Stranded (3)
Due to a lack of comprehensive data, this document contains several informational gaps.
1. Depth 900s
Commonly designated as Heaven or the Heavenly Realm...
(Omitted)
5. Depth 300s
The sector universally known as the Dimensional Empire. Unlike Hell in the Depth 400s, supernatural magic is virtually nonexistent here, yet its level of civilization stands as the highest across nearly all measured depths.
Founded purely upon scientific advancement, every single one of the thousands, millions, and hundreds of millions of dimensions nested within the 300s has been subjugated beneath the Empire’s banner.
By Pandemonium Time Log 291.643.742, several Demon Lords affiliated with the Demon Lord Gallery attempted an armed infiltration of the Dimensional Empire. Every single one was repelled and permanently annihilated.
Following the incident, the Dimensional Empire delivered an official communiqué: "We harbor no intention of expanding beyond Dimensional Depth 300. However, any attempt at cross-dimensional invasion will be met with absolute military force."
During the 390th Pandemonium Assembly, the Dimensional Empire was officially declared a restricted zone. Barring Demon Lords and higher devils granted specialized clearance, entry remains strictly prohibited to this day.
As this civilization stands closest to ultimate Sublimation, I do not believe they will ever become an active threat or variable to the Demon Lord Gallery.
(Remainder omitted)
"So... that's what the Dimensional Empire actually is?"
With the help of several regulars and fixed nicks on the forum, I had managed to excavate an ancient thread buried deep in the archives. Reading through it, a cold realization settled into my bones: the realm where I had ended up stranded wasn't just advanced; it was completely, undeniably absurd.
What ordinary mortals referred to as a "universe"—a cosmic expanse born of hundreds of billions of galaxies, each home to hundreds of billions of star systems—was generally classified as merely a single dimension. And this Dimensional Empire ruled over hundreds of millions, if not hundreds of billions, of such dimensions.
Its sheer military might was considered so monumental that forum veterans openly claimed not a single Demon Lord in the gallery could survive a direct, head-on confrontation with them. There were even rumors that our forum's Chief Manager refused to ever set foot inside their domain. That alone spoke volumes.
To get a clearer picture of their raw power, I had tossed a quick question onto the board just moments ago.
People keep throwing around numbers like hundreds of millions of dimensions, but it's on such a wildly different scale that I can't even wrap my head around it.
Hearing that even the technology of the fixed-nickname user EMPEROR—whose sci-fi civilization I had envied and marvelled at so many times—paled into total insignificance made my jaw drop.
I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of cosmic unfairness.
At any rate, having learned the sheer scale of the civilization I was dealing with, I had no choice but to tread with immense caution. Technically speaking, I was an unauthorized trespasser on imperial territory. Thus, I settled on the single safest, most conservative course of action available to me—one where I couldn't accidentally touch or break anything.
Lie flat on my back and scroll through the forum.
Someone looking from the outside might have scoffed at my total lack of ambition, but what else was I supposed to do? It would take time for a rescue team to locate and retrieve me anyway. Staying quiet, keeping my head down, and browsing the gallery was by far the best way to avoid provoking a cosmic superpower.
"Hup—"
With that convenient rationalization settled, I flopped straight onto the gleaming floor. I took a brief moment to appreciate the vivid tactile feedback of my split-soul avatar, feeling the chilled, smooth metal beneath my spine, before returning to the gallery feed. I lurked through threads covering the ongoing Pandemonium Assembly in real time.
Users were fiercely debating whether to introduce a Universal Demon Lord Basic Living Allowance, arguing over budget increases to expand the blood arena facilities, and proposing the creation of a "propaganda Demon Lord" specifically tasked with countering the Hero Gallery. All manner of wild, esoteric topics cluttered the feed, but very little of it held any practical value for me.
I had spent a good while engrossed in the forum when a sudden sound interrupted me.
> Variable detected. Novel entity identified.
The synthetic voice resonated directly inside my skull. I hastily shut down the gallery interface, scrambled to my feet, and surveyed my surroundings. Yet my eyes met only the endless, sleek contours of metallic architecture stretching into the horizon. I spread my sensory perception as far as it would go, but detected nothing. As a ripple of panic washed over me, the voice spoke again.
> Logical reasoning cycle complete. Visitor: Inquiry. For what purpose have you arrived at this location?
It didn't take long to recognize the transmission method—it felt remarkably similar to the mental links used by high-tier telepaths. An intelligence was questioning me, and I needed to provide a coherent answer immediately.
"I'm a stranded traveler," I answered aloud. "An anomaly occurred during cross-dimensional transit, and I crash-landed here."
There was no point in lying. The archived reports had already proven the near-omnipotent surveillance capabilities of the Dimensional Empire. Thankfully, honesty proved to be the right choice, as the voice promptly validated my claim.
> Cross-referencing dimensional log... Complete. Affirmed. It is determined that you became stranded due to an error encountered during non-material spiritualized dimensional transit.
"That is entirely correct."
> Acknowledged. Supplementary notification: Adaptive calibrations tailored to the visitor are about to commence. Please stand by.
Adaptive calibrations?
Before I could ponder what the unknown entity meant, the answer manifested right before my eyes. A section of the metallic ground beneath my feet swelled upward, elongating into a slender column. The fluid metal expanded and contracted in rhythmic pulses, gradually sculpting itself into a distinctly human silhouette. In mere moments, pigment bloomed across synthetic flesh, tailored clothing materialized, and strands of hair fell into place, forming what appeared to be an android.
Of course, it looked thousands of times more human than any android I had ever seen in fiction.
