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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Bait
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He was dying.
In a corner of the village, slumped against the wall, was a hunter.
He had arrived in Babel already gravely wounded.
Hunting monsters was out of the question for someone who could barely move, and even scrounging for food or water was impossible.
That wasn't all.
'…Sorry.'
'What's there to be sorry about? Hurry up and strip him. While the others aren't paying attention.'
He hadn't even resisted as they took all his gear.
The only reason such a powerless man was still clinging to life was the village rule forbidding murder.
His endurance was high, but starving continuously with fatal wounds was obviously a straight path to death.
Before coming to Babel, he had fought believing in the justice of the world.
For his country's independence, for the values he believed were right, to save people.
'The world still has value worth protecting.'
He kept repeating that to himself as he fought on.
But his end was a lonely death in a village corner—abandoned and stripped of everything.
In a way, he understood. Babel's environment was too harsh to trust in human conscience or inner goodness. Finding it futile, he accepted his death calmly.
That was when it happened.
"Over there—isn't that the guy who was hurt when he first arrived? I think you were in this spot back then too."
A beautiful woman appeared before him, looking him over.
'What are you here to take?'
He tried to speak with his parched lips but held back. His judgment was clouded from hunger and wounds, but the woman before him was clearly concerned for him.
"Traveler, go your way. Don't look back at a dead man like me—keep your eyes forward."
"What are you saying? Here, lift your head."
Cool water trickled into his mouth little by little.
"Kyaa! What's with this wound? Aren't those your guts showing?"
"Eww, that rotten smell. What are all these people doing leaving someone like this?"
She called it a rotten smell, but it was really shit and piss. He couldn't control his bowels when he couldn't even move.
Embarrassed, he squeezed his eyes shut.
"A patient should at least have some porridge. What to do? Oppa told me to hide my abilities."
Pondering for a moment, the woman sighed 'Whew' and left.
'She's gone.'
It was pointless. Even if he prolonged his life a little now, he had no strength left to live on.
Still, he felt a sense of peace.
'As expected. The world still had value worth protecting.'
Even amid everyone struggling desperately to survive, there was a woman like her.
The human heart holds true values. Dying with that belief made him feel a little joyful.
Gurgle.
Regardless of his sentiments, his body reacted to a scent.
The smell of meat.
'Meat rice balls?'
Next to him were ten rice balls wrapped in unknown meat, placed alongside a single flower.
That was when it happened.
"Hey, you sushi bitch. Who said you could feed that fucker?"
"I don't get why you're looking for sushi. Borscht—Mr. Borscht, what's the problem?"
"Didn't you hear on the first day, you bitch? That fucker starves and dies, his coins are ours! I told you not to touch him!"
"…I'm amazed where you got such trashy ideas from. I've offended the food borscht. Russian trash. Could you shut your mouth in front of me? With your head to guts stuffed with garbage, you must be a trash germ."
"What? This bitch talks big. Come out, Salamander…."
"Shut your mouth."
Kwadududuk.
The Russian man who had summoned his avatar sank into the ground.
"I told you, didn't I?"
It was the activation of the skill coin 'Telekinesis' that Ha Yeonsi had obtained from hunting.
"You… bitch… what's your name."
"Ha Yeonsi. If you come find me later, an even scarier person will recycle you. Don't come."
Until Ha Yeonsi disappeared, the Russian man remained embedded in the ground. Barely pulling himself up, he stomped over to him, fuming.
"Don't you fucking eat that, you retarded fuck!"
Approaching, he ground the rice balls into the dirt with his feet.
"Damn it, if we weren't split for supply reasons, I'd have made that bitch and the other fuckers unable to have kids. Ptui!"
Spitting on the remnants of the rice balls, the Russian man cursed as he headed out of the village.
Watching blankly, he looked at where the rice balls had been. They were already half mashed into mud.
Scrape.
He scooped it up with both hands and brought it to his mouth.
Crunch crunch.
He wiped off the sticky saliva with his hands. The ten rice balls—enough for five people—were now half dirt, half dough. He shoved them down his throat.
