Chapter 241: You Call That a Human?
"This kind of thing… really isn't something you all need to worry about," Steven said with a light smile. "Rather than that, why don't you tell me more about that thing—the one that's currently residing inside an Abyssal Hunter."
There was no mistaking it. Anything with a grand, ominous-sounding title was obviously some kind of endgame boss-tier threat. But again, Steven wasn't concerned. He repeated the same thought he'd always had:
Unless it's stronger than me, it doesn't matter.
What he truly wanted to understand was this: Why was that thing inside Skadi's body?
Sure, Abyssal Hunters shared some biological components with the Seaborn, but even so, with Aegir's current level of technology, shouldn't it be impossible to implant something that even these four Feranmut were visibly cautious of?
"To slay a dragon is to become one yourself… That phrase perfectly describes her current condition," Aya said quietly. "If you insist on staying close to someone like that, then the consequences—the danger—you must be prepared to face it."
"Though," she added with a helpless sigh, "judging by your attitude… I suppose we're just being overly worried."
The girls exchanged glances, watching Steven's calm, unwavering expression. Not arrogance—confidence. And that was the part they couldn't deny.
Because deep down, they knew:
He might really have the power to back it up.
Even someone like Ishar'mla might not be able to defeat him.
"Well, I should be the one thanking you for the insight," Steven replied, chuckling. "Since we've cleared up my questions, maybe it's time for me to return the favor. Got anything you want to ask? I'll do my best to answer."
Whatever their reason for sharing this information, it had been a kindness. He understood that. Whether out of curiosity, concern, or some hidden motive, it didn't matter. He'd take it at face value.
Aya hesitated for a moment, then glanced at the others. After a brief, silent exchange of glances, she turned back to Steven with a small, intrigued smile.
"There is… one thing we'd like to know," she said softly. "Something we've all been wondering."
"Oh?" Steven raised a brow.
"We'd like to know… just what you are. Or rather, what kind of being you are."
Her tone held no malice—just genuine curiosity.
"To evoke such primal fear from us, the Feranmuts… that's something only the so-called 'Gods' have ever managed to do. And yet… the ones that slumber in this world, or still hide in the deep, are nothing like you. You don't resemble any of them."
The question was clear:
You terrify us. Why?
It was an open attempt to probe into Steven's origins. And yet, it was done with such sincerity, such restraint, that it was hard to find fault with it.
Steven blinked.
"…That's it?"
That was their big question?
He let out a helpless little laugh, scratching his head. They were seriously hung up on that?
"That's all?" he asked, still a little amused. "Well, if I don't feel like answering…"
Aya smiled again, tilting her head politely.
"Then we'll pretend we never asked."
Their attitude remained warm, even respectful—and that, Steven had to admit, was one of the perks of having a powerful fist. People just naturally respected you more when they felt how hard you could hit.
"Of course I don't mind," Steven replied casually. "After all, I'm just a plain old human. Nothing special to hide, right?"
He spread his arms with a carefree grin, as if to say, See? Totally normal.
And he wasn't lying, either. He was human—or at least, that's what he believed himself to be.
In fact, if you asked him, you probably couldn't find a purer human in this entire world.
"…Human?"
The word left Aya's lips before she could stop herself.
The other three girls froze as well, all turning to stare at Steven with identical expressions of disbelief. There wasn't a trace of joking in his tone, nor did he seem to be lying—but what he said still clashed violently with everything they understood about the world.
A god, maybe.
A mythical creature in human form, sure.
Even a Feranmut-class existence like themselves—or perhaps some higher being's avatar…
All of that would have made sense.
But a human?
That was absurd.
What kind of human radiated this kind of overwhelming, instinct-driven fear?
If only one or two of them had felt it, they could have written it off as coincidence. But all four of them had sensed the same thing—an almost primal terror in his presence.
"There's really… someone like you among the human race…?" Aya murmured, her voice soft and shaken, as though her entire worldview had just been thrown into disarray.
"Seriously," Steven said, shrugging. "It's not like I'd lie about something as boring as my species, right?"
Then, he added with a grin, "And honestly, due to some secret stuff, I'm pretty weakened right now. So I'm somewhat weak, maybe not as scary as you're all imagining. Want to test it out?"
He placed his arm on the table, palm up, fingers ready.
It was a simple gesture—an invitation to arm wrestle. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was no doubt he was serious. He meant it.
After all, it wasn't like he was boasting.
He knew he was almost as weak as when he just started his journey in Minecraft, the him in his prime would probably be strong enough to kill the current him with a single strike.
And these four? They weren't nobodies. Their power, even as an Incarnation, was impressive enough that he couldn't say for sure whether he'd win or lose.
