Life Rebooted with Copy and Paste

After cutting down the last undead, Shura turned to check on her companions.

“Is everyone okay?”

Everyone lay sprawled across the ground, catching their breath, wounded all over. Thankfully, no one seemed to have suffered a grave injury.

Some bore deeper wounds than others, but they’d heal soon enough. The Mahal Tribe's resilience, bolstered by divine blessings, was remarkable.

Meanwhile, Jamel expressed his gratitude to Ashunaga, “Thank you... Ashunaga, was it?”

“Yes.”

If Ashunaga hadn’t brought the shadow soldiers, they wouldn’t have made it through the fight unscathed. Apparently, these soldiers were under their benefactor’s command. Jamel scratched his head, feeling awkward about relying on Kim Do-Joon’s help once again.

“Mister!”

At that moment, Shura ran over to them.

“What is it?” Jamel asked.

“This isn’t the time to relax! We need to see the chief right away!”

“What?” Jamel frowned in confusion.

Shura quickly explained the eerie similarity she had sensed between the aura of the undead they had just fought and the visiting tribe’s guests.

Neither Jamel nor Fuad had picked up on any such thing from the guests. It could have easily been dismissed as a child’s imagination, but Jamel’s expression turned serious.

“You’ve always had a sharp instinct, haven’t you?” Jamel muttered.

Shura’s intuition had proven trustworthy in the past, and despite her youth, she was a warrior who had already undergone her coming-of-age ceremony. Besides, the Mahal Tribe never took a warrior’s words lightly, no matter their age.

“Ashunaga, could we ask for your help once more?” Jamel asked.

“Sure, the weird human told me to help anyway,” Ashunaga replied.

“He did?” Shura asked.

“Yeah. I’d get in trouble if I refused...” Ashunaga replied.

Shura’s eyes sparkled at the mention. Of course, Ashunaga being here with her shadow soldiers was proof enough that Kim Do-Joon had lent his aid.

Shura’s gaze shifted to the shadow soldiers, full of curiosity. Come to think of it, they had fought these creatures before. When had they become allies?

Didn’t the elders often said Mr. Do-Joon was a powerful sorcerer? He must have used that power to bring them under his control!

Meanwhile, Jamel stood deep in thought, carefully considering how to allocate their resources. There were a few warriors and countless shadow soldiers left here. He thought about how many should remain, and how many should accompany them.

“All right, then...” Jamel began, preparing to issue his orders.

“Hey, Jamel!”

A familiar voice called out from a distance. Jamel turned, startled.

“Fuad?”

“Are you all safe?” Fuad asked.

Kim Do-Joon had returned with Fuad and a group of warriors in tow.

***

Inside the massive temporary tent set up as a shelter, Fuad sat across from Kim Do-Joon.

“Let me thank you once again. Truly, I owe you everything!” Bowing his head deeply, Fuad expressed his heartfelt gratitude.

“If it weren’t for you, we would have all been killed and turned into that creature’s minions. Maybe even...” Fuad’s voice faltered as he ceased the thought.

They could’ve been forced to kill their own people, who had stayed behind in the village.

“No need to thank me,” Kim Do-Joon replied calmly. “I had my own reasons for dealing with those things.”

Although he only learned it later, the undead had something to do with the Death Spirit Lord, who was the old man’s child and the one that destroyed Siwelin’s world. Their fates were entwined in a knot of grudges.

The two stepped out of the tent and into the open air.

—Hey, fetch me some more fabric over there!

—Take a break and have some of this!

—Oh, thanks!

The village reconstruction was in full swing. Though the settlement had been burned and reduced to rubble, the Mahal Tribe’s innate strength and stamina, combined with Kim Do-Joon’s tireless shadow soldiers, had boosted the effort at an astonishing pace. Already, the village was beginning to take shape again.

“Well, I’ll get going. I’ve got somewhere to be,” Kim Do-Joon said.

“Somewhere to be?” Fuad asked.

“I hear there are more of those skeletons out there. I’m going to hunt them down.”

“Just as expected.” Fuad nodded in understanding.

Then, reaching into his robe, he pulled out a small, rolled-up parchment and handed it to Kim Do-Joon.

“What’s this?”

“This is a map of the area.”

Unfolding it, Kim Do-Joon found a rough sketch of the surrounding mountain ranges. While it wasn’t as detailed as modern maps, it provided all the crucial information—terrain, waterways, and the locations of several Mahal settlements. However, the map abruptly ended beyond a certain point.

“What about the rest of this area?”

“There isn’t any more. That’s as far as anyone’s gone and lived to map it.”

For a small village, venturing that far had already been a monumental effort.

“I’ll put it to good use.”

“Be careful out there.”

