Stranded (5)

I couldn't bring myself to say a word.

Having heard his story, I simply had no idea how to respond. Should I offer sympathy? Disapproval? Or just nod and say, I see? After wrestling with myself for what felt like an eternity, the only thing I could muster was a pathetic attempt at comfort.

"...It sounds like you went through a great deal, sir."

Fortunately, Noah chuckled softly and carried the conversation forward.

"Enough of that. It was my fault for dumping such a heavy topic on you out of nowhere. Wouldn't you say?"

"......"

"Besides, among the awakened Demon Lords in our Demon Lord Gallery, hardly anyone has led a normal life. You must have plenty of scars of your own, yet here I went dredging up the past."

"Ah, no. Not at all. It's fine."

We traded polite deflections, our awkward back-and-forth trailing off until a sudden, heavy silence fell over the deck.

For a long time, I lay sprawled on the sunbed, staring blankly into space. The quiet grew so suffocating that I began frantically racking my brain for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anything to talk about.

Have I lost my mind?

I had endured twenty long years of total isolation on Earth without uttering a single word. Yet after barely a month on the forum, had I become someone who couldn't stomach a few minutes of quiet? Even to me, it felt like the terminal stage of internet addiction.

Berating myself inwardly, I sifted through my thoughts until a topic finally came to mind.

"Um, Mr. Noah...?"

"Just call me old man. Or Noah, if you prefer."

"...I'll call you old man, then."

"Suit yourself."

Having settled on a title, I reopened the conversation.

"Would it be all right if I asked about what you discussed earlier with the Planetary Information Terminal back in the Dimensional Empire? If it's a sensitive topic, please forgive me."

It wasn't an entirely fabricated pretext. It was about ninety percent an attempt to break the ice and ten percent genuine curiosity. Probably.

"Ah, that? We were discussing Causality and the Balance. It seems even the Dimensional Empire is bound by Causality, causing them no end of trouble."

"Causality?"

It was a word that felt almost familiar by now. Yet despite that familiarity, I actually knew next to nothing about what it truly meant.

"You don't know what Causality is? Well... I suppose that makes sense. I forgot the Chief Manager blocked search access for anything related to it."

"...Pardon?"

"Hold on a moment. Let me check your Information Restriction Grade."

Muttering to himself, Noah brought up the gallery interface and tapped through a series of windows before turning back to me.

"Give me your full IP address."

"My IP...? It's 111.432.104.098."

"Give me a second."

A few semi-transparent windows flickered open and vanished before his eyes. Then, Noah let out an appreciative whistle and turned his screen toward me.

"Well, look at that. You've got Grade 1 Information Restriction clearance. The Chief Manager must have felt generous, eh?"

"...Is that a good thing?"

"Most Demon Lord gallers sit at Grade 4, and almost everyone starts at Grade 5. Even I only reached Grade 1 fairly recently. For a newcomer like you to have Grade 1 clearance means the Chief Manager is personally looking out for you."

"Ah..."

I was nearly two months into browsing the gallery, but this was the first I had ever heard of it. Come to think of it, when the system window had first appeared back on Earth, there had been some notification about Information Restriction Grades, but my mind had been too shattered at the time to pay attention.

"Since your clearance clears the bar, I can explain it to you," Noah said. "To put it simply, Causality is the supreme universal law governing every dimension. It takes precedence over physical laws, mana arrangements, and magical principles alike."

"So it applies across all dimensions without exception?"

"Precisely. And the magnitude of Causality shifts in accordance with the Scales. That influence is what we call Causality Correction."

"And the Scales are—"

"The Scales are a multiversal arbiter of good and evil shared across all dimensions. Normally, light and darkness are supposed to maintain a perfect equilibrium... but right now, the Scales have tipped far too heavily toward good. That's where the problem lies."

So that was what Odin and the other users meant whenever they grumbled about an issue with the Scales. The scattered puzzle pieces in my mind were finally beginning to connect.

"Under the correction of Causality, a mere child might slay a legendary dragon, or a mighty dragon might drop dead from a single stray bullet. It's essentially an cosmic system of buffs and debuffs. The Dimensional Empire falls squarely under the latter."

"The Dimensional Empire does?"

I couldn't help but feel skeptical. A very obvious question crossed my mind: Could a civilization like the Dimensional Empire even be measured in terms of good and evil?

As if reading my thoughts, Noah gave an immediate answer.

"The Dimensional Empire is an anomaly so absurd that it triggers Causality's suppressive restraint. Before their Sublimation, their population numbered in the septillions. Even if only a fraction of a percent remained after ascending, their numbers are staggering. On top of that, an ordinary citizen of theirs is stronger than most prominent Demon Lords on the gallery. That should tell you everything."

"...With that kind of power, isn't it only natural for Causality to hold them back?"

"Perhaps. But according to them, this incomprehensible Causality is precisely what prevents them from ascending to a higher state of being. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠To use human terms, imagine you're capable of stepping into the eighth or ninth dimension, but an invisible wall leaves you permanently trapped in the fifth..."

"So the Planetary Information Terminal..."

"Asked me to find a way to shatter Causality."

The more I listened, the more surreal it sounded. It felt entirely detached from anything a forum like the Demon Lord Gallery should be dealing with. Why would they make such a request of Noah in the first place?

