Chapter 397
Chapter 397
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: World 4(1)
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“Administration? Why there? Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’ve got something to check on the connector real quick.”
“What about food? It’ll get cold if we don’t wait for you.”
“....It’ll just be a minute. Just a minute.”
The feeling was... strange, to put it mildly.
On the way back, the rattling truck hit the pavement, and soon the dense cluster of prefab buildings and the hum of city-grade shields drilled into my ears.
As the car rolled by, people on the street acted like they knew me—some even chanted my name and waved.
“Praise him! Praise him!”
“No gods, no demons! But the Professor exists! Upon this wasteland!”
In front of the administration building, the ‘Radiant Church Wasteland Branch’ folks were still gathered. Off in one corner, I spotted Camilla waving a flag with one arm, along with the mutation patients.
“Had a good vacation?”
“Chief Mong? You’re here?”
“Worked myself to the bone till my knees gave out. Thought I was retiring, but admin stuck me on desk duty. Damn Director.”
Inspector Chief Mong Clermont—the guy I’d known for ages. Chief Mong.
“Oh my~ You’re glowing! Looks like you two hit it off, huh?”
“[Help!/Help!/Help!]”
“Ow, Vex! If you’re gonna clean, come clean my place!”
Vex, dressed like a janitor, being dragged along by Levit Princess.
“Thanks for coming back so soon. I’d have been pretty bummed if you planned to just slack off.”
“Let’s grab a drink tonight if you’ve got time. Catch up on everything.”
“Professor.... please come.... I’ll die of acute alcoholism dealing with the Director alone....”
Near the infirmary lab, Director Young—already looking half-dead from a drink—and Ezel.
“Why’s a doctor like Elder Woojin at the hospital?”
“Came to get the steel rod outta my leg, you punk. Can’t exactly cut open my own damn leg and drill it out myself.”
Elder Woojin in his wheelchair, with the Moby Dick crew.
And Cynthia, too.
“Shouldn’t you be at school right now?”
“....I called her. Told her to hop in the car via her personal terminal.”
“Sigh. Dana sis? I get wanting some family time after so long, that’s why I let her come, but I’ve got kids to manage too. If I just bail from school like this without a plan, the rapidly expanding ‘Cynthia Clan’ might start getting ideas—”
*Crack!*
“Eek! Why’d you hit me! You’re a leader too, Professor, so you get it as a fellow leader!”
“Kid. You been studying?”
“Gr-great leaders don’t need fancy degrees! Look! Uncle Ian with his college degree turned into a wasteland lunatic with a big rep, and high-school dropout soldier Professor ended up as this great leader everyone flocks to—”
*Crack! Crack!*
“Ow! Eek!”
“Heh heh heh heh. Dana, this all started after the kid had that one-on-one with Director Young, right?”
“It’s not Director’s fault! It’s Professor foster dad’s, with his family lessons via broadcast! Uh, if you feel bad, come take care of me from now on!”
*Crack! Crack! Crack!*
She was so cute I couldn’t stop the chestnuts. I hadn’t raised her properly after adopting her, but... Cynthia had turned out okay.
.
.
.
.
.
Some days are just like that. Your stomach acts up before a big exam, some freak accident hits right before a major op.
And when you’re about to head out on a long trip, people keep popping into your head.
Administration lab. My connector, hooked up to thick cables, medical gear, and lab equipment.
The cold metal under my stroking hand sank straight into my chest.
*Hiss—*
....I tried not to think of it as a coffin.
Then, a gentle hand nudged my hesitating back.
“I won’t say stuff like ‘come back safe’ or ‘survive.’ You always come back alive, no matter where or when.”
No tears—just a calm send-off and a soft hug.
“Come back. This is where you belong.”
*Hiss—clunk!*
The connector lid closed, Dana’s figure slowly fading away.
*Flash—!*
The world drowned in blinding white.
****
*Crackle!*
As the white light faded, I found myself in the familiar admin space.
“You’re back.”
“Ah, World Tree.... ma’am? That you, World Tree? Where’re the others? Atlaheva, the system prick, Aldar, Senica?”
“My appearance has changed a bit, but it’s me. They’re where they need to be. I wanted to say a few words before the game proceeds, so I set this up separately.”
Silver hair like the Silver Machine Tree, silver eyes, even a silver dress—who else could it be?
Just... her age had shifted a ton from last time.
First time: a girl nearing adulthood.
Second: teen around Lucilla’s age.
Now... like a 7-to-9-year-old kid.
“No helping it. I’m one with this world, so as it weakens, its symbol—me—grows weaker too.”
“....Things that bad inside?”
“This is thanks to progress slowing way down—hard to believe, I know. Player ‘professor,’ it’s because of you we’ve held on this long.”
“Hmm....”
Already, a brutal vibe crept up. What the hell happened for the World Tree—basically the world itself—to shrink like this?
The World Tree hopped down from her armchair and toddled over. Cute as hell, but her upturned eyes brimmed with pity and sorrow.
