WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

Chapter 45: Thirty-Six Thousand Five Hundred

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Rimon was dumbfounded.

It would have made sense if he had swung his sword himself.

But he had not even moved a finger, only watched, so he could not understand why Park Hyeon-gun had collapsed while coughing up blood.

What was that? Did Park Hyeon-gun’s conscience and love for humanity suddenly surge up and make them want to kill themself?

Lee Cheon-gi’s calm voice answered Rimon’s question.

“Overheat, then.”

“What? He got so mad over that little taunt that he collapsed?”

Rimon asked as though Park Hyeon-gun had the most fragile mentality imaginable.

Lee Cheon-gi corrected his misunderstanding.

“I mean the condition that occurs when one stacks Skills beyond their limit.”

“Ah, like when you crammed a thousand Skills in at once yesterday and were groaning like you were about to die?”

“Yes.”

Rimon nodded in understanding, then looked down at Park Hyeon-gun with renewed confusion.

“Then why is he in such worse shape?”

Park Hyeon-gun’s condition was indeed horrific.

Blood and urine covered Park Hyeon-gun’s seven orifices and even their groin. Blood vessels had burst all over their body. Calling Park Hyeon-gun half-crippled would not have been an exaggeration.

Lee Cheon-gi had retained at least enough strength to move after using a thousand Skills.

Yet Park Hyeon-gun had ended up like this after using only a few?

Lee Cheon-gi’s answer was simple.

“Manager Park has probably never trained to activate multiple Skills at once.”

It was true that Lee Cheon-gi had obtained countless Skills thanks to the Absolute Skill 『Skill Copying』.

But being able to freely use dozens or hundreds of Skills at once was the result of years of repeated training and carefully assembled equipment.

In particular, even Lee Cheon-gi could only activate Skills by the hundreds while in the 【Overlord】 state.

The problem was that Park Hyeon-gun had stolen only the Skills and stats.

The fruits of that training were another matter entirely.

“Manager Park stole my Skills and used them recklessly with a body that had neither been trained nor properly equipped. It is remarkable that they did not die.”

After hearing the explanation, Rimon asked blankly,

“So... this bastard stole your Skills without knowing their own limits, used them however they wanted, and destroyed themself?”

“That would be the case.”

For a moment, Rimon stared at the twitching Park Hyeon-gun with the look of someone wondering what kind of idiot this was.

Then he turned to Lee Cheon-gi with an uncomfortable expression.

“Honestly, I already thought it was absurd that you got so full of yourself after stealing only the shell of my swordsmanship. But compared to this guy, you were practically respectable.”

Whether he should take that as praise or an insult was unclear.

Park Hyeon-gun had done something so unbelievably moronic that Lee Cheon-gi could only remain silent for a moment.

Eventually, he spoke calmly.

“For some reason, I feel as though I should apologize on Park Hyeon-gun’s behalf.”

“Forget it. Players are all like that.”

“...”

In the end, Lee Cheon-gi shut his mouth without gaining anything.

There were differences in degree, but at their core, he and Park Hyeon-gun were the same.

Lee Cheon-gi had trusted copied Skills and acted arrogantly before suffering a crushing defeat. Park Hyeon-gun had flaunted his Unique Skill and blown himself up.

Still, it seemed harsh to put every Player in the same category as Park Hyeon-gun.

“Why...?”

That was when Park Hyeon-gun opened their mouth.

Park Hyeon-gun seemed to understand that they had made a mistake, at least.

Using only one or two recovery Skills, they had barely improved from a twitching worm to a twitching person. Coughing up blood, they cried out.

“I... I worked hard! I did!”

Lee Cheon-gi had succeeded easily thanks to a cheat Skill.

Unlike him, Park Hyeon-gun had desperately worked with 『False God’s Prestige』, a Skill useful only for lying.

While idiots and incompetents deceived themselves by putting on airs about modest happiness and peace, they had struggled desperately to survive.

They had siphoned off Guild funds to acquire equipment and items, risking their life to raise their level.

“Then why do I have to end up like this?!”

That was why Park Hyeon-gun could not accept it.

No, they could not tolerate it.

They could not accept that they had failed to accomplish what a lucky bastard like Lee Cheon-gi, who had become a Monarch without effort, had achieved.

Nor could they accept their own end, self-destructing so absurdly that they were now twitching like a worm.

“This isn’t fair!”

Park Hyeon-gun screamed, bloody tears streaming down his face.

This should not have happened.

If there was even the slightest fairness in this world, they should have been rewarded more than anyone.

Rimon’s response to Park Hyeon-gun’s cry, filled with resentment and rage, was simple.

“This crazy bastard is throwing a goddamn tantrum.”

“...What?”

“I don’t know why I have to explain something this obvious to you, but...”

Looking at Park Hyeon-gun as though Park Hyeon-gun was too dumbfounding to anger him, Rimon sighed as if even having to say this drained the life out of him.

“The world isn’t a game, you idiot.”

Clear a Dungeon and gain wealth and glory. Raise your level and anyone could become stronger. Have enough money and one could buy any equipment they wanted.

That was the Players’ common sense.

A life where effort naturally brought results.

But in that very respect, Players too easily forgot one fact, which Rimon pointed out in a lazy voice.

“Do you think reality has rewards you are automatically entitled to just because you worked yourself sick?”

Work hard and success would come?

If you failed, it was because you had not put in enough effooooort?

Rimon, who had lived a long life, knew all too well what perfect bullshit that was.

