The moment Steven drew his weapon, the eerie stalemate on the beach was shattered.
These creatures—called Seaborn—were clearly not the most rational beings to begin with. Their earlier attempt at negotiation had likely been an act of forced restraint, suppressing their wild instincts just to talk things out.
Now that Steven refused to cooperate, there was no longer any need for them to hold back.
"Flesh. Nutrients. Food."
With a piercing shriek, the once-still monsters erupted into a frenzy, charging at Steven like a pack of starving wolves, swiftly encircling him.
One versus a swarm—in terms of both numbers and size, Steven was clearly at a disadvantage.
At least, that's how it seemed.
Steven, as if realizing this himself, froze in place after drawing his purple-black longsword, standing motionless as if paralyzed by the overwhelming pressure emanating from the monstrous horde.
As the largest and strongest of the creatures closed in on him, its rotting, putrid stench all but flooding his senses, Steven finally reacted, gripping his sword's hilt tightly.
But it was too late.
The monster's slime-coated, razor-sharp claws were already mere inches away—one clean strike, and Steven would be cleaved in half.
CLANG!
A sharp, metallic clash rang out.
The purple-black sword had suddenly intercepted the lethal claw, stopping the killing blow in its tracks.
Steven, who had remained motionless up until now, casually exerted a little force, as if swatting away an annoying insect.
The giant monster—which had been trying to push past his sword—was launched into the air and sent flying.
"…Seriously? That's it?"
Steven blinked, looking almost disappointed.
With how hideous these creatures looked, he had assumed they had sacrificed appearance for power—but apparently, they were just weak AND ugly.
Honestly, he was finding it hard to believe.
The reason he had stood still at first was simply because these things were so slow—about as threatening as a grandma power-walking toward him.
He had been so baffled by their lack of speed that he hadn't even known how to react.
Watching Gladiia's swimming speed earlier had made him think that people in this world were at least Captain America-tier in terms of physical ability.
But seeing these monsters move… yeah, he had definitely overestimated them.
Since they had chased down Gladiia, he had assumed they were at least on her level.
But after this little exchange?
What a disappointment.
They are simply way too damn weak.
Did this thing actually think that mutated claws alone could match his battle-hardened physique?
"Maybe they are just some random cannon fodder?."
Casually dismissing the idea that he might just be too strong, Steven effortlessly cleaved another monster in two as it tried to sneak attack him.
"Not fast, not strong, and not even smart."
Shaking his head, Steven gave them his final assessment.
"Aside from being ugly, you're completely useless."
Now, if it were any other task, Steven might not have been particularly skilled.
But fighting?
Now that, he could get into.
After spending years grinding in Minecraft, he'd lost count of the sheer number of zombies and skeletons he had slain.
At the very least, when it came to fighting monsters, Steven had full confidence in his skills.
The more you kill, the more efficient you get.
Not giving the creatures a single moment to recover, Steven swiftly cut them down one after another—each sword swing harvesting another life.
Sure, he had flashy techniques too, but those were mod-based skills.
In reality, the only thing he had at the moment was plain, no-nonsense swordplay.
Luckily, the "brute force" approach worked just fine—everywhere.
And Steven wasn't just "a little strong".
As a Minecrafter, even he wasn't entirely sure how much strength he actually had.
People die when they are killed, and so do monsters.
In mere moments, the once-ferocious horde that had attempted to surround and slaughter Steven lay scattered across the beach, their bodies lifeless.
Except for the first, particularly strong one that had been sent flying, every single one of them had been cleaved in half from various angles by Steven's sword.
[Ding! You have slain a plot monster. World Acknowledgement Point +10, +10, +10—]
A string of notifications flashed at the bottom-right of his vision.
Steven blinked in surprise—then his grin widened.
So... even fighting could increase this point system?
That meant he was finally starting to understand how to farm points.
Basically, all he had to do was stir up chaos, right?
And judging by the notification, every target seemed to be classified as either a plot character or a plot monster.
Rubbing his chin in thought, he strolled over to the strongest Seaborn, who was currently struggling to pull itself out of the sand, its body half-buried from Steven's earlier attack.
Without hesitation, Steven stomped down, crushing the creature's forelimb beneath his foot.
Only then did he squat down beside it.
"Mind answering a few questions for me?"
Steven might just be the first person in the world to try interrogating a Seaborn.
But what choice did he have?
This was the only one left that could still talk—the other one had been smacked into brain damage by him.
"You... monster... must warn... my kin..."
Even with its limb shattered, the creature didn't seem to feel any pain.
Its single, lifeless fish-like eye remained locked onto Steven, tinged with caution.
"Wow, getting called a 'monster' by something like you? I'm honestly honored."
Steven scoffed.
"What, just 'cause I'm a little strong, you think it's polite to call me that?"
As he spoke, he casually swung his sword, severing the limb the creature had been hiding beneath the sand, trying to launch a sneak attack.
Smart? Not really.
But cheap tricks? Yeah, this thing had plenty.
"You... cannot... stop... evolution... I will... return..."
Perhaps sensing its imminent demise, the Seaborn shifted its gaze—away from Steven, and onto the girl hiding behind him.
"Kin... we will... reunite... in the depths of the sea..."
The words, spoken in a trembling stammer, were cut short.
A black, trident-like spear suddenly pierced through its skull, splattering foul-smelling blood in all directions.
Steven's eyelid twitched.
He turned his head—only to see the girl behind him gripping a strange weapon that he had no idea where she got from.
The once frail, timid girl who had been hiding behind him this whole time now radiated a sharp, commanding aura—the same one she had when he first met her.
But the change was fleeting.
The moment she delivered the finishing blow, her eyes became vacant again, her expression slipping back into confusion.
"Wait a damn second—did you seriously just kill-steal me and then go back to being dumb?!"
Realizing what had just happened, Steven immediately stood up and pinched her soft, bouncy cheeks in frustration.
If it weren't for the status indicator hovering above her head confirming that she was still "amnesiac", Steven would've bet money that she was just pretending.
Honestly, if he didn't at least squeeze her cheeks a bit, he'd feel like he wasted ten WAP (World Acknowledgement Point) on that damn kill-steal.
But before he could start, the girl—Gladiia—suddenly collapsed against his chest, as if drained of all her strength.
The girl's warm, soft, and fragrant body lay nestled in his arms.
Steven had intended to pinch her harder as punishment—but in the end, he let it slide.