The Player’s Peculiarities

Of course, such antics were only feasible during my rookie days. If a high-level player like myself, with every stat maximized, were to land a punch now, their jaw would be utterly pulverized. Though they wouldn’t die instantly, being main characters, they would eventually be restored.

Why am I so exasperated when you’re supposedly worried about me? Do I truly seem unbothered right now? This is me exercising considerable restraint. Had I simply fled alone, I would have enjoyed a far more leisurely escape, perhaps even recouping the cost of armor repairs before vanishing!

“It’s fine. They’re all utterly inconsequential,” I declared. “That aside, if you intend to keep wearing those tattered rags, you’d best consecrate them quickly. The soot needs to be removed; it’s cursed, remember?”

Then, from my inventory, I retrieved a coin as black as obsidian. This, unassuming as it seemed, was a sacred relic of Debora.

[ “Shadow Coin” — Misc / Sacred Relic

Weight: 0 / Value: 3,000

Description: One of the sacred relics belonging to Debora, the Goddess of Fortune. Crafted from obsidian, it guarantees its bearer good fortune.

The Goddess of Fortune is believed by all, yet prayed to by none. Nothing overtly proves her existence, but she undoubtedly exists; everyone simply knows it. She requires no proof.

She is everywhere, yet not always present. She belongs to everyone, yet no one can truly grasp her. Even unseen by light, she remains untouched by darkness. Her power is everything because it is nothing.

You have received a token of favor from such a being. ]

Beyond its obsidian composition and intricate detailing, the coin possessed no particular effects or special functions; it was essentially an expensive junk item.

Early in the game, players often sold it without ever realizing its true nature. Indeed, it could be freely sold. Debora never grew upset if a few of these relics changed hands, nor did she care if one constructed an animal farm or an altar of blood and madness within her sacred grounds.

Her only intervention came if things grew too raucous, prompting a rare request for quiet. In many respects, she was a deity utterly indifferent to human affairs. Any other god would have flown into a furious rage, cursing those who dared sell their sacred relics.

Desecrating or defiling a deity’s sacred ground was an act that invariably brought divine retribution. Even after restoration, the offended god would often pursue the perpetrator, unleashing a barrage of annoyances.

Even after thoroughly examining the game’s data, no hidden functions or abilities were found within the relic. It was truly just a high-value junk item, bearing little more than its name. Nevertheless, many players kept it for its aesthetic appeal, especially since it could only be obtained once.

Even acquiring it through cheats or bugs still limited possession to a single coin; any attempts to duplicate it would simply result in its disappearance by design. The ritual itself was remarkably simple: one merely had to kiss the coin, hold it firmly in both hands, close their eyes, and express gratitude.

Unlike other deities, praying to Debora offered no blessings or stat boosts.

[ The Goddess of Fortune has heard your gratitude. ]

Only this single message would appear. Why, then, would I engage in such an act, perpetually prioritizing efficiency and cost-effectiveness as I did?

Frankly, if one were to analyze every single action for personal gain, the very essence of gaming would be lost. Sometimes, indulging in whims is precisely what makes it enjoyable. More importantly, it simply looked cool.

Praying to a deity whom no one else bothered to acknowledge, that is.

“S-Sir Haut? Were you… a saint?”

“What in the world are you talking about? Just hurry up and finish your consecration. How do you expect to sleep in that state?”

I couldn’t quite grasp it, but the NPCs clearly sensed something. Whenever I performed this ritual, the surrounding characters would invariably turn their heads to look. Such a strong reaction was unusual, however. It likely stemmed from Faust’s status as a high priest within the game’s lore.

For a high priest, however, his consecration progress appeared remarkably sluggish. Despite only a few minor scuffs, he still hadn’t managed to remove the soot. ‘It’s a waste to use my own items…’

“Sir Faust, why don’t you just discard that and acquire a new one?”

“Even in this deplorable state, it remains an artifact of the Holy War. There is simply nothing I can do,” Faust replied.