With a nod of thanks, Kim Do-Joon made his way out of the village. Along the way, Mahal villagers stopped to offer him their gratitude. He had saved the settlement not once, but twice now. Their eyes were filled with admiration, and in the warriors’ gazes, there was even a flicker of reverence.

Perhaps the Ring of Dominance is at work here.

The artifact, which instilled near-perfect loyalty in low-level monsters like Skeletons and Orcs, could have some subtle effect on the Mahal Tribe as well.

Oh, right.

He hadn’t sent Ashunaga back to her world. If he left without doing so, she would definitely sulk. Thus, he set out to find her.

The village was not large, so it did not take long to locate her.

—There’s no need to phrase it that way!

—Well, that’s up to me!

On a sunny hill, Ashunaga was lounging lazily while Shura stood nearby, gesturing animatedly. Their conversation didn’t seem particularly pleasant.

“What’s going on here?” Kim Do-Joon asked, approaching.

“Oh! Mister!” Shura chirped, running to his side.

“Monster Human,” Ashunaga muttered, sitting up slightly.

“What’s the matter?” Kim Do-Joon asked.

“I just asked for a little help, but she started mouthing off,” Shura grumbled.

“I don’t take orders from someone weaker than me,” Ashunaga retorted coolly.

“I wasn’t giving you orders! I was just asking—wait. Weak? Want to test that?” Shura sounded upset.

“Hah. Little Human, go drink more milk and grow up first,” Ashunaga replied.

“You—!” Shura glared at Ashunaga.

Kim Do-Joon sighed, shaking his head as the two bickered. It felt like he had two more overgrown kids to deal with, even though his real daughter was still a toddler, toddling around at home.

“Enough. Ashunaga, I’m heading out, so stay here for now,” Kim Do-Joon said.

“What are you talking about?” Ashunaga asked.

“Stay here and try to get along. If you keep fighting every time you see each other, this will never end.”

“What?” both of them protested, looking horrified.

“Is there something that’s bothering you? Whether it’s the lack of food... Or Is it too hot?” Kim Do-Joon asked.

“I’m a creature of adaptation,” Ashunaga began smugly, only to falter when Shura jabbed her in the side.

A glimmer of mischief crossed her face.

“Yes! Yes, there is! Uh... there are too many bugs!”

“Yeah okay. I’ll be back in a week, so just wait here.”

Ignoring the transparent excuse, Kim Do-Joon waved casually and walked off toward the village outskirts.

—Ugh, you’re so dumb.

Shura muttered, looking at Ashunaga.

—What did you just say? Fine. Let’s settle this, Little Human. This time, we’ll establish the pecking order once and for all.

Clang!

The clash of metal rang out behind him as Kim Do-Joon disappeared into the distance.

***

"Is this even possible?!"

“Sure is,” Kim Do-Joon said, his voice calm but firm.

His shadow surged forward, engulfing the robed Lich like a ravenous beast.

Crunch.

Hundreds or even thousands of undead under the Lich’s command were dragged into the same abyss, disappearing into the void of Kim Do-Joon’s shadow.

From that void emerged a new army of shadow soldiers and a freshly converted black mage. Then, with a flick of his hand, Kim Do-Joon opened the Ring of Dominance, sending them all to the Slime Grassland.

Originally meant as a safe haven for rest and recovery, the Slime Grassland had proven far more useful as a holding zone for his ever-growing army.

“That makes five,” Kim Do-Joon muttered.

This was the fifth Lich he had captured and turned into a black mage. Without missing a beat, he moved on to the next location, where he could already sense a ripple of mana.

At this range, they’ve probably noticed the commotion... Kim Do-Joon thought, calculating the likelihood of detection.

Still, it did not matter. Necromancers were not known for mobility, so even if the next Lich tried to flee, he could easily catch up.

As he traveled, a curious thought crossed his mind.

How would the ArchLich of the Death Spirit Lord fare against one of my black mages?

“Number One,” Kim Do-Joon called, summoning the first black mage he had created—formerly the ArchLich Keldian. Since Kim Do-Joon did not know his original name, he had simply dubbed him "Number One." The mage who had just joined his ranks was now "Number Five."

A moment later, Number One stepped forward. However, something odd caught Kim Do-Joon’s eye.

“What’s that on your shoulder?” Kim Do-Joon asked, pointing.

Perched on Number One’s shoulder was a round, jiggling slime. When Kim Do-Joon gestured toward it, Number One bowed in silence.

Kim Do-Joon scratched his cheek, perplexed. Since Number One could not speak, it was hard to figure out what was going on.

Did he make the slime his familiar?

That seemed likely. Every Lich he had encountered thus far had commanded numerous familiars, and Keldian had been no exception. Besides, a faint thread of mana connected Number One and the slime—a telltale sign of a master-familiar bond.

