‘Where is the cube?!’

    Desperately, I scanned my surroundings.

    Even the walls and ceiling were now covered in those creatures, moving against gravity.

    The entire world was being swallowed in darkness.

    It felt like a scene from an apocalyptic disaster movie, where the protagonist could do nothing but watch their survival odds plummet.

    Then, I had a thought.

    ‘Their movement pattern follows a set direction. If I assume the whole area will eventually be covered in darkness, then the last place to be consumed would be…’

    There!

    Slightly off the main path, I spotted a teleportation circle.

    I stopped casting and sprinted at full speed.

    Even as the creatures slashed at my legs and thighs, I forced myself to ignore the pain.

    Then—

    — Grab!

    Some of them latched onto me.

    They clung to my body, slicing into my flesh.

    But I couldn’t stop now.

    In a final burst, I lunged forward like a sprinter at the finish line, stretching my foot toward the teleportation circle.

    The moment my body collapsed onto the ground, the black wave of creatures engulfed me.

    [Stage 1 Clear. Transporting to the Cube.]

    — Shooosh!

    In an instant, my body was teleported to the next area.

    The monsters were gone.

    “……Hahh, hahh!”

    I had no energy left to check my surroundings.

    Lying on the ground, I gasped for air.

    ‘This trial is no joke…’

    Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I forced myself upright.

    I was inside a cube-shaped space made of glowing blue energy.

    I walked up and knocked on the barrier, but it was solid—I couldn’t get out.

    A few hundred meters away, I saw a massive wall surrounding the area.

    No, not a wall—it was covered in tile-like honeycomb patterns.

    [Survive inside the Cube for 20 minutes.]

    [If you wish to forfeit the trial, step onto the exit magic circle.]

    A blue-lit magic circle glowed at one end of the space.

    I memorized its location.

    [The trial will now begin.]

  • A Veteran Player Becomes a Troublemaker Chapter 15

    [The soldiers’ morale has dropped.]

    Ian frowned.

    The battle hadn’t even started yet, and morale was already plummeting.

    ‘What can I do?’

    The approaching enemy was a massive force of over a thousand.

    ‘I’m scared too, and it’s no different for them.’

    No, perhaps they were even more terrified.

    That was likely the case.

    While Ian had experienced battles against armies of thousands or even tens of thousands through gameplay, these soldiers had no such experience.

    The recent monster hunt was probably the largest battle they’d ever fought.

    But this was on a completely different scale.

    A difference of dozens of times.

    Even if you combined all the soldiers and villagers stationed in Vilcen, the enemy still outnumbered them by more than five times.

    It would be strange if they weren’t scared.

    “Don’t be afraid!”

    But he couldn’t just stand there, even if he was scared too.

    Morale, whether good or bad, is contagious.

    It’s easy for morale to drop all at once, but raising it again is incredibly difficult.

    “Our role isn’t to fight and die here! It’s to kill as many of them as possible and slow their advance!”

    Ian shouted to boost the soldiers’ morale.

    “Remember, the place where we’ll truly fight them is the village!”

    Fortunately, Ian’s shouting had an effect.

    “Right, we’re not supposed to fight a big battle here. It’ll be fine.”

    “We just have to make it through the trap zone and then we can retreat.”

    “Whether we die here or in the village, it’s all the same.”

    [The soldiers’ fear has subsided. Leadership has increased by 1.]

    ‘Tsk! This damn leadership.’

    However, Ian wasn’t entirely satisfied.

    Unfortunately, his low leadership meant morale didn’t rise significantly.

    ‘And it’s not like I’m particularly persuasive.’

    Who could he blame?

    For now, he decided to be content with calming them down with his measly single-digit leadership.

    ‘By the way, my letter should have arrived by now, right?’

    Considering the distance between the Schrantz territory and the Endran duchy, Duke Endran should have received his letter by now.

    Just then.

    “Kyaaaah!”

    “Kwoooar!”

    The monsters, having spotted them, suddenly began charging with loud cries.

    Since it was a small mountain, they would arrive in no time.

    “Young Lord, they’re charging!”

    “Wait until they’re in range. Fire on my command!”

    Ian picked up his bow.

    He desperately hoped Duke Endran had read his letter and would send reinforcements.

    “They’re in range!”

    “Fire!”

    Whoosh—!

    As Ian released his bowstring, the soldiers did the same.

    Dozens of arrows charged through the air toward the monsters.

    Meanwhile

    At the same time Ian was engaging the Greenskins in battle.

    Duke Endran, who had been leisurely drinking tea with his daughter, received Ian’s letter as expected.

    Well, not exactly received—it was in the hands of his advisor.

    “Ian von Schrantz? Ian… that must be…”

    “Yes, the eldest son of Count Schrantz.”

    Duke Endran frowned.

    “What’s that infamous troublemaker doing sending me a letter? Is he after Viola?”

    Viola d’Endran, the youngest of five sons and one daughter, was a great beauty who took after her mother.

    Because of this, many noble sons had tried to approach her and win her favour.

    “That’s unlikely. Even if he’s a reckless young lord, he wouldn’t dare send such a letter to Your Grace.”

    The advisor thought the duke was overreacting today.

    “You remember that fool who actually tried something during my vacation?”

    “……”

    The advisor looked at him with a baffled expression.

    Who would have thought there’d be someone so reckless with their life?

    ‘Now I understand why he’s been so sensitive since returning from vacation.’

    He sighed quietly and shook his head.

    “Then shall I burn it along with the letters addressed to Lady Viola?”

    “No, let me see it. There might be another reason.”

    If it really was an attempt to get his attention, it had succeeded.

    Though the aftermath would be beyond imagination.

    Duke Endran read the letter.

    Soon, his expression turned to one of pity.

    The letter had nothing to do with Viola; it was about the crisis currently facing Schrantz.

    ‘A monster rampage, huh? Unlucky.’

    Of all the directions the Greenskins could have gone, they chose the Schrantz territory.

    The letter pleaded for reinforcements.

    There was no way such a small family could withstand such numbers.

    Even if they managed to hold out, it would be equivalent to destruction.

    Whether Duke Endran helped or not would determine the survival of the family.

    ‘Their situation is pitiful.’

    As their liege lord, he should help his vassal family, but unfortunately, the current situation made it impossible.

    The Endran duchy was in a tense standoff with the Eaton duchy, and conflict could break out at any moment.

    He couldn’t afford to send troops to help.

    Then, as he read the latter part of the letter, his eyes widened.

