Chapter 377
Chapter 377
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Saint and Completer (33)
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A quiet hill.
Three beings stood side by side before the silver mechanical tree.
"I've done everything I could. The one silver lining is... since 'Professor's world ended on a happy note, the 'error' born in the 3rd World is far below expectations."
"Better than expected... So, do you see hope in this?"
"..."
The girl couldn't answer the red dragon's question. The world tree's branches extending outward were so twisted that even a stranger would sense something was wrong.
The dragon felt it too, her face filled with worry as she folded her wings.
"In the end, the next world will proceed like this."
"...Are you afraid?"
"It would be a lie to say I'm not."
Countless people's worlds. Branches gathering together, stretching toward the sky—the dragon and the girl felt both awe and fear at the sight.
The end of the 3rd World. It meant the people composing that world moving on to the next.
Even if what unfolded next was a hell worse than the three previous apocalypses, they had no choice.
Ding-
An inorganic alert tone cut between the two worried administrators.
[The player's choice has been confirmed.]
"...Yes. Our duty is finally over. That's it. At least, this proves that everything wasn't in vain—"
[The choice is '1. In-game time dilation authority.']
"Cough!"
"Oh my."
It was news enough to make the ancient dragon cough and the world tree's eyes widen in shock.
A perfect player had appeared like a miracle—and made a choice.
Not for all humanity's future, but something else.
Atlahéba hurriedly opened a space, projecting the completer's location.
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"I don't care if it takes years—years, decades, whatever!"
"Don't force that bullshit choice on me, you program bastards! Give me time!"
"Let's do one more round!"
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The player shouted like a declaration of war, clinging to Aldar and Senica as they tried to pull him away.
Atlahéba's eyes alternated between the mechanical tree and him. The world tree twisting and bending toward the 4th World, and the player who abandoned his choice at the last moment.
"...What a fool of a human. Doesn't he know this is a reckless challenge and excessive greed?"
"Atlahéba. Didn't I tell you? He constantly defies our future prediction programs."
"It wasn't based on the program. I simply recalled the human I met in the desert."
Atlahéba remembered him in the desert sea, charging down the path opened by countless holy knights' deaths, ultimately defeating a god-like being.
He wasn't a dull human intoxicated by personal victory.
She acknowledged him because he was the kind who could nobly burn himself to the last moment for society's well-being, not his own. Professor was the human to carry the final shard of hope to the world's end.
Atlahéba hadn't doubted for a second that he would choose the server room coordinates.
'It was that kind of promise.'
The final test to recognize a 'completer candidate' as a 'completer.'
Laying out rewards one could call personal dreams, seeing if the candidate overcame their temptations and chose the world's hope—with nothing for himself.
Proving if their efforts to save one world were for rewards, or simply because they wanted to save it.
The final choice to determine that proof.
Professor had buckled at the last moment, just like that.
Like the other two completer candidates before him. Player 'Professor' remained a completer candidate.
He intended to dive back into GG's simulation.
When there were truly no chances left.
"Heh. Hehehehe..."
"...You seem amused, World Tree."
"Is that so? Hmm, yes. It's just fascinating how you and I, sharing the same thoughts and goals, can react so differently on the surface."
The world tree's fingertips touched the dragon's contorted face.
"You are a dragon. A guardian and maintainer of balance. To you, the 4th World—polluted beyond measure—is no better than a worthless cesspool."
"A demon cave corrupting every soul drawn into it—indeed, it is."
"...From a dragon's eyes, yes. But the World Tree sees it differently."
The world tree in the form of a girl gazed at the silver trunks stretching toward the 4th World, as she always had from this spot.
The mechanical tree, which had only branched sideways for years, now reached endlessly upward.
"I am the observer of all worlds and supporter of players. As the World Tree, I've been with every player's world, shared every data soul's pain and despair. Their screams become my knots, their corruption withers my branches, rotting alongside my body."
She was an ancient tree in a girl's form. The world's ancient tree of machinery and wires. A machine intelligence that had touched more human lives than any AI.
"And with all those twists and wounds, it has finally grown that far."
Crooked branches signified someone overcoming it.
Deep scars symbolized their unyielding stand against adversity.
Even what others called a twisted form was pure brilliance to her, who had nurtured every tiny branch.
