"These are nice skills."
The Berserker's skills were brutally simple. Rather than relying on flashy techniques, a Berserker's fighting style was to rush in and cut off the opponent's head. It didn't require a vast arsenal. Those who didn't understand this often tried to outmaneuver a Berserker early on, only to die without accomplishing anything. Moreover, the stat bonus from the class change was substantial, allowing one to overwhelm enemies with pure power.
"It's good… but I never planned on party play this time anyway."
Nevertheless, the reason the Berserker population was extremely low was the skill called Berserk. A morale skill that boosted all stats by 200%, granted infinite mana, and even temporary immortality—on paper, its effect ranked among the top five skills across all classes. However, it had two fatal flaws.
"But this time, I have an indomitable will from the beginning."
The first flaw was the inability to distinguish friend from foe. Once Berserk was activated, the user's vision turned red, reducing all figures to silhouettes. While manageable against distinct monsters or in small skirmishes, in a large-scale melee or against humanoid enemies, the Berserker became a time bomb that could easily wipe out their own party. This made it nearly impossible to join a guild, let alone consistent party play. In Lokan's previous life, this was a major reason he ended up as a solo player—first rejected for lacking control, and later rejected because he had made too many enemies.
"Well, it's easier to be alone if you want to stick to the plan anyway."
This time, he intended to be solo from the start. There was no one who could keep up with his planned pace. No, he had to be alone. The things he planned to do were considered close to 'impossible'.
"The side effect problem… I guess I have no choice but to raise the skill level quickly."
The second flaw, the severe aftereffects, further contributed to the class's unpopularity. Compared to Berserk's 10-minute duration, the 30 minutes of stat penalties felt like an eternity. As characters reached higher levels, the risk of having stats reduced by a percentage became immense. Why invite a class that was debilitated for 30 minutes after fighting for 10, when any other class was a safer bet? While a Berserker could demonstrate considerable combat power without using Berserk, their effectiveness was heavily dependent on individual player skill due to the limited skill set. Consequently, the Berserker's reputation for solo play was poor. With this negative consensus, it was nearly impossible to find anyone actively seeking a Berserker for their party.
However, Lokan's assessment was different. He believed those criticisms came from players who didn't truly understand The Lord or the meaning of Berserk. The game was about achieving near-impossible feats for unique rewards, thereby gaining power far exceeding others. In that sense, Berserk was a skill perfectly optimized for The Lord's title system. Looking back, weren't all the incredible records Lokan had set accomplished thanks to Berserk? The Lord was a game where extraordinary strength could only be obtained through extraordinary play.
'I am lucky in many ways.'
Moreover, this time, he had the 'Nothing is Impossible!' title, which reduced the proficiency required to level job skills by 30%. This would significantly accelerate leveling up Berserk to reduce its penalties.
"Twenty silver… I wonder if that will be enough."
Clutching the silver coins in his pocket, Lokan headed to a nearby general store. He passed by the armor shop without a second glance. Investing in low-level armor that would be quickly replaced was a luxury when even shoddy leather armor cost several silver. Instead, he invested in food and consumables for health restoration. With his high Stamina and Vitality, he wouldn't be taking much damage anyway.
He pulled up his status screen.
[Race] Human [Gender] Male
[Level] 1 [Class] Berserker
[Owned Titles] Natural Fighter, Natural Fighter (First), Descendant of David, One in Seventeen, Nothing is Impossible!
[Health] 700/700 [Mana] 150/150
[Hunger] 0 [Thirst] 0 [Status] Normal
[Strength] 79 [Agility] 63 [Stamina] 70
[Vitality] 65 [Intellect] 15 [Wisdom] 12
[Weight/Total Weight] 37/300
[Availability] 45
His only equipment was the starter axe, but his stats were phenomenal. All users started with base stats of 10. Gaining 5 stat points per level meant a Level 10 character would have 45 extra points. Adding small title effects, base stat training, and class bonuses, having around +50 total stats compared to Level 1 was normal. The key word was total. Even with an optimal 1:1:1 distribution for a combat class, it was hard to exceed 30 in each core stat. Lokan's stats had more than doubled that. In terms of raw stats, he wouldn't be far behind the current top-ranked players around Level 50.
'Can this really be called Level 1?'
His low Intellect and Wisdom were a slight pity, but it didn't matter immediately as he wouldn't face magic-using monsters yet, and he had no skills that used Magic Attack. A monster capable of disrupting the game's ecosystem had been born. Lokan knew this better than anyone. He knew exactly what he was capable of.
Therefore, his next action was predetermined.
"I am looking for a bus driver! The destination is inside the Orc Camp!"
