Reincarnated into Another World With Chat GTP-Chapter 24: The First Stage

Chapter 24: The First Stage

"...Hnnng."

I opened my eyes.

Tree branches.

A cold breeze.

Birds chirping like they didn't know this was a kill-or-be-killed trial.

I slowly sat up from the patch of moss I'd landed on.

"Where am I...?"

I looked around.

Noel wasn't here.

"Great."

"GTP."

[Yes, Master?]

"Scan the area."

[Location: Dense forest, approximately 8.4 kilometers west of Entry Point C. Mana residue and scent traces indicate proximity to a goblin territory. Probability of enemy contact: 92%.]

"Nice."

I stood up, brushing leaves off my coat.

And then—

"A-AHHH!!"

A scream.

Female voice.

Distant, but not too far.

I sighed.

"...Guess I'll check it out."

A few minutes later, I found her.

Tangled in a net trap, dangling from a tree branch like a confused fruit.

Blue hair.

Light leather armor. Mana-coated daggers on her belt. Probably a rogue-type fighter.

She saw me and flailed.

"P-please help! I can't reach the ropes!"

I tilted my head.

"...And you are?"

"Wha—? Just—just help me down!"

I stepped closer, drew my knife, and sliced the rope with one clean motion.

She yelped and fell—right into a roll, landing neatly on her feet.

"Thanks, thank you, thank you!" she said, brushing off twigs. "Ugh, that trap was cheap! If I ever find the goblin that—"

She paused.

Stared at me.

"...Wait."

I blinked.

She squinted.

Then her eyes widened.

"...Are you... Sam Avencroft?"

I smirked. "Yep. That's me."

"EHHHH?!"

She practically exploded.

"You're THAT Sam Avencroft?! The one who wrote Titanheart Chronicles?! The one who started Burgatory?!"

"Guilty."

"Wait—can I ask for your autograph later or is this a weird time?!"

I opened my mouth to respond—

SWISH—!!

A sharp whistling sound.

An arrow flew—right for her head.

"GTP!!"

[Activating Motor Control—ENGAGED.]

My body moved faster than thought.

I grabbed her, spun, and brought up my forearm.

The arrow smashed against a burst of mana and snapped in two.

She blinked.

Eyes wide.

Mouth open.

"Huh?"

I exhaled.

"...We don't have time for that."

She slowly turned her head.

Behind us—

A horde.

Dozens of goblins emerged from the brush. Yellow eyes gleaming. Rusted blades raised. Bows ready.

I cracked my knuckles.

"Guess it's game time."

* * *

The wind was dry.

Sand scraped against Noel's boots as she walked across the endless golden dunes, the sun burning down from above like it wanted her dead.

She hadn't said a word since she woke up here.

But her eyes were sharp—scanning. Watching. Searching.

"...Sam," she muttered.

She didn't know where he'd been dropped. But she knew one thing:

Wherever he was, he was going to do something stupid.

She had to find him.

The sky shimmered with heat.

She walked for another ten minutes, eyes tracking distant movement—until a shadow blocked her path.

A figure stood atop a ridge. Arms crossed.

Golden hair catching the sun. That same arrogant smirk from before.

Oh. Great.

"...Fancy running into you here," he said, strolling down the slope like he was walking into a tavern, not a combat trial. "My name is Leon, you are?"

She didn't respond.

He shrugged. "Still ignoring me, huh? You know, I get it. You're loyal to your little boyfriend."

Her hand twitched near her blade.

"But let's be real," he continued, circling her. "This place is brutal. You're smart. You know sticking with someone stronger makes sense."

He flashed a grin, too white for someone in the desert.

"So why don't you come with me?"

Noel looked up at him.

Expression calm.

But her silver gaze—no, her stormy gray gaze—was cold as steel.

"...Get lost."

He raised an eyebrow. "Still pretending he's better than me?"

"No," she said. "He doesn't have to pretend."

* * *

They came from all directions.

Dozens of goblins, shrieking, eyes wild, blades rusted and bloody from who-knows-what.

I exhaled slowly.

GTP. Let's turn it up.

[Synchronizing. Outputting 20% capacity. Caution: bodily strain risk at 47%. Proceeding.]

A rush surged through my veins—strength, clarity, speed. Everything felt sharper. Crisper. Like the world finally switched out of tutorial mode.

One came at me fast, dagger raised.

I stepped in.

Quick, clean, no wasted motion.

My fist cracked its skull sideways. It dropped like a sack of wet dirt.

Two more charged.

I didn't wait.

Motor Control—disarm and disable.

[Route locked. Executing.]