“Listen well, child. You’re different from other players. The consciousness moving you now—it data-souled once, merged into GG’s flow. That record lingers even after clear separated server room and data soul. So when you re-enter GG’s world, the game will classify you as that data soul. Meaning you can blend perfectly as a native—and at the same time—”
“Can’t leave. Till clear. I know. Came prepared.”
“....Right. You’re prepared. Of course.”
“....Give me your hand, dear?”
I offered my hand to the knee-high World Tree; she clasped both of mine like in prayer.
“While you rested, world time flowed to World 4. All data souls weathered history’s storms to reach another crossroads.”
*Squeeze—*
Her tiny hand gripped tight.
“....Thanks to you, our world stabilized. Countless data souls that should’ve errored kept their egos; even we watchers marveled at the grand peace. Mighty empire, nations uniting against humanity’s threats, dazzling magitech and tech revolutions, eased racial tensions....”
“Heh heh. Worked my ass off, so yeah, they owe me that much. The rest did good, huh? So, how’s my World 4? Not as scary as you hyped, right?”
“....I’m sorry.”
“Uh.... it’s not?”
She’d painted a bright future—like reward for the grind—but her voice sank lower.
“....‘professor,’ Gedroits’s game is ‘Player becomes savior to a world facing doom.’”
“Yeah....”
“Meaning, when your character drops in, the world must face doom, no matter what.”
“That’s....”
Uh.
Uhh?
Wait.... hold up.
Didn’t she just say golden age, dazzling progress, all that?
Empire with godlike power, nations shoulder-to-shoulder against common foes, budding magitech revolution—how does a world like that face doom?
....Meteor from the sky? Nah, too forced even for GG’s world sim.
Did groups I powered up but never spent duke it out ‘cause I did too well? No, World 3 had legends—even without me, they’re no slouches. Most survived, so no dumbass doom like that.
Last guess... that mighty world faced doom because...
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.
.
.
.
It just naturally did.
“Fuck—”
The scene I accidentally imagined made bile rise.
No way.
This is bullshit!
“....You get it.”
Sadly, the World Tree nodded at my crumpled trash-face like, yep.
“Thanks to you, the world’s lifespan extended—but you’ll reappear in World 3 way, way later.”
Ahh, this fucking GG bullshit. Classic.
Here’s the deal.
Ultra-strong peace. World catches a break from corruption, but savior skips till that peace shatters. Why? One world = one doom point. If it beats doom solo, no need for player savior.
Game rules: player-savior drops into doom-facing world. That’s the ‘world’ backdrop.
Time for my epic peace to crumble...
“How long. Exactly.... how long?”
“After the empire falls, humanity’s golden age crumbles, people you knew, their efforts, what they desperately protected—all shatters, fades, vanishes. Till traces are faint, and the world faces doom alone.”
The World Tree spoke of a point where it was all gone.
Fun fantasies I once had.
70 years from 2 to 3, so immortal Yggdrasil? Guaranteed reunion.
Mages live long—lucky, find wrinkled old Astraad, croak ‘Gramps! Greet me like old times!’
Trolls breed fast—brag to Notum’s grandkids ‘I was your granny’s head bitch,’ strut around. Radiant Church? ‘Reborn Saint’—god incarnate, flower palanquin parade.
Empire’s first emperor/empress tomb: lay flower, reminisce ‘You raised it well’ with old pals...
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.
.
Fun stuff.
“‘professor.’ No, Professor. You steeled for pain, but the first pain you face—you never imagined.”
The World Tree dashed all those dreams to vain wisps.
Her gesture summoned a massive silver Machine Tree projection. Twisted like hellspawn, one branch glowed vivid at the top.
My world. My World 4.
Too peaceful, too cozy—drifted too far away.
“You’ll watch your beloved world crumble, child. Machine intelligence ‘World Tree’ will bear maternal agony—my pain. Please, don’t be too sad.”
*Swish—*
With final comfort, the World Tree vanished. Alone, a translucent system window appeared before me.
*Ding—!*
The dry system beep rang like warning for all ahead.
[Player ‘professor’s World 3 has been cleared.]
[‘Settlement’ complete.]
[Player ‘professor’s all actions, influence, affected NPCs/events calculated. History recorded.]
System messages and voice before my eyes.
*Tap. Click. Tap.*
No more delay—messages hammered down, letter by letter.
[World Log- stand by]
[Duration: approx. 3 hours]
[History from World 3 clear to World 4 entry. Provided as text records and select footage.]
[Ready? Y/N]
....*Gulp.*
“Ready....”
*Ding—!*
With resolve, the records of passed history unfolded before me.
Chronicles of trials and tribulations for those I’d shared with—in my absence. Their saga till they faded, doom neared.
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[World log]
[Basis. Player death point]
[year +0: Saint Professor’s funeral. 15 attendees. Saint’s death hidden.]
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