Overpowered in the Wrong Genre
Chapter 1 – The Wrong Genre (1)

[Translator – Peptobismol]

Chapter 1 – The Wrong Genre (1)

There are three things that every South Korean man knows well. One is the military. Another is gaming. And, of course, webnovels.

In that sense, Lee Min-ho… no, Deus decided to accept reality.

Time passed, and nothing changed. This world was not where he used to live.

It felt like he had transmigrated into a novel he read yesterday. He was sure of it.

So why exactly did he transmigrate? What was the reason?

『Author, not letting it breath is a bit inconvenient.』

Deus wrapped his face in his hands. Clearly, that comment was the culprit.

It was unfair. He was just trying to lighten the mood because the main story was so serious.

He even made sure to use cute emoticons to ensure that he wasn’t picking a fight. It’s too much to transmigrate without understanding the deep intentions of the readers.

Anyway, he had transmigrated into a novel. As evidence, there had been something floating around in his mind since earlier.

[Please choose your covenant.]

In the novel he read yesterday, the protagonist also used a covenant.

Depending on its strength, it came with more restrictions but also granted greater power.

A double-edged sword. Once engraved, the curse of the covenant must be upheld.

Deus quickly turned his head.

The novel he transmigrated into. The novel he read yesterday. The novel he commented on.

〈The Gate Opened on the First Day of the Mercenary Group.〉

An apocalyptic genre where gates open in a fantasy world and monsters pour out.

A growth story where the protagonist, who becomes a mercenary, gradually becomes stronger and eventually becomes the Mercenary King.

It’s a bleak dark fantasy. Countless people die. Not even the characters around the protagonist are exceptions. In the serialization three days ago, even the heroine died. Just reading it was grim, but now he had to experience it firsthand.

He had to survive. At least, he didn’t want to die as miserable and painful as they did.

“A covenant, huh?”

Seated, Deus recalled the protagonist of the novel.

The covenant he used. The covenant that bound him while also protecting him.

How would he. What covenant should he make to see results?

‘It’s decided.’

Deus bit his index fingers on both hands as if struck by inspiration.

Just like in the novel. Mimicking the actions of the protagonist.

Even though he was just an extra, he had to survive.

Perhaps with the belief that he could save a world that seemed to have no hope.

“I cannot wield all weapons.”

One problem with the novel’s world-building. It’s not just monsters beyond the gates; there are also traitors waiting to strike at any moment.

Chick!―

He inscribed the first covenant into his right arm with the blood flowing from his left index finger.

Now he couldn’t wield any weapon.

Instead, no weapon could harm him as long as he upheld this covenant.

“I receive no assistance in the face of a fight.”

As always in apocalyptic, dark fantasy, those who come to help are all dead.

Deus didn’t like that. He wanted to create a happy ending in this novel.

Even though he was transmigrated from outside, it was a novel he cared about sincerely.

With his right index finger, he inscribed the second covenant on his left arm.

From now on, he could not expect any help in battles.

In exchange, he could break through any situation alone.

“I.”

Finally, he drew a bloody line along his neck.

It was similar to the rope of a gallows hanging around his neck.

“I do not tolerate the misfortune of a good person.”

There is only one way to survive in apocalyptic stories.

Staying by the side of those who have the qualifications. Befriending them and becoming their comrades.

From now on, he will become the guardian deity who will protect all good.

From now on, he will become the messenger who will judge all evil.

“These are my three covenants.”

I cannot wield any weapon.

I receive no assistance in the face of a fight.

I do not tolerate the misfortune of a good person

This should be good enough for a sudden covenant,

Deus thought, feeling that reading the novel earnestly had paid off.

[Your covenant is too high in rank.]

[Translator – Peptobismol]

“…Huh?”

Until the strange phrase came to mind again.

‘What’s this? Too high in rank? The protagonist used a similar covenant just fine, didn’t he?’

Was it because he transmigrated into an extra who had no significant role in the story?

Or did he arrogantly try to take the covenant that the protagonist should have taken?

As he hurriedly tried to think of another covenant, the next phrase appeared in his mind.

[Taking that into consideration, you are given preparation time to fulfill the covenant.]

The novel didn’t have such settings.

He briefly pondered, then promptly erased it from his mind.

Giving time for preparation was a welcomed gesture!

Before transmigration, Deus was an amateur martial artist who aspired to be a pro.

