Pandemonium, Part 6

"What are you doing? Drink up," Leon said, clinking his glass against mine.

"Ah..."

His voice snapped me out of my daze.

"Just... had a few things on my mind."

"Who broods over life while drinking?"

"It's complicated."

"Drink first, think later."

Muttering a vague excuse, I raised the cup to my lips. Just as Leon had said, agonizing over it right now wasn't going to produce any immediate answers anyway.

We continued sharing drinks and trading dishes among the Neutral Faction Demon Lords for quite some time. Before long, the gathering was winding down toward its close, and only then did I finally manage to bring up the question that had been weighing heavily on my chest.

"Leon, Ferma, Edward, Elder Moses. There's something I'd like to ask you all."

"Hm?"

"What kind of existence... is a Hero, exactly?"

The reason I brought this up was none other than the request—no, the contract offer—Solomon had delivered to me moments ago. He had gone so far as to freeze time just to ask me to serve as a transit dimension. But the price he had proposed felt deeply unsettling and suspicious.

A Hero's Causality Correction was still an unknown quantity to me, an enigma wrapped in mystery.

That was why I had postponed my decision to accept or refuse the deal until I learned more about what a Hero truly was.

"To be completely honest, I wouldn't really know," Leon admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Maybe it's because I hold down both jobs as a Hero and a Demon Lord simultaneously."

"...Right. You're a Hero too."

"Maybe because the two titles cancel each other out, but in my case, I get virtually zero perks as a Hero, and I don't receive Causality Correction either. Other Heroes are probably different, though... Hold on a second."

Leon set down his glass and flicked his fingers through the empty air, summoning several glowing windows.

After a brief moment, the screen that materialized before us was none other than the Hero Gallery.

Navigating through a few menus with practiced ease, Leon angled the window toward me and began explaining.

"Looking at the Hero Gallery reference archive here, it says: 'A Hero is an existence situated at the polar opposite of a Demon Lord, acting to maintain the balance between good and evil, and one who vanquishes Demon Lords.' That seems to be the dictionary definition, anyway... Why not ask the others for actual firsthand accounts?"

I skimmed through a few more posts in the Hero Gallery archives, but none contained particularly useful substance. Far from offering objective data, the archive was crammed with idealistic, theoretical tracts about the virtues a Hero ought to possess and the mindset one should uphold. Naturally, none of it was of any practical help.

"Hmph. Regrettably, my home world is one where a Hero cannot even manifest in the first place, so I cannot offer much counsel on the matter. Forgive me," Elder Moses murmured, leaning lightly on his wooden cane.

"I am in the same boat as Elder Moses," Edward added with a resigned shrug. "Far from meeting a Hero, I could count on one hand the number of people I have seen outside of my own subordinates."

Neither Elder Moses nor Edward could provide a solution. But if Heroes simply never manifested in their worlds, there was nothing to be done about it. Still, I caught onto a curious detail in what they had just said.

"A place where a Hero cannot even manifest?"

I had never come across any mention of such a limitation while browsing the Demon Lord Gallery. The extent of what I had gathered was merely that wherever a Demon Lord exists, a Hero will almost inevitably emerge to oppose them.

"Hm? You were unaware?" Moses asked gently. "A Hero requires a certain threshold of living beings—or rather, sentient life—to manifest. In both my world and Edward's, the population of sentient life has yet to meet that criterion, so no Hero can appear."

"Ah..."

Considering the circumstances of how the two had awakened as Demon Lords, it made perfect sense. One had been brainwashed by an Outer God's stone slab and annihilated his own kin, while the other's world had seen human civilization erased in an all-out nuclear war.

"Therefore, you had best inquire with young Ferma here," Moses said, nodding toward the polymath. "In the entire Demon Lord Gallery, there is likely no greater expert on Heroes than him."

"He's right. Nobody knows 'em better than me," Ferma chimed in immediately, looking as though he had been eagerly waiting for his cue. "So, what's our resident newbie curious about?"

"Well... to begin with—"

My list of questions was extensive. From the timing of a Hero's appearance to the specific mechanics of what Causality Correction actually entailed, whether Heroes were unconditionally hostile toward Demon Lords, and much more. They were detailed enough that someone might have found them tedious, but fortunately, Ferma graciously answered everything within the scope of his encyclopedic knowledge.

And among the wealth of information I gained, one detail proved to be the most invaluable of all:

A Hero is overwhelmingly likely to be selected from among beings harboring a deep grudge against the Demon Lord.

"Did that help?"

"Thanks. It helps immensely."

