Chapter 184
Chapter 184
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Wizards' Wizard (4)
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“Hmm hmm hmm~”
“Professor? Did something good happen? You’re even humming a tune.”
“Oh, what good thing? It’s just the ordinary happiness of an ordinary man. Ha ha ha ha!”
The Professor grinned like an idiot, recalling his morning encounter with Dana.
Just as waves have troughs and crests, emotions have their highs and lows.
He couldn’t cling to her forever—not that he wouldn’t if he could—but after carefully parting from her, the two of them awkwardly continued their conversation side by side.
The first words out of Dana’s mouth were an apology.
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“I’m sorry. From your perspective, it must’ve been like some woman you don’t even remember suddenly showing up and saying, ‘Actually, I was your lover. So please love me.’”
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Good lord. What was there to be sorry about? At that moment, the Professor was inwardly shouting “I am unworthy!” a hundred thousand times over.
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“But.... I didn’t want to hesitate. My body is weak, so I always thought I’d end up as someone’s lingering memory.... But the moment I saw you lying there, it hit me that maybe time isn’t plentiful just for me. This is a wasteland, after all. So.... I couldn’t hold back my greed. I’m sorry. Truth is, even two months ago, you and I were just friends who’d met as man and woman for the first time—we weren’t that deeply involved—mmph!”
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“Hehe, hehehehe....”
“Professor? We need to check your connection to GG.... Professor?”
“Hehe.... So warm.... and soft.... Heh....”
The one who couldn’t hold back was me. A perfect woman, one I was sure I’d never find again in my life, with tears welling in her eyes saying something like “I’m sorry for loving you”—of course reason and all that flew off beyond the galaxy.
Our excited breaths mingled, her surprised eyes softly closed.
The satisfaction of confirming we both wanted each other, as she, who had stiffened, melted back toward me once more.
If [Rational Professor] hadn’t remembered just before drowning in that pink tidal wave of emotion that “the researchers outside are monitoring us!”, he might’ve gone all the way. What “all the way” means.... well.... let’s keep it to the imagination. It’s just the connector anyway. Whatever happens stays platonic. Right?
“Hmm.... Your brainwaves are extremely unstable. Are you sure you should log in like this? I’ll say it again: if you log in now, you won’t be able to log out until at least 3rd World clear.”
“I’m 200% fine, so hurry up and plug me in. Finish it quick and come out for a date.”
If he logged in, he couldn’t log out until clear. He could, but it’d require redoing the “data soul search operation” from those two months he was unconscious. And every time they pulled him in and out, there was even a risk of losing the backed-up memories. So it was best to stay in until the clear naturally extracted them.
Blink. Blink. Ding!
The researcher shook their head and fiddled with the system here and there, lighting up the grayed-out GG icon.
“Now.... can I go in?”
“Yes. To avoid any mix-ups, wait until I leave before logging in. Though that shouldn’t happen.... You mustn’t clear within at least three months. Your current body.... needs that much time for the mutated parts to regenerate at minimum.”
“....Wasn’t it 43 years before?”
“That was the time for the regenerated body to revert back to a human one. Didn’t you hear? ‘The virus levels are decreasing, ever so slightly.’ Human proteins are being detected in that black tissue of unknown substance. So try to steadily and clearly visualize your human body from back then in your mind. Even after clearing and logging out, it’s best to consult with us before using ‘that’ body.”
Damn it. Should’ve just said from the start: “Monster body recovery in 3 months, reverting to human in 43 years!”
Still, it was good news. Clear after three months, and he could move around in that body at least? Whether his mind stayed human or twisted into a Type-3 mutant’s inside there was secondary.
Not having to twiddle his thumbs for 43 years was good enough. Hell yeah.
With the researcher gone after all the warnings, only the ‘GG’ icon blinked in this bizarre artificial chamber.
A black, eerie, vast space all to himself. It made him think of that guy.
“Hyd. Hyd?”
