Pick Me Up!

A while later, Anytng’s manipulation was complete.

A system message appeared.

[Adjustment completed.]

[Applying changed settings. Please wait a moment.]

Iselle snapped her fingers.

[Where should I look!]

A thick book emerged from thin air.

Iselle unfurled the book with a flourish and began to skim through its contents.

[The current total number of members in the main waiting room is 35… and the instructions from the Master are…]

Jenna approached and whispered to me.

“Oppa, what’s happening? It’s a bit strange.”

“I think I’m fine.”

“Do we really need to divide the first and second floors like this? It’s almost like…”

“Nobles and commoners. If the Master wants to handle us as he pleases, it’s a natural measure. I don’t like it, but it will turn out well.”

Eolka interjected.

She was fluttering a fancy fan she had received as a gift.

“Nobles and commoners, huh.”

Jenna pouted.

I lightly placed my hand on Jenna’s head.

“You wake up early in the morning and go to the training grounds. You’ll work hard there until evening. Then you’ll hunt in the weekday dungeon. More than half of the meat we eat comes from your hunting. You’ll also perform well on missions.”

I turned to the crowd in the second-floor plaza and observed the murmuring people.

Their faces were marked with deep unease.

“What about them?”

“They’re not doing anything. You’re quite naive too. If it were me, I would’ve been annoyed a long time ago.”

Eolka covered her mouth with the fan.

Edis, who had been listening, sighed.

“So, instead of synthesis, he’s creating classes.”

“That’s right.”

All the heroes in the waiting room had shared a similar lifestyle so far.

They had slept in the same bed, eaten the same meals, and worn the same type of clothes. While efforts and achievements varied among individuals, rewards were equal.

If the waiting room was managed mainly through synthesis with a small number of people, that would be acceptable.

However, to advance the current primitive waiting room to the next level, certain measures were necessary to eliminate that. The principle of separation was the solution.

Facility customization.

Initially, this feature was used merely to decorate the waiting room. The Masters didn’t think that heroes possessed intelligence nearly equivalent to humans. They treated them as data with fixed abilities and ranks.

But I was different.

I quickly recognized this and found another use for the seemingly decorative feature.

What Anytng had built now was the A3 model I had used in the very early stages of Niflheimr. It had its downsides, but it was the simplest way to reduce the rate of synthesis. The cross-section of this model was sketched in the play record.

Iselle closed the book.

Then, sprinkling stardust, she turned around the plaza.

[Everyone pay attention! I’m going to announce room assignments. Listen carefully since I’ll only say this once. It’s the Master’s strict order, so if you rebel without cause, expect consequences.]

Iselle cleared her throat and put on a serious expression.

[First-party members, 4 in total! Everyone in the first party will be on the second floor. You can choose any room you want. Same goes for the second party. There are plenty of rooms, so pick any.]

Iselle’s instructions continued.

[Chloe, Enok, Ulter, Patrick, and Amarine too. You guys are on the second floor.]

Relief washed over the faces of those named.

Two cooks, a carpenter, a blacksmith, and a tanner. These were the heroes who had consistently honed their skills since being assigned to the facility. There were other support members, but they lacked skill.

[Everyone else will be on the first floor.]

“Wait!”

A man in the corner of the plaza stepped forward.

Iselle puffed up her cheek that hadn’t lost its baby fat.

[Do you have a complaint?]

“Isn’t the room on the second floor big not enough? Everyone else is on the first floor. Isn’t this wasteful!”

“Exactly! At least 30 people can stay on the second floor! Reassign the rooms!”

A colleague of the man shouted loudly.

Other discontented individuals began expressing their resentments in unison.

“Reassign the rooms!”

“Right. How are we supposed to sleep in a room without a bed? It’s bone-chilling!”

[These people never stop when they get started.]

Iselle laughed brightly and clenched her small fist.

Then, she soared into the air and descended, striking the ground as she landed.

Boom!

The entire waiting room shook violently as if a bomb had exploded.

The people near Iselle grabbed their buttocks. The plaza fell silent for a moment. Iselle folded her wings and perched on the shattered bench.

“You guys are really something! Just a month ago, you would have all been synthesized. Consider this being lucky.”

“But…”

“But what? Want to taste my nuclear punch?”

Iselle raised her guard and extended her right hand as if throwing a punch.

Her small hand moved at an unseen speed, emitting shockwaves. She might look like a petite fairy at first glance, but Iselle was a level 257 monster.

The commotion in the plaza subsided.

Iselle nodded her head with a satisfied expression.

[Now, no more complaints, right? Let’s move on. Chloe, step forward.]

Chloe stepped forward in an apprehensive expression.

“Right, you. You’re the head chef. The Master ordered. From now on, you and Amarine will be the exclusive chefs for the second-floor restaurant.”

“Exclusive chefs?”

[You’ll be responsible for the second-floor residents’ meals.]

“Wait a moment!”

“What now?”

“You’re taking all the chefs away? What are we supposed to do?”

Iselle furrowed her brows.

[Figure it out yourselves. Whether you eat dirt or not. Oh, I forgot to mention, from now on, meat consumption is prohibited on the first floor. Have you seen the potatoes in the first-floor pantry? Roast and eat them.]

“No way… Are you telling us to eat only potatoes?”

[Is that so strange?]

“For fuck’s sake! We’re made to sleep in a place like shit and now we’re not even getting cooked meals?”

A robust man stepped forward bravely.

“Isn’t it unfair that we were dragged here by some fucking psycho who calls himself the Master, and now he’s treating us like this? Do you think we’ll just take it lying down?”

[What do you think will happen if you don’t?]

“This, this… Go to hell!”

The man drew a dagger and charged at Iselle.

Iselle pushed up her sleeves. In the moment when she felt like she was going to clear a corpse,

A flash of light erupted.

The arm wielding the dagger spurted blood and shot into the air. The man stared at his severed right arm for a moment before screaming wildly.

“Aaargh!”

The young man in front of him stuck his tongue out, licked his lips, and twirled the dagger.

Drops of blood scattered in all directions.

It was Velkist.

[What the hell are you doing?]

“As long as you don’t kill him, it’s okay, right?”

——————— –

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