It wasn't empty flattery. The pieces of information Ferma shared were not only a massive help right now, but more than enough to serve as critical clues regarding the impending arrival of a Hero.

Synthesizing what Ferma and One-Eyed Geezer said with the data from the gallery...

It was practically certain that a Hero would appear in my dimension in the near future—likely within six months or so—and that Hero was bound to come flying in from deep space. After all, if one were searching for beings who harbored a burning grudge against me, there were no candidates left other than the remnants of humanity whom I had driven into cosmic exile.

"If you're that grateful, buy me a drink next time," Ferma said with a smirk.

"Sure, absolutely."

"Then let's polish off what's left. Gramps, Edward, you having any more?"

"We're quite content, thank you," Moses replied.

After a brief glance at my refilled glass, I smiled faintly and drank it down. The convivial atmosphere around the table made for an undeniably pleasant evening.

The drinking, which had begun around midday, finally wound down late into the night.

"Whoa, I'm hammered... Shin Soohyun, did you say you were heading back nowww?"

"Yeah. I think I need to leave a bit early."

"What a shaaame... I mean, come on, you gotta watch the arena to properly cap off the conference!"

Leon's drunken slurring was dripping with genuine reluctance to see me go.

"It's on a whole other level compared to watching it on the gallery stream... Downing booze and snacks while blood's spraying right in front of your eyes? Kah! There's no paradise like it!"

"Haha..."

To tell the truth, I felt just as reluctant to leave. Even on the forum, nothing killed time better than watching the arena matches, and missing out on a battle multiple times more vivid and thrilling was a real pity. Had it been me from a few hours ago, knowing I had nothing waiting for me back on Earth, I would have gladly camped out for days just to spectate. But things were different now.

There was only one reason: an offhand remark Solomon had dropped earlier, which had struck me like a thunderbolt.

The revelation that time in my home dimension was ticking away unabated while I lingered in Pandemonium completely upended my plans.

He could have told me a little sooner...

Odin had explicitly claimed that one of the greatest benefits of the Pandemonium conference was that time in one's native world stood entirely still, allowing everyone to attend with an easy mind. I had taken him at his word. Strictly speaking, since I was attending via an avatar projection, my original body back home was likely continuing my usual routine—clearing gates, sweeping city debris, and the like... But transmitting the knowledge gained from this gathering back to my true self as quickly as possible was an absolute emergency.

Above all else, now that I had a clear picture of what a Hero was, preparations had to begin immediately.

Come to think of it, why haven't I seen Odin anywhere during this conference?

Given his usual behavior on the forum, he certainly would have recognized me and dropped by, whether in the assembly hall or at the tavern. Yet there hadn't been so much as a glimpse of him. The same went for MarquisWolf.

"Well then, we shall head over to the arena. Safe travels back, young man."

Moses's gentle parting words pulled me from my wandering thoughts.

"Ah, yes. Have a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wonderful time."

"See you on the gallery," Edward said, raising a hand in farewell.

"Hey, Shin Soohyun! I'll upload clips of the arena later, so make sure you watch 'em!" Leon shouted, swaying slightly on his feet. "And when I send you those swordsmanship videos via PM, download them right away, practice hard, and send back proof footage! Got it...?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Leon."

Leaving behind Leon's earnest nagging, the four Neutral Faction Demon Lords slowly faded into the neon-lit distance toward the arena on the far side of the city.

"...Man."

They really were good people—or rather, good Demon Lords.

When was the last time I had chatted so comfortably, opening up about my concerns like this? Twenty years? Thirty? I couldn't say for certain, but one thing was clear: it had been so long ago that the memory felt ancient and unreachable. An honest, heartfelt conversation with others—something I thought existed only in faded memories. Being able to experience that today had brought an unexpected warmth to my chest.

"That was fun."

Strictly speaking, I had spent more time getting lost in bizarre liminal spaces than actually walking Pandemonium, but all in all, it had been an immensely worthwhile experience. It had provided me with connections, crucial intel, and genuine amusement.

After composing my thoughts and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠emotions, I opened my palm. A tiny magic circle etched into my skin caught my eye.

The avatar release circle Solomon had inscribed for me.

According to his explanation, activating this circle would instantly return me to my home dimension while simultaneously integrating all my memories into my true body. In other words, there was zero risk of getting stranded mid-transit like on the way here.

"Time to head out."

It was time to go home.

Boring.

There was no word more fitting to describe my current existence.

Tedious, endlessly dull, and hollow.

Dull enough to sap the will to live right out of everyday life.

There were several compounding factors behind this descent into lethargy and boredom.

First, the space.

