Chapter 523
Chapter 523
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: +0
Chapter Title: Hereafter, All Has Been Paid (1)
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....Rumble.
A sensation of floating buoyantly through water enveloped my body.
Beeping machine noises. Someone's frantic voice, and an overall stuttering sensation like everything was being played back on a broken tape.
Beeep—
[Access—denied.]
‘Access... denied?’
My mind, slowly starting to awaken, began interpreting the meaning of the voice reaching my ears.
Tap, tap, tap!
.
.
.
.
Beeep—
[Access—denied. All access privileges to this data have been terminated.]
“Damn it! What the hell kind of data is in here that even the Integrated Government's emergency code can't crack it?!”
“Parku brother, we're truly out of time now! Soon this sacred hall will...”
“Damn it! I know! I know!”
People. A young man and an old man. Desperate and terrified.
“Fuck, linking my biometric code to this shady data cap...”
“Shady?! How dare you speak such blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy or Christianity, if we get hacked by some ancient adware or whatever, I'll end up with three or four church pillars shoved down my throat myself! Two million credits won't even cover it!”
“Fine! Just do it!!”
At the old man's urging, the young man sighed and pricked his fingertip with a small needle. Blood beaded from his finger as he extended it forward.
Beep—
Beep—
Beep—
Beep—
....Ding!
[Access—granted. Genetic sequence match. Master code access permitted via direct blood relative.]
[Welcome, Parku.]
“Yes!”
“Ooooh, truly, truly, for that one to descend upon this land once more!”
“Let's see. Data soul, data soul.... What the hell, why so many damn procedures?”
“Please mind your words!!! Do you not realize how sacred the task our brother faces?! No, how is it that a direct blood relative hasn't even joined the church, let alone had their name rise within it?!”
“Hey, why bring that up now? Everyone has their circumstances. And if I'd joined like the other direct relatives, I'd be locked up with the higher-ups by now. But I was eating dirt in the boonies of District 47, so here I am, safe and sound. That's why we're grasping at straws like this.”
“Uuum, Latura. Is this the flow...”
....Latura?
It felt familiar somewhere, yet something that shouldn't be heard at this point. What the hell was going on?
“Alright, downloading?”
“Please.”
“Damn it. How many illegal cracks have I done today.... If the personalities mix or it starts eating mine, eject immediately, got it? Too late and it's over!”
“Understood. It won't happen anyway.”
The young man nodded, and the old man's trembling hand moved downward.
-Click!
“That one already gave everything for the world.”
And then, everything that constituted me broke down and seeped in.
****
Static—crackle—
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[Personality data upload]
[Warning! This is a 'Data Soul' grade personality data. This action violates the 'Integrated Government Personality Data Restriction Act', 'Data Personality Human Rights Protection Act', 'Core Principles of Cyberbrain Use', and 35 other major statutes.]
[Firewall disabled.]
[Uploading.]
[Uploading..]
[Uploading....]
.
.
.
.
[Upload complete]
[Welcome, Player ‘professor’]
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—Whoosh!
Ah, this. A familiar sensation. Exactly like when logging into GG, that feeling of being yanked from the crown of my head.
‘Hands. Feet. All normal.’
‘Age estimated early 20s. Fit, but no signs of professional training.’
‘Excessively dry feel unique to well-maintained underground facilities. Glass display case. Attached placard. A museum?’
‘Oil smell. Compared to the clean interior, this is from outside. Coming from my body, and those huddled in the corner. Oil, dust, sweat. Haven't bathed in a while.’
‘What’s this? Baseball cap with neon holographic brim? What the hell is this guy wearing? It’s on the leather jacket and pants too?’
My senses returned along with my cognitive abilities, instantly compiling surrounding information. My condition, current location, environment, and situation—all factored in to select immediate action.
Let’s see. The situation is...
—Thud!
“Latura! Our returned lord! Follower Lajerd prostrates before the great saint!”
....Huh....
“....Yes?”
What the hell kind of situation is this.
The place was a museum. My body—a scruffy early-20s guy in a neon leather jacket. People in the corner, clearly worn out, staring in terror. Right in front of me, an old man in religious robes smashing his head into the floor.
