A Dream of Doom Upon Doom
I dreamed of Doom x Doom. In the dream, I was sitting in front of my computer. Frustrated beyond words, I slammed my fist on the keyboard and vented my rage. I clutched my head and screamed like a madman.
And I fully understood why my past self was acting like that.
"You fucking crazy devs."
[The world has been destroyed.]
[You failed to protect this world.]
[Find a possibility where the world does not perish.]
Endless. The legendary trash game where every ending led to the world's doom. The message on the screen announced the world's destruction. Judging by the lingering energy to rage, I'd probably cleared about two Doomsday Buttons.
"This is bullshit! What the hell did Zara do wrong?!"
"She did something wrong. She dooms the world."
I knew no one could hear, but I muttered to myself anyway.
Yeah. Zara was guilty. Born as the scapegoat to bear all the world's misfortunes, yet she dared to strive for happiness.
"Sigh. Alright, let's keep going. There has to be a better ending. I just haven't found the true ending yet."
"I thought so too, but nope."
In the dream, my past self kept grinding the game. Killing the hero, killing the witch, tormenting the unfortunate girl, killing the demon king—killing and breaking everything.
And then the world doomed again, so I flailed to stop it once more.
"Fucking trash game…"
"You should've just deleted it here. Stubborn bastard. What's so fun about this garbage?"
"I'll find this game's true ending no matter what."
"Crazy fucker."
So that's what I looked like. Seeing myself from a third-person view was a strangely novel sensation. Why had I been so obsessed with that trash game?
"…It's just too pitiful."
"Hm?"
"Priscilla was just scared of dying. Zara was born evil but always tried to be good. Noah just wanted people to be happy. And…"
"Overimmersion, Evan."
I'd said such embarrassing shit to myself. Good thing no one heard. If someone had, I'd have jumped into the Han River from shame.
"…Gigachad. Can I really do this?"
Ah. Please stop the monologues. Embarrassment is for the listener.
How long would this damn dream drag on?
"You're right, Gigachad. I'll see it through to the end."
Yeah, yeah. Bro was consoled by monologuing to his imaginary inner friend. And that imaginary friend lacked creativity, just riding a meme. Haha. Damn you, Endless…
"…What did Gigachad say to me back then?"
I couldn't remember well. But surely—
Time rewound to the day Priscilla received her baptism.
Priscilla saw the truth. A pathetic transcendent being—sitting in a worn chair, tuning the world through a glowing window.
In her fated path, she ultimately failed to achieve immortality. No, it wasn't just failure; she became a tremendous nuisance, killing all other sentient beings and ending in abject fiasco.
"Urk…! Gah, bleeech…"
Revolting. The fact was so absurdly nauseating that bile rose in her throat.
The shrine maiden patted Priscilla's back. Vomit mixed with the baptismal water, ruining the chamber.
Only after heaving out everything inside could Priscilla finally calm down.
"Are you alright?"
"…Did you know?"
"I don't know what you saw there. If you focus hard, I could read your thoughts… but only you can gauge the weight on your scales."
"…"
She was scared of dying. She hated death. Death took everything from her.
In her first life, plague stole her family. In her second, fire took it all.
"…It was all because of me. I… doomed the world."
Priscilla feared death. The biggest reason… was that everything she loved died before her.
Thanatophobia. She hated death. Not just her own… but all death.
The fear of death coming for her was unbearable, so she created a horrific curse.
"Urk…"
And if that curse killed everyone?
What the hell… had she been trying to do?
"…"
Nausea surged again, but with her stomach empty, nothing came up. Like her hollow soul.
She, who had devoured others' lives to survive, had finally discarded everything to stand here.
What was emptied couldn't be refilled, nor could she pour out more. Pitiful. She was a pitiful person.
"…Gigachad."
And the one who pulled her from that pit, when she was endlessly plummeting toward doom time and again, was Gigachad.
After endless attempts, he finally grasped her.
"…Liar."
She was someone who couldn't change. A hopelessly pitiful human. And he knew that best.
So. She had to find him—Gigachad.
Find him and say it. Sorry. Sorry for dooming the world. For becoming a witch, fearing death, troubling you… sorry.
She had to apologize. This sin was unforgivable… but she had to beg anyway.
"Calm down, Priscilla."
"…You know. Where Gigachad is."
But even knowing the truth, Priscilla couldn't grasp who Gigachad was or what he was doing.
All she saw was a cramped, shabby room. A glowing window tuning the world and a clacking typewriter—that was the 'Gigachad' she glimpsed.
"Tell me. Please. You… you know. Where Gigachad is. Please tell me—!"
So she begged the shrine maiden. Clung to her legs. Bowed her head. Screamed wildly, then sobbed apologies.
And the shrine maiden shook her head.
Priscilla couldn't see ahead—but the maiden kindly refused with words and actions, firmly.
"Spilled water can't be gathered. Understanding 'him' was permitted… because you lost him. If you seek him, the Scales will reclaim the weight it granted."
"I don't care. Even if I lose the power…"
"You'll forget. Everything you learned today."
"…What?"
"Memories received as compensation for loss. Reclaiming means losing them again."
The Scales are fair. It gives wings to the legless, a staff to the blind.
Giving up one to gain another—that's the Scales' authority.
So. If she regained what was lost.
Wouldn't it be fair to return what was granted in exchange?
"…Then what am I supposed to do? Just become a shrine maiden and live diligently? Be happy I escaped a horrific fate? That's… not fair at all. The god of Scales and Contracts is the fairest, right? At least give me a chance to apologize…"
Priscilla collapsed there. She saw nothing—not from blindness, but from lacking the face to look up.
And the shrine maiden's reply was simple.
"Wait."
"…What?"
"He is still fighting to avert doom. The Pantheon cannot interfere by contract… but after everything ends, it will be different."
"…"
"The Scales are fair. Even post-contract matters are being prepared 'fairly.'"
"…Ha."
"No contract lasts forever. After the term ends… it's not our responsibility, is it?"
The shrine maiden smiled. Mischievously. Playfully.
Priscilla couldn't see it. But the power she gained for her loss confirmed it was true.
"…Come to think of it, I've hated gods since before becoming a witch."
"What a coincidence. Me too."
Several months later.
The day Zara resolved to walk the earth searching for 'Gigachad'.
Zara met a blind woman clutching a staff, hood pulled low.
"Hello!"
"Hehe. Hello. You're Zara, right?"
"Yes!"
"I'm Priscilla. I've wanted to meet you."
"…Pardon?"
The blind woman—Priscilla—smiled. The 'Scales' authority etched in her soul sparkled like stars.
The power to be 'not hated.' Even in a distant land, she earned goodwill; spend a day together, and she felt like family.
"Huh?"
"Something wrong?"
"Yes! It's… super weird! Weirdly… I don't hate you, sis…"
"I'm glad."
"Hehe. You're a weird one, sis."
Zara met her first comrade she didn't want to kill.
Zara's curse fell silent.
"Maybe… we could walk this path together."
Long journeys need companions.
And a fellow seeker of the same person? Perfect for the road ahead.