Unholy Player Chapter 505 A Word Too Dangerous to Say

Dalin pondered the method she should use to evaluate them.

Her gaze shifted toward the nearest STF soldier, her instincts drawing her first to his equipment. Every strap, metal edge, and plate of armor immediately caught her eye.

While she could easily calculate the price of every piece of gear he carried, how could she measure his worth as a human being? After all, these men weren't property being traded in a slave market.

"Stop thinking about money and build your own point system," Adyr remarked, sensing her internal conflict. Offering his own perspective, he continued, "Establish a potential value ranging from 1 to 10 based on your personal criteria. Assign each individual a number that reflects the potential you perceive in them, rather than their price tag."

"Okay," Dalin replied.

This time, she ignored the equipment and focused on the soldier himself. She analyzed his face, the sharp lines of his features, his hands, and his posture. She observed the cadence of his breathing, searching for those subtle tells that most observers would miss.

Was he truly confident, or merely a coward hiding behind a uniform? Was he a family man, a devoted brother, or perhaps someone satisfied with taking orders? Did he possess the ambition to one day reach the rank of commander?

Through observation alone, she attempted to decipher his entire being. In her mind, she constructed a profile, categorizing him with the same precision she used when sorting cargo.

This analytical process wasn't actually a new experience for Dalin. She simply hadn't recognized until this moment that she had been doing it her entire life.

Raised within a wealthy and influential family, the act of appraising people and judging their value was second nature. Having watched her parents and grandfather do the same, she had unconsciously adopted the habit.

It was only now, with Adyr’s guidance, that she understood this talent wasn't limited to physical objects and monetary worth; it could be something much more significant.

"2 out of 10," she finally declared, voicing her assessment of the soldier. Upon hearing the score, the soldier’s disciplined and steady posture wavered for a split second, clearly stung by the low rating.

Adyr chuckled and asked, "Why is that?"

Looking at the man, Adyr already understood why the score was so low based on his own insights. Nevertheless, he wanted to hear Dalin's logic and the specific framework she was applying.

The soldier also appeared curious. He turned his gaze toward her, waiting for an explanation as if seeking some reason to salvage his sense of self-worth. "Because he recently got married and now has a newborn. That alone keeps him anchored in the Beyond. Those kinds of attachments always place limits on a person. These attachments make his decisions cautious, and they will continue to do so in the future. He'll avoid risks that could cost him his life or his position, and that hesitation will block his future."

The soldier was visibly shocked. He couldn't fathom how Dalin knew about his private life, particularly the newborn. He hadn't mentioned it to a soul, not even his closest comrades.

As an elite soldier, he possessed a mind as resilient as steel. Discussing personal matters or anything that might create emotional vulnerability during a mission in this new world was strictly prohibited. It was a rule hammered into every STF member through brutal training.

Dalin noticed his stunned expression, the way he stared as if she had used a Spark skill to invade his mind. It prompted a small, amused laugh from her. "Don't worry. I didn't read your mind. I just read your files a little."

In truth, she had reviewed every available file on the soldiers surrounding her. Given her status as a Player and her powerful background, obtaining them hadn't been difficult, even if the ethics were debatable.

However, ethics were not her primary concern in a world like this. Ultimately, understanding your allies was just as vital as knowing your enemies, especially when a single error could result in death.

"What about the others?" Adyr inquired with genuine interest. He found her capacity for appraising people fascinating, much like watching a tool reveal a hidden function.

Dalin didn't hesitate. She went through everyone present one by one, assigning each a numerical value.

The highest score she gave was to the company captain—a middle-aged woman with hardened, resolute features that looked as though they had been carved by years of intense pressure.

Even then, the score was only a 5.

Finally, her eyes landed on Adyr. She observed him with the same intense focus she had applied to the others. "And your value is..."

She paused to think. She organized every scrap of information she had gathered about him into mental files. She connected the dots, compared the data, and arrived at a final conclusion as if solving a complex equation.

Weighing not just who he was, but his potential for the future, she said with total confidence, "It's 9."

"And where did you take 1 point away?" Adyr asked, his curiosity piqued. He wanted to hear her critique—the one area where she believed he fell short.

Since Adyr hadn't received a perfect score, it meant either she was being exceptionally stingy, or there was a genuine, significant flaw in his character.

It was the latter. "You are too calm for your own sake."

The moment the words escaped her lips, Dalin’s expression shifted, appearing as though she immediately regretted her honesty.

Adyr’s interest only deepened, his voice remaining as steady as ever. "Is that supposed to be a disadvantage?"

Dalin looked as if she would rather avoid further explanation, but when she met Adyr’s eyes—calm and deep like a shifting crimson sea—she felt compelled to answer.

"For you, it is." She let out a sigh. "You nearly lost your family, yet I have never heard you raise your voice in rage. You have made enemies as formidable as dragon riders and dealt with a self-proclaimed mad scientist, but I’ve never seen you panic."

Her voice softened as she continued.

"You secured a new territory for humanity, providing a place they can call a second home, yet I’ve never heard you boast or praise yourself. People call you a hero, a king, and a ruler, but these accolades never seem to inflate your ego."

She lowered her head, falling silent for a moment. Even the soldiers in the cabin held their breath, wary of breaking the silence.

"You are always so composed, never displaying the emotions one should feel, or perhaps only showing the ones you want people to see. It’s as if regardless of what happens—success, failure, or tragedy—you react with the same detachment, like..."

She trailed off, unable to find the final word.

The word in her mind felt perilous. She sensed that speaking it aloud would trigger something irreversible.

Adyr didn't press her to finish this time. He simply laughed the comment off. "I get it."

He felt it as well. He had no desire to hear that word either.