Jin crossed into the high-density zone with a steadier pace than the day before, his steps neither hurried nor hesitant, but measured, as if each movement had already been calculated before it happened. The difference was subtle yet important. Yesterday, he had tested his limits by pushing forward until resistance forced him to stop. Today, he had no intention of repeating that mistake. Growth wasn't about how far he could go in a single push, but how much he could gain without unnecessary risk. Efficiency, not recklessness, defined progress.
The environment felt familiar now, though not comfortable. The ruins scattered across the zone created uneven terrain that could either be used for positioning or become an obstacle depending on how well it was read. Shadows stretched between broken structures, and the silence carried weight—not emptiness, but presence. The monsters here weren't just reacting anymore. They were waiting, observing, adjusting. That alone forced Jin to stay alert in a way he hadn't needed to at the entrance.
A faint scraping sound reached him from the right, almost indistinguishable from the natural shifting of debris. Jin slowed immediately, reducing his movement until even his footsteps made no unnecessary noise. His eyes shifted first, then his body followed, aligning with the direction of the sound without exposing his position more than necessary.
Two goblins emerged from behind a fractured wall, their posture lower than the ones he had encountered earlier, their eyes fixed on him with a focus that suggested something closer to intent than instinct. They didn't rush. They waited, as if expecting him to make the first move.
Jin stepped forward.
That was enough to trigger them.
The first goblin lunged low, aiming for his legs, its movement fast and direct. The second followed a fraction of a second later from a wider angle, trying to cut off his escape path. It was a simple coordination, but effective against someone who reacted instead of thinking.
Jin didn't retreat. Instead, he shifted diagonally, just enough to let the first attack pass without disturbing his balance. At the same time, his sword moved—not toward the closer goblin, but toward the second one. The one controlling the angle was always the greater threat. Removing it simplified the fight instantly.
The blade cut cleanly across its throat.
The goblin collapsed before it could adjust.
[Kill Confirmed]
[Calculating Target Stats…]
Target Stats:
Strength: 8
Agility: 6
Vitality: 7
Mana: 2
Total: 23
[Inferior Extraction Activated]
1% of 23 = 0.23 → Rounded = 1 Stat Point
[+1 Free Stat Point Acquired]
The first goblin had already turned, its initial attack interrupted but not ended. Jin stepped forward instead of back, closing the distance before it could reset its stance. His blade thrust into its chest, angled upward to ensure the strike ended it immediately.
It dropped without resistance.
[Kill Confirmed]
[Calculating Target Stats…]
Target Stats:
Strength: 7
Agility: 6
Vitality: 6
Mana: 2
Total: 21
[Inferior Extraction Activated]
1% of 21 = 0.21 → Rounded = 1 Stat Point
[+1 Free Stat Point Acquired]
Jin exhaled quietly and opened the system, not out of curiosity, but necessity. Tracking mattered. Without it, improvement couldn't be measured, and without measurement, adjustment became guesswork.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Jin Vale
Level: 1
Strength: 7
Agility: 10
Vitality: 9
Mana: 1
Free Stat Points: 3
Skills:
Inferior Extraction (Inferior)
Three points.
He closed the window immediately.
The number itself wasn't the issue. The rate was.
Each goblin gave him one point. That was consistent. Predictable. But it also meant that reaching thirty points—the threshold for upgrading his skill—would take time unless he increased efficiency or targeted enemies with higher total stats.
Higher total stats meant stronger enemies.
Stronger enemies meant more resistance.
More resistance meant more risk.
Jin continued forward, adjusting his path slightly to move along the edges of the zone rather than directly through its center. The density here wasn't random. Groups formed naturally, and fighting groups slowed him down. Slower fights reduced overall gain, even if the outcome remained the same.
A cluster of movement ahead confirmed his assumption.
Three goblins stood in a loose triangular formation, maintaining distance from one another. They weren't advancing. They were holding position, waiting for him to commit first.
Jin slowed.
Charging directly would trigger all three at once. Even if he won, the time spent dealing with overlapping attacks would reduce efficiency. There was no advantage in that.
So he changed the angle.
He moved along the outer edge of their formation, forcing them to turn instead of advance. That small adjustment disrupted their spacing. The goblin on the far left stepped forward slightly, trying to correct the imbalance.