    “…Advisor, I need to speak with Viola. Could you give us some privacy?”

    “Yes, Your Grace.”

    Viola, who had been drinking tea across from him, asked, “What’s the matter, Father?”

    Instead of answering, Duke Endran handed her the letter.

    She read the letter from Ian and…

    “This is…”

    Now she understood why her father had asked the advisor to leave.

    The first part of the letter, as Duke Endran had seen, was about the monster rampage.

    But what shocked her was the latter part.

    It contained information about the current imperial family.

    The emperor had fallen ill, and the crown prince, who was on his way back after hearing the news, had been killed by bandits.

    The letter suggested that all of this didn’t seem like a coincidence.

    It hinted that someone might be plotting behind the scenes.

    And if that were the case, Ian claimed to have a plan to help Duke Endran rise to prominence in the central court.

    “Viola, doesn’t this sound familiar?”

    After reading the letter from start to finish, she handed it back to her father.

    “Isn’t this the same delusion I already told you about, Father?”

    “……”

    This story wasn’t unfamiliar.

    It was something Viola had mentioned after news from the imperial family had spread.

    Even though she was his beloved daughter, he had scolded her severely for such an irreverent fantasy.

    “Hmm… If you’re disappointed, I apologize.”

    Thinking she still held onto those feelings, Duke Endran apologized.

    “It’s not your fault, Father. It wasn’t something to be spoken of lightly, and it was just a baseless speculation after all.”

    “…Thank you.”

    “Still, I never thought someone else would have a similar fantasy to mine.”

    Viola read the letter several times, her face filled with curiosity.

    ‘To think that someone else, especially that infamous young lord, would think the same way as me.’

    Viola had also heard stories about Ian.

    ‘They say he’s so violent that he’s killed over three hundred people who displeased him.’

    By the time the rumors reached Duke Endran’s household, Ian had been painted as a complete monster.

    But she didn’t fully believe them.

    After all, rumors tend to grow more exaggerated as they spread.

    “What do you think?”

    “About this young lord? Judging from the contents of the letter, he seems different from the rumors. It’s intriguing.”

    “…What?”

    Duke Endran looked at her as if the world had collapsed.

    “…Not the kind of intrigue you’re imagining, Father.”

    “Ahem! What kind of imagination do you think I have?”

    Duke Endran coughed awkwardly.

    Though he was her father, Viola shook her head at how overly protective he was.

    It seemed to have gotten worse after some noble’s son sent her a love letter some time ago.

    “So, what do you think we should do about his request?”

    As if nothing had happened, Duke Endran’s expression turned serious as he asked.

    Though Duke Endran wasn’t incompetent, he occasionally sought his daughter’s advice.

    He believed that the best advisor in the territory was none other than Viola.

    In truth, she was quite clever.

    She had sorted out most of the internal and external conflicts within the territory.

    Of course, the biggest issue—the Schrantz family—remained unresolved.

    Still, she had solved many of the headaches he faced, giving him more room to maneuver.

    And now, someone else had the same irreverent fantasy she had shared in private?

    “He seems to have seen through your interest in advancing into the central court. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to owe him a favor.”

    Duke Endran had never shown his interest in advancing into the central court, even to his family.

    Not even to his wife.

    Viola was the only one who had noticed his ambition.

    “I’ve never met this infamous young lord. How did he figure it out?”

    “I wonder. Did you perhaps slip up during a conversation with Count Schrantz?”

    “I’m not sure. I only exchanged brief greetings… It’s been four years since I last met Count Schrantz, so I don’t remember the details.”

    “Hmm… In any case, since he offered to help you, he must have thought of something I hadn’t considered.”

    “What if he borrowed someone else’s idea?”

    “That would still be a good thing. If he saved our family, we could ask for that person to be handed over to us.”

    If such a person existed, they could be brought into Duke Endran’s service, which would be a win.

    Schrantz would be saved from the brink of collapse, and Endran would gain a capable individual.

    It’s a win-win situation.

    Duke Endran fell into deep thought.

    ‘If, as Viola said, this fool came up with the idea on his own, we could use this favour for a long time.’

    So, it wouldn’t be a loss.

    The only thing that bothered him was:

    ‘If the situation in the country changes, who knows what might happen?’

    It was already hard enough to keep an eye on Duke Eaton’s movements.

    If a vassal family started acting suspiciously in the midst of all this…

    ‘Duke Eaton would surely try to exploit it.’

    After weighing the pros and cons, Duke Endran made his decision.

    ‘I’ll be busy for a while.’

    Just when he thought things were calming down, another problem arose, and he couldn’t help but sigh.

  • Academy’s Genius Extra Chapter 8

    “Ah.”

    I felt like I could somewhat understand the frustration of that actor whose plans always went wrong.

    Of course, the voice wasn’t Han Taepyeong’s. Their genders were different to begin with.

    The penthouse had a duplex structure. The voice had come from the railing by the second-floor window.

    “Hey there~”

    Marie Caulfield grinned from the second-floor railing.

    Her hair was dripping wet. A cigarette dangled from her lips.

    A bathrobe and a wine glass in hand…

    “What the… Are you some washed-up Hollywood actress?”

    The remark slipped out naturally.

    A messy 17-year-old looking so at ease—it was so absurd that it caught me completely off guard. Could she be on her second life too?

    “Anyway, Miss Caulfield. I’m sure you have a lot to say, but let me ask first. Why are you here? This is trespassing. Even I can’t just turn a blind eye to that.”

    “Me? Trespassing? Ha-ha-ha. Look at this dumbass scrambling to survive.”

    As soon as Marie Caulfield opened her mouth, the rich scent of wine wafted over.

    She was drunk.

    Very drunk.

    No matter how much of a piece of trash Marie Caulfield was, she wasn’t the type to just get drunk and lounge around in someone else’s home. That meant…

    “Why are you here?”

    At her question, I confidently pulled out the excuse I had prepared.

    “Me? I came to clean before the residents move in.”

    “Clean? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”

    “Hahaha.”

    “You little shit, get over here.”

    Boom! Boom! Boom! Marie Caulfield stomped down the stairs from the second floor.

    “Knew it wouldn’t work.”

    I sprinted toward the elevator. Damn penthouse was ridiculously huge, so it took a while.

    “Hey, stop right there~ I’ll pound you into meat paste, yeah?”

    The drunken murderer behind me was shouting at the top of her lungs. The genre of this game was changing way too fast…!

    [Lucy… watch out!]

    Along with Lucy’s warning, activated once more.

    A crimson trajectory aimed straight for my neck.