Physical training was his daily routine.

Deus was only devoted to training. He was fully invested in his training.

Even if it was a special training for a transmigrator, if he thought of what he wanted, everything was prepared.

A perfect training ground. A flawless diet. And even a realistic opponent.

When the sense of time faded away and his body was filled with pure combat muscles…

“Preparation is complete.”

Let’s give it a try. The destruction of this world, survive it with confidence. With a self-assured smile, the transmigrator tore through space and emerged.

—

“Class president.”

“Yes! Attention, everyone! Salute, instructor!”

Broad shoulders, deeply tanned skin, scars scattered across the arms—truly the epitome of ‘ferocity’ in appearance. Yet none of the students flinched. Despite his appearance, he was a very kind teacher. Perhaps that’s why his nickname was ‘Deer Eyes’.

“Second week of the new semester, isn’t it? It’s a good morning today. Let’s take attendance.”

The names of the students were called one by one, and they responded accordingly.

Some were nobles; some were commoners. All stayed together as one student in the same space. There was no distance between them, whether noble or commoner.

The reason was simple: they shared something in common despite their different statuses.

“Miss, I trust you’ve completed your homework for today.”

“Seriously, stop calling me that. I told you not to.”

A crimson flame lingered on the noble girl’s index finger.

It wasn’t magic; it was a pyrokinetic ability.

“Ah, I forgot to bring a pen. Can someone lend me one?”

“Honestly, are you not a noble? How do you forget every day?”

When the commoner girl gestured, a pen rose from the desk and moved towards her. Then the noble boy who claimed he didn’t have a pen said, “As expected, your telekinetic ability is the best!” and laughed.

Abilities. In this Ivory Tower, those who wielded mysterious abilities were gathered.

“Erka Leblanc.”

“Yes.”

“Marian.”

“Yes!”

The students’ chatter continued cutely as the muscular deer-eyed teacher silently continued the attendance.

Then, as one name came into view, he raised his head and looked towards the back of the classroom.

“Deus.”

At the teacher’s call, a boy sitting in the back raised his hand.

Almost a head taller than other boys, his physique couldn’t be hidden even by his clothes. Just by raising his hand, the curves of his muscles were clearly visible. It seemed like the buttons on his school uniform would burst at any moment.

He was truly an overwhelming young man. He was someone who emitted the essence of strength.

His fierce gaze alone could make others shiver involuntarily.

Even skilled knights might hesitate to draw their swords in front of him.

“Deus, are you sure you have no intention of joining the martial arts club?”

“I’m sorry. I have no such thoughts.”

“Hmm. I see. Still, if you change your mind, make sure to tell me.”

The martial arts club advisor kept underestimating our club.

He barely resisted the urge to grab that sturdy student’s hand and sincerely ask him.

“Well then, let’s start our literature class. The weather is nice today, perfect for enjoying a poem.”

“Oooh!”

“Teacher Deer! Please recite a poem!”

“Shall I? Hm-hm. Then let’s see. The poem we’ll learn today is—”

A muscular macho teacher known as a deer, and yet a literature teacher.

Just by looking at him, one might think he’s a mercenary captain who would be harvesting orc heads.

Deus, who once again refused the invitation to the martial arts club, sighed.

As he turned his head, he noticed the various flowers blooming in the courtyard.

Spring. A beautiful season. The beginning of everything. Is there anything more appropriate as the start of a world filled with dreams and hopes?

‘Yes, a place filled with dreams and hopes.’

Thud!—

Oh, did he grip too hard? The grip strength exerciser he just bought shattered into pieces. How could it be so weak?

‘I was scammed. Dammit.’

If the merchant heard this, they’d surely retort, asking what nonsense this was.

This is a tool favored by martial artists with genuine skills. And surely, the young customer who came to buy it must have been one of them. That’s why the merchant sold it for a cheap price, and now the young man was calling it a scam!

“Ah! Spring! You leave only your fragrance behind as you depart!!”

“Oooooh!”

A macho teacher passionately reciting a poem. Students sitting and sending playful cheers. Various flowers swaying in the spring breeze.

In conclusion, the world did not end.

It’s not that it hasn’t ended ‘yet’. Rather, the end itself never existed ‘in the first place’.

That’s only natural, since this world was not destined for that from the beginning.

[Translator – Peptobismol]