On Earth, the third planet of the solar system, there was damn well nothing left—nothing except dimensional gates and sprawling ruins.

Second, total isolation.

Within a twenty-thousand-kilometer radius, there wasn't a single living human soul, nor an artificial intelligence, nor even an operational robot.

Third, loss.

Truth be told, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this was the heaviest blow of all. As the saying goes, nothing feels quite as bitter as having something you once held wrenched from your grasp.

And what I had lost was none other than the Demon Lord Gallery.

"When is it ever going back to normal...?"

The gallery interface floating before my eyes looked completely different from its usual self. The familiar header banner proudly proclaiming [Demon Lord Gallery] was nowhere to be found. In its place hovered a sterile, unmoving alert box.

No matter how many times I refreshed, the gallery front page refused to load.

"Haaah..."

When had the gallery gone dark in the first place?

Tracing back my memory, the answer came easily enough. It had been immediately after the Avatar Projection Magic was triggered. The memory of that day—the moment I tapped the avatar transit prompt sent through the forum—was still fresh in my mind. And why wouldn't it be? After all that agonizing tension when I finally pressed the prompt, absolutely nothing had happened. In fact, since nothing had occurred, it would have been harder to forget.

Nothing had transpired to the point where I doubted whether the avatar spell had even worked at all, but there was nothing I could do. From the instant I tapped that prompt, the gallery froze solid, and it hadn't worked since. Because of that, asking questions on the forum was out of the question, and I had no way of knowing how the Pandemonium assembly was unfolding.

"Driving me insane..."

It was stifling.

If I had never accessed the gallery to begin with, it would have been one thing, but having tasted genuine communication only to be violently severed from it again was excruciating. Only after forum-browsing vanished from my daily routine did I realize just how much empty time was left over in a day.

Far, far too much time.

How in the world did I survive the past twenty years like this?

Marveling at my own past resilience only lasted a day or two. Today marked the thirty-sixth day since the gallery had stopped opening.

Having half-given up on both the silent forum and my missing avatar, I had simply fallen back into my mechanical routine. Diving into gates to clear out monsters, sweeping urban rubble, scavenging canned food from scattered air-raid bunkers.

That was today's routine, the same routine of the past twenty years, and the thirty-sixth iteration of it since the gallery had vanished.

"..."

Just as another identical day was drawing to an unremarkable close.

I had slipped into my sleeping bag and was forcing myself to sleep when something caught the edge of my vision.

A single bright streak carving through the night sky, pristine and crystal-clear since all atmospheric pollution had vanished decades ago.

A shooting star.

"...!"

I bolted upright.

To make a wish on a falling star I hadn't seen in years?

Hardly.

The reason I sprang into motion was because my psychic perception was screaming that the trajectory of this "shooting star" was headed straight for my immediate vicinity.

"A meteorite out of nowhere, are you kidding me...?!"

Even as Earth's strongest psychic, taking a direct hit from a meteorite meant instant death. Surviving a meteor impact wasn't something any human being was built for. To put it bluntly, I needed to get the hell out of here, and fast.

The instant I sprinted clear of the projected impact zone—

K-BOOOOM!

A deafening shockwave erupted, sending heavy, seismic tremors rolling violently through the crust.

"What the hell is this now..."

In twenty solitary years, not so much as a dead satellite had crashed, let alone a meteorite. The timing was absurdly suspect.

Grumbling under my breath, I waited for the swirling dust to settle. Once the haze thinned enough, I used my psychic powers to sweep away the debris and approached the impact site without difficulty.

Passing the wreckage of the building that had served as my hideout, I reached the massive crater gouged into the heart of the ruined city. And there, something caught my eye.

"What is that?"

An oval metallic sphere.

Resting dead center in the crater, it looked just like a giant black egg.

A meteorite? A new invader? An extraterrestrial life form? A fallen satellite?

Nothing was certain, save for one unmistakable fact:

That thing was no naturally occurring meteorite.

Concealing my agitation, I approached the black metallic sphere with cautious steps.

"...What in the world is this?"

Touching the surface directly only deepened the mystery. The texture under my fingertips and the feedback from my psychic senses confirmed it was unmistakably manufactured through human technology. Yet strangely, my perception couldn't penetrate the interior at all.

It was as if it had been deliberately shielded against external scanning.

Smashing it open feels reckless, but I can't see inside either.

I spent a long while circling the sphere and tapping against its hull when suddenly—

Pshhhhh—

With the hiss of releasing pressurized gas, one side of the metal sphere unsealed and disgorged something onto the crater floor.

And the identity of what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been ejected was...

"...A girl?"

A young woman with hair of an unnerving, pure white.