That was enough.
Jin accelerated.
His sword cut across its neck before the others could react.
[+1 Free Stat Point]
He didn't stop moving. The second goblin attacked immediately, but its timing was off. Jin stepped inside its swing, reducing the force of the attack by entering its range, then drove his blade upward into its throat.
[+1 Free Stat Point]
The third goblin hesitated.
Jin didn't.
He closed the distance and ended it in a single strike.
[+1 Free Stat Point]
He paused briefly after the third kill, not out of fatigue, but to evaluate. His movements were becoming more efficient. Less wasted motion. Less hesitation. That translated directly into speed and control.
He opened the system again.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Jin Vale
Level: 1
Strength: 7
Agility: 10
Vitality: 9
Mana: 1
Free Stat Points: 6
Skills:
Inferior Extraction (Inferior)
Six points.
Better.
Still far from thirty.
Jin closed the window and moved toward the boundary of the deeper zone again. The air shifted slightly as he approached, the pressure increasing just enough to be noticeable. Yesterday, he had crossed without hesitation and adapted after. Today, he stopped just short of entering fully.
Then he stepped forward—only enough to test.
A low, heavy sound echoed from ahead.
Not a goblin.
Not even a hobgoblin.
Something larger.
Jin didn't move further.
His grip on the sword tightened slightly as he observed the direction of the sound, the rhythm, the distance. It wasn't close enough to engage immediately, but not far enough to ignore either.
Jin stepped back.
Not retreating.
Choosing.
His grip tightened slightly around the sword as he listened to the low, heavy sound echoing from deeper within the zone. The weight behind it was different from anything he had faced so far—slower, heavier, but carrying a presence that suggested one thing clearly.
If he misjudged it—
He would be injured.
And injury here wasn't something he could ignore.
Even a small mistake—a torn muscle, a deep cut, a broken rhythm in movement—would slow him down. Slower reactions meant higher risk. Higher risk meant more mistakes. And mistakes stacked quickly in a place like this.
Growth didn't matter if he couldn't maintain control.
He exhaled quietly, his gaze lingering on the direction of the sound for a moment longer before shifting away.
Not today.
He turned.
There was no hesitation in the decision, no sense of missed opportunity. Fighting something beyond his current margin wasn't progress—it was gambling. And he had nothing to gain from unnecessary risk.
Jin walked back toward the gate, his pace steady, his breathing controlled, his attention still sharp despite the decision to leave. He didn't relax. Not yet. Leaving safely was part of the process, not an afterthought.
The gate came into view gradually, along with the presence of other students returning from their own attempts. Some moved slower than when they entered. Some carried visible injuries. A few leaned on others for support.
Jin's eyes passed over them briefly.
That was the result of pushing too far.
Not strength.
Mistake.
The gate came into view gradually, along with other students returning from their own attempts. Some looked injured. Some looked frustrated. A few looked satisfied.
Jin passed all of them without stopping.
No one spoke to him.
He stepped through.
The shift back to the real world was immediate. The pressure disappeared, replaced by normal air, normal weight, normal silence.
[Exited Secondary World]
Jin returned to the dormitory and sat down on the edge of his bed, placing the sword beside him. His body felt stable—no serious strain—but his mind was already replaying the fights, isolating inefficiencies, correcting them mentally.
He opened the system once more.
[STATUS WINDOW]
Name: Jin Vale
Level: 1
Strength: 7
Agility: 10
Vitality: 9
Mana: 1
Free Stat Points: 6
Skills:
Inferior Extraction (Inferior)
Six points.
The number wasn't the issue.
The rate wasn't the issue.
Something else was.
His gaze lingered on one detail.
Level.
It hadn't changed.
Not once.
No matter how many monsters he had killed.
No matter how efficiently he had fought.
There was no indication of progress.
Jin leaned back slightly, then closed the system.
"So it's not active yet."
The conclusion came without hesitation.
There was no frustration in it. Just recognition.
If something didn't change, it meant it wasn't functioning.
Which meant—
There was another condition.
Jin's fingers tapped once against the edge of the bed before going still.
"I should make an appointment."
Not immediately.
But soon.
Because if there was another layer to the system—
Then leaving it unopened would be inefficient.
And inefficiency—
Was something he had already decided to eliminate.