Number One gently handed the slime to Kim Do-Joon, who accepted it somewhat awkwardly.

“Blip!”

The slime wiggled in his hands, and Kim Do-Joon tilted his head. Was this his way of offering protection? Handing over a familiar capable of sensing danger for his master?

Not like I need it, but... sure... Number One could probably handle himself.

Kim Do-Joon pointed toward the direction of the next Lich’s workshop and gave his order.

“Head that way. Take care of whatever’s there.”

Number One nodded and vanished with a whoosh, reappearing atop a distant tree in an instant.

Hmm... Impressive, Kim Do-Joon thought, smirking as he leapt forward to follow.

Number One moved swiftly, using Blink repeatedly without pause, each leap precise and fluid. To any mage, such mastery of teleportation would have been a jaw-dropping display. Fortunately—or unfortunately—there were no mages nearby to witness it.

The king’s... command... is absolute...

As Number One advanced, he began to sense the Lich’s foul mana that was thick, sticky, and reeking of malice. It was a stark contrast to the pure, dark mana that now coursed through his own form.

Number One grimaced, memories of his former self surfacing. Before the king remade him, he too had wielded such vile energy. The recollection filled him with shame and disgust. How foolish it had been to revel in such filth!

Then, he tightened his grip on his staff, and with a flick, he casted Hellfire. A sphere of blazing flames, as radiant and scorching as the sun, erupted at the tip of the staff, before hurtling toward the Lich’s workshop.

Babababam—!

The explosion obliterated the workshop, reducing it to rubble and incinerating the surrounding undead. As the dust settled, Number One froze, realizing it had just destroyed a potential vessel for the king’s next soldier.

However, then, he shook his head.

No, that’s not a problem.

After he had been reduced into a disembodied head, the king had granted him a new body. Surely, the same could be done for these remains.

Number One straightened, prepared to ensure the battlefield was ready for his master’s arrival.

"Who’s there!"

Suddenly, the master of the ruined workshop floated into view, his bony frame crackling with anger. Clad in robes adorned with ornate trinkets, he looked just like the other Liches Kim Do-Joon had faced—a skeletal mage of malice and decay.

“Was it you? Did you wreak havoc in Judel’s workshop?” the Lich hissed, its hollow voice echoing.

Number One said nothing.

Judel was the name of the Lich who turned into Number Five a while ago. However, Number One did not know his name, so he just hovered in the air.

“Your presence here can only mean one thing...” The Lich’s voice trembled as realization dawned. “Judel... is dead?”

The skeletal mage began to quake violently. Flames of ghostly blue erupted in his hollow eye sockets, fueled by his growing fury.

“You wretch! I’ll make sure you suffer—no, I’ll twist you into an eternal slave for my army!”

With a swing of his staff, the Lich summoned ominous storm clouds overhead. Acidic rain began to fall, the violet droplets reeking of death and poison. Below, an undead horde stirred to life at the Lich’s command, encircling Number One.

Some raised bows, others conjured spells, and a few hefted massive boulders to hurl at the intruder.

Number One stood at the heart of a deadly convergence. However, he showed no fear. Instead, he raised his staff.

Even if only my head remains... the king’s power will sustain me... Number One thought.

And behind him, dozens—no, hundreds—of glowing mana circles began to form, crackling with dark energy. His cold, unflinching eyes locked onto the Lich and the undead army surrounding him.

***

Far away, in the headquarters of Mercenary, Drake Harden sat in his top-floor office, furrowing his brows.

What’s going on?

Another ArchLich’s signal had vanished and that made five.

Five Liches gone in such a short time?

Not even a day had passed since the first Lich had been defeated, and now a total of five were gone. Drake Harden leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against his desk.

It seems my dear sibling has decided to pull out all the stops this time.

Drake Harden chuckled quietly.

“I didn’t expect her to have this much strength left.”

He had clashed with her countless times and emerged victorious nearly every time. He had assumed the blows from her defeats had drained her of any meaningful power. Yet now, she was resisting with an unexpected ferocity.

This presented a dilemma.

On one hand, it was clear she was burning through her final reserves of strength—a desperate last stand. If he struck now, he could finally claim victory and put an end to their conflict. On the other hand, ignoring this situation could prove costly.

Drake Harden sighed, returning his attention to the documents in front of him. Among them were reports on Kim Do-Joon, the man who had killed Mel Sior, and the information on members of the Family Guild.

The guild was small—just three members—so there was not much information to sift through. Still, Drake Harden read through each profile carefully.

The first page... the second page... and then the third.

He paused, holding the final document in his hands. It belonged to a Hunter named Yoon Si-Ah. Her activity record was practically non-existent, and the accompanying photo offered little insight.