Chapter 2: The Great Sword and Tai Ritian

The moment Garen leapt out of the underbrush, all his worries evaporated.

Because the dog before him was anything but a cute little fluff.

At least, in all his years, Garen had never seen a “little cutie” that stood on four legs and towered over three meters tall...

But with this realization came a deeper, more primal fear—a terror of the unknown beast before him.

Garen’s body froze in place, the hefty wooden club in his hands suspended mid-swing. Compared to the enormous dog, the club—thick as a bowl—seemed almost delicate, and Garen’s own knotted muscles felt utterly insignificant.

What unsettled Garen even more was the appearance of this monstrous canine:

A mass of fluffy, slightly curled brown fur; eyes set deep in their sockets, nearly swallowed by the woolly mane; a long red tongue lolling lazily from its mouth...

The breed—was this a poodle?

A chill crawled down Garen’s spine.

He’d never kept a poodle; the loyal mutt that had accompanied him through his childhood was a humble, obedient village dog. But he’d witnessed the might of the poodle with his own eyes: insatiable, ever-opportunistic, always squeezing into the smallest of spaces.

Once, at a friend’s house, he’d nearly fallen victim to the infamous “poodle embrace”—the friend’s dog had almost latched onto his leg in an unforgettable display of canine enthusiasm...

It was the stuff of nightmares.

And this towering, three-meter-tall poodle before him was like a nightmarish vision made real, magnified to monstrous proportions.

But—where on earth could such a giant poodle exist?

Perhaps it only resembled one.

Garen tried to comfort himself with this thought, but his nerves betrayed him—he swallowed hard, and his powerful legs edged back a couple of steps.

“Woof?”

The giant poodle had already noticed Garen’s presence.

It spun toward him, eyes locking onto Garen’s burly, bare, and muscle-bound body.

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

The beast’s breathing grew heavier. Its tongue and tail wagged with mounting excitement, and in its eyes, unmistakable human-like greed and desire shimmered—two lecherous little hearts seemed to glimmer within.

“What the—?”

Garen blurted out an oath, startled out of his wits.

There was nothing pleasant about being eyed by a dog more fearsome than an elephant.

And clearly, this beast was in heat.

With no other living creatures in sight, the target of his affections was all too obvious.

Garen didn’t run. He knew—though he was something of a little superman now, this monstrous poodle was no ordinary dog. Humans fleeing from enraged hounds rarely escaped unscathed.

Perhaps, if he could summon enough menace to intimidate it, he might scare off this not-too-bright beast.

He gripped his club tightly, swung it twice through the air with an air of ferocity, and shouted with all his might:

“Come on! Face me head-on!”

...

The giant poodle paused for a second, then leapt.

It took him up on the offer.

Garen was utterly dumbfounded.

Dogs are known for their tremendous jumping ability; at elephantine proportions, it was truly terrifying.

The dozen or so meters separating them vanished in a single bound. The next instant, the beast descended from above, crashing down atop Garen.

The sky seemed to go dark.

Lacking combat experience—and certainly unused to wrestling “elephants”—Garen hesitated, just for a split second, at this moment of mortal crisis.

The savage poodle seized the opportunity, launching itself onto Garen and bringing the giant man crashing to the ground.

Yet, for all its speed, the creature was oddly measured in its actions. It neither bit with its lethal jaws nor slashed with its claws; instead, it pressed a soft, massive paw gently to Garen’s bare chest and, unable to contain itself, lowered its head to lavish him with a huge, slobbering lick.

Damn it!

Garen cursed, snapping out of his shock at last.

He realized just how dire his situation was:

He—a man among men—was being pinned beneath a lust-crazed poodle!

He had to fight back. He must resist!

He could not, must not, let this creature take advantage!

A blaze of fury lit Garen’s eyes, blood pounding in his veins—a mediocre man had finally found the dignity of a warrior.

Strength surged through his powerful frame. He broke free of the beast’s paw and, with a tremendous effort, landed a punch on the drooling corner of the poodle’s mouth.

A dull thud resounded. The dog’s jowls twisted from the blow.

“Woof!”

Howling in pain, the creature forgot all about coddling its “little beauty.” Instinctively, it swung an enormous paw at Garen.

The blow sent the large man flying like a ragdoll.

It was as if he’d been struck by a speeding truck.