"Bent, broken, withering—but not yet fallen."
"..."
"Atlahéba, you care for 'Professor,' don't you?"
"World Tree."
"You're hoping he won't leap into that unbalanced world you couldn't ultimately grasp."
"...I simply didn't like that he returned to this futile land when he could have completed it."
How foolish.
How greedy.
How... dazzling.
He buckled at the last moment.
The arrow pointing to saint or completer—he bent it, splitting into both.
Discarding their final hope, digging up an old, buried one. Flaunting that worn-out cliché: 'a happy ending for everyone.'
Before the three administrators on the World Tree's bench, a vision appeared: a young dragon and human brawling with fists before a vending machine.
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"Ow, ugh! Hide, you son of a— Now you're really asking for it— Ack!"
"Saladin, you arrogant fool! Stupid human!"
"What the hell, punk! You told me to choose! You said choose!"
"You heard me! It's impossible!"
"But maybe I can do it!"
"That's just the individual judgment of Aldarshax! GG's future prediction model, the greatest scientific achievement of the Creator—the greatest genius in human history—calculated that 'clearing is now truly impossible'! If we go to the 4th World like this and can never clear it, what was the point of all these sacrifices?!"
"Then break it! Break it! Don't you trust me? You irreverent lizard, daring to ignore the saint's conviction!"
"If you'd just picked the coordinates, we'd fulfill our long-cherished wish, the outside people get hope—everyone happy!"
"I'm not happy! Me!"
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His left hand, moving like it was alive, punched him, but he finally wrapped his legs around Aldarshax's neck and squeezed.
Wood-cracking sounds ominously echoed from his waist, coiled by the dragon's tail as it tried to pry him off. The teary orange hatchling flailed its short arms, unsure if there were two or three to stop.
Actions and words too frivolously light for those holding the world's fate.
Yet, bearing both worlds' karma, no one could take him lightly.
"...Perhaps we misunderstood the Creator's will."
[Negative. The administrator followed the processes input by the Creator for the project, so deviation from the Creator's will is impossible.]
Atlahéba shook her head at the system's sharp response.
Really? Is that so?
The system was rigid. Since he didn't choose [Server Room Coordinates], his GG-input authority remained 'completer candidate.'
But who could deny the saint title to the man laughing freely now, relieved after choosing the thorny path?
Even if programs didn't appoint him, he was already a completer. The completed human Andrey Gedroits awaited. Those with lofty ideals fell to them; those with ocean-like goodwill crumbled to the world's cruelty.
Neither purely good nor evil.
No grand ideals or ambitions.
Simply saving the world 'because he wanted to'—an absurd human.
A madman at ease on thorns over soft paths.
By definition, a 'hero.'
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"Aaagh! Let, let go! Th-that hand, Saladin!"
"Hold still! Scales, claws, teeth, heart! No more, just one of each! If you're so worried about the next world, you can donate this much, right? I need good armor since my regen got stripped!"
"Grrrrr! Seha! Seha!!!"
"Pulling out the heart kills you!"
"Then. The rest?"
"Uh.... Scales and claws... maybe...?"
"Se, Sehaaaaa!!!"
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Ack!
Seeing the baby dragon's fang finally pulled, Atlahéba stood.
"Anyway, what's decided is decided. No point in us chattering here."
"Yes. GG's predictions say all worlds end in ruin anyway, so an unpredictable choice might be the real answer. In that sense, wasn't Professor's choice the right one?"
"Not an answer, yet the right choice... Hard for a dragon to accept, but I must agree."
Persuaded by the smiling World Tree, a small smile finally crept onto the dragon's face.
In any case, the completer hadn't abandoned both worlds.
Both stories progressed, neither ended.
So they still had work to do.
With that thought, the red dragon stepped toward the door to her lair.
Whoosh-!
The air shifted instantly. From the iron-scented World Tree space to her serene, soft lair—
"Aaagack! Graaagh!"
"Molars! Dragon molar necklace! All thirty!"
"Ueee, thethath tho thorryyy!!!"
Thick blood scent. A man shoved waist-deep into the dragon's maw.
Drool- and blood-soaked fangs on the precious Creator's armchair.
The orange hatchling clinging to the man's leg, tearfully charging toward her.