With mud instead of rice grains on his lips, he murmured quietly.
"Thank you… for the meal."
And when he finally pulled out the flesh-colored flower he had hidden from the Russian man,
The flower Ha Yeonsi had left began to glow.
= = =
The Russian man, ranking 5th Igor Bashmakov, brushed the dirt off his body as he exited the village into the forest.
"Hey, Jacob! After this dungeon run, we gotta stomp some village fuckers. They saw us break the first-day promise but said, 'It's not wrong,' right? 'Went a bit too far,' didn't they? The little shits are going crazy."
Muttering curses excitedly to himself, Bashmakov sensed something off.
"Hey, Jacob. Did you go take a piss?"
His comrade 'Jacob' was supposed to be waiting outside the village. But there was no reply.
And there was a strange smell.
'No way, blood? And cigarette smoke?'
It was the smell of cigarettes Bashmakov had smoked up on his first day in Babel. He activated his skill 'Animalistic Tracking' to follow the trail.
Traces of being impaled on a spear. Shoulder crushed by a hammer. Belly stabbed dozens of times with a knife. Throwing axe embedded in the mouth. Right leg sharply severed by a greatsword.
All wounds carved into a single corpse.
'Jacob' was still warm, having died recently, strung up on tree branches.
As if on display for Bashmakov to find.
"Not the work of one person."
It had only been four days since arriving in Babel. Everyone was still hesitant about killing, yet the lower rankers had kicked off the first murder spree.
Rustle.
"Ooh, he really is here…."
"Salamander! Burn him!"
A familiar lower ranker emerged from nearby bushes. Bashmakov didn't bother with questions and incinerated him with Salamander.
"Gaaaaah!"
Salamander engulfed the lower ranker, setting his whole body ablaze.
'We're outnumbered. There are more around besides this one. Strike first to win.'
No sooner had Salamander moved than four more hunters burst out from the surroundings.
"Avatar Sonic! Vacuum the 20m radius!"
"Calm down, Sonic will slowly vacuum up Salamander's flames! Even a D-rank can take an A-rank avatar with good matchup!"
Bashmakov drew his greatsword and bellowed.
"Don't fuck around, you shits with trash avatars too! I'm not dying like that Yankee fuck Jacob!"
"Jacob? Who's th—"
That was the end of the talk. What followed was a murder play starring five against one.
Two kilometers away, Gonghyuk was monitoring the situation with the GM's radar.
Counting the coins from Jacob's corpse, he deeply inhaled the smoke of his beloved Yvonne's cigarette.
'It's about time the top rankers and bottom rankers properly form alliances.'
On the first day, with no rankings, assault teams formed regardless of skill.
But now on the fourth day, a single assault team might have someone in the top 10 and another around 150.
Top 10 meant survival after three weeks was no issue, but 150th meant certain death no matter what.
In a few days, distrust would lead to uncontrollable murder winds where comrades killed each other right beside them.
'Before that, this incident will make top rankers form top-only teams, and bottom rankers bottom-only.'
Not half-hearted trust or coexistence, but thorough separation. Even bottom rankers united could fend off top ones. Even a top-30 hunter could be killed by two top-100s teaming up.
In turn, the gap between top and bottom would widen further. The strong hunted more monsters together, while bottoms tried hard but couldn't surpass the wall as weaklings united.
'When the bottom rankers despair at the insurmountable ranking wall, that's when I sweep the bottom ranking assault teams.'
That time was still a week away. Three days before the village murder ban lifted—that was when to scatter the next bait.
"Oppa, what are you thinking about all alone?"
"Nothing much. Just thinking about how to save more people."
"Oh, that! Oppa, you're a total genius! How did you even think of that?"
"Well, a few in the village probably thought the same. They just didn't dare act on it."
"I still can't believe it. The God of Records and Time."
"Yeah. Let's go pick up that guy."
Gonghyuk gazed at the ochre-colored Egyptian great temple before him.
'Thoth's Great Temple'.
The dungeon housing his second avatar.
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