What did the creator want from us? What was the point of sending us here? At this point, I was as sure as everyone else—whoever made this place could create and destroy worlds like it was nothing. So why go through all this trouble just to mess with a few billion mortals like us?
Whatever the reason, one thing was clear: we'd been given an opportunity. So how could I just sit back and waste it?
"Not five hundred. Not even five hundred thousand. I'll keep cutting until this job is done!"
Fueled by my determination, I dived back into the Fallen. I kept an eye on my stats, making sure nothing went wrong. After all, a single mistake could mean eight hours of pain. That fear pushed me forward more than anything else. The longer I hunted, the more I began to understand the point of this punishment.
I had to kill over 500 Fallen to level up. It took me four hours. But it wasn't the danger that scared me the most—it was the idea of wasting eight hours for nothing. That's why I started checking in on my party members every hour. I wanted to learn more about how their skills worked and how fast they were progressing. We needed to come up with smarter plans if we wanted to survive.
Five hours had passed since we split up. I didn't expect to feel this nervous when checking their results.
Rimel was only using her ability, just like I told her to. She had used it 230 times. But she hadn't killed a single Fallen. That was disappointing—until she mentioned something surprising: her Goodness Points had reached 100.
Then I realized what was happening. Most of the mobs in her zone were passive, meaning they didn't attack unless provoked. Some of the immune people she helped must've taken advantage of her skill and killed the Fallen during their 10-second invincibility.
I quickly asked if any skill books had dropped. We had already seen how important they were. But no—nothing had appeared in five hours. That made me realize something else: getting a skill book on our first kill was a rare privilege, not something everyone would get.
Toraman had more balanced results. He killed 200 Fallen and used his ability 225 times. Not bad for a start. I figured he'd improve quickly, like me—especially since his style was more physical than magical.
But the real surprise came from someone totally unexpected: Şükrücük.
When I finally caught up with him, I learned he had gone full terminator mode. He hadn't used his ability even once—just kept slashing through mobs like a machine. He'd killed 900 Fallen already.
No one could match my efficiency. I had 780 kills and used my ability 540 times. But Şükrücük's raw speed was worrying—especially for a tank. He wasn't playing his role.
I'd seen this before in other online games: tanks who wanted to deal damage instead of protecting the team. I never liked that type. Their need to show off often got everyone killed.
I made up my mind. As soon as Şükrücük leveled up, I would pair him with Rimel to keep him from getting too ambitious. If he stayed solo, he might start thinking he didn't need the rest of us.
And I didn't have to wait long. About thirty minutes later, a voice echoed in our minds.
"Guys! I leveled up! I hit 1000 kills, and this metallic voice spoke to me! It told me what I earned!"
We all froze. That was huge news. Everyone waited in silence, letting him speak.
"What happened?" Toraman finally asked.
"I earned two stat points to improve my abilities," Şükrücük said. "And I got a reward! I was one of the first ten people on the First Floor of Hell to reach Level 2, and the system gave me armor!"
That last part hit me hard. The system was giving out equipment to the first ten players who leveled up. I had no idea that was even possible.
"Bro, did you get the armor? What are its stats?" I asked, barely containing my excitement.
"I don't know, Max. I haven't received it yet."
Of course. There were usually two ways rewards arrived in games: through in-game mail or from a shop.
"Say 'Open Mailbox,'" I told him quickly. He didn't know the commands, so I had to guide him step by step.
"I see a screen. It says, 'Congratulations, your gift is in the message.'"
"Open it!"
"I opened it. There's a letter. It says, 'You are the eighth sinner to reach Level 2 on the First Floor of Hell. You have earned the Child of Sorrow armor.'"
"What kind of name is that?" he groaned. Apparently, it reminded him of Little Emrah, some tragic TV character from back home.
But I wasn't focused on the name. I was stuck on the number—eighth.
That meant there were two spots left in the top ten. I didn't care about using skills anymore—I needed to act fast. If I got in quick enough, I could still get the reward.
My fear of death was replaced with a hunger for the prize. I threw myself into the mobs, not waiting for my energy to fully recharge. Ever since I learned 1000 Fallen were enough to level up, I'd been doing the math. If I downed just 220 more, I'd have a shot at making the cut.
I ditched my abilities and went full melee mode. I hit Level 2 just as the hour mark approached.
"Congratulations!"
A system message echoed in my brain. My hands got sweaty from excitement. I regretted not focusing on leveling up earlier—but I still hoped for a reward.
"You have earned 2 stat points to increase your attributes."
I waited. Ten seconds. Then thirty. Then a full minute.
No other message came.
I couldn't help myself. I asked the system, "What is my rank among those who reached Level 2 on the First Floor of Hell?"
The prize was gone. But I still wanted to know how close I had been.
Part of me hoped I had missed it by a wide margin—just to ease the disappointment.
Funny how the mind works. Ten minutes ago, I was doing everything I could to make the top ten. Now that I knew I'd failed, I was hoping I wasn't even close.
"11!"
The number appeared in front of my eyes.
Eleventh.
I had missed the armor by one place.
Two digits next to each other—that was all it took to break my spirit a little.