The Foreigner on the Periphery

Hell of Disbelief (16)

‘Numbering for the millionth generation.’ 

While traveling in a different dimension, they were recently deployed to this place, so it was their first meeting with each other. Nevertheless, there were three reasons why Minjun paid attention to the number. 

‘Then, it means that they have been doing this for at least 700 years.’ 

It was known that the probability of surviving more than 100 years of prisoners classified as ‘Asif’ was less than 50%. Since they were irregular workers, they often got caught up in various accidents and disasters while taking on dangerous tasks that the full-time committee members were reluctant to, and they would end up dying. 

Considering that the current 10 million-digit inmate was the mainstream, it simply meant that he was a veteran who had gone through everything imaginable and harbored judgment and talent to survive until now. 

‘He seems to be in good spirits.’ 

The limit that an inmate from a single species such as a human or an Orc could endure in his sane mind was usually about 2 to 300 years. If one was to drag more than that, their mind would eventually start to collapse. The man in front of him must have passed many times that many years, but he didn’t show any abnormalities. Such writers were generally difficult to deal with.

‘And….’ 

Minjun decided to be sarcastic. “You’re the idiot who made a ridiculous offer to me on the astral network.” 

Upon hearing this, Asif-1,319,552’s face hardened. At the same time, flashes of light flashed in both eyes. Minjun spoke in a tone full of ridicule. “Didn’t you team up with the other prisoners to retrieve the head and share the rewards?” 

There was a message that Minjun checked on his computer right before he left for Germany. The man in front of him showed off his ‘tracking ability’ and offered to hold his hand. What was Minjun’s reaction to him? 

“It was so ridiculous that I didn’t even think of sending a reply.” 

With that, he then delivered a clear message to the other party. ‘I don’t need your help, I’m good enough on my own.’

Prisoners who were unaware of this fact exchanged bewildered glances. Asif-1,319,552 clenched his teeth and shouted. “400,000 talents is a ridiculous amount. Do I have to read it?! After all, if he had been a prisoner for so many years, wouldn’t he have accumulated many talents? No matter how expensive the survival tax is, eight hundred years is enough for him to pay severance pay . . .” 

“My account balance has no need for you to care, nor can it be a basis for this nonsense. You’re blurring the point now. I am moving alone because I have the confidence to succeed in the mission alone. Why should I share the price with you? The results I achieved solely through my abilities.” 

It was a tone that was convinced that the head of the patriarch could be recovered by himself, and even those who heard it did not dare to refute it. Asif-1,319,552 then spoke in a cold voice. “Good job. you did very well. Since you’re ahead of the curve with that clever ability, don’t you think you can afford to make any concessions for the sake of other prisoners?” 

Minjun thought it was a waste of time to keep listening to his nonsense. “Don’t get me wrong. We are prisoners. This is not a voluntary relationship in the first place, and taking care of each other doesn’t improve anything.” 

Unless there was a special circumstance, much like a dimension that was brought to the brink of destruction by a dictator, the committee openly wove rewards in front of inmates to induce competition. Such was a deeply rooted winner-take-all composition.

Minjun was convinced that even if he redistributed his talents in consideration for the “weak,” there would be no practical value to be created. That was because there was no room for change at the will of prisoners in this solid system. 

“Furthermore,” he twisted his lips. “It’s a bit too thick for me to say things like that in this situation. While the incompetent people were gathering as a group and thinking of smashing the back of the person with the ability.”

He then glanced at the four besieged prisoners one after another. Half of them were split to follow Ha Eun-seong, and some were already incapacitated. ‘It takes a while for a millionaire, but it’s still worth it.’ 

That was then… 

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! A scream was heard in the distance. In terms of direction, he was not a prisoner. Instead of paying great attention to it, Minjun grabbed the ritual dagger. Enemies whose concentration was broken for a moment also changed their expressions and raised their strength. As soon as Minjun cut off his elbow, the prisoners rushed towards him.

*** 

Dotes looked at those passing by in the hallway with a puzzled gaze. They were all ancient races. However, the atmosphere was strangely chaotic. Looking at his outfit, he looked like one who belonged to the Mint Bureau. 

Dotes read the air of bewilderment and despair. “Hey, hey. Do you know what’s going on there?” She decided to ask someone passing by her, and he tilted his chin at the mint staff he had just passed. He was also not an ancient race, nor a prisoner, but an ordinary regular employee. The timing was just right. The opponent was a man famous for his bright ears and light mouth. 

“This is really a top secret…” His colleague hesitated as he scratched the cornea of ​​his left eye with his blunt fingers. 

“Do you believe me? Please tell me.” 

Then, the colleague whispered a few times to him not to tell anyone. “There seems to be a problem with the Mint.”

“Hey, I have eyes. At first, both seem to be fine.” 

It was sarcasm to say what kind of information anyone could know with both eyes open. A colleague grumbled. “I’m not in a hurry either. listen. It seems that the amount of talent mining reported by the Mint these days has been lower than expected.” 

Dotes’ ears lit up. “How much?” 

“About 15% per day of the estimate.” 

“What?!” Dotes sighed in surprise. “Really? 15%?” 

“Okay. Isn’t it weird? It is impossible to accurately predict anyway, but this is too big.” 

