The Second Coming of Gluttony - Chapter 125

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 125. Seol Jihoo (2)

The Minority Faction numbered roughly two or three tenths of the total, divided into two categories.
Those who had entered with a team but were now alone, or those who had entered solo from the start.
Though treated as the weaker party at the Banquet, individually they were hardly the sort to be dismissed outright.
The fact that they’d passed through dozens of rounds of competition was proof enough of their capability.
In Stage 2 alone, it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for other teams to attempt recruitment.
But the problem was that the first recruitment target had become a sacrificial pawn, and within hours, the same event occurred again—crossing a bridge that could never be uncrossed.
Being with others in the same predicament, rather than entering a team and living in constant fear of being devoured, was at least more bearable. The trouble was that nowhere felt truly safe.
When Seol Jihoo arrived at the Campsite, he felt sharp, sting-like gazes piercing his entire body—not merely unwelcoming, but openly hostile.
It would have been so much easier if there was someone he knew.
Scanning the surroundings slowly, Seol Jihoo spotted the Giant Man and the White Headband Girl. Though their expressions remained harsh, their complexions seemed recovered enough.
When the girl waved her hand gently, Seol Jihoo returned the acknowledgment with a nod. The Giant Man simply stared, offering no reaction.
Whether he remembered being helped or not was unclear—no malice was visible, but neither was there any warmth in his gaze.
“Oh.”
Someone called out to him. Turning toward the voice, Seol Jihoo saw a short-haired woman archer.
One of the women from Stage 1. It was Lara Wolfe.
“You.”
Seol Jihoo bowed respectfully.
“Hello.”
Lara smiled and straightened up, but her expression quickly turned strained—all eyes in the vicinity had fixed upon her.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“Ah… when I reached Stage 2, my teammates were nowhere to be seen.”
Lara scratched her short hair as she spoke. Noticing Seol Jihoo’s sudden realization, she offered a gentle smile.
“It’s all right. They could have been eliminated… anyway, what brings you here?”
Grateful for the change of subject, Seol Jihoo got to his point.
“I came because there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes. Then should I go over there—”
Lara made a move to step aside. After a moment’s hesitation, Seol Jihoo shook his head.
Since the Traitor’s death, the Minority Faction lacked anyone who could truly be called their leader. And Lara didn’t seem positioned to represent everyone.
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll speak here.”
Lara’s facial muscles stiffened. Insisting on speaking in front of everyone meant he hadn’t come to see just her—he had business with all of them.
“…All right. Go ahead.”
Though she held no authority to decide, Lara acquiesced gracefully. Even after everything that had happened, she hadn’t forgotten how he’d stepped in during Stage 1.
If she was being honest with herself, there was a quietly hopeful part of her that had expected this visit—wondering if he might save them again this time, just as he had before.
It might be shameless to hope for such a thing, but she was hardly the only one feeling it.
The reason the Minority Faction wasn’t openly hostile toward Seol Jihoo wasn’t just because he’d helped a blood brother and sister recently—there was also an unspoken desire that someone might help them too.
Sensing the weight of those expectations, Seol Jihoo felt a heaviness settle in his chest. He’d never imagined that being relied upon could be so burdensome.
……
How should he say this?
His inner conflict was short-lived—he realized that any deliberation was meaningless. These people understood their situation better than anyone.
So,
“I won’t mince words.”
He spoke plainly.
“I need your cooperation.”
……
“I know it’s difficult, but I’d like you to participate in the conquest of the Plaza of Sacrifice.”
The moment he stated his purpose, sighs rose from all around.
“…I know.”
Lara Wolfe laughed bitterly. She, and everyone here, weren’t fools. They understood that there was no other choice.
“I know, but…”
Lara Wolfe raised both hands, her ten fingers twitching as if searching for words, but finding none, they simply fell.
“…You know yourself…”
Kazuki had called them people without choice. Literally—either participate in the conquest and serve as a meat shield, or don’t participate and likely become sacrificial victims all the same.
Whichever path they chose, only ruin awaited them.
A true dilemma with no exit—first compelled by people, now compelled by circumstance itself.
“I’ll serve as your shield.”
“?”
Lara Wolfe tilted her head. Not asking to be a shield—but offering to become one?
Soon after, Seol Jihoo explained his thoughts in a clear voice for everyone to hear.
“I understand what you’re saying….”
Even after the explanation ended, Lara showed little enthusiasm.
“No. Of course, what you say makes sense. But it’s just….”
Her words kept trailing off. She seemed cautious, as if afraid of offending him.
Seol Jihoo waited with patience.
“…Can I trust you?”
In the end, they’d returned to the fundamental issue. Of course they had to address it directly, but trust isn’t something you can see with your eyes. And the chasm of doubt had grown too deep to bridge with mere words.
Yet people want to hear something, even if only words, which is why she’d forced herself to ask.
Seol Jihoo opened his mouth without hesitation.
“I won’t ask you to trust me here and now.”
“…What?”
Lara’s eyes widened, blinking.
She’d expected a fundamental answer to match her fundamental question—or perhaps persuasion dressed up in flowery words.
“I’m asking for a chance to prove it.”
But the young man’s words were as clear and unpretentious as broth stripped of all fat.
What struck her most was that this man belonged to one of the most formidable teams in the Majority Faction itself. Yet his expression carried a desperation and gravity that seemed to pierce straight through her defenses, settling deep in her heart.
To that extent—
“I stake my name on it.”
If she let herself be fooled,
“I’m asking you to give me a chance to earn your trust.”
A chance she found herself wanting to grant.