"Grandmatron! Grandmatron!!! We, we can't handle this guy...!"
"...Enough."
Atlahéba's briefly relaxed face soured again as she approached the half-eaten Professor.
Any thought that this might truly be the 'right answer' vanished.
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"Aaaagh!"
"Good! Almost done! It'll hurt a lot, so bite down... No, if you bite, I die—so just endure!"
"Grrraaah! Gr-Grandmatron! Graaandmatron!!!"
Dragon molars dangled just within arm's reach. His fingertips trembled as he reached in, a grumpy voice echoing from within.
[Great job. Is this the time for pranks? Huh? Dancing tap on the suicide button?]
'That's why I'm doing this! It looks like a joke, but it's serious!'
[If this is serious, you've murdered all seriousness in the world.]
Hyde had been chattering nonstop since losing the 'hand over body nicely' option.
'It's really serious.'
At the 3rd World's end, the grandmatron stripped his regen too, and the next world was 'hell' game-wide.
Shouldn't he strip this sucker bare for sturdy armor so he doesn't get one-shot on spawn?
He was dead serious about making a 'Dragon Knight Professor' from this baby dragon's bones and flesh as 4th World vanguard. Dragon spine would prevent roadside death.
Stretching vigorously for the molars—
Squelch!
"N-No! My dragon knight parts!"
Someone grabbed his ankle and yanked.
"Kahak! Grrrk! Kauk, haak!"
"O-Oniiichaaan!!!"
Heavily panting Aldarshax and Senica toddling toward him.
Atlahéba holding him upside down, drenched in dragon saliva, gazing with complicated eyes.
"...You can't take what you grab anyway, so stop."
"Oh, really?"
As he glanced regretfully at Aldarshax, Atlahéba shielded them with her wing. Come to think of it, pulling live hatchling teeth before the ancient dragon. No wonder her expression soured.
"...You look quite pleased."
Silence followed—not from lack of words, but careful choice. The ancient dragon took a breath-like sigh, eyes on him and the vending machine.
"No regrets? You threw the firm hope to save the outside world into very uncertain, low odds with that choice. You might never grasp it again."
"Well, maybe."
A near-omnipotent dragon who could alter natural mana with one breath, turn man to dog with a word, dog to eight-foot troll.
Such dragons visiting one after another, screaming 'you're fucked' with their whole bodies—how could he not be anxious?
Still.
"At least now I have plenty of time, right? Unlike the 3rd World’s 'do it now or it's over! Kill this guy now or everyone dies!' pressure, I can take it slow, careful, meticulous. Gotta plan accordingly."
The 4th World had different conditions. He had time until his soul wore out, and the ability to use it wisely.
Time for a massive plan. An outrageously huge board covering the world, scrap and flee at the first sign of trouble for another shot.
And real-world time wouldn't even tick a second.
As long as he didn't fail. Ten years, century, millennium—if he succeeded! Find the way, save GG's electronic ghosts, outside folks wake to Professor hale as ever. Success meant no victims—perfect.
Atlahéba seemed to search for words, then closed her mouth. A resigned smile seemed to grace the dragon's face.
"If that's your will, so be it."
"Yes, well. Nothing more for me to do?"
"No.... Actually, one thing. Just one more. Right, this."
Atlahéba's smile hardened slightly.
"You must receive your reward."
.
.
.
.
Huh?
"Reward? Didn't I already?"
The ancient dragon shook her head at his question.
"Not that kind. This is Gedroits's 'game,' after all, isn't it? Getting real-world items as game rewards feels off, don't you think?"
"Well.... Yeah."
"Strictly speaking.... Yes. 'Gift' fits better. Gratitude for linking the world to the next, fulfilling all our wishes, never abandoning anyone. A thank-you, that much."
Rustle-
A little girl in a silver dress appeared beside the ancient dragon.
"Long time no see, Professor."
"Ah, World Tree."
"Atlahéba, preparations are complete."
"So soon?"
"Everyone wanted it."
"Ah.... Makes sense."
Leaving bewildered him, the administrators whispered. A silver door rose from the floor. Towering ten meters high, four wide—massive silver door.
At his quizzical look, Atlahéba nodded toward it.
"Go in."
"Uh, to the 4th World?"