His meticulousness was truly bothersome. Jack, who had been praying beside him, eventually gave up after a few more attempts, tossing his own item aside with a frustrated sigh.

“What is this stubborn thing? Why won’t it come off?” Jack grumbled.

“I already told you. The clothes themselves are meaningless,” I reiterated.

Watching a grown man sit on the floor in only his cotton underwear, whining incessantly, was truly a pitiful sight. It seemed even the most handsome face couldn’t salvage such an undignified display.

“What exactly are you? You wield magic so lavishly, you toss demons around like scarecrows, you wander about naked, and where do those peculiar items keep appearing from? And what was that ghostly horse from earlier?”

“Why are you even asking? It’s perfectly obvious,” I replied. As a player, my actions should inherently be beyond question.

They shouldn’t react unless provoked by specific actions or keywords, yet they persisted in their peculiar behavior. Faced with such a rapid-fire barrage of questions, I had no answers to offer. Asking me to explain the self-evident was simply beyond my capability.

Amidst all this, Faust continued to pray diligently. Hamman had always seemed a relatively generous deity, so why was his blessing so meager now? It wasn’t as if the item was completely ruined, merely grazed with soot; surely, he could cleanse such a minor blemish without such effort.

From my inventory, I retrieved a steel greatsword. It possessed no special functions; I merely kept one or two as collector’s items, not for actual use. With a decisive thud, I plunged its blade into the decaying wooden floor, then leaned my back against its hilt.

“I’m going to sleep now. Wake me if anything happens. You two should get some rest soon as well,” I instructed.

“You’re going to sleep just like that? But… weren’t you the one who endured the most hardship?” Faust questioned.

“I don’t need to sleep anyway. I’m merely feigning slumber, as there’s little else to do sitting here alone. However, you two need to eat, sleep, and generally take care of yourselves, don’t you?”

Humanoid NPCs were truly a bother! I had to feed them, ensure they slept, and even make them rest when necessary. Damn it, upon reaching the city, my first priority would be to acquire a map. Not having the map activated was driving me absolutely insane.

Initially, I had been thrilled, but now these companions were nothing but a nuisance. They constantly behaved oddly, and instead of providing me with crucial information, they incessantly plied me with questions. Furthermore, they were so utterly useless they would perish if I didn’t constantly attend to their needs!

“I doubt even such a decrepit bed will serve its purpose, but you two tend to perish from even the slightest hardship, don’t you?”

“We’re not that weak…” Jack began, then trailed off. “Though, to someone who crushes demons like rotten radishes, nothing would likely appear sufficient.”

Though I declared I was sleeping, I wasn’t actually slumbering. Merely being logged into the game induced a state akin to a light trance, meaning ‘sleeping’ within the game functioned solely as a time skip. One simply set the desired duration, and the game would automatically advance.

Of course, beds were undeniably beneficial. Even a piece of junk, if labeled a ‘bed,’ would restore health and mana, and even cure minor status ailments. However, I wasn’t currently experiencing any stat debuffs that necessitated a bed, and the scratches and blood loss on my arm had healed almost instantly, leaving no trace.

I heard more chatter, but I simply ignored it and closed my eyes. The time-setting window appeared, and I set it for roughly seven hours. That should have me waking around sunrise. If I didn’t, one of them could always rouse me. I did need to raise my affection levels with them, after all.

Humans, by nature, are most diligent when engaged in peculiar endeavors. Most often, the joy comes from doing things that make others wonder, ‘Why are they doing that?’ Isn’t it true that playing during exam periods is the most fun, or that one achieves their best performance when secretly gaming at work?

‘When I have to do something, I just don’t want to.’

Like, for instance, engaging in human-tossing races in an action game, or getting completely absorbed in farming and building in a horror game where you’re supposed to be finding your kidnapped family. Or, in a dating sim, ignoring all romantic pursuits to master every mini-game at the arcade.

In essence, the thought of ‘needing to raise affection’ made me disinclined to do it. Faust was incredibly handsome and a good guy, but for some reason, I just wanted to torment him. I felt like pushing him to his absolute limit, making him cry until he became my sworn enemy.

‘Should I just tank my affinity with him this playthrough and see his reaction next time?’

“What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about tormenting you.”

“Pardon?”

Faust had never expressed preferences in the game, and his personality was purely speculative. What horrific acts would it take to make such a character utterly despise me?

That said, I had no intention of switching to an evil alignment this playthrough. I’d already thoroughly explored that path. They say the ultimate customization is returning to stock, right? While evil playthroughs were fun in the moment, they always left a lingering sense of discomfort afterward.

More importantly, my current build was ‘Demon Hunter.’ If I switched to an evil alignment, I wouldn’t be able to equip demon-slaying weapons. While a difficulty increase was welcome, fighting demons by constantly swapping out dozens of flimsy silver weapons that could break at any moment just wasn’t stylish.

‘Aren’t you essentially fighting naked with a fork anyway?’ That’s missing the point. Even if I don’t actually use them, concept is crucial in games like this. Constantly changing one’s mind to suit oneself is a lack of willpower.

Anyway, I woke up, and it was morning. They had prepared food for me, but it clearly looked like dog food, so I didn’t eat it. I told them not to prepare food for me anymore and just to wake me up. I’d simply provide my own food.

I wasn’t sure how much of a buff it would give, but surely it was better than just filling my stomach with preserved rations? They looked at me strangely but ate it when I handed it over.

“Are you very angry?”

“Hm? No, I’m not angry. What fault is it of yours? It was bound to happen anyway.”

Truthfully, I had been quite angry yesterday. The irritation was so intense that I seriously considered killing them for a long time. However, upon reflection, these guys were actually pretty decent. This world was filled with far stranger beings than them.

While it was true my fun had been interrupted, they had still come to help. They knew they would die if they stayed here, yet they came anyway, simply because that was how they were programmed.

“But why are you breaking the boxes and jars inside the house?”

“Hm? Because I’m searching?”

“Don’t people usually just… look through them?”

Why bother with the tedious task of opening each one? A kick would shatter them. Wasn’t breaking things the fundamental principle of RPG exploration? Of course, if the homeowner was present, breaking things would earn you a scolding.

Breaking too many might even summon the guards, but the fines were usually around 10 to 40 gold, which I’d simply pay. The loot inside was always worth more than that. If you looted a locked chest, the items would be confiscated, but that could be resolved by intentionally not paying the fine and spending a day in prison.

Upon release, you could just raid the prison’s storage chest to retrieve your stolen goods. This method was often favored because it removed the ‘stolen item’ tag. Of course, that was something I only did in my beginner days. Now, I had so much money that the last digits of the displayed amount were simply cut off.

“Ah, something useful appeared.”

As it was an old, abandoned house, there wasn’t much inside, so I’d been breaking things for a while until something decent finally emerged. It was a well-worn but wearable piece of clothing. Thankfully, it was pants. Not that a skirt would have mattered, but still. I quickly brushed off the debris and handed the clothes to Jack and Faust.

“Here, wear these now.”

“Can’t you find them normally?”

“Could anything be more normal than this?”

“You’re not doing this in other places, are you?”

“I’m not interested in junk items. I already have everything I want.”

I owned quite a lot of clothes myself, but they were all collectibles, meticulously organized by design. One might wonder why I couldn’t just give them a common item or two, but the details were distinctly different. Subtle, yet undeniable differences existed.

Even with identical iron swords, one engraved with thorny vines and another with roses were not the same, were they? Just like boiling flour dough in water: if you mash it, it’s sujebi; if you flatten and slice it, it’s kalguksu. They might look similar, but they are clearly different.

Both of them seemed to have a great deal they wanted to say, but for now, they simply accepted the clothes and put them on.