Chapter 8: The Faction Grows
The days after the Harvester's fall were strange.
The System could no longer see me. That meant no more class notifications unless I deliberately accessed them. No more automatic experience tracking. No more convenient blue screens telling me my stats.
But it also meant no more eyes watching from the darkness. No more pigeons with too‑bright eyes. No more cold presence at the edge of my awareness.
For the first time since transmigrating, I felt something close to peace.
---
The Observer did not return. The council had ordered a full withdrawal from the Seoul sector, pulling back their surveillance assets to reassess. The boy—the Anomaly—had vanished from their sight, and without sight, they could not act.
But the council was not idle. In the space between worlds, they convened. The cold voice and the warm voice were joined by a third—neutral, precise, like a blade.
"The Anomaly has evolved beyond our parameters. Recommendation: Seal the sector. Isolate Earth from the wider System network until we can develop a countermeasure."
The warm voice objected. "Sealing a sector requires immense resources. And we would lose the harvest from that world—potentially billions of souls."
"Souls can be replaced. Anomalies cannot."
The cold voice cut in. "We wait. We watch through secondary channels. The Anomaly may not be as invisible as he believes."
The neutral voice: "And if he is?"
Silence.
"Then we prepare for war."
---
I threw myself into rebuilding.
The Butcher's Block had grown while I was fighting. Survivors from across the ruined city had heard about the faction that cleared towers, that stood against the System, that had a leader who processed monsters like meat.
Min-jun handled recruitment. He had a talent for reading people—for spotting the ones who would fight and the ones who would run. The ones who would run, he sent to the crafting teams. The ones who would fight, he assigned to squads.
By the end of the first week, we had over a hundred members.
By the end of the second, we had two hundred.
Seo-yoon trained them. She was relentless, pushing them through drills until they collapsed, then pushing them further. Her Paladin class gave her healing abilities that kept them from dying, and her natural charisma made them want to impress her.
I watched from the sidelines, processing materials, crafting weapons, planning.
The third floor of the tower was still open, but we hadn't cleared the fourth. The System's recommended level for Floor 4 was forty. Our highest fighter—Seo-yoon—was level thirty-two. I was level thirty-eight, but my stats were hidden now, invisible even to me. I had to trust that the System's processing still worked, that I was still growing.
I felt stronger. That was enough.
---
The neutral voice's prediction proved correct. The council had secondary channels—human collaborators who had been integrated into the System's hierarchy, granted power in exchange for loyalty. One of them was in Seoul, embedded in a guild that had risen from the chaos.
His name was Marcus. He was a B‑rank Telepath, capable of reading surface thoughts and planting suggestions. The council had activated him, given him a simple mission: find the Anomaly and report his location.
Marcus moved through the ruins, his eyes scanning the crowds of survivors. He had heard the rumors—a faction called the Butcher's Block, led by a boy who could kill monsters that shouldn't be killed. That boy was the Anomaly. He was sure of it.
He just needed to get close enough to see.
---
"We have a problem," Min-jun said, sliding his tablet across the table.
I looked at the data. Faction statistics, resource allocations, territory maps. Everything seemed normal.
"What am I looking at?"
"New guild. Calls themselves the Ascendants. They appeared three days ago, and they've already absorbed five smaller factions." He pointed at a cluster of red markers. "They're expanding toward our territory."
"Hostile?"
"Not yet. But their leader—a guy named Marcus—has been asking questions about you. About the Butcher's Block. About how we cleared the third floor so fast."
I frowned. "Marcus. What's his class?"
"Telepath. B‑rank."
A Telepath asking questions about me. That wasn't a coincidence.
"Keep an eye on him. If he gets too close, let me know."
Min-jun nodded and left.
I sat in the silence of my room—a repurposed classroom, now decorated with maps and weapon racks and the core of the Harvester, which pulsed with a faint black light.
The council hadn't given up. They were just being smarter about it.
---
Marcus approached the Butcher's Block's territory at dusk, when the light was low and the guards were changing shifts. He wore the colors of a neutral faction, his face friendly, his mind sharp.
He found a young woman on the perimeter—a C‑rank Healer, barely level fifteen. She was tired, distracted, easy to read.
"Excuse me," he said, smiling. "I'm looking for someone. A friend. He said he joined this faction a few days ago."
The woman looked at him, her eyes blank. She was already under his influence, her thoughts open to him.
"What's his name?" she asked.
"I don't remember. But he mentioned a leader. A young man. Very strong." He pushed gently against her thoughts. "What's his name?"
"Jin-ho," she said. "Kang Jin-ho."
Marcus smiled. "Thank you."
He walked away, the name burning in his mind.
---
I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped outside the next morning.
My Anomaly Perception—a skill I'd barely used—was flickering, picking up something at the edge of my awareness. A presence. Watching. Not the Observer—something else. Something human.
I activated Stealth (System) , making myself invisible to System surveillance. But this wasn't System surveillance. This was a person.
I moved through the camp, my eyes scanning the crowds. New recruits, veterans, crafters, healers. Everyone seemed normal.
Then I saw him.
