The Scorched Saint's Despair

Selene, the Scorched Saint, finally obtained the rest she had long yearned for. Here, in this paradise within the rift, there was peace. No one within the rift persecuted Selene. Even if her power went awry and scorched her surroundings, she faced no punishment. She was not falsely accused of being a witch and burned at the stake. What Selene cherished most of all was that she served the ruler of this domain. The master of the rift, who seemed close to divinity and should have been revered from afar, possessed a kinder and gentler heart than Selene had expected.

“My Lord, why did you take in someone like me?”

The ruler had never once answered Selene’s question. Instead, he showed her through his actions.

“Ah…”

That single glimpse of kindness was enough for Selene to understand.

“I shall obey my Lord’s command.”

Selene became his vanguard. She swung her sword only for him and scattered hellfire only for him. The fanatic who had found someone to rely on became an unstoppable disaster.

Every time Selene brought back valuable weapons as spoils from her expeditions, the ruler praised her.

Selene loved the rift. Everything she had ever desired existed here. There was a master who treated her kindly, and Selene possessed the power to faithfully carry out his orders. Even as she burned other worlds and skewered their inhabitants’ hearts upon her blade, even after becoming a demon who wrought destruction, there was someone who affirmed her existence. That alone filled Selene’s heart. Everything was perfect.

Although she could not monopolize the ruler’s heart and many subordinates comparable to her in power had appeared, Selene paid it no mind. The ruler was a great man. She had never expected someone as insignificant as herself to claim him exclusively. There was only one thing Selene desired from him: recognition. If she had that, she was willing to burn her body once more and devote herself to her new master.

Thus, the Scorched Saint Selene enjoyed a brief respite within the rift.

“I shall serve you for eternity, forevermore.”

Yet her wish proved fleeting. Happiness did not last.

Just as God had abandoned Selene and she had abandoned the world, the ruler eventually abandoned her as well.

“W-why…?”

Selene stood at her final bastion. Just as she had once stood before the stake, she sank to the ground in a daze. Then, pleading toward the ruler, she spoke.

“I can do better. I won’t be a burden again. I’ll even enter the inferno to bring back treasures. So please, just give me one more chance. I beg you…”

Selene could have done far better. If there were shortcomings, she could have corrected them. If punishment was needed, she could have severed her own limbs. Selene continued to plead.

Yet the ruler remained impassive and gave no reply to Selene’s words. As always, however, he expressed his will through action.

Selene was banished back to the outer dimension where she had originally belonged. For ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her, the time without the ruler felt like an eternity. Drifting aimlessly through the empty dimension, Selene wondered why her master had abandoned her. No resentment took root. Only a profound self-loathing remained. The guilt of failing to satisfy her lord, the sense of loss from the happiness that would never return—these became the firewood of the stake, burning her body once more.

When she opened her eyes, it was a new world. A world different from before. A far more advanced dimension. Here, Selene could have become a new order of the world, rivaling even the gods. But Selene no longer possessed any will. Her flames had long since burned out; she was firewood without fuel. A prison in the shape of paradise, without her master. So this is hell, Selene understood naturally.

“…Punishment. I need punishment.”

Selene believed this was a trial her master had given her. Her lord would never abandon her. This was all a prison of punishment arranged by the ruler to make her atone for her own inadequacies. Selene sought to regain her master’s favor through penance.

Thus, Selene hid herself within the Abyss. Wielding a whip of flame, she burned her body without end. Enduring greater pain, she dreamed of returning to paradise. That was until recently. After burning herself for some time, Selene felt a familiar sensation.

“…Ah.”

The greatest piece of Selene’s life had always been her master alone. That was why she knew. She felt it instinctively.

“…My Lord is in this world. He still wants me… me.”

From within the bottomless Abyss, Selene raised her head. The most violent flame among all disasters began to stir.

