Jack Harper, Flora, and Elliot Gray arrived in the Berserk world inside a quiet birch forest. The mission had brought in fifteen newcomers. Aside from the twins, the pajama-clad teen, the scar-faced thug, and the four police officers who had already awakened, the rest were a mixed bunch: two burly men who looked like construction workers, one fat and one lean; a city girl in her twenties dressed for summer; three high schoolers—one boy, two girls; and a middle-aged woman with the air of a suburban housewife.
Unlike the first wave, these newcomers were visibly panicked. Some screamed, others tried to bolt. But under Jack Harper's psychic pressure, none of them could move. One by one, they sat down like scolded schoolchildren, forced to listen as Jack laid out the rules.
"Every one of you has already died once. If you want to keep living, you'll need to survive through a series of dangerous worlds in the Cycle Realm. After the rookie phase, you'll have to earn survival points to extend your existence. You'll gain reward cards, strengthen yourselves, and face real threats. That's the reality."
Elliot Gray gave a streamlined version of the rules they'd learned so far, carefully omitting the part about rookies being allowed to leave the team after their first mission. He shared only what was safe to reveal. Once he finished, Jack lifted the psychic pressure, allowing the group to move again.
The first to speak was the sharp-eyed female officer with short hair.
"You expect us to believe all that? I've got one question: what do you want from us? If we say we don't trust you, are you going to pull that mind-control stunt again?"
No one liked the idea of being manipulated. And while their words said "we don't believe you," their expressions told a different story—deep down, they did.
Jack's voice was calm. "Whether you believe it or not is up to you. Your lives are your own. We explained the situation because it's our duty as predecessors. Whether you stay with us or go your own way, you'll face danger either way. The choice is yours."
The officer stood, revealing long, toned legs that drew a few glances from the group. She ignored them, eyes locked on Jack.
"Is there any way to leave this Cycle Realm for good? To return to our original lives?"
Jack replied, "After your first mission, you'll get one chance to return to the real world—to settle unfinished business. As for escaping permanently… I don't know. I've only just formed a team myself."
She frowned, scanning the forest. "I believe what you've said. But I don't trust you. My team and I will be leaving. Anyone who wants to come with us, we'll protect you. That's a promise—from the police."
Faced with a choice between a mysterious psychic and a confident, upright officer, most instinctively chose the latter. In the end, the four officers and seven rookies left. The ones who stayed were the first to awaken.
The twins, despite their angelic faces and innocent smiles, gave Jack an uneasy feeling. Their every move felt calculated. Their decision to stay was no surprise.
The scarred man in the Hawaiian shirt didn't look like a law-abiding citizen—his choice to avoid the police made sense.
But the pajama-clad artist? Jack hadn't expected him to stay.
Jack smiled. "Since you've chosen to stay, let's introduce ourselves."
The pajama boy spoke first. "Name's Evander Marlowe. Washington native. Freelance artist—I sell my work online. I was browsing the web when lightning hit my building. Next thing I know, I'm here. Guess isekai really is a thing. And this one's a group jump."
Jack nodded, then turned to the scarred man.
The thug had already set down his watermelon knife. "Frankie Romano. Chicago. Not sure how I got here. As for my job… well, you can probably guess."
No one needed to guess. Everyone silently agreed: definitely gang-affiliated.
But then he pointed to the cross hanging from his thick gold chain.
"I'm a priest."
"What—?!"
Everyone except Flora stared in disbelief. Their expressions said it all: You're kidding, right?
Frankie seemed to understand. He smiled—a grin that might've been friendly if not for the scar—and added:
"Yeah, church attendance in Chicago isn't great these days. So I spend half my time at the orphanage, teaching and volunteering."
The group's expressions turned even stranger. It was like hearing a Japanese adult film star claim to be a virgin.
Jack blinked, then sighed and whispered to Elliot Gray, "He's telling the truth. I can't read minds, but I can sense emotional resonance. I judged him by appearance. My mistake."
It reminded Jack of a viral video he'd once seen: a frumpy 47-year-old woman stepped onto a stage, declared her dream of becoming a singer, and was met with laughter. But when she opened her mouth, her voice stunned the crowd into silence. That day, many learned the folly of judging by looks. Jack had just relearned it.
He turned to the last two—those angelic twins.
"And you two? What are your names?"
The girl smiled sweetly, her eyes sparkling. "Big brother, can you live a long time in this world?"
Jack hesitated. "Of course, I—"
She didn't wait for the answer.
"Then if we kill you, we'll live even longer."
Before the words finished, her small hands produced twin silver pistols. She fired two shots at Jack. At the same time, the boy—identical in face and form—threw a curved blade at Jack's throat.
Their movements were lightning-fast, their coordination flawless. Despite their age, they fought like elite assassins. Strength, speed, precision—all at the peak of Iron-tier. Their cheerful expressions made it even more chilling.
