Oops, I Accidentally Ascended to Godhood

A boy in a mask could be seen skimming through books, his eyes sharp and focused. All around him, books lay scattered .

"Ugh..." he groaned.

Tarkan wore a deeply frustrated expression. He had been in the library for days now, nearly a full week, searching every book, scroll, and archive for anything that could help him prepare for his upcoming entry into the Second Dimension.

Yet every single piece of information he came across seemed to repeat the same vague notion saying the Second Dimension is the true beginning of ascension.

That was it.

There was no mention of races, no maps, no first-hand accounts, nothing of relevance. The books only glorified those who had become Ascenders, praising their greatness and power as if they were gods. They said much about what came after... but nothing about what lay ahead.

What frustrated Tarkan even more was his visit to the city shops in Tharn. He had gone to stores that sold potions and weapons meant for Ascenders, hoping they might have gear suitable for his journey. But all the goods were Awakened-tier, clearly meant for use in the First Dimension.

Even the sword strapped to his back was better than the most expensive weapon in any of the shops.

It was pathetic.

He had tried asking the shopkeepers about the Second Dimension, hoping for some insight. But none of them knew anything. All they told him was the same warning that

"Going into the Second Dimension without a sponsor is courting death."

Tarkan asked again and again, pressing them for answers. Why? What made it so dangerous?

But no one could explain. They only repeated the rumors, that anyone who entered without a sponsor never returned. And on the rare occasion someone did come back, they said nothing. They either vanished or refused to re-enter the Second Dimension until they found a sponsor to take them to a higher-tier world.

Over time, it had become something like an unwritten rule. If you didn't have a sponsor or the means to pay for passage into a higher-tier world, you were as good as dead. No one in the whole world dared to challenge that belief.

This only left Tarkan more perplexed... and more curious.

What was it about the Second Dimension that demanded such conditions? Why did a higher-tier world matter so much?

If it was about weapons or potions, surely there would be vendors and marketplaces inside, especially if other races met there. Trade would be inevitable. He couldn't understand what was truly required to survive, or why.

He had even tried to approach that Sam guy, the one who appeared in the VIP section. Tarkan was certain Sam must have surpassed the First Dimension. Slim had told him about the pressure Sam had released at the event.

At the time, Tarkan assumed the man had done it to quiet the crowd. He hadn't realized the truth, that he had been the true target. What the crowd had felt was just the leftover residue of that pressure. Even so, it had knocked people unconscious. Those with weak minds couldn't endure it at all.

Tarkan hadn't noticed. All he had felt was a cool energy brushing past him before vanishing. To this moment, he still wasn't aware he had been the intended focus.

Later, the organizers told him Sam was from a higher-tier world and only visited occasionally to scout for talent.

Tarkan had been disappointed.

He would've preferred to go into the Second Dimension knowing what to expect. But now, with no solid information, he had made his decision.

If no one could tell him, then he would find out for himself.

He wasn't a coward.

Even without the cheat of the Timer, Tarkan believed in one thing and that was luck comes to those who take risks.

In his past life, he had struggled to find food every day. Starving, desperate, he had done unspeakable things, things others feared to even imagine, just to survive. He had risked everything, plotted, manipulated, and clawed his way to the top.

He had it all in the end. Money, women, luxury.

And yet, after a while... it all became boring.

He missed the struggle. The thrill. The desperation that forced him to move forward.

He tried to bury the emptiness by setting luxury cars worth hundreds of millions on fire just for fun. He bought watches covered in ice, diamonds worth millions, and threw them into the ocean. He built a mansion made entirely of pure gold and turned it into a private zoo.

But the more he chased the feeling... the more he felt hollow.

Inside, he was lonely, Lost. Without purpose.

When he was diagnosed with cancer, he felt relieved and happy to relive himself of his boring life.

But instead of the peace he was looking for instead he was reborn in this world, with a cheat Timer, and also awakend a cheat talent.

If even with such cheats he was still scared of dying

He would rather kill himself than live a mediocre life hoping for some loser to come to his aid whenever he was in danger.

He would either reach the top... or die trying. There was no middle ground.

--

Tarkan returned to his mansion after another fruitless day of searching. Inside, he found Slim and Ricky already back, both having returned from their own missions to hunt for information about the Second Dimension.

Their results were the same as his.

Silence filled the room.

Then, suddenly, Tarkan spoke. "I'm going into the Second Dimension to know what's so important about it."

"Alone," he added without hesitation.

Slim, who always had a plain expression on his face, suddenly reacted. His brows furrowed.

"Master, I'm the one who's supposed to be risk..." Slim began, but his voice firm

"It's an order," Tarkan interrupted him with a firm tone.

Slim fell silent.

But Tarkan could see the conflict in his eyes. Slim was thinking about their contract. Thinking he should be the one to take the risk.

But his training kept him from arguing further.

Tarkan knew what he was doing. Whatever the reason people avoided the Second Dimension without a sponsor, he had the highest chance of surviving.

Slim just kept silent staring at Tarkan his expression unreadable. Find this chapter's source on MV-LEM-PYR.

Ricky, standing off to the side, noticed Tarkan's gaze shifting to him.

"I don't wish to court death like you guys," Ricky said quickly, raising both hands. His mouth was moving, chewing on who-knew-what. "I'm good."

Tarkan gave a nod.

"Then I'll be going now."

Slim said nothing else. But his silence spoke volumes. In his eyes, it was clear he didn't want Tarkan to go. Yet, bound by loyalty, he had no choice but to obey.

"I'll be okay, Slim. Don't worry," Tarkan said with a slight laugh.

Even with his usual plain expression, Slim seemed to have a gloomy air around him, as if a sad cloud hovered above his head. A silent sense of failure hung on his shoulders.

Tarkan sat down in the center of the room. Slowly, he prepared to activate the mark that would transport him to the Second Dimension.

Just as he was about to activate the mark

Beep!

An alert rang on his wristband. Startled, he turned to check it, assuming it was Slim or Ricky trying to say something before his departure.

But it wasn't either of them.

The ID on the screen was unknown.

Tarkan frowned. Only Slim and Ricky were added to his contact list. Both were standing right in front of him, clearly not operating their wristbands.

He tapped the message open.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise because at the very top of the message, in bold lettering, it read:

> TERRA ASSOCIATION

...

..

.