"Don't give me that look," Noah chuckled, seeing the expression on my face. "If the Dimensional Empire truly ascends to a higher ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠plane, they will no longer be able to intervene in these lower dimensions at all. When that happens, the 300-series dimensions—which are currently packed to the brim under their control—will empty out completely. The members of the Demon Lord Gallery and Pandemonium could step in and claim that vast territory for ourselves. In the end, this is all part of a grand design to expand the Demon Lords' sphere of influence."

"I see..."

"There's more I should tell you. Regarding the Scales—"

Our conversation went on for quite some time.

Suddenly, the sound of space tearing apart echoed around us. The pitch-black void enveloping the Ark peeled away, replaced in an instant by a blinding burst of white light.

"Whoa?!"

While I stumbled back in shock, Noah remained comfortably reclined on his lounger, casually playing the part of a tour guide.

"Looks like we've arrived. It's a shame you couldn't come in your true body, but you should still enjoy yourself to the fullest in that spiritual form. Behold: the sanctuary and paradise of Demon Lords. Pandemonium."

The glare faded to reveal an impossibly colossal metropolis.

Beneath an azure sky bathed in brilliant sunshine, towering skyscrapers reaching hundreds of stories high stretched endlessly toward the horizon, surrounding a colossal, radiant dome at the city's heart.

To put it bluntly...

"...Why on earth is this called Pandemonium?"

It was far too clean, bright, and modern to belong to Demon Lords. Judging by the depraved antics I had witnessed on the gallery, I had expected a dystopian den of vice and debauchery to rival Sodom and Gomorrah. At the very least, shouldn't there be a menacing black citadel, jagged obsidian spires, and a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sky choked with ash and blood?

"The native dimensions where most Demon Lords reside have their civilization levels capped by Causality. Quite a few of them are forced to reign over primitive medieval or early modern worlds. A select few high-tier Demon Lords can ignore those restrictions and build whatever citadel they please, but they're in the minority. This city is the result of ordinary Demon Lords demanding a place where they can enjoy modern comfort."

"......"

I was rendered speechless by how strangely realistic and mundane their desires actually were.

"Let's see... I can park the Ark over here—"

While I stood there staring dumbfoundedly at the gleaming skyline, Noah smoothly docked the massive vessel alongside a designated landing platform.

"Head over to that giant dome in the center of the city. I have a few matters to sort out first, so I'll join you in a bit. If we run into each other in the assembly hall, let's catch up then."

Wait, already? But I still have so many questions!

As Noah turned to leave, I called out hurriedly to his back.

"Um, old man! When it's time to go back to my dimension, are you going to give me a ride?"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. The Ark has been pushed to its limits and desperately needs repairs. Besides, this ship isn't omnipotent. It's a warped vessel that normally refuses to carry anyone other than me; you were only able to board because you're here as an immaterial spiritual projection."

"Ah..."

"Crossing dimensional boundaries is no trivial feat. Keep that in mind. Well, I'll be off."

"Thank you for everything, old man!"

Without looking back, Noah gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand in reply. I watched his retreating figure for a long moment before turning toward the gangway.

I stepped off the Ark and set foot on the soil of the city known as Pandemonium. After so many trials, twists, and turns, I had finally arrived.

"At long last..."

It was time to face the Grand Assembly.

While the assembly hall descended into chaos and Noah's Ark was docking at the city perimeter, an absolute frenzy had broken out across the Demon Lord Gallery—courtesy of the users hailing from Hell.

The sole catalyst for their wild celebration was the news that the Pandemonium Grand Assembly had been prolonged. To an outsider, their ecstatic reaction might have seemed incomprehensible, but anyone familiar with the gallery's internal dynamics would understand completely.

The reason was simple: as long as the assembly remained in session, the vast majority of Pandemonium-based Demon Lords were trapped inside the hall. And while those Pandemonium regulars were locked away, the Hell faction had free rein to enjoy a clean forum tailored entirely to their tastes.

The comment section was flooded with malicious glee, users hoping the assembly would drag on forever so the Pandemonium crowd would remain imprisoned for eternity. Vitriolic slander and targeted insults were rampant. One of the top-rated posts on the board made the prevailing sentiment painfully clear:

A few newly awakened demons from Hell couldn't quite keep up with the escalating vitriol and asked bewildered questions, but the Hell veterans were quick to supply links summarizing past grievances. Once enlightened, the newcomers immediately flipped, joining the chorus of abuse.

Historically, users from Hell had always been vastly outnumbered by Pandemonium's populace. As a result, they had spent years being burned as forum firewood, constantly subjected to witch hunts whenever tensions flared.

With their long-suppressed resentment bursting into the open, the forum blazed out of control. As the wave of hostility reached a fever pitch, it began teetering dangerously close to a line that should not be crossed—enough to make even some of Hell's prominent registered users uneasy.

The unease among the veterans was only natural.

Hating on Pandemonium and dogpiling its members was an age-old tradition during every Grand Assembly—practically a competitive sport for the Hell faction. The veterans had gladly joined in on the fun, stoking the flames with everyone else. But there was one critical factor they had failed to anticipate this time:

This Grand Assembly was dragging on far longer than any meeting in history.

Under normal circumstances, the assembly would conclude just as the forum's collective hostility approached its boiling point, restoring balance to the board before disaster struck. That was the usual routine. But this time was different.

The meeting had been extended again and again, and the simmering hatred had finally breached its critical threshold.

Having blown past all limits, the anti-Pandemonium hysteria was now hurtling forward like an eight-ton truck with severed brakes. And once ignited, a firestorm of that scale would never stop—

Not until it crashed headfirst into an immovable wall.