The old man called me saint, returned Professor Park.
Hm. Yeah, that’s it.
“Professor Park. Professor Park...”
“Yes, our manifested lord!”
“Uh.... Lajerd? Can I ask something?”
“Whatever it is, I vow my remaining life to answer!”
“Good grief, no need for that.”
The old man headbutted the floor with every reply—if I left him, either the floor or his skull would crack. So I pulled him up. At my touch, he convulsed, tears streaming—extremely, uh.... unpleasant. Anyway.
“By any chance, is this some new virtual reality game?”
“Game.... you say?”
“Yeah. You know, like GG or Virtual Life.... Oh, if you’re an NPC, you might not get it? Have you heard of ‘players’—travelers who descend from the heavens to journey this world—”
“Ah, yes! Of course! Virtual reality game, NPC—such outdated terms, I just blanked for a moment. I failed to consider you hail from the distant past, my lord.”
....Outdated terms? Distant past?
“Absolutely not! You are a real existence in this world, the master of the ‘Hanger Order’ who became immortal through great sacrifice, sustaining our lives to this day—Professor Park!”
“Uh, yeah....”
Sounds like something huge, but at least confirmed it’s not a virtual reality game.
Hm. Honestly, highest probability was a new type of GG deployment, but nope.
“Well then. No need to agonize.”
“If you have any command, at any time—Gahk!”
Action based on situation. If I, ‘Professor Park’, returned to a ‘real world, not virtual reality’, there was only one thing to do.
“Guhk, guhek! Wh-why....”
“I, Professor Park, died with that Satellite Woo. Truly kicked the bucket. Thus, what composes me now is an electronic personality derived from my data soul.”
Crack!
“That means someone revived the long-defunct GG ‘system’ and dragged out my data soul from within.”
“Guheok!”
My grip on the old man’s throat was ice-cold.
‘System. If someone revived that [World] back then and is misusing it, who knows how bad things could get.’
People think all sorts before dying, including ‘What if they mass-produce [Electronic Professor Parks] after I’m gone?’
Of course. Anyone who’s seen a data soul thinks it at least once. What if someone copies my personality and uses it willy-nilly?
Boastful as it sounds, I’m prime material, nothing to discard.
My flesh—the sole official success specimen of the ‘mutant virus’. My memories—a super-rare high-grade data clump from inducing the mutant virus changes alive. Even beyond that, my personality’s such a pathetic pushover that mass-producing could yield a ‘voluntary, cheerful high-intelligence slave legion’.
Surely someone wanted a ‘Mecha Professor Park’.
“So, accordingly. I decided if I ever woke again, my first action would be this. If I open my eyes in a virtual reality game, I’ll punish the fool who illegally revived an ancient exalted one with add-ons by beating them senseless, then conquer that world as the worst bug NPC ever. If it’s reality—”
Crack, crack!
“Guk, guuk!”
“....For my own sake, kill whoever revived what shouldn’t be, hunt down and delete all copies and clones, then suicide.”
“Of course, there might be a good reason.... But I don’t know now, right? I just woke up. So, neutralize first.”
“L-lord....”
The old man’s eyes were rolling back white.
“I’ve seen enough to know prevention’s the best crisis management.”
Obviously, no intent to kill yet. Interrogate first. When is now, what’s outside, how’d they get my data soul, what for—spill it all, then—bang!
Send to the next world with a lead slug. Wasteland rules, right? Can’t just kill without due process. Wasteful.
“L-lord, please, withhold your suspicious gaze, behold the faith in my heart....mercy....”
“....Hm?”
I was pondering how to best manipulate this aged foe when—
This old guy. No matter how much I choke, he won’t pass out. Won’t collapse.
Instead, his breathing’s stabilizing, even recovering enough to speak?
My suspicious gaze shifted to his slender fingers, suited for delicate work.
‘Can human grip strength be this weak? The leather jacket thug a facade for frail old-man weakness? Or did the geezer play football in his youth?’
‘Or, as some church keeper.... Does he have mysterious powers?! Damn, a fresh isekai’d frail Professor Park jumps a friendly high-level villain mob!’