    So she was trying to twist my head off first, huh…? I dodged the trajectory by rolling to the floor.

    I made it to the elevator.

    “Huh?”

    Marie Caulfield tilted her head, stretching her hand toward me.

    “Why can’t I grab you?”

    Her words came from more than five meters away.

    It sounded like typical drunken nonsense… but it wasn’t.

    Marie Caulfield could actually twist my neck even from that distance.

    “That’s a secret~”

    I rushed into the elevator and hammered the button.

    Whirrrrr… The automatic doors moved agonizingly slow, as if they were taking their last breath.

    Beyond the closing doors, the sixth-ranked student was steadily approaching, blue mana flickering in her hands.

    To my surprise—

    This time, the trajectory expanded into a crimson plane, filling the entire elevator.

    She wasn’t planning to let me go.

    I threw out my hands and shouted.

    “Wait! Think this through! This is your house! Are you seriously gonna fire that off?”

    “Yeah. Because… I’m totally… chill right now.”

    I knew very well how strong Marie Caulfield was. She was a tutorial-stage opponent, after all.

    She couldn’t bring down a whole building. But she could definitely drop an elevator.

    What to do? Was this another Dead End route caused by the hell Difficulty?

    As my mind raced, my hand gripped Lucy. What the hell was I supposed to do with a bulletless revolver?

    “Let’s eat…!”

    I shoved into Lucy. When all else fails, create a variable.

    [Lucy… chomp chomp chomp chomp!]

    [Lucy… low blood sugar resolved!]

    [Lucy has acquired a new trait.]

    [A new trait has manifested.]

    And then—

    Like a joke, Marie Caulfield tripped forward.

    Her right foot tangled with her left, as if someone had pulled a prank on her.

    “@#$^$@*?”

    Faceplanting, she let out an inhuman noise, like one of Cthulhu’s minions.

    That pitiful sight was the last thing I saw before the elevator doors finally shut.

    “First floor. Get me to the first floor, fast.”

    I gave a voice command before slumping to the floor. I had learned something today.

    Just because I could see a trajectory didn’t mean I could dodge it.

    “She’s nothing like Ahn Eunho…”

    [Lucy… amazing!]

    [Lucy… more!]

    I stared at Lucy.

    Marie Caulfield’s sudden fall was way too convenient.

    That meant an actual variable had been created.

    I’d figure out what had changed later.

    “Anyway, where’s my place?”

    In <Superhuman Chronicles>, that penthouse had always been the battlefield.

    Because I had always played as Han Taepyeong.

    “Wait, hold on.”

    More importantly—

    Why the hell was Marie Caulfield in Han Taepyeong’s penthouse?

    “Is this a bug?”

    …

    …

    My place was Unit 202.

    The complete opposite end of the building from the penthouse, which said everything about my current standing.

    “Not bad.”

    Compared to the penthouse, it was nothing. But still, 32 pyeong with two rooms.  *105 sqm

    “Big houses just mean more cleaning. Too much of a hassle.”

    Well, except for that, bigger was always better…

    “Damn, that was close.”

    Lying on the bed, I turned my gaze to Lucy.

    Suddenly, her detailed stats became visible.

    [Attribute: Unique/ Malevolent Spirit]
    [Description: This firearm has become the dwelling of a wicked spirit. The spirit has wandered the world, bound to this gun.]

    [Unique Traits]

    • Can’t Find the Target ▶ Assists the user’s aim.
    • Possessed! ▶ The malevolent spirit Lucy resides in this gun. Even if discarded, it will return. Terrifying!
    • Dignity of a Veteran! ▶ Deals triple damage to spirit-type entities.
    • Spirit’s Alchemy ▶ Imbues bullets with mystic energy. Increases damage and penetration.

    “Damn, that’s terrifying!”

    Most of it was useful, except for <Possessed by an Evil Spirit!>. In the first place, when it comes to weapon options, the more, the better.

    “It’s not just useful… It’s downright broken.”

    Especially against spirit-type opponents, this granted an overwhelming advantage.

    “So that’s why the fakes collapsed so helplessly. Since they were something akin to spirits.”

    A standard threefold damage multiplier.

    It was only natural they fell.

    “Even if I get expelled, my future’s secure. I could start a ghost-busting business.”

    Of course, my primary goal is to avoid expulsion in the first place…

    But what exactly was the trait that made Marie Caulfield fall earlier?

    [New Trait Discovered!]
    [Evil Spirit’s Luck! (new)]
    ▶ Occasionally, a fortune bonus is applied. Standard threefold luck enhancement.

    “Three times?”

    I thrashed on my bed in shock. Three times the luck? Does that mean it triples my base stat?

    Even I, who prided myself on knowing everything about Superhuman Chronicles, couldn’t comprehend such an ability.

    Reading further, I realized the explanation didn’t stop there.

    [This trait is passive and cannot be activated at will.]
    [Warning! The luck increased by this trait causes misfortune and predicaments for others.]

    Hmm… predicaments, huh…

    I recalled Marie Caulfield tumbling over. Could it be that my luck worked in this kind of way?

    Rather than benefiting me directly, it seemed to spread misfortune to others.

    Twisted, in a way.
    Fitting for an evil spirit.

    [Lucy… lol!]
    [Lucy… scary!]

    No matter how strong someone is, if their luck runs out, openings are bound to appear.

    On a bad day, a 1% chance of missing could happen three times in a row. That’s probability for you.

    [Lucy… hates math!]
    [Lucy… hates math!]

    Saying it twice?

    Leaving the trembling Lucy behind, I started making a plan.

    “This comes first, obviously.”

    They say, Know thyself.

    I need to assess my strengths and weaknesses properly through training.

    “Lucy. First off, training.”

    [Lucy… training?]
    [Lucy… objects!]

    Dragging along the whining, unmotivated evil spirit, I headed to the dormitory’s makeshift training area.

    “By now, my status window should be open, right?”

    Exciting!

    …

    …

    “Not exciting at all.”

    That was my honest impression after checking the status window.

    [<Necromancer’s Eye> has analyzed the target.]
    [Understanding of the target is extremely high.]

    <Name: Kim Seungtae>

    • Magic Power: 0.0
    • Strength: 0.8
    • Agility: 0.9
    • Endurance: 0.7
    • Luck: 2.5
    • Mental Strength: 1.7
    • Spirit Energy: 2.9 (Unique Stat)

    “Oh, come on.”

    Just reading those numbers made my vision go dark.

    The average stat for a normal adult was 1.0.