A man in neutral colors, standing at the edge of the training ground, watching Seo-yoon run her drills. His face was calm, friendly, but his eyes—
His eyes were wrong. Too focused. Too cold.
I approached him from behind, my hand on my knife.
"You're Marcus."
He turned. His smile didn't waver. "You must be Jin-ho. I've heard a lot about you."
"I've heard about you too. You've been asking questions."
"Just curious. A faction this successful, this fast—it's impressive." He extended a hand. "I was hoping we could talk. Maybe find some common ground."
I didn't shake his hand. "You're a Telepath."
His smile tightened. "That's not a secret."
"No. But what you're doing here is." I stepped closer, close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "You're not here to talk. You're here to report back to them."
"Them?"
"The council. The ones who sent the Harvester."
His composure cracked. Just for a moment. But I saw it.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"Yes, you do." I drew my knife—not threatening, just… present. "And you're going to tell them that you found nothing. That the Butcher's Block is just a normal faction. That there's nothing to see here."
He laughed. "And why would I do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'll process you. And I don't think the council can bring back someone who's been butchered."
His smile vanished. For a long moment, he just stared at me, his mind racing behind his eyes. I could almost feel him trying to read me, to find a weakness, a doubt, anything he could use.
My Fear Immunity kept my surface thoughts calm. My Dream Resistance blocked his telepathy. He found nothing.
"You're different," he said finally.
"I know."
He nodded slowly, then turned and walked away. I watched him go, my knife still in my hand.
Seo-yoon appeared beside me. "Who was that?"
"A problem. I think I solved it."
"You think?"
I sheathed my knife. "If I didn't, I'll solve it permanently next time."
---
Marcus reported back to the council that night. His message was brief, coded, sent through channels that the System could not intercept.
*ANOMALY CONFIRMED. LOCATION: BUTCHER'S BLOCK HQ. SUGGEST IMMEDIATE ELIMINATION. *
The response came swiftly:
*ELIMINATION NOT POSSIBLE. ANOMALY IS INVISIBLE TO SYSTEM WEAPONS. ALTERNATIVE APPROACH REQUIRED. *
Marcus frowned. "What alternative?"
*WE ARE DEVELOPING A COUNTERMEASURE. MAINTAIN SURVEILLANCE. DO NOT ENGAGE. *
He closed the connection and stared at the ceiling of his makeshift room.
"Countermeasure," he muttered. "Against something that can process a Harvester?"
He didn't like the odds.
---
The weeks passed. The Butcher's Block grew stronger.
We cleared the fourth floor of the tower. Then the fifth. Each floor brought new enemies, new materials, new skills. The faction's average level climbed to twenty. Seo-yoon reached level forty and evolved her Paladin class into something called a Divine Guardian. Min-jun's Scholar class evolved into Tactician, giving him the ability to predict enemy movements with frightening accuracy.
And I—
I stopped tracking my level. The numbers didn't matter anymore. What mattered was the feeling in my bones, the weight of my sword, the certainty in my cuts.
I was becoming something the System had never seen.
An Anomaly. Invisible. Growing. Hungry.
The council's countermeasure was still coming. I could feel it, like a storm on the horizon. But I wasn't afraid.
I was a butcher. And whatever they sent, I would process it.
---
The neutral voice addressed the council. "The countermeasure is ready."
The cold voice: "Explain."
"A virus. Designed to infect the Anomaly's class, to reverse his evolution, to make him visible to us again. Once he is visible, we can deploy a second Harvester—one calibrated specifically to his weaknesses."
The warm voice: "And if the virus fails?"
"Then we have learned nothing, and the Anomaly continues to grow."
Silence.
"Deploy the virus," the cold voice commanded.
The neutral voice hesitated. "There is one more thing."
"Yes?"
"The Anomaly is not the only threat. His faction—the Butcher's Block—has grown beyond our projections. If we strike at him, we must strike at them as well. Otherwise, they will become a second anomaly."
The cold voice considered. "Authorize a coordinated strike. The virus against the Anomaly. A Harvester against his followers."
"Two Harvesters?"
"If one failed, two will succeed."
The neutral voice bowed. "It will be done."
---
I stood on the roof of the Hub, looking at the stars. They were wrong too—too bright, too close, arranged in patterns that hurt to look at.
Seo-yoon climbed up beside me. "Can't sleep?"
"Haven't needed to sleep much. The System keeps me going."
"That sounds healthy."
I smiled. "Nothing about this is healthy."
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "Marcus is gone. His faction dissolved."
"I know."
"Did you…?"
"No. He left on his own. Probably realized he was out of his depth."
She nodded, but I could tell she didn't believe me. I wasn't sure I believed myself.
"Jin-ho," she said, "what are we building here?"
"A blade."
"A blade for what?"
I looked at the sky, at the wrong stars, at the darkness between them.
"For cutting out the rot."
She didn't ask what rot. She already knew.
We stood together in the silence, two survivors in a world that wanted us dead.
And somewhere in the space between worlds, the council's countermeasure began its journey toward Earth.
---
End of Chapter 8