Of Course, Eternally, My Shit
Of course, High-Performance Telepathy is an ability that interferes directly with the mind. It distorts sensations, manipulates emotions, and excavates weaknesses. No limits on the number of targets or distance. Depending on how it's used, it could be more vicious than most S-Rank Traits in combat.
And for the doomsday button clickers, that was truly unfortunate.
"Count Sadler committed suicide. He tormented his slaves with a whip fit only for livestock, and in the end, that same whip strangled his own neck."
Canaria was a human who had reached the pinnacle of viciousness. Indulging in violence and hatred isn't the exclusive privilege of villains, is it? Even a righteous person stripped of everything by an extreme villain can become endlessly serious about violence. Especially if that person ultimately succeeds in their revenge as a vengeful ghost.
"I wanted to kill him in even more certain despair, but it's a shame. There were still more scenarios left for the count. What a pathetic human to the very end."
"Take it easy. Take it easy. You'll make the kid cry."
Canaria was familiar with malice. She knew how far the whims of the powerful could plunge the powerless into misery. She had become a miserable human herself. Every night, she dreamed of revenge against the Nosferatu Duke. Even now, after the Nosferatu Duke was dead.
She habitually imagined the Nosferatu Duke's downfall. And I had the ability to turn imagination into reality.
"Pardon the interruption. It was just too satisfying."
"Well, cleaning up trash does feel refreshing."
It wasn't just showing horrific hallucinations to drive him mad. Repeating that method too many times would give the 'heroes' an excuse to intervene. So Canaria showed the count the illusions he desired. She relentlessly fanned the flames of his inner desires until they grew uncontrollable, ultimately making him collapse on his own. Thanks to that, I gathered a ton of biometric data from High-Performance Telepathy.
"Good. With this, we've pretty much cleaned up all the idiots who push the doomsday buttons."
"In the end, we couldn't touch the imperial family."
"Messing with them carelessly could trigger a doom event instead. If you can leave them alone, it's best to ignore them forever."
"So, from now on, you're launching the full 'Gigachad Operation'?"
"That's right."
The Gigachad Operation. An absurd, ridiculous plan to rehabilitate the 'doomsday buttons'—those set to destroy the world—by reforming them from the root using Gigachad. The only possibility for preventing this world's doom.
The first 'doomsday button' to kick off this Gigachad Operation was already decided.
"We start with the Suicide Witch."
The Suicide Witch, Priscilla. The first nightmare of Endless, shattering the mentality of players who mistook it for a standard soulslike RPG.
'Man, I was pissed when I first hit this.'
To explain the 'Suicide Witch' scenario:
A player on the hero route hears rumors of a strange epidemic in a village where residents are committing suicide one after another. Hanging themselves with ropes, forcibly detonating mana, stabbing their hearts with knives—various methods, all self-inflicted deaths in succession.
Sensing something suspicious, the player spins through quests investigating the incident and uncovers that the 'suicide epidemic' stems entirely from one witch's spell. A witch pursuing immortality perfected a spell to transfer her soul to another body at the moment of death, constantly suiciding to move to younger, more talented vessels.
Once the spell's truth is fully revealed, the witch is wanted. The heroes use 'soul-killing poison' to slay her. And then—
"I want to live... I don't want to die...!"
The moment the 'soul-killing poison' destroys the witch's soul, her body dies too. And once again, the witch's spell activates.
'When the soul dies, the body dies too. That was the problem.'
The witch died. But the spell etched into her soul didn't vanish—it activated eternally. In other words, her already-dead soul roams like a zombie, possessing living bodies. The possessed body loses all vitality and dies. At death, the spell triggers, sending the soul to another body. An endless cycle of death. Far worse than any zombie virus—an absolute, irreversible doom.
After all intelligent life goes extinct, the player faces the message they'll see countless times ahead.
[The world has been destroyed.]
[You failed to protect this world.]
[Find a possibility that avoids destruction.]
Naturally, in the next playthrough, the player avoids pursuing the witch. They naively believe that as long as they don't uncover the 'suicide epidemic's' secret, doom won't come.
But even if the player stays hands-off, other heroes will expose the epidemic's secret, issuing a warrant for the witch. This world is full of heroes. Then, out of nowhere, an event triggers and game over. Infuriatingly bullshit.
