Shepherd Wizard-Chapter 158.1

Translator: Pai_

In a dark room, Turan leaned back in an armchair and stared into a brightly glowing screen.

It was a black-framed object, about the width of four palms side to side, and a little less than two palms top to bottom.

It bore an astonishing resemblance to one of the ancient relics once found on the surface layer of that Tomb of the Gods.

Inside that tiny light, surprisingly, there was another world.

A world where people scattered across the globe gathered in one place to communicate via text and voice, to fight enemies, and to build camaraderie with allies.

In that world, Turan occasionally became a person who traveled through various underground labyrinths and hunting grounds, or interacted with others in a plaza while keeping a small campfire lit.

Unlike other popular games, this one was half-dead and only played by a niche crowd, so the names and faces were all familiar.

[Enchant buff plz]

[Why buff an already broken OP class]

[Why does this person want Enchanters to get even stronger? No shame. Please buff Healers first.]

[Just die already, you catfish!!!]

A red-haired woman who resembled Meisa shouted something, only to get beaten up by others.

Of course, since the plaza was a safe zone, no real damage was done, so others laughed with "kkkkkk" at the sight. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

In truth, that whole thing was more like a performance. If it had been a place where fighting was allowed, that woman could’ve taken care of the ones beating her up in an instant.

That’s precisely why what she had just said became a target of mockery and criticism.

[Looks like the Night Hunter promotion dungeon is bugged again? Boss defense is 10x higher and my DPS isn't registering]

[I'll run it with you. I can easily carry up to 30x difficulty. Let's go]

[You can party in a job change dungeon?]

[If I drop out before you kill it, it counts as a solo clear for you.]

Meanwhile, in another corner, two young men, one with black hair, the other with gray, chatted as they exited the plaza together.

The gray-haired youth leading the way had a massive bow slung over his shoulder, and his face looked rather familiar.

A blue-haired young man behind them pointed and asked a middle-aged man with sky-blue hair who wielded two axes.

[He’s in the same 4th job as me, so why is his attack power double-digit higher??]

[Cuz OtakuHam poured his life into this game… U should also drop like 1000s of $ too lol]

[Why would anyone do that in a shit game like this;]

[Who forced you to pick a stat-garbage PvP class?]

[I like copying skills in whatever game I play lol]

As Turan chuckled watching their chat, a private message that only he could see came through.

[Did you top up?]

It was from someone in the same group as Turan, who had spent a fair amount of money on the game but still had an unpopular class due to the class itself being trash.

Because the guild had many older members, they had become close thanks to being around the same age.

[I did]

[Snuck in while Mom was in the shower, used her phone]

[If I get caught, I’m dead lol]

Turan giggled as he secretly conversed with the other person.

Outside, he was a pathetic loser, but inside this world, he could act with pride all he wanted.

No matter how much the evils of reality seeped into this place, they couldn’t link his in-game self with who he was in the real world.

"Open the damn door before I break it down, you bastard!"

At that moment, a loud bang sounded at the door along with the yelling of a middle-aged man from outside.

A woman’s voice tried to calm him down, saying others could hear.

Startled by his father's voice, Turan flinched and pulled the blanket beside him over his body while still seated.

It didn't solve anything, but it was a primal urge to protect himself somehow.

From beyond the door came crude insults aimed at him.

That he was a loser who dropped out of school and did nothing but play games, that he was happy stealing his mom’s phone to make payments.

'Fuck, why are you only making a fuss about me? Other people earn so much money they don't even care about this level of spending. Blaming me for your own incompetence.'

Cursing internally, Turan spread the blanket over both himself and the monitor screen.

Like this, it felt as if everything besides him and the world inside that screen didn’t exist.

He wished he could be that character inside the game instead of a shut-in dropout who had left high school because of school violence-

***

"......Ah."

Early in the morning, as he opened his eyes in bed, Turan recalled the dream he had just experienced.

A dark room, a fantasy world, condemning parents, and yearning...

Though they were clearly not his own memories, they felt vivid as if they had come directly from within himself.

‘Could this be... one of Cadrum’s old memories?’

Not long ago, just as he had once threatened Reshion and the other half-elves, Turan had shattered Cadrum’s soul into fragments.

It was only after confirming to the very end whether there was any willingness to communicate that he proceeded.

As a result, dozens of soul fragments had been created, just like those that once took over Midan and Visen’s bodies in the past.

Turan had tried absorbing one relatively small fragment, but all he could catch were fleeting, hazy illusions.

In the end, he had handed over the newly found fragment to the Librarian, who had become bored after finishing the cataloging of ancient books, for further analysis. And soon after, he began having dreams like this.

‘It felt like I became Cadrum.’

Within that world, Turan had been able to think exactly like Cadrum- or rather, like a teenage boy who had dropped out of high school and shut himself in his room.

The concept of the 'real world', which had never quite sunk in despite hearing about it multiple times from the half-elves, suddenly felt vividly close.

As he rose from bed, Turan recalled something Reshion had once mentioned in passing.

He had said that the survivors of the old Preah God Tribe, including themselves, had mostly been younger individuals.

This was because the chains that bound body and soul, Soul Chains, deteriorated with age, and thus took the older ones first.

[Those who made their mark in history, those truly powerful ones, were almost always top-ranked players. Naturally, gaining that kind of power required a huge financial investment, and older people were better positioned to do that. So most of the ones who barely survived were nobodies in this world's history, mere followers, teens in their late adolescence or early twenties in real age.]

Reshion had said, speaking as though it were someone else’s business, that you’d have to be crazy to devote your life to a dead game when so many popular ones were around.

If they had been more mature and knowledgeable, they might have reshaped this world even while switching bodies. But all they could do was mess around like immature kids on a two-year-long vacation, clashing and flailing.

Back then, Turan hadn’t really understood what that meant, but now it was starting to make sense.

Not just that, he was now beginning to understand the conversations his grandfather Talis once had with the Carmine God Tribe, and the mutterings of Ymir.

The reasons why proxies such as the Night Hunter or the Earth Mother God, who had left their names to posterity, couldn’t reincarnate were pathetically trivial.

He sighed briefly at the thought, then suddenly found himself staring at the firmly shut door and recalling someone pounding on it.

The door had to remain shut. What came from outside was only fear...

“Maybe I’ll kill him if I ever go back.”

Turan, unconsciously muttering while thinking of Cadrum’s father, clicked his tongue a moment later.

He realized he had become too immersed in his dream self and overly sympathized with those emotions.

If he continued absorbing Cadrum’s soul, it would become increasingly difficult to distinguish between Cadrum’s thoughts and emotions and his own.

And to think this was the result of absorbing just one of thousands of soul fragments.

Now he could understand what the Librarian meant when it said that continual absorption of soul fragments might lead to a full resurrection.

‘I’d better refrain from absorbing any more souls for now.’

Though it was a significant benefit to instantly catch up with the mindset of players just by absorbing a fragment, losing his sense of self would render it meaningless.

After all, having his own memories and thinking in his own way was what Turan considered to be clearly 'self'.

“Who were you saying you’ll kill?”

At that moment, a voice came from the bed where he had been lying moments before.

As Meisa rubbed her eyes and began to rise, Turan gently pressed her shoulder back down and covered her half-exposed body with the blanket.

“Meisa, if someone said we should buff Enchanters, what would you think?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Nothing, just wondering.”

He thought she might remember something since she resembled that person quite a bit, but apparently not.

***