The Hearth is Absolutely Safe
The area near the Hearth was supposed to be absolutely safe. No Outer God had ever invaded its vicinity, not even once. To everyone in Rondan, this was as ironclad as law itself, and the knowledge that they were secure as long as they stayed close to the Hearth gave them hope to cling to in life. In truth, for ages untold, the Hearth had staunchly protected them from all Outer Gods, even suppressing their appearances. That long record... had just been shattered today.
Vice Captain Marenne faced the chaos clawing its way out through a rift in the world. A single dog head covered in countless eyes was forcing its descent into the world, shoving its head into the narrow gap and twisting this way and that to emerge. Just confronting it made him feel infinitely fragile, leaving him frozen in a daze, staring helplessly. Even for a Greater Outer God, attempting a direct descent upon the Hearth was unprecedented. Despite the Hearth's formidable defenses, the rift was cracking wider and wider, and an overwhelming pressure—the same he'd felt once before in his knighthood—seized his body.
"O-Observer...!"
That's when he spotted Leydan Tantun and Mu Yeon emerging from the Hearth. 'Damn it all...!' Of all the timings, he'd chosen now to draw his weapon. And they were dangerously close—too close; one wrong move and they'd be caught in the crossfire. Mu Yeon seemed to sense it and was backing away, but one of them wasn't. Leydan Tantun.
There were rumors he'd repelled an Observer once, and the one in the underground prison had vanished long ago. 'Why the hell is that guy charging at the Observer?'
Suspicion at first. Prejudices against criminals colored his thoughts. Marenne had pegged Tantun as a lucky punk—a criminal who'd merely hitched a ride on the Hunter's coattails when she dealt with the Observer. But the look in Tantun's eyes as he faced it wasn't frozen in terror. It brimmed with a sense of justice, the drive to save people—the same expression Marenne himself had worn in the past.
'No way that guy's for real.' He was a criminal who'd broken Rondan's laws. Success in consorting with an Outer God could unleash an even greater catastrophe. With the Knight Commander missing and Princess Salvia too soft to control it, it was only right for someone in his position to uphold Rondan's order. But the scene unfolding before him planted a seed of doubt: maybe those thoughts were wrong.
The pitch-black maw of the wolf yawned open, invading the world as alien eyes glared down. Tantun stepped forward. Overcoming the distortion that sought to redefine his reality, his hand reached the Observer. Then, with every ounce of strength, he began shoving it back to its own world.
The Observer's murderous roar dragged on. Approaching it was suicide. The knights fought desperately to hold their ground, but some fainted outright. Had there ever been malice this stubborn? It radiated a clear intent to demolish Rondan. Yet Tantun merely tossed back a single retort amid the bellows—too muffled to catch clearly, but to Marenne, it sounded like:
"...Yeah, I wanted to see you too, but not now. Go back!"
Hearing that, Marenne thought: 'He faced off with the Observer once. And instead of fear, he's been looking forward to subduing it again...!'
Completely destroying an Outer God—that was Tantun's goal? The righteous glint in his eyes from moments ago resurfaced. To protect Rondan by utterly crushing this threat. 'No. It can't be. There has to be something I don't know...!'
The Observer roared even louder, but Tantun reacted with dynamic vigor, pouring more strength into his push.
"...To be fair, it wasn't quite like this before, but anyway, go!"
His sad eyes, as if reminiscing his past, desperately shoving the Observer— it stirred memories in Marenne, making his heart ache. The Snow Mountain expedition disaster. The junior he lost. His comrade. And... But Tantun was just a fresh knight, a commoner by status. Blocking the increasingly emergent Observer was beyond him.
The Observer's forelegs now fully touched the ground, space around the rift warping completely. The end of the world—that's how it felt. But did the Hearth possess equal might? Perhaps alerted by the knights' reports, Princess Salvia must have heard, for the flames atop the Logs blazed fiercer, and the rift began to close. In agony, the Observer unleashed even more ferocious roars.
That's when Marenne saw it: Tantun's resolute eyes tinting golden.
"I-it's... clooosing!"
There was no will to survive in that act. Just a young man with true knighthood, determined to erase the Observer before him as swiftly as possible to safeguard Rondan's peace.
"────!!!!"
Tantun's eyes shone. What vision did those eyes behold? Even from afar, Marenne felt an urge to embrace death; up close, touching an Outer God, the scene must be unimaginable.
Finally, the Hearth's power snapped the rift shut in an instant. Unable to overcome Tantun's tenacity, the Observer tumbled back into its realm beyond.
"Haaaah!"
And with that—Tantun hurled himself after it, vanishing into the beyond alongside the Observer.
"Mr. Tantun!!!"