    In other words, Cadet Kim Seungtae wasn’t just failing to be a strongman—he wasn’t even average.

    How did I even get admitted?

    “…Should I just postpone training?”

    [Lucy… agrees!]

    My motivation hit rock bottom, but seeing Lucy agree actually snapped me back to my senses.

    No way am I living like some lazy evil spirit!

    Sure, my weaknesses were obvious, but I had strengths too. Spirit Energy and Luck were well above average.

    With 2.9 and 2.5, respectively.

    Spirit Energy was unique to me, so comparisons were meaningless, but having high Luck was certainly reassuring.

    You can’t train luck.

    Have you ever heard of someone improving their luck by standing under a waterfall?

    Or increasing it by hitting a scarecrow thousands of times?

    Impossible.

    Luck can only be raised through extremely limited means, but it applies to an incredibly wide range of things.

    Whether using a bow, wielding a sword, cooking, or even sorting recyclables, it helps with everything.

    It’s like a foundational stat.

    And with my Evil Spirit’s Luck massively boosting it, it’s practically a two-for-one deal.

    Feeling much better, I continued my analysis.

    “Now, let’s check my traits…”

    [Unique Traits]

    • Hell Difficulty Clear Perk ▶ You have cleared Hell Difficulty! You receive additional experience and proficiency bonuses.
    • Necromancer’s Eye ▶ Sees what is normally unseen.
    • Spirit Energy Receptive Body ▶ You have a special constitution. You cannot generate magic power but can absorb and store spirit energy. When fully charged, traits are unlocked.

    (Currently at 70% spirit energy.)

    • Master of the Necromantic Workshop ▶ You hold authority over all resources and relics within the Necromantic Workshop.

    This part was quite solid.

    Comparable to Han Taepyeong, who had an easy early game.

    The description of Necromancer’s Eye was vague, but vague traits often had the most versatility. The “sees through” part sounded promising.

    The Hell Difficulty Clear Perk was another trait to look forward to. Experience-related perks always caused issues in games.

    They’re so efficient that they constantly get nerfed into the ground. Then they get buffed again… and nerfed again…

    An endless cycle.

    Which means… it’s a busted trait.

    “Time to test it out.”

    I stepped into the center of the training room.

    Well, “training room” was a bit of an exaggeration—it was just a vast green space.

    A so-called holographic training facility.

    A place where one could fight simulated monsters.

    The training room’s AI identified me.

    [Identity. Confirmed. Cadet Kim Seungtae.]
    [Ranking. Confirmed. 1.1.1.1. Place.]
    [Please select. Difficulty level.]

    As a veteran of Superhuman Chronicles, my evaluation of 17-year-old Cadet Kim Seungtae was…

    “The easiest course.”

    Final verdict: Bottom-tier overall.

    It was too early to rely solely on my traits. Even Han Taepyeong, loaded with overpowered traits, still struggled in Superhuman Chronicles.

    I may have defeated Ahn Eunhoon by accident, but that was seriously just a fluke.

    And as for knocking down Marie Caulfield…
    She fell over on her own.

    [Confirmed. Beginning simulation for 1.1.1.1. Place ranking.]

    “Why do you keep emphasizing my rank?”

    As the training began, the green space transformed into marble. A hologram.

    Then, weak monsters started appearing. Also holograms.

    “What am I even doing on my first day of school?”

    [Lucy… agrees!]
    [Lucy… demands laziness!]

    Sighing, I loaded a training round into my weapon.

    One of the hologram monsters circled me cautiously.

    Then—

    Kraaah!

    It lunged.

    (Continued in the next chapter)

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 33

    As Gi-jun and Hitoshi stepped out of the room, the administrator who had been chatting with Hitoshi stroked his mustache and muttered in a theatrical tone,

    “Ah, I never imagined that Miyuki would actually lose.”

    Ito, looking rather impressed, responded,

    “Yeah. I didn’t expect her to lose either. I thought she was just another bug among the countless others, but she turned out to be more capable than I assumed.”

    Unlike Hitoshi, these two didn’t seem particularly concerned about the fact that their teammate had lost.

    ‘That guy is unexpected.’

    Taeseong had thought that this wild beast of a man named Ito would be raging by now. Judging by his past behaviour, it wouldn’t have been surprising.

    An unpredictable colt.

    That was Taeseong’s assessment of him.

    “Miyuki still has a long way to go. She needs to fight more aggressively! She always tries to hold back, and that’s why, when it really matters, she ends up powerless and loses!”

    For the first time, the unpredictable guy said something Taeseong could actually agree with.

    “What about you, young lady? What do you think?”

    “Can you stop calling me ‘young lady’ all the time, old man?”

    “Haha, quite the feisty one, aren’t you?”

    “Ugh, talking like you’re something special. Why don’t you focus on your own work instead of evaluating others?”

    “…Ahem. Quite the sharp tongue, too.”

    Taeseong’s assessment of the mustache-wearing man:

    ‘A loudmouth.’

    Lee Eunha turned to Taeseong and asked,

    “What did you think of the match, Taeseong?”

    After a brief moment of thought, Taeseong answered succinctly,

    “…I think it was excellent.”

    “That’s all?”

    “What more do you need?”

    Letting out a sigh, Lee Eunha shook her head.

    “Forget it.”

    She meant it.

    At first, Oh Haeyoung’s hesitation and inability to perform at her full potential had been frustrating. But in the end, she had thrown everything aside and fought with all her heart.

    And she won.

    Some might call it luck, but Taeseong didn’t see it that way.

    She had been able to win because she let go of her fears.

    Taeseong was convinced—she would grow far stronger than she was now.

    “Beta.”

    “Huh?”

    “She may even surpass that level. Chief Oh Haeyoung.”

    Lee Eunha was so taken aback that she almost refuted him, but seeing the seriousness on Taeseong’s face, she found herself unable to say anything.

    She could only dismiss it as something that just hadn’t sunk in yet.

    ‘Beta rank isn’t as simple as Taeseong seems to think…’

    From Beta rank onward, individuals were essentially living disasters.

    Beings capable of wiping out an entire metropolis on their own.

    The idea that Oh Haeyoung would one day stand shoulder to shoulder with such monsters?

    No matter how highly she regarded Taeseong, it was an absurd notion.

    “Pfft. Hey, I get that you care about your teammate, but you should know what to say and what not to say. Do you seriously think that rookie could ever reach Beta rank?”

    “…”

    Taeseong ignored the comment entirely.

    “Am I talking to a wall?”

