The Truth Behind Absolute Obedience
"Is it... Absolute Obedience?"
If so, the reality I was turning away from had to be connected to Absolute Obedience. Yet, even with that realization, I still couldn't fathom what that reality actually was.
Suddenly, the space around us began to warp and shimmer again. Startled, I called out to her.
"Wasn't the trial already over?"
A helping hand, not a trial? I couldn't understand what she meant. But then, beyond the shimmering haze of my vision, a landscape began to materialize.
Where is this?
It was an inn room. But this was different from the trials I had faced so far. I was observing Alan from a third-person perspective.
With those words, the Alan before my eyes began to move.
In the first playthrough, Alan froze in front of a wolf and died. The second and third playthroughs ended the exact same way. From the fourth playthrough onward, he didn't even bother going out to hunt wolves. Instead, he was killed by bandits who broke into the inn. Every single event was intimately familiar to me. It made perfect sense—these events aligned precisely with the first through fourth playthroughs of the Alan Flake I had personally raised in the game.
The playthroughs began to flash by.
He died in the village during a Demon King's invasion. He died on the road to Vasilium after running into a band of thieves. Back when I was playing, I had simply found it bizarre, growing frustrated by Alan's agonizingly sluggish movements. He rarely obeyed my commands properly, yet with each passing playthrough, he seemed to grow in some subtle way.
Though with his abysmal talent, he could never become a Hero anyway.
Thus, the Alans of all one hundred playthroughs passed before my eyes.
The Alan of the 100th playthrough had tried his absolute best. He was probably the closest to who I was now out of all the Alans I had seen. The only difference was that he lacked Absolute Obedience.
Yes, of course he was similar. I finally acknowledged the reality I had spent so long denying. Watching the habits, the split-second decisions, and the movements of that Alan, I had no choice but to accept it.
"I admit it. Every single Alan up to the 100th playthrough... was actually me."
The frustrating, clumsy movements Alan had shown were only natural.
A modern city-dweller had suddenly been dropped into a game world. Confronted by a wild wolf for the first time in his life, how could he not freeze in sheer terror? Violence and murder were concepts a modern person's morals would inevitably make them hesitate over.
"The hundred playthroughs in this trial... they were the exact hundred playthroughs of the Alan Flake I raised, weren't they?"
"...The inherited Stigmas were different."
During the first and second playthroughs, the Stigmas had overlapped by mere coincidence. No, it wasn't a coincidence. The Rose Emblem and the Royal Emblem were a combination I rarely took off, regardless of which character I was building. But as I grew increasingly frustrated with raising Alan, I had started swapping out his Stigmas. Thanks to that, I had already suspected the truth behind these playthroughs in the trial since midway through. I had simply wanted to deny it subconsciously.
To think that I was that very same Alan...
A wave of self-reproach washed over me. But at the same time, I began to understand why the deity had said this was no longer a trial.
But the me of this playthrough was different.
The conditions were almost identical. Of course, my proficiency in swordsmanship and the Wind Authority was different, but the crucial point was that I, too, had survived without Absolute Obedience.
Even if the me of the first playthrough had possessed B+-rank Swordsmanship, freezing up like that would have still gotten me killed.
In contrast, the current me barely needed Absolute Obedience anymore. There were moments when its absence was inconvenient, but even those instances were steadily dwindling.
I stared straight into my reality.
I was that pathetic, incompetent Alan Flake. But...
That reality wasn't entirely terrible.
The current me has already grown so much.
From a pathetic fool to, well, maybe just a regular idiot.
Once I accepted the truth I had desperately avoided, I could finally see the positive reality of my present self clearly. The fog of doubt that had clouded my mind began to lift, bit by bit. The version of me that had struggled through a hundred playthroughs without Absolute Obedience... My thoughts suddenly reached a possibility that could only be realized through that very experience.
"I have a question."
"How does time flow in this place?"
For what I had in mind, this was the most critical question. If time here flowed at the same rate as the outside world, the correct choice would be to leave the trial immediately. Only then would I barely manage to keep to my schedule.
Two days for four years of subjective time. If I were to go through the remaining eighty-seven playthroughs, it would take about a month at most.
A month is a small price to pay.
Compared to what I stood to gain, it was a sacrifice I was more than willing to make.
"Can I experience the remaining eighty-seven playthroughs as well?"
That was an unexpected restriction. Still, considering the danger if anyone other than me could smuggle detailed information out of this trial, it was probably for the best. A sudden question occurred to me.
