We're just passing through," I replied smoothly, keeping my hand loose near my infantry blade. I made sure my expression remained perfectly neutral, masking the absolute alarm standard system-era survivors would feel in front of this man.
Woojin's smile didn't falter, but through my Dragon's Eyes, I watched his hidden mana paths shift, testing the air around us like invisible spider silk. The subterranean station was damp, smelling of rusted iron and stagnant water, but the true suffocating weight in the room wasn't the underground atmosphere—it was the invisible web this man was weaving around everyone inside Sector 4-B.
In my past life, the bloody history of the tutorial era was written in localized massacres, but what came after the tutorial was a global catastrophe. Once the training phase concluded and the regional barriers shattered, the true monsters of the system era emerged onto the unified world stage. Among them, none were more feared than the Eight Evils.
They weren't just a local Korean problem. While Woojin was currently planting his roots here in the underground ruins of Seoul, the remaining seven evils were scattered across different global tutorial zones—from the ruined metropolises of North America to the flooded lowlands of Europe and the brutal death-matches of Eastern Europe. They were warlords, tyrants, and mass murderers waiting for the planet's integration to finalize so they could unleash havoc on a global scale. Each possessed apocalyptic combat prowess, legendary tier-skills, or unique hidden classes that could level entire nations and turn thousands of high-level rankers into dust.
If you stripped away his followers and forced him into a direct, one-on-one duel, his base attributes were utterly pathetic compared to the others. He lacked continent-shattering destructive magic, absolute physical invulnerability, or blinding, light-speed swordsmanship. In a pure test of raw stats, strength, or agility, almost any mid-tier vanguard from any country could strike Woojin down in a matter of seconds. He was fragile, slow, and lacked any notable defensive scaling.
But the Smiling Devil never fought fairly, and he absolutely never fought alone.
His legendary starting skill, [Whisper of the Subconscious], was a passive-active psychological virus that bypassed traditional physical armor entirely. It didn't flash with bright magic, it didn't require chanting, and it didn't trigger standard low-tier danger perception warnings. Instead, it subtly warped the emotions of anyone who stayed near him for too long. It amplified their deepest anxieties, exploited their desperation, and quietly rewrote their cognitive loyalty until they genuinely believed Woojin was their sole savior in a dying world.
He was a master puppet master operating a fortress of eighty brainwashed souls, quietly harvesting the system points and equipment of anyone who dared to question his absolute authority. Later, once the global integration began and the world lines crossed, this seemingly weak man would use his terrifying manipulation skills to bend even high-ranking foreign rankers and apex predators to his absolute will. He didn't need high strength stats when he could simply command a vanguard of brainwashed S-rank hunters to bleed for him.
Passing through?" Woojin echoed, his voice carrying a soft, melodic cadence that hummed with a faint, almost imperceptible trace of active mana. "A pity. A group with your obvious combat capability could help us protect these innocent people. The world outside is broken, after all. We must cling together if we wish to see tomorrow."
Beside me, Minsoo's eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second. The fierce, sharp light that usually defined her gaze went slightly dim, and her rigid posture relaxed just a bit. Her hand drifted away from the hilt of her twin daggers.
He... has a point," Minsoo whispered, her tone carrying a strange, unnatural compliance. "It's safe here. Look at the children, the barricades... maybe we don't need to keep running through the dark tunnels."
It's already starting, I realized, a cold spike of adrenaline hitting my chest. My jaw tightened as I fought down the instinct to draw my sword and sever Woojin's head right then and there. If I attacked him now, the eighty desperate civilians in this room—including the armed guards—would throw their bodies into my blade to protect him, viewing me as a heartless monster murdering their savior.
The mental pressure in the air was incredibly subtle, like a warm, heavy blanket inviting a freezing man to just lie down and go to sleep. It whispered that the struggle was over, that I could trust the smiling man in front of me, and that laying down my weapons was the only logical choice.
[Warning: An external mental force is attempting to influence your emotional state.]
[Perception check successful.]
[Your unique status and cognitive fortitude have completely nullified the effect.]
The system notifications blinked silently in the corner of my vision, confirmation that my past-life memories and current soul strength acted as an unyielding shield against his psychological virus.
"We appreciate the hospitality," I said, stepping slightly in front of Minsoo, deliberately breaking Woojin's direct line of sight to her. I let a fraction of my own mana leak out—just enough to snap Minsoo out of her trance without alerting the entire room.
Minsoo blinked rapidly, a sudden shiver passing through her shoulders as the fog cleared from her eyes. She looked at Woojin again, this time with a deep, instinctive recoil, though she wisely kept her mouth shut.
"But we have a tight schedule to keep," I continued, looking straight into Woojin's gentle eyes. "We just need to register, rest our legs for the night, and we'll be out of your hair by dawn."
Woojin's predatory eyes flickered, the tiniest twitch occurring at the corner of his left eye. He realized, with absolute certainty, that his starting skill hadn't taken root in my mind. For a man who ruled through invisible threads, finding someone completely immune to his whispers was a rare, dangerous anomaly.
His pleasant smile widened just a fraction, revealing a sliver of the glinting, sadistic malice that would one day orchestrate the mass slaughters of thousands of civilians just to fuel his own stat growth.
