Oops, I Accidentally Ascended to Godhood

A group of about seven people appeared on the hill Tarkan had once used to scout. They were armed. Leading them was a man with a bloodthirsty aura, likely from countless killings.

A huge, ugly scar ran down his face. He looked somewhere between 38 and 47 years old. He stood at the front, clearly their leader.

Two men dressed in all black approached his side and bowed.

"We've scouted the entire area," one of them said. "There's no sign of any living Oryk. All of them were found dead and headless. We suspect it was done by that kid."

The scar-faced man glanced down at Tarkan, who was seated with a gloomy expression. The girl sat quietly in one corner, not making a sound.

"Aron, what do you think we should do?" one of the men beside him asked. "This is the last Oryk nest. If we can't complete the Oryk body parts, we'll fail our client's mission. The deadline is close, we can't afford to waste more time."

"Our numbers have already been cut in half on this mission," another added. "We've lost too much to fail now. We can't afford to look for another Oryk."

As a third man was about to speak, Aron raised his hand and silenced them. His eyes were still fixed on Tarkan.

"Who said we'll fail the mission?" Aron said, flashing a cruel smile across his ugly face. "It's just a couple of kids."

"Ohh…"

The men behind him exchanged knowing glances. Their eyes fell on Tarkan and the girl, and they all began licking their lips.

Tarkan, still seated, suddenly felt his senses flare. Several hostile gazes were on him, and faint killing intent drifted down from the same hill he had once used to scout the pig village.

He immediately grabbed his weapon and said to Eve, "Stay behind me."

Aron saw that Tarkan had sensed them, but he didn't seem bothered. He wasn't hiding his presence to begin with. He stepped to the edge of the hill and raised his hand.

"We come in peace, friend," Aron said, wearing an ugly thing he called a smile, his hands still raised like he was surrendering.

After a while, Aron and his group circled around and entered the village. Their faces were filled with shock. Aron's expression also showed surprise.

As they walked through the village, every Oryk they came across was headless, without exception. Judging by the corpses, there were no other injuries. It looked as if every one of them had willingly presented their necks to be slaughtered.

The scene was so eerie that even some of Aron's battle-hardened men, men who had seen many horrors, began to feel creeped out.

It didn't take long for them to reach Tarkan's position.

Even though Aron knew the pigs were among the weakest creatures, known for cowardice, low defense, and simple brute strength, he became a bit wary.

Even with his full team combined, he was sure they couldn't wipe out a whole village of them. More so, killing all of them with clean strikes to the neck?

That kind of precision was terrifying.

"Good day, friend. My name is Aron. We are travelers," he said, extending his hand toward Tarkan.

"Tarkan," Tarkan replied, completely ignoring the hand.

He calmly watched the man, fully alert for any sudden movements.

"Relax, friend. We mean no harm. If you want, we can even leave," Aron said.

"I would like that," Tarkan said, eyes still locked on Aron. He had felt their killing intent earlier from the hill and wasn't going to take any chances.

Aron's men, seeing how casually Tarkan spoke to their boss, suddenly flew into a rage.

"Who do you think yo.."

Slap!

A loud slap cut him off.

"Who asked you to speak?" Aron barked at the minion, who no longer dared to make a sound.

Tarkan was surprised by Aron's behavior, but didn't show it. His expression remained calm.

"No problem, friend. We'll leave," Aron said. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to buy ten of these dead Oryks. Name your price. As long as it's reasonable, I'll pay." This сhаptеr wаs uplоаdеd by thе tеаm аt М|VLЕМРYR.

"Hmm…"

Tarkan pondered for a moment.

"I don't need money," he said suddenly.

Aron, who had been smiling, now wore a troubled expression.

"Mr. Tarka..."

"But I'll trade with you," Tarkan cut in. "If you can give me useful information about the Second Dimension, its format, and directions to any nearby shelters, we have a deal."

His expression was calm.

Aron was first shocked. He turned and glanced at the headless Oryks scattered around.

"Weren't you the one who killed the Oryks?" he asked. He was beginning to feel uneasy. The only people who asked for information like that were newbies who entered the dimension for the first time being mostly strays or had no background at all.

But Tarkan didn't look like someone without support. And Judging from the crudely made weapon in his hand, Aron was almost certain,Tarkan had killed all the Oryks.

"Deal or no deal?" Tarkan asked, not bothering to answer Aron's question.

Seeing the massacre and the eerie way the pigs were killed, Aron didn't dare risk his life. He assumed Tarkan must have a powerful background. Even if he wanted to kill him, Tarkan might be carrying strong artifacts that could protect him.

He wasn't willing to put his life in jeopardy over something that could be acquired easily.

"Deal," Aron said quickly. He believed Tarkan was testing them, and didn't want to say the wrong things.

The men who had followed Aron all stared at him like he was a stranger.

This wasn't what they had agreed on.

...

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