Lokan used the Shout function, his voice echoing across the square. This function consumed hunger but allowed text to float above his head, attracting attention. Many players were already using it for business, but Lokan's shout stood out because of the destination: the Orc Camp.
'In about a month, there should be a fair number of people capable of going to the Orc Camp.'
The Orc Camp was a high-level hunting ground for players Level 30 and above. Requesting a "bus driver" to take him there implied a significant cost. Several interested parties approached Lokan, but he rejected them one by one. To him, they were clearly swindlers or underqualified.
'Scammers are still everywhere.'
While others might be fooled, Lokan, with his past-life memories, could roughly gauge a player's level, equipment quality, and combat style just by their appearance. Few who approached him could actually survive in the Orc Camp, and the competent ones didn't meet his specific condition: he didn't want a "power-leveling" party where he'd just leech experience.
Eventually, a party that seemed to meet his standards approached.
"You're going to the Orc Camp?"
"Yes, just getting inside. No party formation, and you can keep any items that drop on the way. I'll just observe during fights. I'll pay 15 silver."
"Hmm, seems your purpose is tourism. That's a steep price just for a tour…"
The party leader, a man named Fail, considered the proposal. Requests like this weren't uncommon—either paying for protection to access high-level areas or for power-leveling. Normally, they would have refused, but their current circumstances made them ponder.
"You don't have to protect me once we're inside. I'll take care of myself from there."
Lokan added, anticipating their hesitation. From their gear, it was clear they could barely manage the Orc Camp themselves; protecting a client would be a burden.
"Okay, we'll take it. And, sorry to ask… can we get an advance? It's not that we don't trust you, but we're a bit short on funds for consumables… haha."
Fail eventually agreed, scratching his head in embarrassment. They had been wiped out recently and lacked the coin for basic supplies.
"I'll give you 10 silver now."
Lokan paid without hesitation. The party misinterpreted his willingness as a sign of a wealthy "whale" player. Lokan didn't bother correcting them. They soon restocked and regrouped.
"Since we're working together, I'm Fail, the Knight. This is Elfi, the Wizard, and Rosé, the Priest."
It was a well-balanced party. The fact that they could hunt at the Orc Camp with just three members, especially considering Priests' early-game healing was inferior to potions, spoke to their skill. Lokan was certain they would remain solid mid-tier players; he'd never heard of them reaching the top ranks in his previous life.
"I'm Lokan."
He gave only his name, not his class. Revealing he was a Berserker would only invite unnecessary worry and scrutiny. Lokan wasn't sociable enough to bother making friends with a one-time transaction.
"Let's go. The Orc Camp is this way."
Sensing his tone, Fail immediately started moving. The journey took about 30 minutes, with minor mobs along the way that the party handled effortlessly. As they neared the camp, Fail expertly explained the approach.
"Be careful from here. Orc scouts patrol this area. If they spot us, they'll sound a horn and call reinforcements."
"There are two ways into the Orc Camp. One is a head-on assault, which is insane. The second is to use an animal carcass as a distraction and slip in through a gap. We've got a carcass ready. Even then, we might face a fight, but a small group can manage."
Lokan already knew this; in his past life, he was the one who tried the "insane" frontal assault. But he quietly observed. They threw the carcass, luring out a few orcs to retrieve it, and quickly slipped inside through a hidden opening.
Thud!
"Chwiik! Human!"
Fail was spotted immediately upon entry. But he blocked the orc's attack with his longsword and countered with ease.
"Power Attack!"
It was a Knight skill, weaker than Lokan's Strike but more fluid to use in combos. 'Not bad,' Lokan thought. With Elfi the Wizard providing support, they dispatched the orc efficiently.
"This way!"
Fail didn't celebrate; he knew more orcs would come soon. Hunting in the Orc Camp was 70% about positioning—finding spots where a manageable number of orcs spawned and ambushing them. Lokan followed closely. Technically, their contract ended upon entry, but he knew Fail's party was doing him a favor by letting him stay. He also needed to re-familiarize himself with the terrain.
'Now I remember.'
As they moved, memories flooded back. He had been here countless times.
"We're inside as you requested, but… touring will be difficult. Orcs are everywhere. If we go further, we'll run into them immediately…"
"It's fine. I've seen enough."
Lokan dismissed Fail's concerns. Fail looked uncomfortable, as if watching someone march to their death, but it was Lokan's choice. After confirming the party had moved on, Lokan slipped away, navigating stealthily through the camp to a specific location he remembered.
The Warrior's Shelter. Even within the Orc Camp, this was a higher-level area where powerful Orc warriors gathered.
Arriving at his destination, Lokan took a deep breath and let out a thunderous cry that echoed through the clearing.
"Who here knows honor! If there is a true warrior, face me!"