"Of course," Woojin murmured, stepping aside with a gracious, perfectly executed bow that made him look like a humble concierge rather than a budding global tyrant. "Follow me to the registration desk. Let's make you feel right at home."
The interior of Sector 4-B was a masterclass in psychological conditioning. As Woojin led us through the overturned train cars, I kept my Dragon's Eyes active, observing the erratic, corrupted mana signatures of the survivors huddled around the campfires.
They weren't just terrified; they were completely dependent. Woojin walked past them like a living deity. Mothers reached out just to touch the hem of his dark jacket, and injured men offered him portions of their meager canned rations. He accepted their adoration with practiced humility, patting shoulders and offering soft words of encouragement that only deepened the invisible chains binding them to him.
You see," Woojin spoke over his shoulder, his voice loud enough for Yoon Sul and Minsoo to hear clearly. "When the system arrived, people panicked. They turned on each other for a handful of copper coins and low-tier skill books. But I realized early on that our greatest resource isn't the system's rewards—it's unity. Together, we can clear the local subways, secure food, and build a sanctuary that the monsters can't breach."
"And what happens to those who don't want to cooperate?" Yoon Sul asked, his voice shaking slightly as his Gamer interface frantically calculated the discrepancy between Woojin's low physical level and the massive, suffocating aura surrounding him.
Woojin stopped near a heavily reinforced iron door that led deeper into the metro's maintenance sectors. He turned around, his smile perfectly symmetrical, completely devoid of human warmth when viewed up close.
"Why, they are free to leave, of course," Woojin said softly. "The surface tunnels are always open. Though, sadly, few who leave our sanctuary ever survive the night. The monsters out there are terribly unforgiving to those who walk alone."
Lie, I thought, my fingers tightening around the grip of my D-Rank Reinforced Steel Infantry Blade.
In my past life, the records of Sector 4-B revealed a far more gruesome reality. Anyone who questioned Woojin's rules didn't leave for the surface. They were quietly drugged, disarmed, and dragged into the dark maintenance shafts beneath the tracks. There, Woojin would personally execute them, utilizing a hidden system mechanic that allowed him to absorb a percentage of an executed player's accumulated system points. He was literally fattening these survivors up like livestock, letting them farm low-level monsters during the day so he could harvest the dissenters at night to slowly overcome his weak stat growth.
Here we are," Woojin said, gesturing to a long plastic folding table where a young man with sunken eyes and a trembling hand sat with a heavy ledger. "This is our intake station. We ask for a simple declaration of your current level, your primary class archetype, and a small, symbolic contribution of fifty system points to help maintain the shelter's shared inventory."
Fifty points. During the first week of the tutorial, fifty points was an exorbitant amount—the equivalent of slaying five high-tier goblin scouts or a dozen mutated rats. For an average survivor, paying that fee meant delaying their own stat advancement or going without basic gear upgrades. It was the perfect filter to keep the population weak and subservient while funneling wealth directly into Woojin's inner circle.
Fifty points seems steep for a single night's stay," Minsoo spoke up, her tone sharp and defensive, her training as an assassin making her highly resistant to financial extortion.
The clerk at the desk flinched, casting a terrified glance up at Woojin.
Woojin merely chuckled, a warm, grandfatherly sound that completely betrayed his youthful appearance. "Think of it as an investment in your safety, young lady. The guards on the perimeter risk their lives to keep the monsters at bay while you sleep. Surely your lives are worth more than fifty digital points?"
As he spoke, the invisible mana threads in the air spiked, coiling around Minsoo's shoulders once more, attempting to force her into agreement. I stepped forward, slamming a handful of glowing system shards onto the plastic table with enough force to crack the cheap material. The sharp sound shattered the gathering mental fog in the immediate area.
"One hundred and fifty points," I said coldly, staring directly into the Smiling Devil's eyes. "For all three of us. We pay the fee, we get a quiet corner to sleep, and no one bothers us. Do we have a deal, Administrator Woojin?"
Woojin looked down at the glowing shards, then slowly brought his eyes back up to meet mine. For the first time, his warm smile vanished entirely, replaced by a straight, flat line. The temperature in the immediate vicinity seemed to drop by several degrees as his [Whisper of the Subconscious] skill slammed against my mental defenses like a tidal wave, demanding submission, demanding that I bow my head and recognize his absolute authority.
I didn't blink. I stood perfectly still, my posture loose, my expression completely unbothered by the psychological pressure that could have driven an ordinary man to his knees in tears.
After three agonizing seconds of silent mental warfare, the flat line on Woojin's face curved back upward into his signature, welcoming grin. But the eyes—the eyes remained dead, calculating, and intensely predatory.
"We have a deal," Woojin said, his voice as smooth as silk. "Welcome to Sector 4-B. I truly hope you find exactly what you are looking for down here."
As the clerk hurriedly scraped the system shards into a metal lockbox, I turned my back on the weakest of the Eight Evils, knowing that tonight would be the longest night of the tutorial. He knew I was a threat, and I knew exactly what he was. In the dark confines of this underground fortress, the game of survival had just changed entirely.