I ducked under a swing, caught the wrist mid-arc, twisted until I heard a snap—then used his falling weight to slam the other into the dirt.

Another behind me. I didn't need to look.

I kicked backward. Heard the crunch of ribs.

Turned. Slit a throat.

Blood splashed onto my boots.

Still calm.

Still precise.

Just 20%.

"W-what the hell...?" the blue-haired girl behind me stammered.

I didn't answer.

Three goblins circled in, smarter than the rest.

I let them come.

The first swung. I dodged left.

The second stabbed. I caught the blade between my palms.

The third hesitated.

I drove the sword through the first, turned, slammed the hilt into the second's jaw, then flicked a throwing knife from my belt into the third's eye.

All three fell within two seconds.

Still more.

Ten left? Fifteen?

Didn't matter.

I was in the rhythm now. Footwork perfect. Breathing sharp. Blades moving like extensions of my will.

Not invincible.

But untouchable.

Another came. I dropped low, swept his legs, rose into an elbow jab that bent his face the wrong way.

Screams behind me.

Not mine.

Goblin fled.

Let him.

I turned to the girl, who hadn't moved from where I grabbed her earlier.

She blinked. "You... are you human?"

I shrugged. "Depends on the day."

"...I think I'm in love."

I sighed, flicking blood off my borrowed blade.

[Congratulations.]

Not helpful.

* * *

The forest felt quieter now.

Maybe because the goblins were dead.

Or maybe because the real threats hadn't shown up yet.

I walked ahead, the blue-haired girl trailing beside me, still occasionally glancing over like she couldn't believe what just happened.

She spoke once or twice, but I wasn't paying attention.

GTP.

[Yes?]

What's the best course of action now? This is Stage 1 of 10, right?

[Correct. This is the first stage of the Altherian Practical Exam: The Outerworld Survival Gauntlet.]

Give me the breakdown.

[Current participant count: Approximately 1,000.]

[Objective: Reduce number of survivors to 500.]

I stopped walking.

Wait... they didn't say that part out loud.

[Of course not. The Academy prefers chaos.]

[The test was designed to create pressure. Monsters are present, but the most dangerous threat is other examinees.]

I exhaled.

So we're basically in a glorified battle royale.

[Correct. Participants may realize that eliminating each other is the fastest way to clear this stage.]

[Betrayals, ambushes, and group hunting are highly probable.]

I looked around the trees again.

Anyone could be watching.

Then what's our play?

[Gather allies. Strength in numbers will act as both deterrent and defense.]

How do we gather people without looking like a walking target?

[Simple. Take control of this zone.]

...Elaborate.

[This region is part of a low-tier goblin territory.]

[If it follows standard monster hierarchy, there will be a Goblin King within a central village nearby.]

[Eliminate the Goblin King. Wipe out the surrounding horde. Claim the village.]

[Convert it into a fortified base of operations.]

I grinned.

Now you're talking.

I turned to the girl walking beside me.

She blinked. "Huh?"

"...I just realized something," I said. "I never asked your name."

"Oh! It's Mira. Mira Luenthal."

I nodded.

"Mira, huh?"

I turned back toward the woods. Goblin blood still stained my coat.

"Well then, Mira. I have a plan."

* * *

We crouched at the edge of the forest, hidden behind a thick cluster of shrubs.

Just ahead, the trees opened into a clearing—and nestled in the center was a ramshackle, foul-smelling village of mud huts, wooden fences, and blood-stained banners.

The Goblin Town.

I narrowed my eyes.

GTP. Count.

[Scanning...]

A moment passed.

[Estimated population: 147 goblins.]

[Breakdown: 81 grunts, 34 archers, 24 berserkers, 7 shamans.]

[1 Goblin King—confirmed. Location: central longhouse.]

I nodded slowly.

Mira, crouched beside me, peeked through the bushes and paled.

"There's no way... you actually want to take on a Goblin King?!"

She turned to me, wide-eyed.

"I-I mean, yeah he's a low-rank King, but that's still a Hero-Class monster!"

I glanced at her.

GTP. Classes?

[Monster Classification System—Standard 7-Tier Hierarchy:]

[Feral → Savage → Elite → Hero → Lord → Sovereign → Cataclysm.]

[Hero-Class: Tier 4. Capable of independent command, advanced intelligence, and large-scale destruction.]

Mira stared at me like I was insane.

"Hero-Class monsters have wiped out entire villages alone. You're seriously thinking of going in there?!"

I didn't answer immediately.

Just kept watching the goblin camp—sentries pacing, fires burning, the faint clang of crude weapons being sharpened.