"No. New world prep takes time. About a week real-time for history to flow, you to ready. Spend that week outside resting, maybe with people you won't see for long. Anyway, this door leads neither outside nor next world."
"?"
Then what.
Atlahéba lifted him to the door, flung it open wide.
Whoosh!
Blinding sunlight poured.
Soil and sweat scent. Grilled meat and flowers mingling—human scent.
And.
Piiiuuuw—Bang!
Pabang! Bang! Bang!
『Waaaaaaaaah!!!!』
Gorgeous magic fireworks painted the sky, endless cheering parade.
Festival songs echoed on city streets and parade floats.
"...Huh?"
"TVs, armchairs, vending machines—you see the Creator liked old things."
"Isn't this game tradition? Hero defeats demon king, returns to cheers."
A scene straight from an old game's ending.
Kingsland spotless of war traces, hosting a festival.
Drunken folk raising huge mugs,
Housewives grilling meat, smiling through sweat beads.
Colored petals swirling, sky banners of five orders and Lordric.
And.
And.
"A sort of extra stage."
"Gathering all data souls for next world means inviting those with you here too."
Fully opened silver door revealed.
Parade float crossing festival center.
Atop it, people awaiting him with bouquets.
Lucilla and Gainax in ornate imperial garb.
Notum with staff, Idrasil sketching in notebook.
Silver-haired Aldrich.
Slightly taller Astrad between.
"Grrr. Congratulations, Professor."
"Learning from you was my fortune."
"On behalf of the Empire, my thanks, Saint."
"You were Aedran's irreplaceable history, my life's best investment!"
"You really.... Make the impossible seem routine."
"Quite the storm, no? Raging so fiercely, yet leaving peace in its wake."
People welcoming him with bright smiles.
His surviving party to the end. His team.
And.
"Water flows, eventually meeting at the same place—isn't that the way?"
"Ottoman..."
"Glad you look well, boss."
"Borka...!"
Companions thought forever lost.
Living and dead, all tied to him in 3rd World, gathered here.
Gregorius climbing roofs with holy knights, waving Radiant Church banner.
Turan guard who once vouched for him.
Exiled elf village matron.
Empire's former elites.
.
.
.
.
Staff roll-like, one by one appearing with parade, greeting.
Piiiuu—Bang!
[World 3 Cleared!]
Mage fireworks dazzling the sky.
World 3. Cleared.
This time, his chest swelled so full no words came.
Until parade's end, not a word, not a thank you escaped.
Rumble. Clunk!
Parade halted before Lordric castle.
Flower crown canopy, two figures behind.
Theod IV and Charlotte should have met in the procession earlier.
Tap tap.
Ottoman's hand on his speechless, trembling-lipped shoulder.
"Up you go. We'll meet at the banquet hall later."
"Wh-where... going?"
"Where? We're the 'Professor Hero Party'—think we didn't learn 'reading the room' from you?"
Reading the room. Why yield this precious reunion moment? Every second precious.
Instead of answer, Borka kicked his back.
Thwack!
Crash!
Flung helplessly, laughter from retreating carriage.
Splash-
[Think, Professor. This space gathers all GG data souls. Anyone in Gedroits's game can be invited.]
Ottoman, soul regaining real memories, whispered via magic.
[Then, who do you truly need to meet? Honored by us, but is reliving bonds here enough?]
[In a game 90% of humanity played, are we the only ones you need to see again?]
.
.
.
.
.
.
No way.
Impossible.
Warm hand touched his sprawled head.
If GG souls were once real people.
If this place allowed reunion with any data soul.
Knowing they're not copies but truly the vanished ones.
"...You kept the promise after all? Our son."
"He's been exceptional since childhood."
Mother.
Father.
The two whose names hurt too much to utter.
At parade's end, awaiting him: their data souls.
"H-Have you... been well?"
The gaps between words.
How many unspoken words and emotions tickled his throat, never emerging—he knew.
"...So much... so much... I want to say."
He too filled gaps with lost words.
Amid distant fireworks and cheers.
Soft canopy descended over castle, just three.
Childlike, endless tears burst.
No one could blame him this time.
Even enemies, here.
He could be a child.
The sole freedom, permitted only before these two.
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Ch. 16 Saint and Completer (End)
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