    Just then, the door swung open, and a tall man entered.

    Narrow, sharp eyes, black hair tied up, and a suit exclusively for administrators—he was clearly one of them.

    The man walked up to Ito, casually placing an arm on his shoulder as he spoke.

    “Ito. So this is where you were? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

    “Y-You?! What are you doing here…?”

    “What do you mean? I came because I wanted to see you, of course. And here you are, having fun without me. You really are a troublemaker, aren’t you?”

    It was the first time Taeseong had ever seen the wild colt-like Ito act so subdued. Even with a hand on his shoulder, he was as quiet as a frightened puppy.

    ‘Who is this guy?’

    The mustache-wearing administrator also looked as if he had seen a ghost, his face turning pale.

    The man’s gaze shifted to Taeseong.

    “And you are?”

    “Lee Taeseong.”

    Noticing something, Lee Eunha quickly pinched his thigh.

    “…Sir.”

    “You’re from Korea?”

    Lee Eunha quickly answered this time.

    “Yes. I’m currently the acting team leader of Management Team 4—”

    “I wasn’t asking you.”

    The atmosphere turned ice cold in an instant.

    The man smirked at Lee Eunha, who was visibly flustered.

    “Relax, I was just kidding. Nice to meet you. Name’s Xiao Yun.”

    Despite the casual tone, no one in the room relaxed.

    “What’s with the stiff faces? Am I not welcome here?”

    The mustached man quickly spoke up.

    “N-No, sir! It’s an honour to have someone of your caliber visiting such a humble place!”

    “Hahaha! An honour, huh? I’m just here to help, like the rest of you.”

    “We are always grateful for your support!”

    “Alright, alright. It’s just work, after all. Looks like you were watching something interesting—mind if I join?”

    “O-Of course, sir!”

    Throughout the exchange, Taeseong hadn’t taken his eyes off Xiao Yun.

    From the moment he stepped into the room, Taeseong’s instincts had been screaming at him.

    That man was dangerous.

    Something deep inside him stirred—a primal hunger.

    Gulp.

    Unconsciously, Taeseong swallowed.

    Xiao Yun walked up to him.

    “Lee Taeseong, was it?”

    “Yes.”

    “You seem hungry.”

    Taeseong nodded honestly.

    To be even more honest, he wanted to say:

    I want to devour you whole, right now.

    His instincts were screaming for it.

    But instincts were just instincts.

    If he couldn’t control them, he would be no different from a beast.

    And Taeseong considered himself human.

    Only now did he truly understand the meaning of ‘Gluttony.’

    The hunger surging from the depths of his being—it would only grow stronger as he sought out more powerful prey.

    “Do you have something to say?”

    Xiao Yun suddenly extended his hand for a handshake.

    “I like you.”

    “…”

    When Taeseong clasped hands with Xiao Yun, the latter began to tighten his grip.

    Taeseong also applied force in return, but the difference in strength was overwhelming.

    A power beyond imagination.

    Crunch. Crack. Crackle.

    The sound of bones being crushed echoed through the room.

    Yet, Taeseong didn’t let out a single groan and simply stared at him.

    One second.

    Two seconds.

    Three seconds.

    .

    .

    .

    Thirty seconds.

    Only then did Xiao Yun release his grip, smiling brightly.

    “You’re interesting.”

    “You’re not.”

    “What’s your rank?”

    “Delta.”

    “Delta? Hahahaha! You’re really something. No one has lasted this long before. Since I like you, I’ll grant you one wish.”

    “I’ll let you know if I think of one later.”

    “Alright. Think carefully. This isn’t an opportunity you get every day.”

    After saying that, the tall man sat on a nearby chair, humming as he watched the sparring match.

    For some reason, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

    Taeseong ignored him and slowly flexed his battered hand. Thanks to Orochi’s tail, his hand had already healed perfectly.

    ‘Was that just a show of dominance? Acting like some punk.’

    He felt like killing him on the spot, but he reminded himself that if he caused any more trouble, he’d die at Eunha’s hands first.

    Not to mention, he wasn’t even sure if he could win against him right now.

    As Ito and Mustache looked at him with disbelief, Taeseong spoke.

    “What are you staring at?”

    “…Nothing.”

    “…Ahem.”

    Eunha, cautiously approaching, whispered quietly.

    “Are you okay?”

    Instead of answering, Taeseong simply nodded.

    Eunha didn’t say anything further but wrote with her finger.

    Hold it in no matter what.

    Don’t mess with him.

    Never.

    As Taeseong nodded, he glanced at Xiao Yun, who playfully winked at him.

    Ignoring him completely, Taeseong turned his attention back to Gi-jun’s upcoming match.

    Stepping into the arena, Gi-jun calmly observed his opponent.

    The blatant provocation before the fight wasn’t just because he was pissed off; the real reason was to throw off his opponent’s mental state.

    ‘Any human, when agitated, has a harder time displaying their full ability.’

    Before being an administrator, he was a soldier.

    A soldier specialized in killing.

    Despite his outward appearance, Gi-jun was a highly calculating man.

    ‘Dual wielding…?’

    An uncommon style. Not entirely unfamiliar, but he had little experience facing such an opponent.

    So, he decided to start with a probing strategy.

    “When the hell are you going to start? Are you just gonna stand there posing until the sun sets?”

    “…You fucking bastard, running your mouth nonstop.”

    “Stop trying so hard and just attack already. Sooner or later, you’ll be grabbing my pant leg, begging for mercy.”

    “We’ll see if that filthy mouth of yours keeps running after I tear it apart.”

    “Yep, uneducated fools really do show their true colors.”

    Fury laced Hitoshi’s voice as magic coursed through it.

    “Blessing of the Wind God.”

    The air around him enveloped his entire body.

    ‘Wait, he can use both sorcery and swordsmanship!?’

    Riding the wind, Hitoshi closed the distance swiftly.

    “Wrath of the Fire God.”

    Flames erupted from the twin swords he held.

    As he swung them, a blazing slash flew toward Gi-jun.

    Utilizing the repulsion of his telekinetic force, Gi-jun launched himself like a spring into the air, shouting.

    “You idiot. Do you always have to chant those cringeworthy spells to use magic? Then let me try. Blessing of the Idiot!”

    Striking a ridiculous pose, he clenched his fist—

    And Hitoshi’s right shoulder shattered.

    “Too bad. If my aim was just a little better, your head would’ve been gone.”

    “…You bastard.”

    Though Hitoshi spoke defiantly, Gi-jun was inwardly surprised.

