Chapter 184

Over a dozen displays showed various screens. They were all broadcasts from different stations, but the theme was the same.

The shock that the monster incident had thrown Earth-34 into was that great.

Three thousand people in just three minutes.

On Earth-34, sixty percent of deaths were suicides.

It wasn’t because its inhabitants had particularly high suicide rates; rather, it was because there were almost no other causes of death. There were no accidents or disasters. Diseases that couldn’t be cured existed only in textbooks. In fact, large hospitals on Earth-34 prided themselves on “saving everyone except for those already dead.” What more could be said?

On Earth-34, over three thousand people had perished in a single instant—a catastrophe unseen in nearly half a century.

The monster crisis was indeed a cosmic calamity, but to the inhabitants of Earth-34, it had been nothing more than a distant concern. This reaction wasn’t surprising; humans tend to forget even when hundreds of thousands die from epidemics in neighboring countries. How could they truly grasp the suffering of another planet, home to an entirely different civilization?

However, now the people of Earth-34 viewed the monster crisis as their own predicament.

On one of the displays, I could see Lucky Strike, the master of the Destiny Magic Tower, facing the interviewer.

Lucky Strike’s words finally made me understand Earth-34’s swift response to the crisis.

I knew it beforehand. Well, I should’ve expected this much… but still, three minutes is too fast.

This incident was shocking in many ways.

An 11th Transcendent monster had appeared in the heart of a city and been taken care of within three minutes.

Not even level 20—it was actually level 22…

I recalled the Abyssal Chaos, Shagon.

It took only three minutes to defeat him, but he wasn’t weak by any means.

A match for me. No, perhaps even stronger.

Of course, if we fought, I would have won. With my ability to log in and out, as long as the enemy wasn’t significantly stronger than me, I could always win by dragging the battle out indefinitely!

But even so, three minutes?

“Huh…” A gasp escaped involuntarily from my lips.

In Ardenia, I was the Emperor—a living legend, a myth descended upon the mortal realm. A giant of an era that ushered in a new world, and the master of the continent.

But what about Earth?

Well…

Three minutes.

“Three minutes…”

Even if I were in the monster’s position, nothing would’ve been different. My ability to log in and out would be useless. No matter how long I lasted, it’d only result in more police special forces and soldiers showing up. At best, Transcendents might appear, so enduring five minutes would already be quite impressive.

The difference is staggering.

I knew well that Earth-34 existed within the Magic Realm, so naturally, I expected any Transcendent-class monsters to be eliminated. But even on second thought, three minutes is truly shocking.

“Oh~ aren’t you Gwanghwamun’s new star?”

At that moment, someone patted my shoulder and sat down next to me. I smiled at his familiar face.

“Captain.”

“You’ve already been discharged, so why ‘Captain’? Call me Dongkyu hyung.”

“No, no matter what, hyung is still…”

He was Lieutenant General Shin Dongkyu, who had commanded our unit during the military service. He had often gone out of his way for me when I was a troublemaker, preventing me from ending up in the army prison. Later, he gifted me Cheddar, whom I still carry around with me today.

“Tsk. Anyway, what have you been up to since discharge? I was going to get you a job at my company if your life went downhill, but instead, you become a Transcendent… Do you know how surprised I was when I saw it on the news?”

“Truth be told, I’m astonished as well.”

For me, it had been decades since my time in Ardenia, but from an outsider’s perspective, it had only been a few years since I suffered from being classified as low-tier mana aptitude.

An entry-level ability user becoming a Transcendent in just a few years?

‘It defies common sense.’

If I hadn’t been designated as the Apostle of the Game God, even on Earth-34 with its multitude of unique cases, there would have been endless speculation about my existence.

“Well, he truly possesses incredible power. Even with lead bullets infused with penetrating ability, one could barely dent his scales, yet you managed to crush his head with a mere slash…”

“Oh… right, you were there too, weren’t you? Guok Zaiyou.”

“Yes, I…”

“Hey! Dongkyu, is that you?! You quit freelancing for soldiers and now you’re here! And without even bringing a bottle of booze? How concept-less can you get?”

Lieutenant General Shin Dongkyu chuckled at the old man’s outburst.

“Heh-heh. That Jaehyun, the battle-crazy bastard, still roaming the cosmos, eh?”

“Yeah! I’m destined to die fighting in space.”

General Shin exchanged friendly greetings with the other seniors who recognized him.

So he was indeed a cosmic mercenary.

Many of these elders were former space mercenaries. After overcoming the Doomsday Project, countless players who couldn’t abandon combat had left Earth to struggle in space for half their lives.

The display showed footage of numerous Transcendents in action. The battle lasted only three minutes, but it was an overwhelming spectacle nonetheless.

“What are you staring at so intently?”

