Limon was at a loss for words.
It would have been one thing if he had been the one swinging a sword.
However, he hadn’t lifted a single finger; he had just been watching.
He couldn’t understand why Bak Hyun-gun was suddenly coughing up blood and collapsing.
‘What is this? Did his conscience and humanity suddenly surge, making him want to commit suicide?’
It was Lee Chun-gi’s calm voice that answered Limon’s silent question.
“It’s an Overheat.”
“What? He collapsed from heatstroke just because of that tiny provocation?”
Limon asked, his expression suggesting he couldn’t believe anyone could have such a fragile ego.
Lee Chun-gi corrected the misunderstanding.
“I am referring to the phenomenon that occurs when skills are overlapped beyond their limit.”
“Ah, like how you looked like you were going to die yesterday after cramming 1,000 skills in at once?”
“Yes.”
Limon nodded in understanding for a moment, but then his face clouded with doubt again as he looked down at Bak Hyun-gun.
“But why is his condition so much worse than yours was?”
Indeed, Bak Hyun-gun’s state was nothing short of disastrous.
Blood poured from his seven orifices, his crotch was a mess of blood and urine, and his blood vessels were bursting all over his body.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say he was already a near-invalid.
Lee Chun-gi had managed to maintain at least a minimum level of mobility even after using 1,000 skills.
So why was this guy in such a state after only using a few?
Lee Chun-gi’s answer to the discrepancy was simple.
“It is likely because Manager Bak has never undergone training for multiple skill activation.”
Lee Chun-gi had certainly acquired his countless skills thanks to his absolute skill, Skill Mimicry.
However, his ability to freely use dozens or hundreds of skills simultaneously was the result of years of repeated training and specialized equipment.
In particular, the simultaneous activation of skills numbering in the hundreds was something even Lee Chun-gi could only achieve in the [Overload] state.
The problem was that Bak Hyun-gun had only stolen the skills and stats.
The results of that training were an entirely different matter.
“He stole my skills and used them recklessly with a body that hasn’t been trained, let alone properly equipped. It’s a miracle he’s even alive.”
After hearing the explanation, Limon asked blankly, “So, you’re saying this bastard didn’t know his own limits, stole your skills as he pleased, and ended up destroying himself?”
“That is essentially the case.”
Perhaps because it was so absurd, Limon stared at the twitching Bak Hyun-gun for a moment with a look that asked how such an idiot could exist.
Then, he turned back to Lee Chun-gi with a grimace.
“To be honest, I thought it was ridiculous when you were acting all proud while only stealing the shell of my swordsmanship. But compared to him, you were actually a decent guy.”
Lee Chun-gi didn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult.
Since the subject of comparison was Bak Hyun-gun, who had committed such a moronic act, he remained silent, unsure how to respond.
Eventually, Lee Chun-gi spoke up impassively.
“For some reason, I feel like I should apologize on his behalf.”
“Forget it. All you Players are like that anyway.”
Lee Chun-gi shut his mouth, realizing he had gained nothing from the conversation.
Though there were differences in degree, they were fundamentally the same.
He had been defeated after running wild while relying on copied skills, and Bak Hyun-gun had self-destructed while showing off his unique skill.
Still, he felt it was a bit much to lump every Player together with Bak Hyun-gun.
“O-Over…”
That was when Bak Hyun-gun opened his mouth.
He seemed to realize his mistake.
After using one or two recovery skills, he managed to recover from the state of a squirming bug to that of a squirming human.
He vomited blood and screamed.
“I… I worked hard! I put in the effort!”
Lee Chun-gi had achieved success easily thanks to his cheat skills.
Unlike him, Bak Hyun-gun had worked desperately with his Prestige and Renown skill, which was useless for anything except lying.
He had struggled desperately to survive, even while the stupid and incompetent prattled on about “modest happiness” or “peace” to justify their own failures.
He had even embezzled guild funds to buy equipment and items, risking his life to level up.
“So why do I have to end up like this!”
Bak Hyun-gun could not accept it.
No, he refused to tolerate it.
The idea that he couldn’t accomplish what a lucky man like Lee Chun-gi—who became a Monarch without any effort—had done.
The fact that his end was to self-destruct so absurdly and squirm like an insect.
“This is unfair!”
Bak Hyun-gun shrieked, tears of blood streaming down his face.
This shouldn’t be happening.
If there was even a shred of fairness in this world, he should be the one rewarded more than anyone else.
Limon’s reaction to Bak Hyun-gun’s cry, filled with resentment and rage, was simple.
“This crazy bastard is talking absolute nonsense.”
“What?”
“I don’t know why I have to explain something so obvious, but…”
Limon looked down at Bak Hyun-gun with pathetic eyes, as if he were too baffled to even get angry.
He sighed, looking exhausted by the fact that he even had to say these words.
“The world isn’t a game, you moron.”
If you clear a dungeon, you gain wealth and honor.
If you just raise your level, anyone can become strong.
If you have money, you can buy any amount of good equipment.
That was the common sense of Players.
A life where it was natural to get results if you put in the effort.
However, Limon pointed out a fact that Players found all too easy to forget.
He spoke in a lethargic voice.
“Do you really think there’s a reward in reality that you’re guaranteed to get just because you work until you vomit blood?”
Success as long as you try?
If you didn’t succeed, it’s because you didn’t try hard enough?
Limon, who had lived a long life, knew exactly what kind of perfect bullshit that was.