"What about the insights gained through the trial? Will those be erased as well?"
That was a relief. If that was the case, it wouldn't interfere with my plans. It was a bit of a shame that I couldn't bring back precise knowledge of the future, but it was acceptable.
"Then please, send me back to the thirteenth playthrough."
"Because there is still a reality I need to confirm."
The Reality God hesitated for a brief moment before answering.
In that instant, my vision warped once more.
Just as the deity had said, the specific details of what transpired here would eventually fade like a dream. The only things I could carry out were the insights and the growth born from those experiences. If so, there was only one thing I needed to do during the remaining eighty-seven playthroughs.
Let's see just how far my swordsmanship can go.
I knew this trial was an illusion. I no longer clung to the past. The Gwen, Wyss, and Elsie of this place... none of them were more important than their real-world counterparts. To protect the real ones, my absolute priority was to become stronger. Thus, I harbored no lingering attachments.
I headed straight for Sak and sought out Libero. I didn't need anything like the Authority of the Reim Royal Family. Just the sheer will to learn his swordsmanship—that alone was enough. It had been the same when I first met him. When I had first demanded he teach me, citing his promise to the late King of Reim, he had paid me no mind. It was only when I demonstrated a genuine, burning desire to master the sword that he finally accepted me as his disciple. And so, I spent an entire playthrough training under him. Even as the world fell into ruin under the onslaught of the Demon Kings, I trained in silence. I knew this world held no real meaning anyway.
If anything, the real surprise was Libero himself. I had expected him to abandon me once the Demon Kings' invasion began in earnest, just as he had in the third playthrough. Yet, he remained by my side. Like a towering tree watching over a fragile, growing sprout, he stayed with me until the very end of the dying world, teaching me the sword. The next playthrough was the same, and the one after that was no different. Playthrough after playthrough slipped by. Until, at long last, the hundredth playthrough arrived.
"It is good to see you again."
Naturally, the Libero of the hundredth playthrough had no memory of the me from the previous runs. Yet, our encounter felt entirely natural. By the hundredth playthrough, my mastery of the sword had reached a level that even a Libero meeting me for the first time could not ignore.
"How many times have you looked upon me now?"
"This makes the hundredth time."
Excluding the very first playthrough where I hadn't even met him, and adding my encounter with the real Libero, it was indeed the hundredth time.
"You are an absolute madman. Judging solely by the time you have spent honing your blade, you seem to have reached a level nearly equal to my own. Yet, you still claim to have something left to learn from me?"
To his question, I replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Because I have yet to surpass you."
In truth, his ultimate realm of swordsmanship was still far beyond my reach. Perhaps surpassing him was an impossible feat from the very beginning. But one thing was certain: I was incomparably stronger than I had been during the thirteenth playthrough.
"Follow me, boy."
And so, through to the final hundredth playthrough, I walked beside him.
"I really wanted to win at least once."
At the end of every single playthrough, there was one thing I always attempted: clashing against him with everything I had. Since I hadn't raised any of my other stats or abilities besides swordsmanship, our clash was purely a contest of blades. Libero, too, suppressed his powers as a Demon King to the absolute limit to face me. Of course, the result was always the same. I never managed to defeat him.
"I suppose this is the end of my single-minded training with you."
Slumped on the ground after my defeat, I watched the world crumble into ruin once again. A violent surge of Chaos was beginning to swallow the land. No barrier or Holy Relic could withstand that encroaching darkness. It wouldn't be long before I, too, was consumed.
It was then that he spoke.
"The most important element of swordsmanship is conviction."
"What?"
"Your swordsmanship is far too cautious. Rotate your upper body more, aligning it parallel to your blade. Thrust deeper."
A satisfied smile spread across his face.
"Had you done so, the tip of your blade might have actually reached me."
I was momentarily left speechless.
I could have reached him? My blade?
I desperately wanted to test his words. But it was already too late. The Chaos was right before us.
"It was a pleasure, boy. If you ever happen to meet me again, tell me this."
He offered a bittersweet smile.
"Tell me that you only realized it when you reached the end of the world."
The reflection of the dying world shimmered in his eyes.
"That the sword is ultimately a tool. And the pinnacle of swordsmanship lies solely within the wielder's will."
In the next instant, the Chaos swallowed both him and me.
I was sorry, but I wouldn't be able to pass on his final words. After all, every single memory of what had transpired here was about to fade away.