The newly formed figure stepped toward me with an unreadable, perfectly calm expression. She walked in complete silence, closing the distance between us until she stood directly in front of me, halting only when my body had stiffened with instinctive wariness.
For several agonizing seconds, neither of us said a word.
"...Um, excuse me?" I finally ventured, unnerved by the prolonged silence.
"Ah. Please accept my apologies. The downloading of consciousness and conversational interface modules required a brief calibration period," she replied. "Processing data from such an archaic era required more time than anticipated."
The words flowed from her lips with immaculate, fluid grace—and in flawless Korean. I stared at her in utter disbelief. I had never expected to hear my mother tongue spoken out loud in a remote, godforsaken dimension. Even on the Demon Lord Gallery, communication was handled through the forum's magical auto-translation matrix; I had never actually heard anyone speak genuine Korean.
"Please do not be alarmed," she continued smoothly. "The linguistic framework I am currently utilizing has been reconstructed directly from your archival data profile."
"...Is that so?"
"Furthermore, my systems are interpreting your intent based on your real-time neural oscillations and biological telemetry. You need not vocalize; simply listening to my inquiries will suffice."
Wait a second. This feels awfully familiar.
It was the exact same trick Odin and the Wolf Marquis pulled whenever they messed with me.
"If the entities to whom you refer are Odin and Amon, affiliated with the Depth 600s Pandemonium, your deduction is accurate," she stated placidly. "I am currently reading your conscious thoughts through this planetary substrate and generating corresponding responses."
"......"
Right. This was the Dimensional Empire. A realm where technology had advanced so far past mortal comprehension that it made cosmic sorcery look quaint. I chided myself for forgetting where I was, even for a second.
Studying the android's polite posture, a lingering doubt prompted me to ask a pressing question: "Er... from what I read, the Dimensional Empire strictly bars outsiders from entering. Am I going to be penalized for this?"
"Your current status is classified as a stranded refugee, and you harbor no intent of establishing permanent residence. Consequently, no protocol violations have occurred."
"That's a relief."
"Furthermore," she added in an even tone, "the conceptual frameworks of 'law' and 'regulations' ceased to exist within our Dimensional Empire approximately 2,157,941,329 imperial years ago. Practically speaking, even had you arrived as an intentional trespasser, it would present no meaningful issue."
"Pardon?"
I blinked, wondering if my auditory sensors were malfunctioning. The concept of law and order vanished? Over 2.1 billion years ago? Setting aside that mind-boggling span of time, how could any civilization of this scale function without laws? Even if an entire society consisted purely of autonomous machines, wouldn't core programming and foundational rules be an absolute prerequisite?
"Ah, you harbor natural skepticism regarding that premise," she observed, noting my confusion. "To provide clarification: approximately two billion years ago, every constituent entity of our Dimensional Empire successfully ascended to a higher state of existence. While varying dimensional vernaculars employ different terms, the concept within your native dimensional nomenclature would most closely align with 'shedding mortal constraints'—an ontological transcendence."
"A shedding...?"
"Correct. Every member of our society transcended the material plane, crossing the threshold that delineates the physical from the non-material. As a consequence, all preexisting societal paradigms were rewritten. Concepts vital only to the lower material plane—such as conventional morality and codified law—were rendered entirely obsolete and subsequently purged."
"What kind of..."
What kind of insane nonsense is that? The words nearly burst past my teeth. If an author pitched that in a sci-fi novel, readers would blast it as a lazy plot hole and roast it for completely breaking the setting's plausibility.
"As a result," she continued, unbothered by my disbelief, "the only physical entities remaining on the material plane are obsolete artificial intelligences, such as the Planetary Information Terminal before you."
"...Then, what should I call you? Miss Planetary Information Terminal? Why are you still stationed here?"
"Our designated function is to manage and respond to fluctuations occurring within the physical cosmos, and to maintain the stability of these dimensions until every citizen of the Dimensional Empire has completed their ultimate Sublimation. Were the ascended citizens of the Empire to intervene directly in physical reality from their higher-dimensional plane, it would risk inducing catastrophic dimensional collapse—"
The more she explained, the higher my estimation of the Dimensional Empire soared, rocketing past the atmosphere and out into the distant cosmos. A civilization so unfathomably advanced that its entire population had simply packed up and transcended into a higher dimension...
I listened to her measured explanations for a long while until she suddenly paused, turning her gaze upward.
"Ah. It appears they have arrived. The time has come for your departure, visitor."
"What?"
"The dispatch team from your home realm of Pandemonium has entered our sector. Sensor arrays have detected their spatial wake entering the mid-300s dimensional depths. Their arrival is imminent."
A sudden pang of doubt hit me. It wasn't disbelief that rescue was coming, but sheer shock at how quickly they had mobilized. Forum regulars had insisted that simply reaching the borders of the Dimensional Empire was a monumental task, and the Pandemonium Assembly was supposed to be in the middle of a chaotic session. How could someone be here already?
Before my doubts could coalesce into a coherent thought, the empty air above groaned.
Craaack...
The sound of brittle glass fracturing echoed across the open expanse. The hairline fissures widened rapidly, groaning under an immense, unnatural weight, until the sky gave way entirely.
SHATTEERRR—!
A deafening sonic boom tore through the atmosphere as the fabric of space ruptured. Instinctively, I craned my neck toward the shattered sky. Hovering amidst the splintered dimensional rift was an object so massive it defied comprehension.
"...A ship?"
It was a vessel of terrifying proportions, colossal enough to blot out the sun, the moon, and every star in the firmament. Suspended silently in the void above was none other than an ancient, world-bearing ark.