The Tutorial Is Too Hard

“Is it fine to do it like this?”

“Nothing can be undone.”

I’d said everything I wanted to, and I sent them out because I had nothing more to say.

“No, I was talking about Park Min.”

That didn’t matter either. There was no need to talk about it anymore. I was going to be the one to judge and punish.

It wasn’t urgent, so I let him come and find me himself. Park Min had only two options: find a new way to deal with the mantis or come here in fear.

The former would be good if he could figure out something new, and the latter, he’d just have to deal with it.

“What about the government? You made that mess in the middle of the city yesterday,” asked Hochi.

When Hochi, who usually had no interest in such things, asked this question, I was a little surprised.

“From the novel I’m reading, I got to know that the government would usually explode at times like this.”

“What kind of novel is that?”

Hochi replied that this happened in almost every novel like a cliché.

Kim Min-hyuk explained, “Maybe they won’t act right away. Arresting the Awakened who committed a crime usually requires cooperation from the Association.”

This meant that the government’s count of Awakened was low.

Their army was inadequate to subdue the rebellious Awakened in the heart of the city.

Come to think of it, the fact that the Association said it wouldn’t intervene between the government and me meant that it could ignore the government’s request.

The man I sent home earlier was brave.

He had a good story to present to others. He could say anything he wanted without worrying about me getting angry since the government didn’t bind him.

“The judiciary will discuss punishment. But it’s impossible for the decision to be enforced. There’s no way the police can move alone. Maybe they will come up with a reasonable compromise.”

Instead of just letting me go for the Seoul Station incident, they would ask me a few things like trying to get me into pro-government groups.

Kim Min-hyuk explained some of his theories. They were plausible.

“It’s gonna take a while for them to get moving, regardless.”

“Right. They have to gather opinions internally and reach an agreement. You’ll have to pay attention to the media and the public to check on the situation.”

Then there was nothing bothersome left now. That was a relief.

“It’s been years since the Awakened had the power in their hands, and the government is used to compromising one way or another, so they won’t come up with an absurd proposal. They have brains, and they know what an angry Awakened can do. Of course, even if they come up with a reasonable offer, you...”

“I don’t care.”

Kim Min-hyuk mumbled, “Yes, that’s where the problem will arise.”

It wouldn’t be a big problem.

“The first thing you’ll have to worry about is the public.”

Kim Min-hyuk had explained the Korean citizens’ situation. Protests and public criticism of the Awakened had intensified.

“Thanks to me, it’s going to be a little quiet.”

“...Isn’t it just getting worse?”

“Of course. You can be mad at a dog who’s supposed to be guarding the house for not doing what it was supposed to do. But if the dog grows out of control and doesn’t recognize people, you’ll be scared before getting angry.”

Kim Min-hyuk nodded with an impressed look.

“Even though you said dog metaphorically, it suits you.”

This b*stard.

“But we still have to do something. You can’t just turn your back on the people.” Kim Min-hyuk said firmly.

As he said, we must solve the problems of the public. Leaving them as they are would be a loss in one way or another.

What should we do? I wondered if there was some creative idea, but as always, nothing came to mind.

It would be better to go along with the most common way—the most frequently used method on the 61st floor.

“Announce it to the people. I’ll cure them of any disease. Just 30 people a month on a first-come, first-serve basis. Oh, even if they’re dead, I can still save them.”

First-come, first-serve, regardless of the severity of the disease.

“...Is this possible? Did you bring any Elixirs?”

Of course, I had some. But it wasn’t meant to be used here. Even without Elixirs, I could cure human diseases. I am a god after all

Kim Min-hyuk, who had been thinking over my proposal for a while, asked in an anxious tone, “What if there’s backlash?”

Kim Min-hyuk talked about many plausible cases. If I continued being good, I knew what would happen.

People may blame me for not treating more people even though I had the ability. Besides, there may be those in power who want to ignore the first-come-first-serve order. There was no room for trouble.

I heard Kim Min-hyuk’s explanation, but I didn’t think it would be a big problem.

Volunteers who helped others out of goodwill were often treated as servants.

Humans are those who have become social through relationships, and a service done from goodwill could always reverse this relationship, making the receiver arrogant.

But that was the story of the powerless. Unfortunately, people couldn’t ask me for anything.

I’d already proven my strength by clearing Hell difficulty level and burning Seoul Station. And I would continue to show more.

People would know. Naturally, I didn’t need to prove my power. Of course, there would be many desperate people. Some may beg for mercy and some may be enraged for their relatives who were about to die.

But as long as I gave priority to solidifying my relationship with them rather than giving credit to their desperation, there wouldn’t be any change in our relationship.

Instead, their desperation was my power.

“Their resentment could be big enough to cover everything.”

Kim Min-hyuk kept trying to make me understand the consequences of the deprivation and anger of those who couldn’t make it to the first come, first serve.