Then I asked silently:

Can I defeat him?

[...With this plan?]

[Yes.]

I smirked.

"...Then let's get started."

* * *

The first raindrop hit the dirt like a drumbeat.

Then another.

Within seconds, the sky cracked open—pouring down sheets of cold rain across the darkened forest. The goblin camp flickered with torchlight and the smell of wet blood and smoke.

I stood on the edge of the clearing.

A lone figure in a storm of monsters.

They hadn't seen me yet.

Perfect.

I tightened my gloves, pulled my hood up, and cracked my neck.

GTP.

[All systems ready.]

Begin.

The plan was simple.

Not easy.

Just simple.

You don't take down a king by rushing his throne.

You dismantle his kingdom piece by piece.

Step one: Lure and isolate.

I tossed a rock into the north side of the camp.

It clattered against a rusty cart.

A group of six grunts peeled off from patrol to check it.

Perfect.

I sprinted around the south side, blade in hand, silent as the rain.

Motor Control: Route 3. Soft tissue kill.

[Engaged.]

I slipped behind the first, drove my dagger into the gap between his ribs. Silenced him before he could scream.

Spun. Slashed two more throats.

One raised his spear—too slow.

I disarmed, stabbed, rolled behind the next.

Six down. Zero noise.

Step two: Kill the shamans.

They're the battery. The king's healers. The ones that revive the dead and buff the berserkers.

If I let them chant for even ten seconds, I'd be fighting an army of glowing, rage-fueled murder goblins.

I couldn't let that happen.

I threw two smoke vials into the east side where the shaman tents were.

Mira, now positioned on the cliff above, launched two enchanted arrows.

Boom.

Boom.

Explosions lit the fog.

Screams echoed. Green flames burst upward.

I rushed in, cutting through disoriented guards.

The rain mixed with blood.

A shaman lunged out of the tent, casting—

Too slow.

My boot connected with his skull. His spell fizzled.

Two more downed in seconds.

Shamans: Eliminated.

Step three: Berserker bait.

"Hey ugly," I shouted into the mist.

The rain sizzled against the torches. Goblins were now screaming, shouting, scattering to find the attacker.

Just like I wanted.

Ten berserkers charged toward me, all muscle and rage and flailing axes.

I led them right into Mira's trap—a cluster of mana mines hidden under a patch of fake brush.

BOOM.

The blast lit the sky.

Five down instantly. I mopped up the rest with two quick sweeps and a spinning kick.

Pain jolted up my leg, but I ignored it.

That's the cost of 20%.

Step four: Force the king out.

The horde was falling apart.

Their formations were gone. Their numbers cut in half.

Now all that was left was chaos.

And fear.

A fear only a king could rally.

The longhouse doors burst open.

And there he was.

The Goblin King.

Tall. Scarred. Rusted greatsword in one hand. Armor made from the bones of challengers.

He roared.

Lightning cracked behind him.

I stood in the rain, sword at my side.

His army scattered behind me.

My breath was heavy. My coat torn. My knuckles bleeding.

But I smiled anyway.

"...Showtime."

* * *

The sun scorched the sand beneath their boots.

The wind carried heat like a furnace. Visibility shimmered in the distance. This was the kind of place where even the air felt like it wanted to kill you.

Noel walked at the front of the group—her hair tied, expression calm as ever.

Behind her followed nearly twenty examinees. A good group. Decently skilled. Smart enough to know strength in numbers.

And then... there was him.

Golden hair.

Sharp, dark eyes.

Confident smile that never left his lips.

"Still not talking to me, huh?" he said, walking beside her with the kind of relaxed swagger only someone who hadn't been humbled could manage.

She didn't respond.

"That's cold. I've been walking beside you for hours, you know," he continued. "Not many people I'd do that for."

Still nothing.

"Come on, Noel," he grinned. "We make a good team, don't we? I handle the negotiating. You handle the stabbing."

Noel gave him a brief glance.

"...That's not a compliment."

"I'll take what I can get."

He chuckled, brushing some sand off his coat. "You've got a sharp tongue, I'll give you that. But I think deep down, you like having me around."

She blinked once.

"I don't."

"Ouch."

He put a hand to his heart.

Noel looked forward again. The horizon swirled with heat.

A moment passed.

"Still," he added, tone lighter, "I've been called a lot of things. Annoying. Shameless. Dangerously handsome."

He leaned closer, voice lowering.

"But never boring."

Noel rolled her eyes.

Before she could reply, a nervous voice interrupted them.

"Uh—excuse me?"

One of the support mages jogged up beside them, sweating heavily.