The assembly convened.
It wasn’t just representatives—all one hundred ten people participated in this large gathering.
Another unusual detail: members of the Minority Faction sat at the same table as the Allied Team.
For the Majority Faction teams, who had long maintained an implicit non-aggression pact, this was a sight worth noting.
Kazuki, the organizer, spoke first.
But he said little of substance. He simply reframed the current situation to heighten vigilance and pointed the way forward. More precisely, he was laying groundwork to make it easier for Seol Jihoo to speak.
“So.”
Ora Hui, who’d been listening intently, opened his mouth with an indifferent expression.
“Shall we get to the main point already?”
Judging he’d said enough, Kazuki began to wrap up. As he concluded, Seol Jihoo met the eyes of each teammate one by one.
Cho Hong gave a slight nod, Hugo silently raised his thumb, Maria wore an expressionless face, and the Priest in his robe—for some reason his eyes carried concern. That gave Seol Jihoo heart.
Shortly after.
Kazuki signaled with a glance, and Seol Jihoo rose from his seat. As the two young men switched places, attention naturally focused on the newcomer.
‘It’s different.’
Meeting dozens of eyes at once, he felt a pressure distinctly different from before. He could see Ora Hui and the other Upper Ranks, as well as Audrey Basler.
Each of them radiated confidence and ease. And somehow that attitude irritated him.
Ora Hui, running her fingers through her hair, showed her teeth.
“Who’s this guy anyway?”
“Would you mind turning off the local broadcast?”
Someone asked a question, and Ora Hui threw out a jab. The man who’d spoken looked flustered.
“No…I need to know who he is.”
“Hmm.”
Ora Hui nodded, then chuckled.
“Wasn’t he called Seol of Haramag?”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Fragments of conversation reached his ears: “That person?” and “Carpe Diem?” among others.
Watching interest kindle on their faces, Seol Jihoo dispensed with preamble and spoke.
“The thirty-two people who said earlier they wouldn’t participate in the Plaza of Sacrifice assault have changed their minds.”
The murmur stopped abruptly. He felt less nervous than expected. He simply thought of it as doing what needed to be done.
“So I’d like to propose reorganizing all one hundred ten of us into new teams.”
More than seventy people, excluding the thirty-two, exchanged glances. The Minority Faction’s participation in the assault was something they’d been consistently advocating for, so that much made sense. But they’d essentially gained a concession—reorganizing teams altogether?
“There are seven doors in the Plaza of Sacrifice, so I propose dividing into seven teams.”
That meant fifteen or sixteen people per team, each assigned to seal one door.
The issue was his proposal to reorganize teams entirely. It wouldn’t disband existing teams outright, but it allowed for personnel transfers if necessary—and most crucially, it meant accepting the thirty-two newcomers fairly.
In other words, since we’ve taken a step back, you should make some concessions as well.
Emotionally it’s unwelcome, but logically speaking, there’s no flaw in the argument.
Yet knowing something in your head and accepting it in your heart are entirely different matters.
“Wow.”
Someone let out a loud exclamation.
“What the hell? Doing whatever you want?”
The voice belonged to Audrey Basler.
“Keep it down, would you.”
Just as Basler was about to object, someone cut him off. With a face that screamed ‘How dare you?’, he whipped his gaze around to see a sturdy-built man staring him down.
“Who the hell are you….”
Speaking in a provocative tone, Basler caught sight of five or six men standing rigidly behind the man, their hands clasped behind their backs. He let out a low whistle.
“Oh~ judging by the way you’re posing, are you gentlemen from the Triad?”
……
“Got it, got it. So quit staring at me like that, yeah? I was just—”
“Shut your mouth.”
Ha-O Win continued, his gaze cold and cutting.
“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of speaking?”
Basler snorted.
“Unbelievable.”
He shrugged and smacked his lips.
“A man without allies has no place complaining about his loneliness.”
Having successfully silenced the snake-eyed man, Ha-O Win turned his attention forward once more. Seol Jihoo was in the middle of a discussion with Ora Hui.
“No.”
“No?”
“Every time we clear a stage, we need to send exactly six people into the Distorted Wish Plaza. That’s how it has to work.”
“Why?”
“As you’re aware, as the clear progresses, our numbers will inevitably dwindle.”
“Well, yes.”
Ora Hui nodded in acknowledgment. Realistically, hoping that no one dies over the course of nineteen battles is wishful thinking.
Clearing was easier with one hundred forty people, but expecting to breeze through with one hundred ten is greedy. What matters is that since the difficulty remains constant, fewer numbers will naturally make clearing harder.
“So we need to find some way to bolster our strength, no matter what.”
“And your method is to go into the Distorted Wish Plaza?”
“And come back out.”
Seol Jihoo corrected himself.
“It’s just a guess, but I’d wager anyone here wishes to escape Stage 2.”
A spark of understanding flickered in Ora Hui’s eyes.
Now he understood what Seol meant.
Of course.
Though it comes in a distorted form, the reward from Stage 2 grants individuals their deepest wishes.
Earthians care most about rewards. And while people are excited about banquets partly because they occur only once every two years, the real reason is the rewards. Stage 2 alone offers such generous rewards that your jaw would hang open wide.
If some of the one hundred ten people could obtain quality weapons, armor, potions, or spell scrolls, there’s a real possibility of strengthening our forces.
We might even hit the jackpot.
“It does make a certain sense….”
Ora Hui tapped her knee with her index finger before speaking.
“You know what I’m about to ask, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then tell me. How will you select these six people, and how will you handle the possibility that they might not come back?”
“The six entrants will be selected by the seven team leaders gathering before each clear attempt.”
“By team, then… wait, no. Only six can enter but there are seven teams, so team-by-team selection would be impossible?”
“We won’t be selecting by team.”
Seol Jihoo shook his head.
“We’ll proceed under strict principles and rules.”
“Principles and rules?”
“It’s simple.”
Seol Jihoo continued.
“From the seventy-eight in the Majority Faction, we’ll select four. From the thirty-two in the Minority Faction, we’ll select two.”
Seventy-eight were the Majority Faction, thirty-two the Minority Faction.
“However, the six selected must have no prior connections to one another.”
Ora Hui, sharp-minded as she was, caught on immediately. “Ah.” Her mouth fell open.