I didn’t ignore it because I didn’t understand it. Of course, the resentment would be enormous.

It wasn’t bad to be the center of the gossip. Helping isn’t something that goes unnoticed.

If the topic heated up, it would naturally lead to mudslinging. Each side would argue and criticize the other’s opinions.

It would be enough for me to stay out of the mud. Of course, the question of why I won’t save everyone even though I could would still remain.

I had a reasonable answer for that.

‘You do not have faith in me.’

That was a fantastic answer.

With that answer, I could classify me and every other human being differently, and bind all humans.

I could pass on the fault to people.

There would be many who criticize me. The more desperate they are, the more they regard me as their only hope, and the more they sanctify me and protect me.

The explosion at Seoul Station would also turn into a symbolic event that meant something, and not just my whim.

An ignorant man fills his ignorance with his imagination, and soon, he assumes it to be the truth.

“What should I do with this? Huu...”

Kim Min-hyuk eventually gave up persuading me. Instead, he seemed to be brainstorming how to deal with this matter.

“In the second month, you’ll be healing the 31st person first, right?”

“No.”

Of course not.

“In the second month, we’ll ask for thirty people again. On a first-come-first-serve basis.”

“...then the 31st person from the first month?”

A bummer for them.

The waiting list cannot be extended to the following month. If the waiting list got too long, people would stop struggling for salvation and dismiss it as someone else’s business.

The feelings that would appear wouldn’t be desperation, but jealousy and loathing. Every month, everyone should be able to participate and have expectations.

“...No matter how much I think about it, that’s crazy. Wouldn’t it be better to do a raffle instead of first come, first serve? It’ll be a real mess if we do it like that. Whether it be online or offline.”

It would be a mess, yes.

“The selection itself will be difficult. Hundreds, thousands of people are coming in in a second, so how can we decide the order? If there’s anything else we can do...”

“Let’s draw.”

Let’s just go do a lottery. I’d have to sort out the order of people every month myself. That would be annoying.

“This should be enough.”

At this rate, faith would naturally grow when left alone.

My power and symbolism were enough, and the method of transfer would be the miraculous act of healing.

I would be left alone but would also get faith.

When faith and a connection with believers get established, a religion would be built by giving rewards and care to some believers, as long as I show my presence and powers a few times.

It wasn’t difficult. It was only a matter of time, after all. If you spend a lot of effort, it will settle down quickly, and if you spend less, it will only take a little longer.

Religion was what humans built after all.

All the gods had to do was prepare a story that would be the foundation of their religion.

It was amazingly easy to ignore the problem of time, although I had felt it several times on the 61st floor.

And of course, there’s no god who was pressed for time. That’s why even those monsters became gods and ran wild.

After talking to Kim Min-hyuk, I saw the mantis quietly kneeling beside me.

Perhaps because of me telling it to be quiet when the association had arrived, it remained silent even after the people left.

Would this mantis become a god on Earth if it had a bit more time?

Perhaps it was because of this that it had decided to live among humans and get used to life on Earth.

“Mantis.”

“Yes! Shall I tell you how I met with the president of the Association?” the mantis asked me as if I had waited to hear this.

“Why did you have mantis forearms and wings?”

It had a human figure, even if it was mimicking Earthlings. Why had it been half-human and half-mantis again?

“Were you originally a mantis?”

“No, I liked mantises.”

“In what way?”

What’s good about mantises?

“Daddy! It’s ready!”

As we were talking, Yong-yong was coming down the stairs from the second floor. I glanced to see if he had prepared the mantis’ house.

“I saw it in the grass, and the female mantis...”

Yong-yong, who was approaching, quickly hit the mantis on the back of its head.

* * *

I had already dug up all the information about Rulers from the mantis. Then I handed the mantis over to Yong-yong.

Yong-yong had prepared a small bug box from back when he did his elementary school vacation homework.

It had strings that let him hang it around his neck. When Yong-yong opened the box, it sucked up the mantis like a squeezed plastic bottle would suck air.

It was a box with all kinds of protective effects on the walls, making the mantis’ body smaller by spatial distortion and forced transformation.

It was handy.

Smaller than a miniature piece, the mantis slammed the walls and shouted from the inside of the box.

“You told me I’d be let free! I gave you all the information! It was valuable information!”

It shouted, but it only sounded like a mosquito buzzing, either because its body became smaller or because the box dampened the noise.

Still, I decided to answer.

“Oh, sorry, I lied.”

The information given by the mantis was useful. To be honest, it was more useful than I had expected.

But I didn’t want to let it go. Yong-yong would be sad.

The mantis jumped and shouted with a shocked look, “How could a god lie like this?!”

“Oh, but I can.”

My divinity had little to do with honesty. If necessary, I was willing to get beat up or even humiliated.