Oops, I Accidentally Ascended to Godhood

"How haven't I thought of that before?" Tarkan muttered, a sharp grin flashing across his face even as he split another beast apart.

"Slim, can you use that ability of yours to bring forth people? They don't need to have any combat ability whatsoever, as long as they have the strength to pick the cores out of the creatures we've slain."

Slim's expression tightened, his brows drawing together. After a moment, he answered, "Master Tarkan, I can surely do that… but even with no combat ability, I can only hold them for two to three minutes at most. I could hold them longer, but I'm currently using my talent."

Tarkan smiled. "That will be enough. Summon them, let them start picking the cores. Make sure you are close to me at all times, and leave the rest to me."

He said it in a loud, confident voice, even as his sword lopped another beast's head clean off its body.

Slim, without much hesitation, obeyed his master's command.

A book made of pure light instantly appeared in Slim's hands, shining brightly against the blood-drenched battlefield.

His hands began moving quickly, almost dancing over the glowing pages as he drew something with focused precision.

Tarkan stood guard, cutting down anything that dared get near.

He had asked Slim to summon before, and each time, Slim's talent had drawn his attention.

He had long since told Tarkan about it, but even when Tarkan had tried to comprehend it, the process had been painfully slow, just like the girl he had seen in the First Dimension who killed three crowned-tier creatures alone.

Even now, Tarkan couldn't help but curse under his breath.

Wasn't it said an S-rank talent was as rare as a phoenix? Yet somehow, he had already encountered two people with one. The thought left him both amazed and skeptical.

He remembered how he had once asked Slim to summon an umbrella, so he could comprehend the talent more closely.

Tarkan had been determined to obtain it, but after several days of using his timer, the comprehension had only reached twenty-three percent.

That slow progress had finally made him give up, for the time being.

After protecting Slim for a while longer, the shining book in Slim's hands suddenly disappeared.

In its place appeared three people wearing white aprons, their eyes empty and lifeless, staring into nothing.

Tarkan glanced at Slim. He looked a little fatigued but still alright, and he was already back in the fight.

The three summoned people moved to the middle of the formation.

Two crouched with swords in their hands, similar to the one Slim was using, probably picked from around battlefield, slicing open the fallen monsters. The third dragged the corpses toward them.

Each time Tarkan or Slim killed a creature, the third would drag it to the two cutters, who split it open to reveal the core. As soon as it was extracted, it was tossed onto the growing pile.

When the pile reached a decent size, Tarkan drew near and touched it. Instantly, the entire mound of cores vanished into his storage.

Without breaking stride, he touched Slim, who was barely keeping up with the battle, sweat dripping from his face as he fought and maintained his talent at the same time.

The moment Tarkan's hand touched him, Slim's exhaustion vanished. His complexion brightened instantly, his breath no longer ragged.

Slim knew this feeling well, it was the same as when Tarkan had used on him when he beat up the Victoria girl.

From that, Slim guessed his master had awakened a healing talent, and for it to heal and recover his energy in an instant, it was likely an S-rank as well.

Since the start, his master had been using this on him every two minutes without fail, as if perfectly calculating the timing, and each time it restored Slim to peak condition with no fatigue or discomfort.

The strange part wasn't even the healing. What truly confused Slim was the disappearance of the cores his summons collected. He was always right beside his master, and he knew for certain Tarkan didn't own any kind of spatial artifact. That could only mean it was part of his talent.

But nothing about it made sense. Even if Tarkan had the energy capacity of a Third-Dimension being, lasting this long was supposed to be impossible. It was as if his master had infinite energy.

There were no words to fully describe him. Even calling him a monstrous genius felt like a degrading insult to the battle power his master was displaying.

Tarkan had lost count of how many creatures he had slain, but he was sure it had been hours now.

The battle had raged through the night, and by the time he noticed the sky, it was already morning.

Sunlight spilled over the battlefield, but it did nothing to soften the scene. The ground was carpeted with corpses, human and monster alike.

The monsters charging toward the city still showed no sign of stopping, an unending tide of claws and teeth.

It was truly bloody.

Tarkan's clothes were drenched, dripping with the blood of the creatures.

He had long since thrown away his mask, the constant splatter of blood clogging it and cutting off his air.

His face was completely covered in gore, his hair tied into a bun at the back of his head.

His two blades moved more smoothly and fluidly with each passing second, cutting down beasts like water flowing from a jug.

He had become so familiar with the swords that they felt like an extension of his own body.

Despite the long hours of battle, there was no sign of fatigue or wounds on him, all thanks to his revert talent.

The only sign of wear was his clothes, now reduced to tattered rags.

Sometimes, some creatures managed to land a few hits that injured him. But he refrained from using revert unless the injury began to hinder his movements.

As the battle dragged on and his sword familiarity grew, fewer and fewer beasts were able to land a hit at all.

No one would believe that someone who had just ascended to the Second Dimension, with not even a single prime point, could survive this battlefield, let alone face multiple creatures of the same category at the same time.

But here, with blood and glory around him, Tarkan was not only killing them. He was slaughtering them like chickens