Meeting - 2
It was several hours after I'd finished lunch that I heard the news of the Hero's arrival.
The messenger was the priest who, among the countless clergy that had guided me to the Central Church yesterday, had spoken as their representative: "Fulfill your duty."
Those still-jiggling masses of flesh, porcine as ever, were more than enough to make anyone scowl—but of course I didn't make the mistake of letting it show on my face.
More than that, though—the Saintess was, nominally, a figure of power second only to the Pope, a living vessel of the divine chosen by the stars themselves—and yet the creaking hinges, the doors that wouldn't lock, and a host of other petty grievances had been stacking up inside me one by one.
I'd eaten lunch in good spirits, and the brief gap in my memory suggested I'd dozed off from accumulated fatigue. Maybe it was the hideous face waiting for me when I came to that did it. Irritation crawled up through me in a way it usually didn't.
Regardless, the news that the Hero was already heading for the Holy Kingdom sent a storm of thoughts whirling through my mind until chaos took hold.
How?
That was the first question that rose. How?
If the Hero were following the normal storyline, he shouldn't arrive at the Holy Kingdom for another two weeks. Already, the future I knew had gone wildly off-script.
Don't tell me arriving in two days is the true route?
A thousand thoughts raced through me, but none of them offered anything solid. And really—was there anything a powerless person like me could even do right now?
Negative thoughts began to creep back into view.
Get a grip.
Let's assess the current situation coldly.
Day two of possession, and the Erosion Rate had already hit 49%. Memories riddled with holes. Pre-possession memories growing faint. A future that had already changed. And the story boss Spring—who was supposed to appear at the tail end of spring—already expected to show up ahead of schedule.
Completely screwed.
If I ran into the Hero, my mask absolutely could not slip. Make the mask even sturdier. Never let an expression show. Always smile like an idiot.
Right. People wear masks their whole lives—there was no reason I couldn't do the same.
Think positive. No matter how much I believed that preparing for the worst helped the future, dwelling on negativity in an already terrible situation only ate away at your mental strength.
Alright. Get a grip.
I gave my cheeks a light, brisk slap.
I ran through the facts I'd uncovered, the key points, and started drafting party compositions in advance. By guiding the Hero's route or offering advice, I could steer him toward the front lines with only the important tier-one characters in tow—without ever being found out.
If this plan succeeded, I wouldn't die before the Erosion Rate hit 100%, and we wouldn't struggle against the Demon King.
The Erosion Rate had been the biggest problem from the start—but fretting further over something already half full to the brim wouldn't change a thing. There was nothing I could do about it.
First fact I'd confirmed: the writing used Hangul. The fact that communication was possible at all was an enormous relief. If the game developer being Japanese had meant Japanese was the written language here, it would have been a serious crisis. In the game, dialogue scripts had simply displayed a label reading —Written Exchange—, but now that the game had become reality, it had been properly implemented. That was a real mercy.
Second fact: the higher the Erosion Rate, the sharper the senses became.
That was both a blessing and a curse. Holy Power was starlight flowing through the body, and the Saintess's body was like a balloon on the verge of bursting—if I dulled my senses, control over that Holy Power would naturally weaken. A vicious cycle.
Even with the Erosion Rate at 49%, the fact that the headache and sensations still felt somewhat muted was the one silver lining I could claim.
This morning, I'd tried applying Holy Flame to my salad for the first time and confirmed it worked normally. I never would have imagined that the description—"burns what the user considers impure"—would function quite like that. Separately, the more I used healing, the more skilled I became, so the proficiency system seemed to be working normally too.
If only I had a proper status window...
I found myself thinking that convenient, lazy thought without meaning to. Naturally, no status window suddenly popped open. For me, the "status window" amounted to nothing more than the Erosion Rate and the penalty that had, for some reason, been visible since morning:
A system penalty that forces the host to self-harm in order to lower the Erosion Rate.