"This zone... it's a known Sand Worm habitat."

The group stopped walking.

"...You're sure?" Noel asked.

The mage nodded. "It was in the academy's monster index... they respond to surface vibration. Burrowers. Huge."

Someone in the group whispered, "Didn't one of those wipe out a caravan last year...?"

The golden-haired examinee clicked his tongue, staring into the horizon.

"Monsters with no taste."

Noel scanned the area, her hand lightly resting on her sword hilt.

"...Then we keep moving. But lighter. Spread out our steps. Minimize weight."

Her instincts twitched.

Something was beneath them.

Watching.

Waiting.

She didn't know if it was the sand worms... or something worse.

* * *

The Goblin King stepped into the rain.

Seven feet tall.

Muscles bulging beneath cracked bone armor.

A rusted greatsword the size of a wagon door rested on his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

His eyes—blood red, intelligent—locked onto mine.

He didn't roar this time.

He just walked forward.

That was worse.

I charged first.

I couldn't afford to let him set the rhythm.

I feinted right, then pivoted left, slashing low—

CLANG!

He parried with ease, the sheer force of it knocking me back a full meter through the mud.

Too strong.

Even at 20%, I was outclassed in raw power.

The king lunged. Faster than something that size should move.

I ducked under the horizontal swing—

A second blade came from his off-hand. Hidden. Short. Rusted.

GTP!!

[Evasion Route 6. Elbow drop + knee vault—engaged.]

I twisted, slammed my elbow into his thigh, vaulted over his back, landed behind him—

But he spun fast, slamming his back into me.

Ribs cracked.

I hit the dirt hard.

The King didn't pause. He raised his greatsword high.

I rolled just before it came crashing down, the ground exploding beside me.

I can't win in a straight fight.

"Sam!!"

Mira's voice cut through the rain.

From atop the ruined hut, she launched a barrage of glowing blue arrows—each laced with paralyzing enchantments.

The first few hit their mark, sparking across the King's armor. He flinched—but didn't fall.

He looked up. Snarled.

Then leapt.

He jumped.

Straight at her.

"No—!"

I ran.

Mud flew from my boots as I sprinted, heart thundering.

He was in the air, his blade arcing down toward Mira—!

GTP! Time spell! NOW!!

[Mana threshold reached. Activating Time Distortion: Localized Slow.]

The world bent.

Colors blurred.

Rain slowed mid-fall.

Sound dulled into a thick hum.

I had three seconds.

Only three.

I jumped.

One.

I reached Mira's platform as the King's sword came down like judgment.

Two.

I tackled her out of the way mid-air.

Three.

The sword carved the rooftop in half as we hit the ground below, rolling through the mud and crashing into a broken post.

Time snapped back.

The King landed with a thunderous crash.

I stood, coughing blood. My left arm didn't move right.

He turned toward us, unfazed, walking forward again.

"...Damn it," I muttered. "He doesn't stop."

"Sam..." Mira stood beside me, panting, her leg bleeding.

I glanced at her.

Then at the Goblin King.

We end this now.

I reached into my belt—pulled out the last mana core I'd stashed.

Crushed it in my palm.

Power surged through me.

Twenty percent wouldn't cut it.

GTP. Break the limiter. Give me thirty.

[Confirmed. Warning: bodily damage expected.]

Do it.

The world snapped again.

I moved.

Faster than before.

I charged low, dodged the swing, stabbed into his ribs—

He growled, grabbed my collar, slammed me into a wall.

Vision blurred.

But I held the blade.

Twisted it.

He screamed.

Mira launched her last enchanted arrow—straight into his eye.

He staggered.

I roared and drove the blade upward into his throat.

Black blood poured out in torrents.

He crashed to his knees.

Then fell forward.

Dead.

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

I stood there, barely.

Breathing ragged.

Soaked in blood.

Lightning flashed in the sky above, illuminating the fallen king—and the two of us standing over him.

"...We won," I muttered.

Mira collapsed beside me, laughing weakly. "That was insane..."

I grinned through the pain.

"...And awesome."

* * *

By now, the group had swelled to over a hundred and eighty examinees.

They had food. Coordination. Patrol shifts. Even water—thanks to a talented support mage with high-tier water magic, who created portable clean wells that attracted stranded wanderers by the dozens.

In the brutal desert, this was a small miracle.

A camp of survivors, working together.

Noel sat at the edge of the group, sharpening her blade in silence. Eyes half-lidded. Always watching.

Even with numbers, even with magic...

This place never stopped being dangerous.

And then—

RUMBLE.

A tremor rolled beneath the sand.