Despite Mu Yeon's desperate cry, he didn't return. The rift sealed cleanly, as if nothing had happened. It all transpired in the blink of an eye.
"...Huh."
In mere minutes, annihilation had loomed over Rondan's heart, averted by one man's sacrifice. In the now deathly silent space, Marenne approached. The only remnant: traces of a noble knight's valiant battle.
He gazed upon them, removed his helmet briefly, and placed hand to chest.
"Leydan Tantun..."
Attempted Outer God rape. He'd thought the idiot jailed for that madness wasn't human. But reflecting on this incident, maybe he deserved rebuke for branding him a criminal.
Memorializing him here would expose his own attempt to kill him—a weakness. For his own sake, burying it quietly was wisest. But Marenne was a man of conviction, not one to deny his wrongs.
"Salute to honor the knight whose chivalry surpasses all who nobly sacrificed to protect Rondan!"
Clack. Every knight rose, turned toward the direction Marenne faced, and saluted in unison. Not a murmur among them.
# Alright, let's sort out my current situation first.
I drew my weapon and used it, cue the Observer showing up and nearly dooming Rondan. The crime of crimes among great crimes! Oh... Tantun, oh man.
It was a sigh of despair at my utterly screwed predicament. Yeah, probably worse than my past life's rock bottom. I petted the Observer's head and asked where we were, and its answer was a doozy.
"Here? Where we are!"
...Just that simple. What'd I expect from my pupper? It oozed an aura begging forgiveness for being so cute. Sigh. Per the Observer, "where we are" implies this is Outer God territory, and these adorable forms are all Super Coward Mode filtered. A distorted, isolated zone, or like the Gardener's reality erosion. Shoving apparent candy in my mouth might backfire.
"Here too... Ungh..."
It rubbed its cheek against my hand; I petted obligingly.
"Grrr..."
Real doggo? Lost in thought, I pieced clues together. The Observer's descent warped space; the Hearth barely held, but with the Gardener's aid, we got yanked here, resolving it... Wait. Does that mean I'm screwed?
Nah, can't be that bad, right? The reason for such thoughts: letting time pass on this mess was disastrous. Better fix it quick.
"Here too..."
"...No, not there!"
It suddenly flopped down, pawing its belly for pets. I shut it down sternly. Cue teary puppy eyes.
"Good humans always pet there!"
"That far and I feel like I'm giving up on humanity..."
"Human? Then don't be human!"
"Then I'd die?"
"Eeeh?! No!"
It sat up fast, cheek to hand again.
"This'll do..."
If not for her bombshell beauty, it'd be the cutest dog ever. ...Snap out of it, me! Was 'Leydan Tantun's' true self slipping out? I nearly fell for every dog's ultimate jutsu: 'Love me, human!' Not the time—you know that best!
"Observer buddy..."
"Not my name!"
Not the point, but it wouldn't budge without asking, so I patiently did.
"Then, friend, what's your name?"
"Boing boing boing boing boing!"
Oof. Zero comprehension. Censored too? Different from the Gardener's Outer God filter. Her boings were kinda cute.
"Who named you that...?"
"Friend did!"
Her friend, huh. No wonder it's unpronounceable.
"Just 'Observer' then..."
"Don't like..."
Downcast; hates the term, probably 'cause humans use it for targets.
"Want me to name you?"
"Yay!"
Too easy; caught off-guard. Fine, name her quick and get to business. Time to flex my lit-reading nomenclature.
"Lotsa eyes, so Mokgu (目狗)—whaddya think?"
"Lame!"
Thought it clever; instant rejection! Sound's off, sure, but that harsh?
"Aji then?"
"Boring!"
"Hmm, okay! Tweak 'Observer'—Overload, for vigilant watching..."
"Grrrr..."
Picky pup. My naming drought headache peaked when—
A third voice—not hers or mine. The Gardener, telepathing into my head.
Outside Rondan? Up close, ice crystals fell over clusters of candy landscapes. Outer God turf blocks blizzards—like domains clashing domains.
Then her voice: "Ah! Human! I'm fading!"
Licking her glowing body frantically.
"What's happening?"
Befuddled, the Gardener explained telepathically.
Ah, the bone for her, friend for Gardener. Party Flute's power.
The Observer's voice echoed in my head post-departure. Flute summon: no show. 'Path too narrow!' Cooldown? Potential scales with my growth—infinite possibilities ahead.
Survey surroundings: layered non-world foods, soda rivers, dessert vistas. Whew, escape this candy hell now.
"Friend."
Ria peeked from my pocket.
"Where to escape?"
She pointed. Outer God there, probably. I marched without hesitation.
Today's Outer Gods felt reliable, not calamitous.
"No more apocalypses, and you're on."
In a world ruined by Outer Gods, only I could bond with them.