Duration: Permanent
I cut off the thoughts sliding negative again and decided to think about the original game instead. Brooding over my condition right now would gain me nothing. Better to go pick up subquests and rewards on my own.
The black market in the back alleys of the Imperial capital. The Great Forest—the Alchemist's Hut. Bazaar—the place in the desert where a star fell.
Those three places were the only ones with items that could suppress the Erosion Rate and actually help me.
Most items sold at the black market and the Alchemist's Hut came with penalties attached—but now that the game had become reality, and certain things were being implemented in curiously thorough ways, there was a good chance those penalties would work differently. In particular, the Addiction penalty from the drugs they sold was something I could overcome with strong willpower or dulled senses.
The outcomes of taking drugs were usually grim—but with my dulled senses, I was confident I wouldn't get addicted. The place where a star fell might resolve the Erosion Rate at its root, so I set that aside as a last resort.
The Imperial capital and the Holy Kingdom weren't that far apart—cross a shallow strait and you'd be right at the Holy Kingdom's capital. If I left now, I'd arrive by tomorrow morning.
I also had to keep in mind the possibility that the Hero himself might be a possessor. Keeping an open mind and accounting for every possibility was the ideal approach, as far as I was concerned.
Alright. Meat should be coming for dinner too—I'll eat first, then think. A hungry stomach makes for a useless head.
And a few hours later, I had no choice but to curse inwardly.
Because of the healthy spread laid out before my eyes.
For a moment I considered torching the whole thing with Holy Flame in a fit of rage—but hunger came first, so I forced the food into my mouth bite by grudging bite.
The grassy scent was, surprisingly, pleasant enough.
The Hero rode a carriage that devoured starlight like a glutton through thousands upon thousands of circuits, gripping the Holy Sword as it poured forth light.
The Holy Sword was closer to a pillar of light containing infinite starlight, given form in metal—but because it was a human who had to wield it, only the Hero could handle the thing properly.
Before the regression, a few others had managed to wield it—but only for the briefest of moments, and none of them had met a good end. He recalled that shameful past only he now knew: how, driven to a point where he could no longer hold the Holy Sword, his former companions had burned their lives away to get him through the crisis. He steeled his heart once more.
There's definitely a limit to what an untrained body can take.
I need to get stronger, fast.
Running the carriage at top speed consumed such an enormous amount of starlight that merely enduring it was all he could manage.
As expected of the Imperial family—using someone skilled enough to maintain this as a mere coachman. Is that why I never rode one of these before? Even the Empire could only operate a single one?
It was only a little later that he learned there were actually several such carriages, most of them pre-charged by mages and used only for short distances.
Having stayed awake through the dawn, the Hero finally reached the Empire's port. After arriving, he left the carriage somewhere nearby, presented his Token, picked out any ship he pleased, and succeeded in leaving Imperial territory for the Holy Kingdom just before sunrise.
He hadn't made proper use of the Token the Emperor had given him in the previous timeline—but the authority it carried was far greater than he'd expected. And the position of Hero itself—burdened with so much responsibility that he'd never noticed—clearly held power far too great for a country boy to receive overnight.
Tools were better in greater numbers, so he'd decided to make full use of the Emperor's Token. Through a non-violent "conversation," he'd successfully secured passage on a ship.
Leaving the cabin he'd been assigned, he climbed up to the deck and gazed out beyond the horizon. The sea always seemed to hold something that stirred the heart—he felt his emotions swell full.
Now it begins.
I'll clear away everything that stands in my path and run for my goal alone. I'll kill the country boy who played the fool and acted kind—and even if it means killing myself, I'll save everyone.
If I failed to protect them, that was hypocrisy.
If I failed, that was a lie.
There is no third chance.
Is this obsession, or resolve?
Even if it is obsession, I'll carry this heart to the end and reach my goal.
To protect the Saintess.
To hear her answer to the confession he'd made.