There were geniuses who understood 100 things after learning one.
There were those born with silver spoons who were promised wealth and honor from birth.
There were lucky ones who succeeded by sheer chance.
Their very existence was evidence that denied the omnipotence of effort.
They were symbols that showed effort did not always guarantee a reward, and that there were limits that effort alone could not overcome.
“That is exactly why people have praised effort and respected those who try.”
Effort that is promised a fair result from the start is nothing more than manual labor.
Realizing the unfairness of the world from the beginning.
Knowing that one might not achieve results.
Knowing that there are limits that cannot be crossed.
Despite all that, effort is valuable because one challenges those limits to overcome that unfairness even a little, despite the possibility of failure.
In that sense, when people say to “make an effort,” it doesn’t mean you should achieve results at all costs.
It means you should have an indomitable spirit that doesn’t break even in failure and a proactive attitude to challenge your limits.
Only lucky brats who have never experienced failure despite trying would shout about effort as if it were a universal answer, without even knowing its true meaning.
“In the end, just because you put in some effort doesn’t mean you have the right to kill, deceive, and rob others as you please.”
He had worked harder than anyone?
So he had the right to be rewarded?
He could look down on and laugh at those who didn’t work as hard?
That wasn’t effort or logic anymore.
It was nothing but baseless fanaticism and stubbornness, believing only what was advantageous to himself.
The most fantastic part was that people who talked like that always overestimated their own efforts while ignoring the efforts of others.
“Well, if you want to ignore all laws and logic and live your life like a game, go ahead. That’s your freedom.”
Limon smirked.
Whether you commit murder with the mindset of a PK, or put in effort as if you’re leveling up, living your life as you wish is ultimately your own freedom.
That is what life is.
“Just as it’s my freedom to beat you to death and collect your blood debt.”
However, there was one important thing.
Unlike a game where at most your account gets banned, in reality, you can lose your life.
“You’re… going to kill me?”
“No? Did you seriously think I came all the way here just to hand you over to the police?”
Limon wore a cold, mocking smile.
Bak Hyun-gun felt his blood turn cold.
Only then did he realize that Limon had come here with the sincere intention of killing him.
The moment he realized that he might lose not just his lifestyle, but his very life, Bak Hyun-gun screamed with all his might.
“That’s murder!”
Whatever crimes he had committed, their judgment should be left to the law.
Bak Hyun-gun desperately shouted that killing him out of a personal grudge was a clear crime.
Limon’s response was simple.
“So what?”
He wasn’t feigning ignorance.
He wasn’t being sarcastic.
As if he truly didn’t understand the meaning of that cry, Limon tilted his head and spoke to the frozen Bak Hyun-gun in a languid voice.
“If you took profits by breaking the law, you should have been prepared for someone to ignore the law and kill you. You moron.”
“…!”
The moment he heard those words, Bak Hyun-gun finally realized.
The man in front of him was Limon Asphelder.
A mad dog who had slaughtered over 200 people, including the PAB Director, and had taken the President hostage just to avenge a single subordinate.
He was a monster who could never be stopped by something like the law.
And he finally understood the meaning of the words that the world was not a game.
Unlike a game where a system and administrators existed, all that existed in reality was the thin veneer of the law.
And there was no administrator in the world who would protect him, a man who had broken those laws to seize his rewards for “effort.”
No, even if one existed, it wouldn’t matter.
Whether it was an administrator, a god, or a Constellation—if they interfered with his collection of the blood debt, Limon would have cut them down regardless of who they were.
“M-Monarch! Are you just going to watch?!”
Bak Hyun-gun clung to Lee Chun-gi.
He was so cornered that he was pleading for help from the very person he had tried to kill just moments ago.
But Lee Chun-gi didn’t even bat an eye.
He simply asked Limon calmly, “Will one day be enough?”
“Four days.”
“That is…”
“I said four days.”
As if he would not allow any counterargument, Limon announced his decision in a voice that was both languid and cold.
Lee Chun-gi stared into those golden eyes before finally closing his own and answering, “For the next four days, no one will enter this place.”
“…Monarch?”
Bak Hyun-gun couldn’t understand.
He didn’t know the significance of the four-day period Limon had set, or why Lee Chun-gi had promised that no one would enter.
Limon spoke languidly to Bak Hyun-gun, who was trembling from a sudden surge of anxiety.
“Be grateful. It means I’m reducing what should have been three months and ten days to just four days.”
“What… what are you telling me to be grateful for? What are you going to do here for four days?”
“Didn’t I already tell you?”
Limon lightly lifted his sword.
Then, he plunged the blade deep into Bak Hyun-gun’s twitching body and spoke dryly.
“I said I was going to kill you.”
*Stab.*
“Gugh?!”
Bak Hyun-gun’s eyes bulged as if they were about to pop out.
It wasn’t just because the sword Limon had suddenly thrust into him was tearing through his flesh and organs and reaching his spine.
The moment the tip of the blade touched a certain part of his vertebrae, an intense agony—as if thousands of needles were piercing his entire body—hit him along with a burning heat in his lungs and a wave of nausea.
“Don’t worry. There’s no way you’ll die within at least three days.”
His limbs trembled from the overwhelming pain, and he couldn’t even scream properly.
Limon looked at him and whispered quietly.
“Next to swordsmanship, the thing I’m most familiar with are the 36,500 torture techniques I learned while fighting the Seven Dragon Society.”