Even Dotes was completely unaware of the secret of the Mint. However, he knew that there was a cycle that could determine the amount of mining. Mint elites then simulated the cycle to estimate mining volume and reported it to the delegates. 

Of course, if one was to look at the annual total, the fact that the actual mining amount was always slightly lower than the forecast proved to be a headache for the Mint, but the delegates pointed out to that extent and did not reprove it. However, the 15% difference like this time was a big problem.

“But what if there were similar incidents in the past? Hundreds of years ago?” 

“There was a time when it was down about 3%. But then, the very next day, the mining volume was restored. As much as it decreased, it rebounded and production increased. The members of the Mint Bureau were also watching the trend without making a fuss because of their experience. By the way···” 

In the end, it seemed that patience had run out. “Are you upset because you can’t get the uniform even if you wait?” 

At this, the colleague’s tone became more cautious. “It’s already been ten days.” 

It wasn’t that Dotes didn’t understand the meaning. “What?” 

“Ten days have passed with the amount of mining reduced.” 

“···Oh, my God.” 

“The delegates were furious. It means that the Mint simulation is wrong. But no matter how many times I re-verify, the result is the same.” 

Dotes murmured in wonder, “Has the base production decreased? But since the committee was formed, it has never happened…”

The colleague closed his eyelids. “Well, it is difficult to guess the reason for not being an ancient race. After all, we don’t even know how the Mint secures talents, right? The word mining that everyone is talking about is actually quite vague. Do you really want to know which planet they are digging and cutting stones or if there is another way?” 

Nevertheless, what was accepted as common sense was that the production had never deviated so much from the simulation of the Mint, and that production had never stopped even for a single day. “So, do you know how much the total amount of talents mined over the past ten days has decreased compared to expected?”

Cumulative amount of error compared to expected. As soon as he heard them, Dotes raised all the feathers of his body. His voice was filled with astonishment and fear. “…2.5 million talents?!” 

*** 

The night of the port city was now shrouded in complete darkness. Jochaim looked at his adoptive father in heavy silence. His resurrection seemed incomplete. The mere fact that he was once under his neck would indicate that he had lost most of his normal biological functions. Besides that, the Patriarch had fallen into a deep sleep that never went bothered at night. 

Jochaim could only vaguely guess whether that narcolepsy was a necessary condition for maintaining the current state. And bizarre events always happened at this time. Jochaim looked at the adoptive father. 

‘What the hell is this holy light?’ 

Like the moment he was resurrected for the first time, his neck was radiating a brilliant light. He then looked at him as if he had already seen it several times, yet was still unable to keep the awe away. 

‘Beautiful,’ Jochaim thought. 

That was the complete proof of God. It was proof of the existence of the gods sleeping in ‘Dreamland.’ The priest stretched out both hands and raised the foster father. In a possessive lust of unknown origin, Jochaim put the light body into the retina. Greed arose even though he already had his head in his hands. Could he garner some of the light for himself if he broke the Patriarch’s neck?

‘···Of course it doesn’t work that way.’ 

Jochaim was not convinced. Could it be concluded that there was no urge to covet that light among the motives of the mind? The priest brushed the complicated thoughts out of his head.

‘This is not a personal desire. To keep the evidence of God with the people of Earth. And it is a step toward digging up the truth hidden by aliens.’

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! 

A scream suddenly erupted outside. He seemed to know what was going on without even looking forward. ‘It’s getting faster.’ 

The first city they stayed in had a murder case a few days after they left. However, the interval gradually decreased, and the slaughter and frenzy had already begun, despite spending the first night here. 

“Is this also your work, borrowing the power of the sleeping god?” 

There were such people who had nightmares and committed murders in the place where the Patriarch is staying. And the aphorism written in the ‘Book of Asif.’ 

He then suddenly had this thought. Until now, the members of Earth had committed all sorts of bizarre acts to make even sleeping gods have nightmares. This was because that was the teaching of the Patriarch. But perhaps… there was a much more direct way of giving the gods nightmares and awakening them? 

“I can no longer believe what you said.”

He could once believe with all his heart, but now his eyes were full of disbelief. Jochaim’s gaze, as he laid his head down on the table, reached one spot, the part where the patriarch’s neck and chin were connected. It was about half a span away from the sharp cut that Minjun made. 

When viewed from the front, there was an old scar that looked like it had been stabbed by a knife in an inconspicuous part that was covered by shadows. It must have been made long before he died. An eerie mark was left on the body of a high priest who could heal wounds with divine power. 

From an early age, he and his adopted children had asked what happened to the wounds, but the Patriarch never said anything. He could have been fooling around or telling an appropriate lie, but he just kept his mouth shut. 

At that time, he thought about whether there were any bad memories, but now that he was to think about it, everything was suspicious. Jochaim began to murmur as he ran his finger across his scar. “How many more secrets do we have?” 

It was then… 

“!” 

Sensing an abnormality, Jochaim’s eyes widened. 

Crazy! He could feel the barrier built with divine power being forcibly torn off. In an instant, the protective device he created with all his might to protect his hiding place. The force that intervened through it was the kind that Jochaim was all too familiar with. 

“No! At least now…!” Jochaim clenched his teeth and stood up. With that, he grabbed the patriarch’s head with a rough hand gesture.