In the game "Demon King and Hero Party," leveling up is extremely difficult. The maximum level is only 100, but it's not meant to be reached. Even after 999 playthroughs, I never once hit level 100. I rarely even reached the low 90s. Even the final boss, the Demon King, doesn't reach level 100—probably maxing out in the high 90s.
"It's impossible."
Early morning in an alley behind a tavern, surrounded by garbage, I muttered this conclusion after thinking all night. No matter what hidden pieces I might find or what dungeon I might discover, reaching level 70 in just two weeks is absolutely impossible. This would be true even if I were a no-lifer with 9,999 playthroughs instead of 999.
"It doesn't make any sense."
Level 70 is nearly top-tier power. The level differences are enormous:
- Level 10 is average person
- Level 20 is a strong soldier
- Level 30 can earn knighthood
- Levels 40-50 can become elite knights or mercenary guild leaders
- Level 60 can become Tower Masters
- Level 70 can be the strongest in a small country
And they want me to reach that in two weeks? Starting from a pure, untouched level 1? Impossible. In the original game, you at least started at level 10.
"Well, I have to try anyway."
Complaining wouldn't help. As far as I knew, "Demon King and Hero Party" never gave impossible challenges. There was always a way if you looked carefully enough. And I had some idea where to start.
"Status Window."
A translucent window appeared before me. Fortunately, this world had the standard status window that comes with game transmigrations, though this system was somewhat unique.
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Name: Luke
Lv: 1
[Skill]
Authority of Sacrifice Lv.MAX
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A simple status window with just name, level, and skills—exactly like the one I knew from the game. There were no stats displayed because in this world, level itself was the measure of strength.
The important thing was the skill "Authority of Sacrifice"—a skill I'd never seen before. It must be the special bonus I received when I chose the hidden route and fell into this world.
When I examined it closely, the status window changed to show an expanded description:
+
[Authority of Sacrifice Lv.MAX]
A power with fragments of divinity melted into it.
When you earnestly display your will, the world will be moved and gladly grant your wishes.
Of course, it's not free.
Whenever you sacrifice something, you will receive an appropriate reward.
+
Seeing this, I immediately frowned.
"What a crappy skill."
It seemed good, I suppose. Despite the vague description, offering something in exchange for rewards suggested excellent versatility. But I didn't particularly want to use it.
"Why do I have to sacrifice something?"
Couldn't they just give me something outright? A classic skill like "Eternal Flame" or "Clear Wind Sword Art" would have been better for getting through the early stages.
Still, since I had it, I couldn't just let it go to waste. I needed to test it.
[Would you like to sacrifice?]
I spoke aloud what I would sacrifice and what I wanted in return.
I chose to sacrifice my lifespan. Lifespan is a good sacrifice—invisible, barely perceptible, and losing some doesn't cause immediate harm. Perfect for experimentation, though not without value.
"I sacrifice five years of my lifespan to increase my level."
At that moment, an extremely unpleasant sensation gripped my body. It felt as if the Grim Reaper's scythe had briefly grazed my neck. A fierce emptiness seized me as if part of my soul had been torn away.
But that passed quickly.
[Level up!]
[Level up!]
[Level up!]
.
.
.
.
.
System alerts filled my vision like sacred light dancing around me. With five years of lifespan, I gained 14 levels at once—essentially gaining the experience from childhood to adulthood in an instant.
It was impressive growth, but I could only smile bitterly.
"I'm not sure if this is good or bad."
The cost-effectiveness was questionable. Lifespan is a precious resource. Though formless and invisible, it's definitely important. I had just spent a limited resource of life force—equivalent to using precious primordial qi in martial arts terms.
Yet I only gained 13 levels, even though low-level ranges typically allow for rapid leveling.
"Tsk."
This approach wouldn't work. Even if I sacrificed my entire lifespan, reaching level 70 was uncertain. Using my lifespan to complete the quest was too inefficient, and I didn't want to feel that terrible sensation again.
"I need to find another way."
Having confirmed my skill, I left the alley to explore other options. I needed to try different approaches—hunting monsters, finding opportunities, training—something had to work.
And so began my life in pursuit of rapid leveling.
*
To cut to the chase: I failed. Miserably.
After ten days of wandering, I had only gained 10 levels. That's all I managed in over a week. Even after sacrificing another five years of my lifespan...
The results were pathetic, and there were three reasons why even a veteran of 999 playthroughs couldn't do better.
First, I apparently had no talent.
I practiced swordsmanship every single day for ten days, since training converts to experience points. Some people with exceptional talent had become knight captains through training alone.
But I didn't gain a single level from those ten days of practice. True, it was only ten days, but still—I was supposed to be a hero candidate, yet couldn't gain even one level. It was mortifying.
I did manage to gain one skill:
+
[Swinging Lv.1]
Makes your wild, beast-like swings slightly more stable.
Just slightly, mind you.
+
It was clearly a useless ability. I frowned.
"Is this some kind of joke...?"
So that's the first reason—my lack of talent.
Second, I couldn't obtain any hidden pieces.
I roughly knew the locations of early-game opportunities, but most were inaccessible under my current conditions. They either required substantial money, contained powerful monsters, or were too far away.
I couldn't spend my limited two weeks just traveling to find one opportunity. Starting in an imperial city was good, but I barely had enough money for transportation. So I hadn't obtained a single hidden piece.
And third:
"The monsters are too strong..."
Even in this safe city, there were mobs in the outskirts. I had planned to level up by hunting them, but they were stronger than expected. It wasn't just my fighting ability—there was more to it.
[Warning! Monster difficulty has significantly increased!]
The system message I vaguely saw before arriving here was being faithfully implemented. The monsters I knew were at least 1-2 levels higher than normal, making them difficult to defeat. There wasn't much I could do at around level 20 in this world.
Eventually, I found myself saying:
"Should I just give up?"
It seemed like an impossible quest from the start—reaching near top-tier status from practically nothing. There was no visible solution, and it was becoming absurd.
I had expected to just play games in my room, not suddenly fall into a real world.
So giving up might be fine. The world would end, but what could I do? There was no solution in sight from the beginning.
Yet even as I leaned toward giving up, one thing bothered me:
"What about them...?"
What would happen to the heroines of this world if I failed the quest? Thinking about their futures made me hesitate...
As I sank deeper into this dilemma, a voice called from behind me.
"Hey, mister. Do you know whose territory you've wandered into?"
A clichéd, thuggish tone. Turning around, I saw four rough-looking men staring at me. The particularly large one spoke:
"If you're going to enter uninvited, you need to pay a toll."
With a grimy face and a sneer, he was clearly a typical back-alley thug. Seeing this, I sighed.
"Haaah..."
When things aren't going well, everything seems to pile on.