But Jack Harper was a Gold-tier adventurer.
"What the hell?" Jack muttered. He was surprised by their strength and sudden aggression—but not threatened.
The girl's bullets were slow compared to Jack's reflexes. He caught them midair with two fingers. The boy's blade was deflected with a flick of his wrist. Then, with a surge of Force, Jack lifted both twins into the air and locked them in place.
"Enough. Now, names. You've got some skill, but you're nowhere near strong enough to survive here without help."
But the twins didn't respond. They struggled violently, muttering fragmented phrases: "won't die," "kill," "stay alive."
Jack frowned. He considered adding a chill to his Force field to calm them down—but before he could, the twins exploded with power. Their bodies surged with Bronze-tier psychic energy, enhancing their strength and speed. They broke free and vanished into the forest.
"What the—? That was Bronze-tier psychic amplification. Are they espers?" Jack was stunned. His Force skills were basic, but strong enough to restrain Olympic-level athletes. Only a sudden burst of psychic energy could've broken his grip.
He prepared to pursue them—but Evander Marlowe stepped forward, blocking his path.
The delay let the twins escape.
Jack didn't care about the escape itself—but he didn't appreciate being obstructed. He turned to Eliot, his voice cold.
"I think you owe me an explanation. Don't tell me 'you can't hurt kids'—those kids just tried to kill me."
Eliot raised his hands. "Not saying that. I just know why they did it. You won't be able to make them allies. Letting them go might be better."
Elliot Gray asked, "You know them?"
Evander Marlowe shrugged. "Two days before I died, they made headlines. They were trafficked orphans, sold as sex slaves. One buyer—a rich pervert—decided to 'train' them into bloodthirsty playthings. He wanted dolls with a violent edge. But something went wrong. The paper tiger turned real. The twins awakened a terrifying talent for killing. They slaughtered the man, his guards, and escaped with his weapons. Then they went on a rampage in the city."
"They were too young to be charged. But they were feral. No one could approach them. They kept killing. Eventually, the military cornered them at a gas station. They blew it up—took themselves with it."
"Their minds are still broken. Even if you caught them, they wouldn't be teammates."
Jack nodded slowly. "That kind of story would've been buried. How do you know so much?"
Eliot spread his hands. "I volunteered with the Pan-American Missing Children Relief Network. We were tracking their case. I saw the files."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Pan-American what?"
Before Eliot could answer, Elliot Gray chimed in.
"If I'm remembering right, that group also goes by a more colorful name—the Pan-American Moe Alliance. Basically, it's an online coalition of self-proclaimed 'benevolent lolicons and shotacons' from across the Americas. Their mission? Rescue missing kids, fight human trafficking, support disabled infants, help out-of-school children... you name it."
He gave a dry chuckle.
"In other words, a justice league of morally righteous perverts. So tell me—are you one of the hardcore ones?"
Evander Marlowe's expression darkened instantly. His voice rose, sharp and indignant.
"You're the pervert! Your whole worldview's twisted! Lolis and shotas are the purest treasures this world has. Protecting them means protecting the future. They're innocent, radiant, untouched by corruption—living proof that beauty and hope still exist. Men who love lolis, women who care for shotas—they're the ones who still have a human heart. Anyone who doesn't feel that way? They've lost something essential. A life without lolis and shotas is a life missing its soul!"
Jack Harper blinked, unsure how to respond. But Elliot Gray, face solemn, countered with clinical precision:
"That kind of obsession is nothing but emotional regression. It's a symptom of arrested development and fear of adult relationships. Humans connect with their peers—physically, mentally, emotionally. If you can only relate to children, it says more about your own immaturity than anything else. Real wisdom means aspiring to the adult world, seeking depth, independence, and intellect. That's why I—"
He stopped mid-sentence, realizing he'd said too much. The others stared at him with amused expressions that clearly said: Ah, so you're into older women.
Jack Harper subtly shifted his position, placing himself between Flora and Elliot—just in case.
A genius with a thing for mature women, and a passionate lolicon artist—two extremes clashing from the moment they met. Neither knew that one day, they'd spark a very different kind of fire… May the gods of lolis and onee-sans forgive them both.
Jack clapped his hands. "Alright, we've gone way off track."
He cut off the brewing debate before it escalated further.
"Only two of you chose to stay, but that's fine. Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Jack Harper. You can call me Captain, or by my codename—Rime. This is Sage, my teammate. And her name is Flora. She's a warrior from the Claymore world, and part of our squad."
Jack had no ties left in the real world, so he didn't mind sharing his real name. But he deliberately withheld Elliot Gray's, just in case his teammate had unfinished business back home.
Evander Marlowe's eyes lit up. "Wait, so people from these mission worlds can join us as adventurers?"
He clearly recognized Flora, staring at her modified SS-style uniform and icy demeanor.