Still no answer. Apparently, what remained of him in the original body was pouring all consciousness into life support. Somehow manually controlling the brain, organs, and involuntary muscles to keep the body alive.
In short, too busy to chat.
“....I’m always in your debt.”
No words, but his presence was still felt. Their consciousnesses were still linked. Meaning he could read the Professor’s thoughts without being told.
That alone was immense comfort.
Ding-!
[Welcome. Would Player ‘professor’ like to log into Gedroits’s Game?]
Squeeze-
[YES]
[Savior, please save the Gedroits continent....]
With a familiar yet somehow strange login message.
Fwaaaah-!
He logged into the game from a completely different standpoint than before.
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Swaaaa-
Zzzzt, zzzzt! Chirp chirp chirp!
The dizzying sensation faded as feeling gradually returned to his body.
“This is.... a bit unfamiliar.”
The sound of leaves rustling like waves in the forest breeze.
The chirps of nameless insects and birds.
The cold touch of dew-soaked moss and the refreshing forest air.
“This is.... Gedroits’s Game as I knew it?”
Everything was vivid. Too vivid, impossibly so. The GG play he’d experienced before was mere “play,” as if this asserted it was the true world Gedroits created.
“....Technically, it’s the difference between signals from Gedroits servers via satellite to the connector relayed to the brain, versus a data soul directly experiencing server-stored data....”
The Professor yanked up a handful of random grass and chewed it. A thick grassy scent filled his mouth, bitterness assaulting his tongue.
“Definitely too real.”
The one flaw in Gedroits’s Game that all players lamented.
A world of extravagant cuisine in GG, yet the satisfaction of eating never quite matched reality.
The community said human eating wasn’t just taste stimulation for satisfaction, but fullness plus deep-seated instinct—and no matter how perfectly food was recreated in the game, it couldn’t match real enjoyment.
That’s why people flipped out over a can of wasteland grub despite in-game delicacies.
The stench from his unwashed body. Dew on his fingertips. The strange aura around him. Too lifelike for a game.
“So this is an NPC’s perspective. And there’s more that’s changed.... quite a bit.”
First, the system window. No matter the command, it wouldn’t appear. Logging in as non-player meant losing player perks.
Fortunately, the connector’s community and chat rooms worked fine.
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- Jokasss: Nacho Man.
- Highway Nacho Man: Present.
- Jokasss: Whale is Coming.
- Whale is Coming: Present.
- Jokasss: Chocolucky.
- Jokasss: No one? Morning Joy Multi-Time really gone?
- Deer Drug Please: Guess this one’s dead too.
- Jokasss: Fuck off. Not ‘dead,’ ‘missing.’ Missing, asshole.
- Deer Drug Please: Yeah, yeah. Chocolucky missing. Noted.
- Jokasss: ....Ghosts don’t know shit. Why’d they skip Deer, that bastard.
- Goldman Sucks: Sorry to interrupt, but may I ask what you’re doing?
- Jokasss: Old timer, what brings you here this hour? No business?
- Goldman Sucks: Can’t dream of expeditions, stuck peddling domestic. What’s there to do? Dome froze food prices for stability—no real trading. Just hand over goods, take money, done. Not even business. So what’s this?
- Jokasss: This? Year-end bullshit. Attendance, funeral, inheritance split.
- Goldman Sucks: Attendance? Funeral? Inheritance?
- Jokasss: Kinda like a group funeral. Raids peak at cold snap start—raiders and scavs prepping for winter. Mid-December, check who survived. Looks like it, but we’re all at home in black clothes typing. Our chat culture.
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“Oh, that.”
Already that time?
Annual chat event around now. December 15th. Link personal sealing account to Room 47, set password unlock for next year same day. Don’t survive? Sealing pours into Room 47. Survive? Unlink briefly to block outflow, relink post-funeral for next year.
Jokasss started it years back for solos: send-off on the road, funeral cash for the dead. Now Room 47’s year-end event.
Even lurkers popped in once a year. Gotta keep linked accounts or forfeit player cash.