Might as well test the waters, right?
The four girls exchanged glances, the unspoken challenge hanging heavy in the air.
Then, the most straightforward of them—Dan, the blonde drummer—grinned and plopped herself down opposite Steven without hesitation. She slammed her hand into his.
No rules. No countdown. No ceremony.
Just two hands, locked in a test of raw strength.
A current of tension gathered between their arms—but the table itself didn't so much as quiver. Even with all the force being poured into the contest, it stood firm, immovable.
Then, bit by bit…
Sweat started to bead on Dan's forehead.
Their clasped hands inched, ever so slightly, toward her side.
And yet—rather than frustration or determination—there was only a deepening sense of unease building in her chest.
Because across from her, Steven still wore that same relaxed, cheerful smile.
Surprised, maybe. But not strained. Not even remotely serious.
'He's holding back… No—he's only just started putting in effort.'
And the worst part?
Even as her full strength strained against him, she was still losing.
Now that—that was the terrifying part.
Steven chuckled under his breath, watching her expression slowly shift from playful confidence to dawning dread.
"Not bad," he admitted. "You've got the strength to match the title of 'Feranmut,' I'll give you that."
He wasn't mocking her.
In fact, he was genuinely impressed.
But if this was her full strength…
Well, while still far off from the Fallingstar Beast, she's still the second strongest creature he has met so far.
He gave their joined hands another subtle push.
The tilt that had leaned toward the girl just moments ago snapped back to center. Steven looked at the girl across from him, eyes gleaming, a smile tugging at his lips. It was the kind of expression that practically had "Come on, surprise me a little more" written all over it.
He didn't slam her hand down immediately. Not because he couldn't—but because he wanted to see if she had anything more to show.
Maybe this world's strength wasn't measured by brute force alone, but raw power… was still the clearest, most honest form of proof.
Unfortunately, even if he hadn't meant it that way—his action still carried a faint air of provocation.
A silent "is that all?"
He may not have noticed, but to the Feranmut-girl sitting across from him, it was almost an insult.
Her expression changed.
The playful glint in her eyes vanished, replaced by something steely and serious.
Her grip tightened—and this time, the force she poured into their locked hands exploded outward. A sharp pulse of wind burst from between their palms, whipping through the bar. Heads turned. Eyes widened.
Indoors…? Why is there wind indoors?
Even the bar's patrons paused mid-drink to glance around in confusion.
Meanwhile, the other three members of the band silently pressed their palms to the table and the nearby walls. With almost imperceptible movements, they stabilized the structure itself, keeping the entire bar from being blown to pieces by the sheer force being exchanged in what was, technically, a friendly arm-wrestling match.
Dan's face was tight with effort now. Her semi-transparent skin made it easy to see the veins bulging beneath—evidence of just how much she was straining herself.
But even so—
Even now—
Steven's hand barely budged.
It tilted slightly toward her—only to stop dead in its tracks again.
And Steven?
Still smiling. Still relaxed.
He looked at her like a father humoring a child's game.
There was no tension in his shoulders, no strain in his eyes.
'Worse still… he's encouraging me?'
Dan could feel it. The message in his gaze.
Come on. Try a little harder.
It was maddening.
So she stopped.
Letting out a breath, Dan released his hand and leaned back in her chair, the tension slipping from her body as she gave up with an exasperated sigh.
"You… You call that a human?"
Her voice was thick with disbelief and just a touch of irritation.
She stared at him like she'd just discovered a tiger that meowed like a kitten—only for it to suddenly lift a mountain over its head.
There was no doubt left in her mind now.
This guy…
He was even stronger than they had feared.
And this was supposed to be his weakened state?
Dan was the physically strongest among the four of them—undisputed. And yet, she hadn't even been able to make this so-called human take her seriously.
Ridiculous.
Absolutely ridiculous.
And this guy had the nerve to call himself weak?
Does he even understand what "weak" means?
"Ehh… If you just pushed a little harder, maybe you could've done it?" Steven offered sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "You're actually pretty strong, you know. Honestly, I was impressed."
He was being sincere.
Sure, he looked relaxed, but the truth was—he had been putting in effort. Maybe not even a percent of his strength, but he actually had been using real effort nevertheless.
And besides, strength is his specialty, after all.
So it made sense the Feranmut-girls would fall short in that one area.
But what he didn't realize…
Was how deeply ironic it sounded—to tell a Feranmut that they were "actually pretty strong."
Like complimenting a dragon on managing to breathe a little fire.
The other three girls, who'd remained silent this whole time, turned their eyes toward Steven. Each wore the same unreadable expression—something between confusion, amusement… and maybe a little suspicion.
Is this guy… just showing off?
<+>
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