'To dodge this ending, you had to kill every hero who might investigate the witch.'
The only way to block this ending? Slaughter every hero near the village where the 'suicide epidemic' starts. And you think that stops the doom? Nope—it snowballs later, killing heroes who absolutely needed to live, leading to destruction anyway. Kill the witch or save her, the world ends either way.
"The more I think about it, the more this is trash game..."
This game has dozens of such bullshit mechanics. Why did I get hooked on something like this?
"Young master."
"Huh?"
"Before we start, may I fetch a bag of snacks?"
"Ah! Snacks are important. Here's a gold coin—go to the market and buy plenty."
"I'll keep the change as errand fee."
"Damn, you're bold..."
And so, the first operation to rehabilitate a doomsday button began.
A deep forest untouched by even a single ray of sunlight. A girl, little more than a corpse, leaned against the wall of a dilapidated shack. Eyes that once sparkled like jewels were now hollow gashes from knife wounds. Through the rags of her witch's robe, bone-deep injuries peeked out. Black-red blood trickled from her ears from mana overload aftershocks, shattered teeth scattered around her.
Anyone could see she was clearly about to die. A death sentence seemed more fitting than anything.
'...This body's a mess. End of the line for this vessel? Whatever, suicide fixes it.'
The Suicide Witch, Priscilla, closed her torn eyelids. Just as she prepared to fully detonate her mana for a less painful death—
- "You Fucking Idiot! Pricilla, open your eyes. Nothing's over yet."
A ridiculously macho, passionate voice boomed right beside her.
Priscilla reopened her eyelids. Her damaged eyes should have seen nothing, but...
"—Cough!"
Beside Priscilla sat a hyper-masculine, muscular man that felt utterly out of place. Gasping in shock ruptured her damaged lungs, spewing blood. For a witch who'd lived centuries, this was bewildering enough to fluster her. Bizarre. Utterly bizarre.
'Great, now I'm hallucinating. Did overusing the spell damage my soul?'
Thinking her situation absurd, the witch forced a smile with her torn lips. She was dying soon anyway—no difference if she saw phantoms.
- "Not a hallucination. I'm your inner self, My Daughter."
'That's what makes it a hallucination, idiot...'
The macho man scowled at her feeble retort, barking—
- "Shut up! Quit the dumb talk, Fucking Idiot!"
'I didn't even open my mouth...'
- "Look at yourself right now. Total pussy. If I were you, I wouldn't give up so stupidly."
'But you're my inner self? Every word's a contradiction. Sigh... I'm more exhausted than I thought. Fine, whatever. Death will fix it.'
The witch closed her eyes again. Hoping for swift peace. No more of this idiotic hallucination or dumb jokes.
And then, as if mocking her, the hallucination uttered a nonsensical phrase.
- "Same shit, Different toilet."
'What does that mean?'
- "Pricilla. The toilet doesn't change the shit. The shit's inside you, not the toilet."
'Classy metaphor.'
- "I'm your inner self. Closer than your heart, always with you."
At that instant, a shock like ice water flooded the witch's consciousness.
Soul transfer. The forbidden spell to swap bodies for eternal life.
If this childish hallucination was part of her soul...
'No way... Even repeating soul transfers means enduring this idiot forever?'
And the man's response was the most horrific thing she could imagine.
- "Of Course, Eternally, my Shit."
- "Of course, eternally, my friend."
For the first time since perfecting the soul transfer spell, the witch feared death.
"Good start. Perfect timing."
"Here, it amps up the physiological disgust toward Gigachad. The worse the first impression, the bigger the shock when she's converted later."
"Oho... Not bad? Wonder how to project the emotions."
"Just connect me, and I'll handle it. I once bit into a sandwich from market scraps and found half a cockroach. Some nasty jerk did it on purpose to beggars."
"You really had a rough life...?"
"The cockroach itself tasted better than expected. The rat poison it ate kept me bedridden with stomach pain for days."
Canaria said it deadpan, biting into her market sandwich. I silently handed her another gold coin.
"Not tossing it like usual?"
"Uh..."
"Aw, too bad. I had a neat trick ready."
"Save it for next time."
Doing that now might shatter my fragile conscience.