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- Goldman Sucks: You lot.... live so amusingly.
- Take a Look: “You lot”? Old man’s in now. Link that deathbed cash quick—can’t take it with ya.
- Deer Drug Please: Hell yeah, gotta laugh and play here. Old timer, how old this year? Today or tomorrow? Not hauling all that sealing to the afterlife? Too heavy—stroke on the way.
- Goldman Sucks: Thieves, the lot of ya.
[Player ‘professor’ has joined the chat room.]
- Jokasss: Next, Heung An Man—
- Heung An Mandu: Stop, stop!!! Here, I’m here!
- Take a Look: It’s the Professor.
- Deer Drug Please: Holy shit, weren’t you toast?! You’re alive!
- Holy: Oh my god.... Dome aired a whole documentary like you’re a dead icon. You’re alive?
- Jokasss: Where you been, what you up to? Holy said hospital wasn’t there. Hey, spill! Yo!
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“....These guys. Always cursing me to die, but....”
Ziiing-
Kinda touching. Don’t know their faces, but friends welcoming back the risen dead—
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- Deer Drug Please: You got tons of cash! Was hyped for BDSM head Professor’s hidden stash at the funeral! Crawled back from hell ‘cause you hate sharing?
- Take a Look: My stockpiles low. Count you dead? We’ll split nice.
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As if. Consistently assholes, damn bastards. Cash was the goal.
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- Jokasss: Joking aside, glad to mark your name on this year’s roll, Professor. Why quiet?
- Speed Wagon: Professor currently suffering severe injuries in multiple areas, playing GG for treatment. Documentary showed brain damage hindering smooth connector use. Streams impossible—only pre-recorded connector footage uploadable.
- Take a Look: Thanks for the swift intel as always, Dana.
- Speed Wagon: ....Who?
- Take a Look: Dumgay old man spilled. Said Professor cherished you lot—need to know if close. Named you. As shocking as Professor down. You’re a girl?
- Speed Wagon: Oops.
- Deer Drug Please: Why? Surprised? I’m a girl too?
- Take a Look: Gaaah! No lies! Anything but you! Don’t shatter my woman fantasy, dream!
- Deer Drug Please: Hehehe. Dear, better shatter dreams quick~. Face reality, find fitting girl, pump out kids, contribute to humanity?
- Take a Look: Kieeeek!!
- Deer Drug Please: Lololololololol
- Jokasss: End times for real.
- Heung An Mandu: This is insane! I’m out!
[Player ‘Heung An Mandu’ has left the chat room!]
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“Pfft, hahaha, same old lunatics.”
....Thank god for this. Without it, in this hyper-real world sans system, he’d lose track of real vs. fake.
Their banter grounded him: still playing GG, just graphics update. Figure changes later. Focus on tasks now. No dumb deaths.
“Let’s see.... Last logout was arriving at the exiled elf village mid-Blue Line Mountains? They said wait till morning, so we did?”
Looking around, party strewn near wagons, bound wizard dangling asleep from tree. Too early for weary crew to rise.
“....Make breakfast?”
Licking lips at Loharam Church premium jerky taste, Professor unpacked cookware from wagon.
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Dizzy!
Yggdrasil grew ever more curious about these weird humans the longer she watched.
One day observing the humans camped before their village, Carnellan.
Their actions were utterly bizarre.
Old wizard reeking of fish lusted after her longtime spirit friend.
Man-eating troll gazed with mother tree eyes, those vibrant orbs wafting displeasing—no, pleasingly displeasing—death scent.
Yesterday’s oddities enough, but prime suspect warrior woke at dawn, face-planted, devoured raw grass yelling “Mmm, bitter! So bitter!” then grinned dazedly at nothing.
“....Nalim? Are humans normally like that?”
“Dunno. But if humans act like that naturally.... I get why Elder warned to stay away.”
Yggdrasil backed slowly from the madness-struck human pack.
Crunch!
Somehow, with them around, she couldn’t detach tree root from mouth.
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