Psycho in Ancient World
Copyright© 2026 by K.W
Chapter 4. Log Out
He didn’t know whether he’d collided because his body tilted, or whether someone had slammed into him from the other side. Sensation was already leaving his body.
“Has this bastard lost his mind?”
A rough curse rang out. It was that voice from a moment ago. Machil? That was what he thought at first.
Thud, thud-thud.
In an instant, three or four blows landed on Sosam’s abdomen.
“Ugh!”
It hurt. It hurt like he was dying.
Only after tasting the fist did Sosam realize it wasn’t Machil. Machil’s punches couldn’t be this vicious—like his gut was about to split open.
Drool streamed from his mouth, and tears burst from his eyes. Not because he was sad. Because it hurt.
He’d thought he was used to getting beaten by now, but this was too painful—way too painful.
If there was any silver lining, it was that the blurred vision from the pain was recovering, if only a little.
“Huh ... ngh. Keo-eo ... ngh...”
He couldn’t breathe properly, so he panted and dropped to his knees. Even like that, he lifted his head with all the strength he had.
An unfamiliar-yet-familiar face came into view. He didn’t know the name, but it was one of the warriors of the Danri Family.
Thud. Another impact crashed into Sosam’s face.
“S-spare...”
A kick infused with internal energy struck him, and Sosam couldn’t even finish the words “spare me.”
Why? Why? Why...? Why the hell are you doing this...? What did I do wrong?
Am I not even allowed to live like a bug, holding my breath and keeping my head down?
But the answer in his head was painfully clear.
This situation was the answer, and Murim was originally that kind of place. It wasn’t a world gentle enough for a bottom-feeding herbivorous insect like him to survive.
“What the hell is this bastard babbling about? Speak clearly, you horse-shit trash.”
With the curse came endless kicks.
And yet Sosam couldn’t feel any pain anymore. He was dying. He even realized he had one foot halfway into the underworld.
It was unfair. He’d only wanted to live somehow, any way he could, but he couldn’t understand why the world was doing this to him.
He wanted to kill Machil, the one who’d provided the spark that led to all this. He wanted to kill the warrior bastard stomping on him right now. He wanted to kill every single person from the Danri Family who had ignored him, looked down on him, and toyed with him.
Just.
He wanted to kill them all. He wanted to smash the world to pieces.
But.
The words that came out of his mouth were different.
“ ... Sp ... are ... me...”
What spilled from his mouth could only be that, after all.
Thud.
Those were the last words he spoke in this world.
Even though it was a hellish world, he wanted to survive to the very end.
And so Sosam—the owner of soul number 3789028376 in the 112th dimensional world—brought his wretched life to an end.
And...
Thunk.
With a soulless scream, the “Neighborhood Thug—Elite” died.
Dong Bong-su’s spear didn’t stop there. Every time he swung it once, a neighborhood thug—whether elite or normal—fell and lay on the ground. Of course, no matter how many he killed, the number of neighborhood thugs didn’t decrease. As many as fell, that many spawned again. Not only him, but other people here were also slaughtering the neighborhood thugs indiscriminately, yet the neighborhood thugs were regenerating infinitely.
And that wasn’t all.
He’d been using his body for so long, yet he wasn’t even getting tired.
He hadn’t even been logged in for that long, but Dong Bong-su had already lost interest in “Murim Online.”
Is this really the kind of game that people claim has increased murders as a side effect?
Completely below expectations. I thought I’d found a new hunting ground...
This wasn’t a hunting ground. It was a playground.
The blood the Neighborhood Thugs spilled was only similar to real blood in color. It didn’t have the same heat and moistness as real blood, nor that unique, stimulating stickiness. He couldn’t feel anything at all.
There was no heavy “hand-feel” on his hands—none of it. Players who got counterattacked by the neighborhood thugs and died even had smiles on their faces.
Dying wasn’t truly dying. Killing wasn’t truly killing. In this place, killing and being killed was nothing more than a prank, not slaughter.
More than anything, what dulled Dong Bong-su’s interest was the fact that there wasn’t a single “carnivore” here. The animals here were either toys, or else herbivorous insects.
He hadn’t placed huge expectations on this virtual reality game called “Murim” from the very start. No matter how similar they made it to reality, how could it possibly have the same hand-feel as reality?
Even so, this was far below what he’d expected.
Even if it wasn’t a hobby, he’d thought it might at least be like a fishing spot where he could occasionally feel that “hand-feel.”
But this wasn’t it.
After crushing the head of yet another neighborhood thug charging at him, Dong Bong-su reached a conclusion.