Plan change. Fail to subdue after showing hostility? Expect counterattack.
Instead of adding my idle left hand to his throat, I slyly reached sideways. Leather glove means I can smash a glass case barehanded.
And as my neatly clenched slender fingers aimed for the display I’d eyed from the start—!
Groooan—!
[This bastard.... Who’s the weakling faker!]
‘?’
The hand striking the case, the one choking the old man—both trembled and halted against fierce internal resistance?
[Grip weak my ass...! Can’t let go, you barbaric ancient electronic spirit bastard!]
The answer came from a voice inside, seizing control against my will, raging.
‘....Who?’
[The body’s owner, you murderous psycho! Incarnation my ass—wasteland gen’s all PTSD murder addicts! Let go and grovel to Keeper Lajerd! Whose life you ruining?! Know how many Hanger Order zealots worldwide? Know how many political and business bigwigs that old man baptized!]
‘Oh ho.’
Body’s owner, huh.
Right. If this is reality, the original owner of the body my data soul’s in must exist. This guy.
Thud!
“Cough, cough! Guhek! Th-thank you, thank....”
“Thanks my ass. Just letting go ‘cause a more reasonable, knowledgeable friend showed up. Fact remains your church or whatever kept my data soul that shouldn’t exist.”
“That is truly regrettable. Our predecessor pope sought to hold your digital funeral rites lest this happen, but the Integrated Government, racing to blasphemy’s end, opposed fiercely.... In the end, they forced you back into this chaotic world. Our sin. Our sin.... Heh heh heuk!”
The old man rubbed his bruised throat—unfazed by my hostility—bowing repeatedly.
....At this point, I wondered if I’d messed up.
Too sensitive? Last guys I met before dying—Raptors, Gedroits, humanity’s trash—maybe that final memory’s keeping me aggressive?
I had to admit: start with basics.
‘Hey.... Frail buddy?’
[Parku, you bastard!]
This body’s owner—the neon-decked leather jacket and cap guy—replied irritably.
‘Yeah, Parku. Uh.... What year is it?’
Now, how long since I vanished with that Satellite Woo.
[2237. Hanger Order Calendar: Year 158.]
‘Hanger Order Calendar?’
[The year the world recovered from the saint’s sacrifice as Year 0. Uh, basically.... Your death day, Professor Park.]
‘158 years?’
A number hard to believe easily.
A number forcing me to admit much might’ve changed from what I knew.
A number shattering the tiny hope I’d harbored. People don’t live 158 years.
‘...158 years. 158 years.’
Admitted. I knew as much as nothing right now.
‘Alright, frail friend from 158 years in the future. Let’s start over from scratch.’
[Start? What?]
‘Why, our relationship, which started a bit rough due to ancient violent vibes and revival aftereffects, of course.’
Of course, this talk’s for the geezer rubbing his darkening bruise beside me, but seeing his proud, cherishing face, it could wait—
‘So, what’s the reason for waking me after 158 damn years?’
First things first.
Why wake me. Obvious crisis, massive risk—yet they injected my data soul into themselves. Why?
[....Save me.]
‘Ah.’
Oh no. Critical hit. My specialty. Knows my weakness perfectly.
[Uwuk! What’s this feeling.... Pride? Self-esteem? Haven’t done shit yet? You perv?]
‘Oh, shared personality shares emotions too? Embarrassing.’
[....You’re really ‘that’ Professor Park, player ‘professor’? Not some wasteland hack’s data soul in there, right?]
‘Why not. That too.’
Wasteland hack. Perfect description.
I chuckled inwardly at the neon-clothed guy’s distorted face.
‘Alright, I’ll help.’
Originally planned quiet suicide—my sealed 158-year data stirring chaos—but he said ‘save me’.
“Hitting my weak spot too.”
[Eh? Weak spot?]
“Something like that. Heh heh heh heh!”
I’ve always been weak to whimpering inner voices.
Why not dip a toe? Get duped.
158 years after my death—what mess made them wake a ‘barbaric ancient electronic spirit’ to beg salvation.
That story sounded fun enough for me to hear.
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