Noel stood instantly, her instincts flaring.

BOOOOM—!!

The ground erupted.

People screamed.

A massive spiral of earth exploded upward like a geyser—and from beneath, something monstrous surged into the air.

It was a Sandworm.

No. Not just any sandworm.

Hero-Class.

Thirty meters long. Covered in scale-armor like stone. Fangs as long as a man's arm. Dozens of blinking, glowing eyes scattered across its body.

"W-WHAT THE HELL?!" someone shouted.

"That's—!! That's a Sandworm Lord!! A Hero-Class beast!!!"

CRASH—!!

It slammed down into the camp.

Tents flattened.

People screamed as the shockwave launched them across the dunes.

The creature writhed and spun, carving through the crowd. A tail sweep crushed three in an instant. Sand burst upward as bodies hit the ground. Blood soaked the dunes.

Mages fired spells.

Swords flew.

Explosions rocked the desert.

And it did nothing.

Fire magic evaporated before hitting its hide. Arrows snapped against its scales. The worm's body twisted—and it swallowed two examinees whole in a single lunge.

Leon stood at the front of the group, jaw clenched.

"Tch...!"

He raised his hand.

A barrage of lightning bolts struck the creature.

It flinched.

Then roared—rattling the skies.

"Spread out!! Don't group up—!"

Too late.

A full twenty were consumed in its next charge.

The line was breaking.

The group was falling apart.

And then—

Noel walked forward.

Slowly.

Silently.

Eyes narrowed.

Her blade shimmered with mana.

The air went still.

Leon turned toward her. "Wait—Noel?! What are you—?!"

She stepped off the edge of the dune and vanished.

Appeared mid-air.

Directly above the worm's central coil.

Her body twisted mid-fall.

She plunged the blade downward.

A burst of black-and-purple mana exploded from her form as the wolf within stirred.

SHHHHRRRRIIIPPP—!!

Her blade tore through the armored scales like paper, carving a deep gash down the worm's back.

It screamed.

Noel landed, flipped, and ran up its body as it thrashed.

With each step, she slashed—once, twice, six times—spinning, flipping, leaping between each section.

She struck every critical point.

And with one final spin, her blade pierced through its main eye.

CRUNCH.

The worm collapsed—its entire body trembling once.

Then silence.

Dust settled.

Dozens of wide-eyed examinees stared at her in disbelief.

She stood in the crater of the beast's corpse, barely breathing heavily.

"...Tch."

She wiped the blood from her blade and turned.

Leon chuckled behind her, clapping slowly.

"Well damn..." he said. "That was impressive."

She stared.

"Didn't think you were that strong," he continued. "Kinda makes me want to see what else you're hiding."

She blinked once.

Then walked past him without a word.

"...Still cold, huh?" he said, watching her go.

Then he smirked.

"Interesting."

* * *

The rain hadn't stopped.

It fell in slow, steady sheets, soaking into the blood-stained dirt and washing away the gore left behind.

The Goblin Town was quiet now.

Half the huts had been flattened. Fires still smoked from shattered bonfires. But it was theirs.

I stood near the center well, wiping down my blade while a group of new applicants hauled goblin corpses into a growing pile outside the north gate.

Most of them had shown up not long after the fight.

Guess it was hard to miss the lightshow we put on.

Especially in the middle of a thunderstorm.

GTP. These guys legit?

[I've monitored their speech patterns, heart rate, and formation behavior. None of them show signs of hostility or deception.]

So we're good for now.

[For now.]

I watched as one of the new guys struggled to drag a goblin twice his size by the ankle.

Another one gagged while tossing dismembered limbs into a pit.

Mira walked over, tying her wet hair back in a loose knot.

"That's our crew now?" she asked, nodding toward the group.

"Apparently."

"They don't seem like the strongest."

"Maybe not," I said, "but they're willing to work. That's more than I expected."

She folded her arms, leaning against the cracked wall beside me. Her eyes flicked over the muddy village.

"...You really planned all of this, didn't you? Taking the goblin base. Turning it into a fortress. Gathering people."

I gave a small shrug.

"I just hate being hunted."

She looked at me for a moment.

Then smirked. "And here I thought you were just trying to impress me."

"...Was it working?"

She laughed.

For a second, it almost made me forget about the piles of goblin parts being wheelbarrowed across the village square.

"I've met a lot of weirdos during this exam," she said, "but you're... something else."

"Something better?"

"Something insane."

I snorted.

"Well, I'll take that."

The two of us watched the others finish clearing the center plaza.

Our people.

Our base.

Not a bad start for a kingdom.