    In that split second, his opponent had instinctively twisted his body to minimize the damage.

    ‘This is going to be annoying. He’s more skilled than I thought.’

    The biggest advantage of Gi-jun’s ability was that it had no visible form.

    If an opponent didn’t know what his power was—

    That first attack was always devastating.

    Most never got the chance to even figure it out before they were dead.

    “Embrace of the Mother God.”

    “Holy shit. Just how many gods do you serve?”

    As Hitoshi chanted, his shattered shoulder began to heal.

    ‘The versatility of his ability is impressive, but it’s not without its limitations. His stamina is bound to drop significantly over time.’

    Just as Gi-jun predicted, Hitoshi’s sorcery had a major weakness.

    The moment Gi-jun landed, Hitoshi lunged at him like a tempest.

    Anticipating this, Gi-jun used his telekinetic power to raise the ground.

    Rumble!

    A massive wall shot up between them.

    “……”

    While Hitoshi adjusted his stance, Gi-jun compressed a swirling mass of telekinetic energy into a bullet and fired it.

    Bang!

    The formless projectile pierced through the wall and struck Hitoshi’s shoulder.

    “Hmm. Two points.”

    “…Tch. Just a bunch of cheap tricks.”

    “Like you’re one to talk.”

    The moment the conversation ended, several sharp lines appeared on the wall—

    And it shattered into pieces.

    “So all you do is scurry around like a rat?”

    Hitoshi, visibly furious, charged forward and swung his blade at Gi-jun’s throat.

    ────.

    A thin crack appeared on Gi-jun’s neck, and a thin trickle of blood seeped out.

    If not for the telekinetic force protecting his neck, his head would have been severed.

    At that moment, Gi-jun sensed something off.

    ‘Why isn’t he using his healing magic this time?’

    Earlier, he had immediately healed his wounds.

    Yet now, his shoulder remained pierced.

    ‘Come to think of it, the flames on his swords are gone too.’

    A sudden realization flashed through Gi-jun’s mind.

    And the moment he grasped it—

    A wicked grin spread across his face.

    “So, you can’t use the same spell twice, can you?”

  • About a Dating Sim Where Dating Is Impossible Chapter 89

    Murad, having vowed to personally defeat the prince, took actions befitting that oath.

    With his main force—now reinforced with 5,000 fresh troops, alongside 3,000 slave soldiers, 2,000 Sipahi cavalry, and 1,000 Janissaries—he launched a relentless pursuit. There was no one to stand in his way. The Morean army, already fleeing after losing their commander, had no means to resist his advance.

    Thus, as he passed through Nemea and smoothly entered central and southern Greece, Murad witnessed something unexpected—his own Janissaries retreating in disarray. The legend of his undefeated army had been shattered. Worse still, blinded by a moment of glory, the Janissaries had defied the sultan’s direct orders. With nothing but shame, they bowed their heads.

    “We have broken military law and will cleanse our dishonor with death.”

    The Janissaries, seeking to atone through death, awaited their punishment. But instead of chastising them, Murad chose to show them mercy. Without a moment’s hesitation, he granted them his pardon.

    “The shame you feel is punishment enough. Do not forget it—carry it into battle.”

    His mercy had the intended effect—it reignited the warriors’ pride. As Murad watched them burn with renewed determination, a satisfied smile crossed his lips. Having endured heavy losses since the start of the war, his army desperately needed a spark to restore morale. And as if in answer to his silent wish, reinforcements arrived—not just remnants of defeated forces but also soldiers from cities in central Greece, now swearing loyalty to the sultan.

    With this, Murad restored his army’s strength. Now, he commanded nearly 10,000 troops: 2,000 Janissaries, 3,000 slave soldiers, 2,000 Sipahi cavalry, and an additional 3,000 Christian support who had joined his ranks.

    Even Murad, determined never to let his guard down, felt a brief flicker of awe at his overwhelming advantage. His soldiers, too, understood their dominance, yet their discipline remained unshaken. The massacre at Nemeapatre had only deepened their hatred for the prince.

    What was this so-called “Thousand-Year Empire” that it would commit such atrocities? To the Ottoman soldiers, especially those from Rumelia, the empire was nothing but a weak, corrupt relic of the past—not something worthy of their loyalty. This sentiment only intensified their resolve.

    Amid these developments, Murad, who had so far only received fragmented reports, summoned the Greek officers who had most recently clashed with the prince.

    “I have read the reports, but I need to hear the details from you. Speak without a single falsehood.”

    Only then did Murad learn how the prince had fallen.

    Upon hearing that the prince had led just a hundred knights against the Janissaries and emerged victorious, Murad let out an involuntary sound of admiration. However, just three days after that hard-fought triumph, the sultan’s Christian supporters launched a surprise attack on the weary Morean army, exhausted from their forced marches. Fierce skirmishes erupted everywhere, with neither side able to secure a decisive advantage.

    Then, once more, the prince personally led his knights, directing charge after charge with unmatched precision and boldness. With sharp judgment, fearless decisions, and his own martial prowess, he systematically repelled the sultan’s forces.

    Defeat seemed certain. As the battle tipped toward utter despair, the Greek officers could only watch in horror, their faces dark with hopelessness.

    “It was precisely at that moment that Prince Dragaš fell. He suddenly lost his balance and was thrown from his horse. The enemy was so stunned that, despite the battle seeming lost, we managed to snatch victory at the last moment.”

    Hearing the Greek officer’s account, Murad could not hide his sorrow. Why had the prince fallen just before securing a hard-earned victory? The answer came with the officer’s next words.

    “We believe exhaustion was the cause. The timing was… remarkable.”

    “Exhaustion, you say…”

    Murad slowly nodded. It was a reasonable conclusion. No one could deny the prince’s frugality, austerity, and tireless diligence. Even Murad himself had heard much about his ceaseless devotion to governance. No matter how iron-willed a man might be, relentless fatigue compounded by fierce battles would push anyone past their limits. No human, no matter how exceptional, could escape the constraints of the flesh.

    Yet reason and instinct spoke in contradiction.

    Something—whether his emotions or a deeper instinct—urged Murad to keep following the prince’s trail. Had he not hastened southward precisely to prevent the Morean army from entrenching itself? If he could intercept them at the Isthmus of Corinth before they reached Athens, the truth of the prince’s fate would become undeniable.

    “Even so, the remnants still pose a threat. We must eradicate them completely to restore stability.”

    “As the Sultan wills.”

    And so, Murad continued his pursuit of the Morean army—to put a definitive end to the prince, should he still live. But as the gap between them closed, Murad was forced to confront reality. The further he advanced, the more frequently he encountered Morean deserters.

    “Could it really be…”

    Surrounded by Ottoman soldiers, the deserters surrendered without resistance. They relinquished their weapons in silence, their faces clouded with resignation. There was no trace of defiance, no clenched fists trembling with suppressed rage, no eyes burning with the desperate determination to save their dying homeland.

    Murad felt a deep disappointment—but he could not bring himself to halt the pursuit.

    Yet the reports from his scouts and trackers painted a bleak picture. The remnants of the Morean army had begun scattering in all directions. Only a few small groups displayed any will to resist; the rest had abandoned the fight entirely.

    At last, Murad could no longer trust his own instincts.

    If the prince still lived, surely among his men there would be at least one warrior who would stand firm, one soul who would cry out with the same unwavering spirit as that nameless soldier Murad had faced a month prior. Surely, they would not be scattering like this.

    Murad lifted his gaze to the sky and allowed his bitter thoughts to escape aloud.

    “Is he truly dead?”

    There was no one beside him to answer.

  • The Incompetent Mage’s Infinite Regression Chapter 3

    Ethan found it hard to comprehend being asked to draw lots in a situation like this. However, he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse either. Besides, Demi was his benefactor. There was no point in rejecting it now.

    Ethan reached into the box and drew a lot.

    [Archive Acquired!]
    [Archive: Personal Hygiene (D)]

    Ethan processed the new information that entered his mind. Hygiene is the practice of preventing disease and maintaining health. Personal hygiene involves individual efforts to maintain cleanliness, such as oral and hand hygiene, bathing, changing clothes, checking the state of food, and improving one’s environment.

    Though not perfectly, Ethan also gained some understanding of other archives related to personal hygiene. These included public hygiene, healthcare, parasites, infectious diseases, illnesses, and soap.

    The problem was that Ethan was already practicing personal hygiene as much as his environment allowed and fully understood its importance.

    “What use is this archive to me?”

    <Not only archives but also items and skills may hold no value to you.>

    “Well, that’s not the issue here.” Ethan turned to Demi. “What happens to me now?”

    Even without Demi’s confirmation, Ethan knew he had died, stabbed from behind. Yet, seeing that he still existed with consciousness, it wasn’t entirely over. At least, he hoped so.

    <I do not have the power to bring the dead back to life.>

    “I figured.”

    <However, I can nullify death.>

    “…How?”

    Demi gestured to a door behind them.

    <Go through the door behind me. Then you will return to a point before your death.>

    “I’ll go back?”

    <Yes. You will ‘regress.’>

    “To when?”

    <I cannot send you back to a time before our contract. The closest point is just after that.>

    “How is that possible?”

    <I cannot explain everything, User.>

    Ethan decided to accept it. This was an entity from another world—there was no way he could comprehend everything.

    <Go through the door. Limbo cannot be maintained endlessly.>

    “Got it.”

    Ethan walked past Demi and opened the small wooden door. Darkness awaited on the other side, making him hesitate. Glancing back, he saw that Demi wasn’t looking at him but instead staring at another door across from the small wooden one—a massive double door.

    Demi remained still, as if expecting someone to arrive.

    <User.>

    Though curious, Ethan heeded Demi’s urging and stepped through the door.

    Ethan stood in the center of the magic circle he had drawn to form a contract with an otherworldly entity, gripping a pistol in one hand.

    <User analysis. Status abnormality detected. Current state: Continuity loss. Limbo transition data found. Decompressing… Decompression complete. Ethan Dora Charasen. Mage. Level 1. …It’s good to see you again, User.>

    “You came back with me?”

    <I retain the same data as before the regression. So yes, in a sense.>

    A notification appeared before Ethan’s eyes.

    [Quest Generated!]
    [Quest: Why Did Ethan Dora Charasen Die? (D)]

    Ethan muttered, “I’d need to figure that out even without a quest.”

    <Do you have any guesses?>

    Ethan looked down at the gun in his hand.

    “Nothing else comes to mind.”

    <You concealed it when you used it.>

    “But it made a loud noise. Could someone recognize it just from the sound?”

    <Yes. But only if they already knew about firearms.>

    Ethan nodded.

    “For example, even though Dark God Yorr’s magic isn’t commonly practiced anymore, people still know about it—like the face-flaying spell. Even if someone has never seen one of Yorr’s dark mages, they can deduce that such magic was used from the traces left behind.

    Likewise, Demi, if your followers used guns during your invasion of the Empire twenty years ago, someone in this world must know about firearms.”

    <…I take issue with the term ‘invasion,’ but if we’re only discussing the use of firearms, then yes. Some individuals in this world, Damarat Yurmuth, are aware of their existence.>

    Ethan nodded.

    “Then it stands to reason that I was targeted because I used a gun. Right?”

    <That is a valid deduction. But how do you intend to find the culprit, User? Do you have their face, distinguishing features, or any clues?>

    Ethan answered, “No.”

    <Then how will you find them?>

    “That’s simple.”

    Ethan smirked.

    “I’ll take the basic magic practice test again.”

    After using his pistol in the basic magic practice test, Ethan once again met with Arca. By recalling his previous experience and responding the same way, their conversation played out identically.

    “A secret, huh? Got it.”

    Arca left just as before.

    Ethan watched her retreating figure, then turned toward his dorm.

    Focusing, he detected a presence behind him. Though the steps were carefully muffled, someone was definitely approaching.

    “Etha—”

    At the sound of his name, Ethan whirled around and drew the dagger from his coat.

    The attacker, the same one who had killed him before, flinched and took a step back in surprise. However, they quickly steeled themselves and charged at him.

    Ethan didn’t hesitate.

    His blade plunged into the attacker’s abdomen.

    “Guh—!”

    The attacker staggered. Ethan followed up with a kick, sending them collapsing to the floor.

    Kicking away the dagger they had dropped, Ethan pulled back their hood—revealing a skinny male student wearing glasses.

    “Damn it… Bohn Palmaise?”

    <Who is that?>

    Ethan answered Demi.

    <A classmate known as an honor student. A bookworm.>

    <A friend?>

    <Not a chance. I don’t have friends.>

    Ethan turned to Bohn.

    “Bohn, why did you attack me?”

    “…What?”

    Bohn mumbled something under his breath. Ethan leaned in to hear more clearly, but he wasn’t completely off guard.

    Then, in the corner of his vision, he noticed something—shards of a sharply fractured crystal.