There were geniuses who learned a hundred things from one.

There were those born with golden spoons, promised wealth and glory from the start.

There were lucky bastards who succeeded through luck alone.

Their very existence was proof that effort was not all-powerful.

They were symbols showing that effort did not always bring reward, and that some limits could not be overcome through effort alone.

“That is why people praise effort and respect those who make it.”

Effort with fair results guaranteed from the beginning was merely labor.

People knew from the start that the world was unfair.

They knew they might not achieve results.

They knew some limits could not be overcome.

Yet effort had value because people tried to overcome that unfairness, even a little, and challenged their limits despite the possibility of failure.

So when people told someone to work hard, it did not mean they had to achieve results at all costs.

It meant they should possess the indomitable spirit not to break under failure, and the initiative to challenge their limits.

Only lucky brats who had never failed despite their efforts shouted about effooooort as though it were a universal answer, without understanding what effort truly meant.

“In the end, just because you put in some effort does not give you the right to kill, deceive, and steal from others as you please.”

He had worked harder than anyone?

So he had the right to be rewarded?

So he could look down on and mock those who had not worked as hard?

That was neither effort nor logic anymore. It was baseless fanaticism and the stubborn belief that only what benefited oneself mattered.

And the wonderful thing was that people who said such things always overestimated their own efforts while dismissing everyone else’s.

“Well, if you want to ignore the law and logic and live as though the world is a game, go ahead. That is your freedom.”

Rimon gave a faint smile.

Whether Park Hyeon-gun killed with the mindset of PK.

Whether Park Hyeon-gun treated effort as if it were leveling up.

In the end, living as one wished was each person’s freedom. That was life.

“Just as it is my freedom to beat you to death and collect your blood debt.”

There was only one important difference.

Unlike a game, where the worst consequence was account suspension, reality could cost someone their life.

“Kill... me? You’re going to kill me?”

“What else? Did you think I came all this way just to hand you over to the police?”

Rimon’s smile was cold.

Park Hyeon-gun felt their blood run cold.

Only then did they realize that Rimon had truly come to kill them.

And the moment Park Hyeon-gun understood that they could lose not just their future, but their life here, they screamed with all their strength.

“That’s murder!”

Whatever crimes Park Hyeon-gun had committed, judgment should be left to the law.

To kill Park Hyeon-gun over a personal grudge was undeniably a crime. Park Hyeon-gun desperately cried this out.

Rimon’s answer was simple.

“So what?”

He was not playing dumb.

Nor was he mocking Park Hyeon-gun.

Tilting his head, Rimon looked at the frozen Park Hyeon-gun and spoke in a lazy voice.

“If you were willing to break the law to profit, you should have been prepared for someone to ignore the law and kill you, you moron.”

“...!”

At those words, Park Hyeon-gun finally understood.

Before Park Hyeon-gun stood Rimon Aspelder.

The mad dog who had slaughtered over two hundred people, including the director of the PAB, just to avenge a single subordinate. The madman who had taken the president hostage and brought down even a Monarch.

He was a monster that no law could ever stop.

And Park Hyeon-gun finally understood what Rimon meant when he said the world was not a game.

Unlike a game with a System and operators, reality had only flimsy laws.

And there were no operators in the world who would protect someone like Park Hyeon-gun, who had broken those laws and taken whatever rewards for their efforts they pleased.

No, even if there were, it would be no different.

Operators, gods, or Constellations.

If they tried to stop Rimon from collecting his blood debt, he would have cut them down all the same.

“M-Monarch! Are you just going to watch?!”

Park Hyeon-gun clung to Lee Cheon-gi.

They had been driven so far into a corner that they begged for salvation from the man they had tried to kill moments earlier.

But Lee Cheon-gi did not so much as twitch an eyebrow.

He merely asked Rimon calmly.

“Will one day be enough?”

“Four days.”

“That is...”

“I said four days.”

Rimon’s lazy but cold voice made it clear that he would permit no argument.

Lee Cheon-gi gazed steadily into his golden eyes. Finally, he quietly closed his own and answered.

“For the next four days, no one will enter this place.”

“...Monarch?”

Park Hyeon-gun could not understand why Rimon had specified four days, or what Lee Cheon-gi meant by promising that no one would come in during that time.

As a sudden surge of unease made Park Hyeon-gun tremble, Rimon said lazily,

“Be grateful. I am reducing what should have taken three months and ten days to a mere four days.”

“Grateful for what? What are you going to do here for four days?”

“Didn’t I already tell you?”

Rimon lightly raised his sword.

Then, driving the blade deep into Park Hyeon-gun’s twitching body, Rimon spoke lazily.

“That I’m going to kill you.”

Squelch.

“Ghk?!”

Park Hyeon-gun’s eyes bulged as if they would burst from their sockets.

It was not merely because Rimon’s sword had torn through his flesh and organs before piercing his spine.

The moment its tip touched a certain part of his spine, agonizing pain like needles stabbing through his entire body, burning heat that seemed to set his lungs ablaze, and nausea all crashed over him at once.

“Do not worry. At the very least, you will not die within three days.”

The pain was so immense that Park Hyeon-gun’s limbs shook violently, leaving them unable to even scream properly.

Watching Park Hyeon-gun, Rimon continued quietly.

“After swordsmanship, what I know best is the Thirty-Six Thousand Five Hundred torture techniques I learned while fighting the Seven Dragons Society.”

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