The four of them aren’t on the same team, and we’ve selected people of similar ability to keep each other in check. Even if one of them harbored doubts, they’d have no choice but to return to Stage 2 where their allies are. Call it a Collective Responsibility System.
Of course, applying such a system to the Minority Faction—where individuals predominate—leaves little room, but with four pairs of eyes wide open and watching, no one’s going to act recklessly.
“Hmm….”
Ora Hui lowered his head slightly, lost in thought.
They’d ended up speaking as though having a private conversation, but he’d surely heard everything.
Seol Jihoo looked away and scanned the surroundings.
No outright opposition had surfaced yet. As a compromise of sorts, everyone bore the clear marks of deliberation.
If things continued smoothly like this, it would be ideal—but he’d abandoned such hopes from the start.
Because Kazuki had said that pushback was inevitable,
“Listen listen no listen!”
and there was no way there wasn’t a madman among seventy-eight people.
“The more you say listen, the less I can hear?”
It was Audrey Basler.
His smile stretched the already vicious snake eyes into something caustic and ugly.
“It’s pathetic.”
When Seol Jihoo fixed him with a stare, Basler’s lower lip jutted out as he muttered.
“Honestly, I don’t get why they’re suddenly deciding to participate now?”
“What is it you don’t understand?”
“Well, isn’t it obvious?”
Basler chuckled darkly.
“When everyone kept saying do it, do it, they wouldn’t lift a finger. Now that things have come to this, they’re clinging to our prince like fleas to a dog.”
Vicious barbs poured out like machine-gun fire.
“And the team formation too—sure, it sounds noble. Cooperation, my ass. You’re really just asking us to babysit those bastards, aren’t you?”
As Basler sought agreement with a “right?”, he waved his hand dismissively the moment Seol Jihoo opened his mouth, pressing on.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course I understand what you’re saying. Poor things, let’s not be too hard on them. And since it’s come to this, why don’t we all join hands and work hard together now. That’s it, right?”
Words are one thing and deeds another. Seol Jihoo had no idea how someone could twist things that way, so he let out a hollow laugh.
“Let’s be blunt. If we follow your reasoning, each team would have to carry at least five or six people… and I’m not like you—I don’t have the hobby of volunteering.”
Seol Jihoo opened his mouth quietly.
“What is it you’re trying to say?”
“See! Sharp instincts.”
Audrey Basler laughed, high and trembling.
“Well, unlike you, I don’t have the gift of gab, so I’ll just lay it out?”
He spoke in a wheedling tone, then gave a sidelong glance, his eye sliding away.
“Not much we can do about Stage 3, I suppose….”
…….
“Have them hand over all thirty-two of the Distorted Wishes they’re getting.”
It was an absurd demand.
“Well, we’ll divvy up the spoils among ourselves… then I’d feel more like cooperating, yeah?”
“That’s not acceptable.”
Seol Jihoo shot back immediately.
“They’re not just latching on one-sidedly. We’re clearing the stage together—there’s no way I can agree to that.”
Snake-eyes closed his mouth and blinked. His expression was infuriating enough to make you want to beat him dead.
“That’s just your opinion, you idiot.”
He let out a small laugh, then exhaled a long breath and swept back his bangs.

(Continued in the next episode)

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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