I turn my head again at the new voice. Standing there is a polar bear so tall that even I, who rarely look up at others, have to crane my neck to see it.

“I was watching the director’s performance.”

“Performance? It was just one blow for one blow.” Xianyi chuckles wryly before turning to leave. I follow him, remembering why he called me here in the first place—it certainly wasn’t for the sparring match.

It’s not like we’re in a position to be picky.

I glance briefly at the display. On it, Director Chen Xianyi is taking a full hit from a humanoid monster’s attack.

The unquenchable flames of a curse… If that had fallen in the heart of a city, it would have been an absolute catastrophe.

The shichon I faced was, if anything, defensive with rather weak attack capabilities, but this Dalrin monster was different. It was extremely offense-oriented; one could say it specialized in mutual destruction.

Thank goodness we’re on Earth-34… Otherwise, my life might have been at risk. Even if I survived such an attack, I’d likely suffer long-term effects for years afterward.

In fact, as I walked behind him, I noticed two powerful magic-infused bandages wrapped around Xianyi’s torso.

No wonder he’s so popular among the masses.

“I’m tired, let’s wrap this up quickly.”

At that moment, Xianyi rummaged through his desk drawer and handed me a shiny stone tablet about the size of a palm.

“It’s an achievement plaque. It says you earned it for unexpectedly defeating a Transcendent monster during the recent incident.”

Apparently, even the government’s foresight system had failed to predict this development.

The reason was obvious:

I was there.

Originally, the government would have anticipated massive damage from the monster attack, allowing them time to prepare. However, since I was present at Gwanghwamun Square, they hadn’t bothered preparing for a Transcendent threat, knowing my presence would prevent any significant harm.

The world of prophecy is truly mysterious… Can something seemingly useless actually serve a purpose in its own way?

I couldn’t help but marvel at this intriguing concept as I posed my question.

“Does this have an effect here like the mercenary registration certificate?”

“What? What kind of effect do you expect from a merit badge? It’s just decoration. But there is a cash prize.”

As he spoke, he handed me an envelope. I peeked inside and saw ornate writing:

”…”

I barely managed to suppress my gasp of amazement, but Xianyi keenly picked up on my reaction.

“No, what’s wrong? Why are you so happy? Are you poor?”

“Eh! W-well, no, not really.”

“Hm? What is it? Even if it isn’t extravagant spending, can Transcendents ever be short on money?”

Xianyi cocked his head in confusion for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly.

“Well, if you like money, that works out well for me too. I’ll work hard as a mercenary.”

“Yes, I will work diligently. And thank you very much. You must be tired.”

“Since you’re officially a mercenary now, it’s only natural I take care of this for you. You’ll be assigned missions soon enough, so keep an eye out.”

I bid farewell to Xianyi and stepped out of the Guild Office. My feet felt light as if they were about to fly, my heart was bursting with excitement.

Wow! Being a Transcendent is fantastic!

For just three minutes of fighting, I earned fifteen billion won! It might be a one-time deal, but that’s still an incredible amount of money!

Hmm. Should I increase my payment power to create an army of hero-ranked mercenaries? Or maybe boost Gigas production…?

As I indulged in these happy daydreams, I suddenly noticed the display screen installed in the lobby of the Mercenary Management Agency:

”…”

My smile faded instantly. The reality hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t just about numbers on a screen; these were real lives lost. The joy of newfound wealth seemed so trivial compared to such profound loss. How could I celebrate when others were mourning their loved ones? It was a stark reminder that every number represented someone’s child, father, or husband who would never return home again.

My swollen chest subsides slightly.

Right. This isn’t a situation to be overjoyed about.

This monster crisis was abnormal in many ways. Unlike before, when only monsters around level 10 would appear, now Transcendents were rampant.

Fortunately, Earth-34 was akin to a magic realm, so it ended with “only” 3,000 casualties. But what about other planets and civilizations? How had they fared?

It all… might be because of me.

The timing was too coincidental. The moment I returned after spending ten years in Ardenia, the monsters attacked.

What if, while my time in Ardenia paused reality for me, her time continued unabated?

Could it be that monsters accumulated over those ten years then launched an assault on Earth…?

“Home.”

The mercenaries’ registration card, spelled out in English, activated with a single thought, instantly transporting me back to my one-room apartment. I sat down on the chair and tried to organize my thoughts.

“There’s nothing I can do right now. It hasn’t been confirmed yet anyway.”

However, if this hypothesis was true, I needed to carefully reconsider my time spent in Ardenia. Brief stays probably wouldn’t matter, but prolonged visits like this could lead to undesirable consequences.

Meow!

Just then, Cheddar leaped onto the desk and let out a soft cry. It was an alert.

“What is it?”

I turned around to see him sprawled out, revealing his ample belly.

There, written on it, were these words: