God-Tier Enhancement: My Upgrades Never Fail-Chapter 156: Episode 31_You Come In on Your Terms, but You Leave on Mine (3)

Chapter 156: Episode 31_You Come In on Your Terms, but You Leave on Mine (3)

6.

The confusion extended to those who remained.

Han Simin had vanished in an instant.

The players’ blades had lost their purpose.

’What did I fight for, and what am I supposed to be fighting for now?!’

Kenji’s guild members, who had slipped into the crowd on his orders to try and become one of the final fifteen, quickly extracted themselves and started shaping public opinion.

It wasn’t hard.

Han Simin, who had been riling people up in Kenji’s absence, had disappeared. He hadn’t shown his face since, nor had he posted anything on the community forums.

All you had to do was say it, and it became the truth.

“So it was just a bunch of empty promises so he could run away! What a scumbag!”

“Wow. What a piece of shit.”

“What the hell? So he just played us?”

“I can’t believe I trusted him and fought. Unbelievable.”

Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the players had been fighting for their own gear, but right now, they acted like martyrs who had thrown themselves on the line purely out of faith in Han Simin’s character and integrity, and they tore into him.

They couldn’t help it.

The odds of any one of them making it into the final fifteen were extremely low, but they had believed they had to see it through to know for sure. Now, before a winner had even been decided, the host had vanished, making the bet effectively void.

It was a classic case of spite: ’Even if I suffer, you don’t get anything either. Let’s all go down together!’

So when Kenji quickly posted a hit piece on Han Simin to the community, it shot up to the most popular board in no time and was flooded with curses.

If the old superstition that “the more you’re cursed, the longer you live” were true, Han Simin would live three full lifetimes and still be fit enough to climb Mount Everest.

And yet, the man himself did not appear.

No, at this point, it would have been strange if he had. The atmosphere was so heated not only on the forums and in-game, but even in places that had nothing to do with Fantastic World.

It was proof of just how deeply the game had sunk its roots into people’s everyday lives, but for Han Simin, it wasn’t a good sign.

A day passed like that.

Kenji had openly begun his media campaign, fanning the flames of anti-Han Simin sentiment and loudly declaring that Simin should be killed over and over until he hit level one and quit the game.

It was the perfect time for him.

A moment when he could ride the wave of his unjust “death” and make his voice heard.

That was when they arrived.

In-game, they found Kenji.

“Pay up.”

“...?”

The Specialists.

They posted a video to the community and held out their hands.

“You said a hundred gold if we killed him, right? The proof is on the community forums. Go check it and pay up.”

“...”

Kenji, who had been campaigning with the bluster of a politician on the stump, suddenly clammed up completely.

His sharp mind had already done the math.

His expression twisted into the ugliest scowl imaginable.

At the same time, Kang Yeseul’s cute, pretty smile—the smile of someone who lived for fun—lit up the area around her.

No, it was a wicked smile.

* * *

The one-minute, eight-second video was really nothing special.

It was practically made of nothing.

You couldn’t make something look cheaper if you tried.

In an era where people hired expensive editors to dress up their videos with flashy effects just to get on the main page, this clip was so bare-bones it made you wonder what kind of shameless bastard had uploaded something with so little effort.

No editing, no substance, no length, no dialogue.

No setup, development, twist, or conclusion—none of the basic story beats people expected.

The video began, cutting straight to Han Simin’s face. He was lying on the ground with his eyes closed.

Then, the faces of Jeong Seolah, Kang Yeseul, and Jeong Hyeonsu appeared in turn. Some commenters joked that this reveal was the only reason the nothing-burger of a video was trending.

Thirty seconds of identity reveal.

Then, the goddess-like Jeong Seolah drew her sword. The camera shifted to focus on Kang Yeseul, capturing her and Han Simin in a two-shot as Jeong Seolah drove the blade into him. That took twenty seconds.

Han Simin’s HP drained away. He died, and his character vanished.

His items dropped.

That was the last eighteen seconds.

And that was the end of the sixty-eight-second video.

Kenji watched it, speechless, but the players’ reactions were explosive.

—That’s incredible.

—LOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

—Agreed.

—At this point, you gotta hand it to them.

—If this were real life, he’d deserve to get roasted for trying to cover his ass like this, but it’s a game.

—Yeah, if you’re willing to literally give up your life in-game, that’s something else.

Anyone could see it was a stunt to avoid being called out for his empty promises.

Killing a player who was practically an ally, a business partner worth billions, by backstabbing him while he was logged out?

It made no sense—and yet, it made perfect sense.

“We just figured, hey, killing him once for a hundred gold isn’t a bad deal, so we killed him while he was logged out.”

“That’s ridiculous...”

“He said he suddenly had to take a dump, so he turned off the stream.”

“...”

“So it’s a hundred gold, right? Hurry up and pay.”

Because it was a game.

Ever since Fantastic World launched, every time some incident in this hyper-realistic world sparked controversy in reality, just when people thought they were sick of hearing it, the magic phrase would appear again.

And every time, it made people nod along.

In a game, anything goes.

Parents and children could betray each other for levels and items, and it wouldn’t be a problem. Sure, people would talk about morals and curse you out, but so what?

In a game where people said things like that, what was the big deal about killing one teammate?

Even though everyone could see exactly what Han Simin was doing, players and onlookers alike nodded at the scheme they’d never even thought of. Kenji, who had been whipping people into a frenzy, could no longer bring himself to bring up the subject.

It really was a matter of perspective.

A difference in how death was viewed within Fantastic World.

Most players saw death as the ultimate cost, but Han Simin didn’t.

No, that wasn’t quite right—Han Simin felt the same way, but when he had nothing to lose, he was always ready to die.

If he died at the hands of the Specialists, they could recover whatever item he dropped. While grinding the experience back was a pain, he had already written off those numbers. Besides, the forty-eight-hour death penalty would be over by the time he got back from reserve training. Since the condition that he had to survive and escape was now void, he no longer had to enhance anyone’s gear.

Most importantly, on top of his streaming revenue, there was the hundred-gold bounty for his death.

“Nice. Unni, this is the first time we’re getting a higher cut from that guy, right?”

“Happy?”

“Of course. Ah, if only I’d been the one to kill him, it would’ve been even sweeter. What a waste.”

They had arranged to get thirty gold out of it.

Perfect.

There had been plenty of twists and turns, so you couldn’t quite call it “according to plan,” but in the end, things had worked out in their favor.

Even if the Mist hunting ground was now basically useless.

“Ah. Right. The otter.”

“...!”

Just as they were basking in their satisfaction and turning their backs on Kenji, the Specialists remembered someone they had briefly forgotten.

At the same time, they headed back toward the mountain range.

* * *

7.

Three days later.

Han Simin came home.

Completely wiped out.

“Ha. Fuck.”

The hellish twenty-one months he had managed to shove into the back of his mind came flooding back in the familiar environment, and a curse slipped out on its own.

Still, it was over.

He hurried into the bathroom, washed off every trace of the army that clung to him with hot water, and headed for the capsule.

Only three days away, and the capsule felt... awkward?

“...”

Or so he had thought. But no.

It fit his body like a glove.

Only then did it really feel like he was home. He closed his eyes.

His vision flickered in the familiar way.

Then, the Rich Territory came into view.

“Phew.”

Right. He had died.

He had snuck a look at the video on his phone during a break in training.

Jeong Seolah, driving her sword in without a moment’s hesitation. Clean as could be.

’She really is a scary woman.’

Shaking his head, he checked his subspace.

’What dropped?’

He didn’t see any obvious gaps.

After a careful inspection, he realized what was missing.

One of the rewards that had dropped when they destroyed the gate.

“I’m back.”

“This is our territory.”

He set out to find the Specialists and reclaim his item.

And came face-to-face with someone else he had briefly forgotten.

“Kku-eong?”

“Huh?”

* * *

“...So you just gave it to him? The reward?”

“Yes, we didn’t really have a choice. He came looking for it on his own. If we hadn’t given it to him, we probably couldn’t have brought him back.”

“...”

After hearing from Jeong Seolah about how they had reunited with the otter and why it had come with them, Han Simin fell silent.

One of the rewards from the gate was the same kind of ore the otter had been clutching to the very end. The otter had sensed it, tracked them down to ask for it, and they had used it as leverage to bring it back.

He didn’t really have grounds to complain.

He was the one who had forgotten about the otter in the chaos. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Honestly, even if it had run away, he wouldn’t have had much right to say anything.

“Thanks, Sudal. You missed me too, huh?”

“Kku-eong.”

What could he do?

Giving up a single lump of ore with unknown effects in exchange for a gold mine that could produce mountains of ore might just be the better deal.

So he nodded coolly.

They had helped him a lot this time, in all sorts of ways.

“These are the rewards we got. I’ll just call it even with what Sudal took, so you three split the rest however you want.”

Such generosity.

Of course, he had already checked and confirmed there was nothing he particularly needed before making that decision.

“Good work this time.”

“Not at all. So when are we starting the next main quest?”

“I think we need to hit level 100 first.”

“...This really is a disgusting game.”

He offered a moment of silent condolence for the heart-crushing grind that was about to begin again after their warm conclusion.

They were now over level 70. The Unknown Mountains—still a better hunting ground than most—had returned to a somewhat functional state after the main quest ended. But the journey to level 100 would be anything but short.

Along the way, there would no doubt be plenty of jobs for him.

“I think I need to go do some enhancing for the first time in a while. You all go grind.”

“...Okay.”

He cut that off in advance.

It wasn’t that he had lost his original mindset.

No matter how much money was in his bank account, he could never be satisfied; to Han Simin, money was always as sweet as honey.

It was just a matter of priorities.

Sticking with the Specialists to make money was fine, but right now, the most important thing was to firmly tie down the still-untamed otter.

He felt like he had seen the first clue to that answer, and he was determined to put his skills to work.

’It’s been a while since I did any enhancing, anyway.’

He would show it off again.

The enhancement prowess that had even made BetaGo flinch.

...To the otter.

“Let’s go, Kku-eong. There may be a damn wall called level between us, but I’ll show you that walls like that don’t matter.”

He had no doubts and no worries.

He already knew that once someone—human or otter—fell into the pit of enhancement, there was no getting out.

* * *