    <…Magic!>

    Realizing the danger, Ethan pulled the dagger from Bohn’s abdomen. The crystal clattered to the ground.

    Ethan didn’t stop there.

    Gripping the dagger in both hands, he drove it straight into Bohn’s chest.

    Bohn’s hands gripped down on Ethan’s arms, trembling violently—before all strength faded from his grasp.

    For a moment, Ethan simply stood there, staring at Bohn, then at the sky through the corridor, listening to the distant laughter of students.

    “…What should I do now?”

    <User, you have killed.>

    “No, that’s not what I’m trying to say. Is there no other way?”

    <At present, there is nothing else I can do.>

    Ethan first moved Bohn’s corpse to his dorm room.

    “It was purely an act of self-defence.”

    <I agree. However, there is no guarantee that a third party would see it that way.>

    “We need to find out Bohn’s true identity. There must be a reason he suddenly attacked a fellow student.”

    Ethan searched through Bohn’s pockets and found the key to his dorm room. Then, he made his way there.

    <At a glance, nothing seems suspicious.>

    “All criminals look ordinary.”

    Compared to Ethan’s room, Bohn’s had more books, but there wasn’t much of a difference otherwise. Ethan opened the storage box, rummaged through his belongings, and checked under the mattress. If Bohn had never attacked him, Ethan might have stopped his search around this point.

    But Ethan had already been killed by Bohn once before.

    Bohn wasn’t just a suspect—he was an undeniable criminal.

    “The answer must be in the books.”

    Ethan flipped through Bohn’s books, scanning through them. Around the middle of his search, he came across a book that felt strangely heavy. When he opened it, he discovered that the pages had been torn out, leaving a hidden compartment inside. A small wooden box rested within.

    Ethan opened the wooden box. Inside, he found a single ornament and several documents.

    “As expected.”

    <What is that?>

    “This decorative pin… The emblem of a two-headed hound represents the Imperial Inquisition. And these documents… Even with a quick glance, they’re appointment papers. It looks like Bohn was an agent working under the orders of an Inquisitor.”

    As Ethan reached that conclusion, a quest completion window appeared.

    [‘Quest: Why Did Ethan Dora Charasen Die? (D)’ Completed!]
    [Reward: 12 EXP]
    [Reward: D-rank Lottery Coupon]

    Demi asked a question.
    <Yurmuth is an independent territory separated from the Empire. Can the Imperial Inquisition, which operates as a religious entity, even conduct activities in Yurmuth?>

    “Of course not. It’s illegal. But the Empire still secretly dispatches Inquisitors to foreign lands to hunt down dark mages. However, because the Empire is so powerful, even if they cause trouble, they’re sent back without severe consequences.”

    Demi asked another question.
    <But isn’t dark magic illegal in other countries as well? For example, in Yurmuth?>

    “Of course, dark magic itself is forbidden by the Mage Council. It’s a prohibited form of magic. The severity of punishment varies by country, though. If discovered, the penalty isn’t always extreme. In minor cases, offenders might get fined and exiled. Some are imprisoned or placed under house arrest, but if they swear off dark magic, they might be released. That’s why there are mages secretly practicing in it.”

    Ethan tucked Bohn’s wooden box into his coat.

    “In any case, I’ve identified Bohn’s true identity. Even if his body is discovered, as long as I have this, the Yurmuth Council won’t hold me accountable.”

    Ethan took one last look around the room and was about to leave—until someone blocked his way.

    “My, what a mess this room has become, Ethan Dora Charasen. What a shame to leave a friend’s room in such a state.”

    Ethan looked at the platinum-haired, slender man who had appeared before him.

    “…Professor Vine Wiz Decarun?”

    Demi asked.
    <Who is that?>

    <A professor. First-year students don’t have many classes with him, but I know him from a general education course.>

    <What is Vine’s area of expertise?>

    <Mental magic.>

    Vine entered the room, leaning on a straight, white staff, forcing Ethan to take a few steps back.

    “So, what exactly happened here, Ethan?”

    “I— I can explain everything. Bohn attacked me. It wasn’t a joke—he came at me from behind with a dagger. We fought, and somehow, I managed to survive. But in the process, Bohn was killed. I knew I’d be punished for murder if I left things as they were, so I searched his room to figure out why he attacked me.”

    “Oh? And what did you find?”

    Ethan took out Bohn’s wooden box.

    “This is the proof.”

    “I see.”

    Vine snatched the wooden box from Ethan’s hands.

    “The Imperial Inquisition, huh?”

    “Yes.”

    “That must mean you’re a dark mage.”

    “…What?”

    Ethan had already been wary of Vine’s behaviour. So when Vine swung his staff, Ethan reacted quickly.

    But Vine hadn’t merely swung his staff.

    A translucent blue blade formed at the staff’s tip, slicing through Ethan’s left ankle.

    Blood splattered across the room.

    “Ahhh—!”

    Ethan screamed and collapsed onto the floor.

    Vine spoke.

    “Bohn was a skilled student. He always measured his opponents and executed his actions neither excessively nor insufficiently. And yet, he got himself killed in a counterattack… Well, I suppose you’re still just a student. Understandable. But ‘we’ in the Inquisition won’t see it that way.”

    “…‘We’?”

    “Yes. I am the Imperial Inquisitor stationed in Yurmuth.”

    “…Damn it.”

    “I’ll have to send you to the Empire. Or maybe… I should interrogate you myself first. Let’s find out what you’re hiding.”

    Ethan grasped the gun inside his coat.

    He could draw and fire it, but he’d likely get only one shot. Judging by Vine’s skill, even landing that single shot wasn’t guaranteed.

    Ethan spoke to Demi.

    <What should I do?>

    <Do you trust me, User?>

    <At this point, why wouldn’t I?>

    <Then do exactly as I say.>

    After hearing Demi’s suggestion, Ethan frowned.

    <You must be joking.>

    <I am not.>

    Ethan realized he had no real choices left. If he attacked and failed, he’d be dragged to the Empire’s Inquisition.

    <Alright. I’ll trust you.>

    Ethan pulled the gun from his coat.

    Vine, seeing the firearm, lowered his stance and raised his staff.

    “A Terra weapon, as expected?”

    He seemed prepared to dodge the bullet.

    But Ethan’s gun wasn’t aimed at Vine.

    Ethan placed the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

    Once again, Ethan opened his eyes in Limbo.

    Demi stood before him, arms crossed, looking down at him.

    <I never said you only had one chance.>