*

They say humans are creatures of adaptation. On the first day, humanity was gripped by terror. On the second, they were bewildered. On the third, they fought among themselves. By the fifth day, society had begun deciphering the system of this newly changed world.

“Hah…”

Watching the ever-shifting public opinion on the community, I let out a bitter laugh. All sorts of opinions were pouring in. Some users showed sharp insight, correctly identifying Disaster Order’s genre, while others posted party recruitment notices as if this were a normal game community. Yet those recruitment posts had gathered quite a few comments. People were already studying the system together and forming something resembling guilds. It made sense—reality was no longer reality. Who could have imagined, even last week, that the world would turn into a game?

“Two days…”

Time had flown by in the blink of an eye. The media outlets that had once splashed headlines about earthquake damage and mysterious structures were now focusing on the new world order instead of the victims. What was Disaster Order? What were the rulers? What did disasters mean? In this regard, the status window was quite helpful.

The rulers—commonly called the Awakened—had appeared. It was a kind of social syndrome. At the national level, authorities seemed intent on suppressing this phenomenon through force, but a video that had rapidly spread through social media had become a hot topic. It showed soldiers entering the massive black tower that had risen in Yeouido—the dungeon where the Storm of the North Sea, Mirien, resided. The moment the lead soldier stepped inside, a colossal black storm engulfed the area. The storm moved as if alive, swallowing the soldiers around the tower like a ravenous maw. Hours had passed, yet none of the swallowed soldiers had emerged from the tower.

The video spread instantly, and everyone who saw it reached the same conclusion: ‘This is not a problem that can be solved with conventional common sense.’

After that, stories about the Awakened began flooding the community. Voices expressing concern over the rift eruptions had also quieted. And what of the religious circles? Factions that worshipped the new world system as divine punishment, factions that insisted on approaching it with cold reason, and anarchists, doomsayers, and conspiracy theorists were all tangled together in a chaotic struggle. In short, it was a mess. There was no longer any need to look further—nutritious content on the community had become as rare as beans in a drought.

“…I should just do what I need to do.”

I closed the internet and looked at another window.

The translucent message window kept demanding that I set a base. The base was the alpha and omega of Disaster Order. Only with a base could one collect disasters, synthesize them, and enhance equipment. Since expeditions were also managed through the base’s formation window, setting a base was essential for anyone starting the game for the first time.

“It’s essential, but there’s no need to do it now.”

Yet I did not create a base. Unlike others, I was already a veteran who had thoroughly played this garbage game. Because of that, I knew all too well the backlash that came from blindly creating a base in the early stages. Especially now, when I couldn’t use tricks like rerolling.

‘It won’t be too late to create a base after I’ve prepared properly.’

Of course, that didn’t mean I had been idling around all this time. I had been steadily preparing to face this eruption in my own way.

“…A baseball bat should do, right?”

If this world faithfully followed the game’s rules, the first eruption wouldn’t unleash particularly strong disasters. Most would be 1★ disasters—goblin-like imps. Occasionally, 2★ disasters might appear, but if things looked bad, I could just run. A single baseball bat with nails hammered into it should be enough to handle them.

“I think this is enough preparation.”

After wrapping the baseball bat several times with electrical tape, I stood it by the front door. In truth, there was something I was more worried about than the rift eruption. I opened the achievement management screen through the status window.

“…”

It was an achievement I had never seen before. The amount of experience was absurd. If I set a base now, it would be enough experience to upgrade the initial facilities by three levels.

“…This feels dangerous.”

That was exactly why I felt uneasy. Beloved by disasters? It didn’t seem like the in-game progress was carrying over. At least nothing had happened so far, so that was a relief.

“Well, let’s just do what I need to do.”

There was no point in overthinking it. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠steeled my resolve and stared at the timer at the top of the status window.

*

Exactly one week after the appearance of the rifts, they erupted.

As expected, the first rift eruption mostly consisted of weak disasters.

But there was one unexpected element.

It wasn’t only the rifts that were erupting.