As Garen hung helpless in midair, a mechanical voice echoed in his mind:

Combat damage detected...
Combat system unlocked...
Datafication mode initiated...

Instantly, Garen’s hunger-weakened body was flooded with energy, his stamina restored to full.

A familiar virtual interface sprang into his vision:

Mini-map, skill bar, experience bar, portrait, health bar...

But no attributes panel, no equipment slots.

As for a mana bar—Garen had never had one to begin with.

The changes on the outside were even more dramatic:

A brilliant light burst forth from his nearly naked body.

When it faded, Garen found himself clad in ornate armor, a broad sword grasped in his hand.

The transformation was worthy of a magical girl, but Garen had no time to marvel at his new armor or the combat HUD now populating his view.

He was still tumbling through the air, tracing an unstoppable arc.

And his predicament was dire indeed:

In the direction he was flying stood a monstrous tree, the likes of which could never be found on Earth. Its trunk and branches bristled with razor-sharp metallic thorns, gleaming dangerously in the light.

It stood, arms splayed wide, like a mountain of blades.

Garen, flung by the giant poodle, was flying straight toward this deadly mountain.

Rip—

With a sickening sound, Garen was impaled upon the mass of vicious thorns.

The spikes pierced clean through his heavy armor, plunging deep into his organs.

His limbs, too, were run through by the long thorns.

Most horrifying of all, one spike entered squarely between his eye sockets, driving deep into the most fragile part of the human body—the brain itself.

No one could survive such trauma.

Except the protagonist.

“I...” Garen murmured in disbelief, a wooden spike still lodged in his skull. “I’m not dead?”

Not only was he alive, he felt no pain at all.

The spike that had entered his brain affected him only in one way: one eye had gone blind.

No—there was another impact.

Garen examined his newly awakened system interface and saw that his health bar had, at some point, dropped by a segment.

Just a small one.

For a video game character, it was hardly worth noticing, let alone fatal.

But for a real human, having one’s brain impaled by a spike of this size would be a one-way ticket to the afterlife.

Suddenly, Garen understood:

So this was datafication mode?

Just like an in-game character, his life force had been converted into a health bar—“vital points” no longer existed. Even a hit to the brain or heart would only subtract health based on the force of the blow. A strike to the foot or the head would deal the same damage.

Amazed, Garen—impaled through and through—became engrossed in studying his system.

Aside from lacking an equipment and attributes panel, it was much like the game.

His portrait bore a tiny “1,” indicating his level.

The skill bar had only one active skill: Garen’s innate passive ability.

[Toughness (Passive)]:
“If Garen takes no damage for 4 seconds, he regenerates 8% of his maximum health every 5 seconds.”

The description seemed a bit different from the game, but Garen didn’t dwell on it.

A flickering golden light shone on the otherwise dim skill bar—he had a skill point to spend.

Without hesitation, he chose the Q skill, equally suited for attack and escape:

[Decisive Strike]:
“Garen removes all slowing effects and gains 30% movement speed for 3.5 seconds. Within the next 4.5 seconds, his next basic attack deals bonus damage and silences the target for 1.5 seconds.”

Wasn’t this the max-level effect?

Garen realized something was off: he’d only put a single point into the skill, yet it already had the full effect as in the game...

And there were no specific damage values listed.

As he pondered this, the system’s mechanical voice sounded in his mind:

“Skill damage is determined by the host’s physical attributes, force of attack, target’s defenses, and other factors. The host is encouraged to experiment with skill usage.”

Garen understood: reality wasn’t a game, and his cheat system had to make many compromises to function in the real world.

“Then why do I get the max-level effect with just one point?” he asked.

“This question does not require an answer. The host may discover the reason independently.”

The system’s tone was utterly emotionless, and it fell silent.

Garen tried a series of other trivial questions, but the system remained unresponsive, as if crashed.

Clearly, this was no true artificial intelligence—only questions deemed “necessary” would provoke a reply.

So, hanging from the thorny tree, Garen became completely absorbed in exploring his new system, forgetting he was still impaled by dozens of spikes.

He even forgot—

“Huh?”

Lost in his mental world, Garen finally snapped out of it. “What’s that rubbing against me from behind?”

...

Garen fell silent, his grip on the greatsword tightening furiously.

“Damn it!”

“I forgot to kill that poodle!”