A Little More at Ease Than Before
86% of the clear credit.
The credit share wasn't just a measure of raw damage dealt, but I *had* actually put out numbers that high. I'd also been heavily involved in the raid overall — teaching everyone the strategy for the World Boss, for instance.
Since I held 86%, the rest came to 14%. The major rankers — Leo, Vlack, Yena, and the like — probably claimed the lion's share of it, with the remaining rankers splitting the crumbs in tenths of a percent. Go down far enough into the decimals and you'd find ordinary users who'd only contributed support or a sliver of damage.
You have obtained a large amount of experience and an Extra-Large Gold Chest.
Your level is skyrocketing!
LV. 90
You have obtained the title: One Who Reached Level 90.
"Oh."
The first reward was a massive dump of experience and a Gold Chest. I had no idea how much the chest held, but given it was rated 'extra-large,' it had to be stuffed with a staggering pile of gold coins. On top of that, my level — which had been all but frozen at 80 — shot straight up to 90 in one go.
"Level 90? There's no such thing as level 90, is there?"
As far as I knew, most rankers were sitting somewhere in the low-to-mid 80s.
"The title… really is Mythic-grade."
Titles had grades too, each granting its own buff and bonus stats. The one I'd just picked up — One Who Reached Level 90 — was Mythic grade. It fell short of equipment or items in raw performance, but thought of as a passive buff, it was plenty useful.
"And the second one is…"
You have obtained 5 Fragments of Extreme Cold.
Gems flecked with violet. Less a piece of the Demon King himself than residue left behind when his body was reconstructed — fragments of a fragment, if you wanted to get technical.
"Looks like refining material. Would probably make a great accessory."
Sre had no use for them — she already had two fragments embedded in each claw — and since the demonic energy in them was all but negligible, I could just craft them as-is. Leo and Vlack had probably each managed to grab one or two.
"…This is."
I looked down at the small bracelet that had settled naturally into my palm — something where a pure-white crystal and a violet crystal were mingled together.
You have obtained Memory of Cold (Mythic).
Through the Memory of Cold, you can temporarily summon the Extreme Cold.
I unfurled my fingertips. The bracelet swayed, and the Extreme Cold — vanished until now — came swirling back around my hand. I could rekindle that earlier catastrophe with nothing more than a stretch of my arm.
"…Hmm."
Fwooh. I folded the Extreme Cold back inside. The frost that no longer bit me settled itself away neatly into the bracelet.
The chat had gone completely wild, and at the news that a Mythic-grade item had dropped, the rankers who'd been busy collecting their own rewards began drifting over one by one to gawk.
"…"
But setting all that aside, what caught my attention was the bracelet's name.
The 'Memory' of Extreme Cold.
A remnant of the Demon King. A thread to pull on.
I had never once laid eyes on Temperie, the Demon King of Extreme Cold. Which was only natural — I had never come face to face with the true bodies of any of the Demon Kings, Temperie included. Had I done so, I'd already be dead.
'I'm no Celestial, but I carry Celestial blood. Of course they wouldn't have spared me.'
This wasn't a matter of running away. The moment you crossed into a Demon King's domain, your life was effectively pawned to them. True, I *had* met the likes of their mental avatars and subordinates who delivered their will — but Temperie I'd never encountered even in that form. Perhaps one of the Demon Kings about whom the least was known.
I deliberated for a moment, then quickly pulled my hand back. Not now. My body wasn't in any condition for it, and poking at the thing against my better judgment could unleash who knew what. Better to investigate later.
After checking through the pile of assorted remaining rewards, I logged off of DeoEn and ended the stream. The moment I stepped out of the capsule, my eyelids slid shut of their own accord. Dragging my exhausted body along, I trudged to bed and sank into sleep.
"…There's something I want to ask."
"Ask."
A training ground scarred everywhere with the marks of endless practice. He, having retrieved Rupein — whose mere sight conveyed a dizzying sense of power — turned back to look at me. Across his body ran traces of wounds so massive that even a Celestial's exceptional physique and regeneration couldn't quite hide them.
"I heard the Six Demon Kings have the Demon Realm. A place in a different dimension from this one."
"It's less that the Demon Kings have it, and more that the Demon Kings' territories exist within the Demon Realm."
CRACK!
Tens of thousands of spears tore the space to ribbons. Shrieking as if in agony, the void split with cracks — then mended itself, reconstituting the shattered space in an instant.
"But between those territories lies only a vast emptiness. The Demon Realm is a void created by the Demon God. The Demon Kings simply live within it."
"Is it the same for the Celestial Realm?"
"A little different. From the demons, at least."
He didn't know the Celestial God either. With an awkward laugh, he sank down against the rock he always sat on.
"The Celestial God is the world's creator. A creator — but a bystander, too. I don't know Them."
"You follow someone you don't know?"
"Why? Weren't the 'gods' of the world you crossed over from much the same?"
He said it with a teasing grin. I couldn't call it wrong, so I said nothing and simply looked at him.
"Speaking of which… why? What is it?"
"It's just… it feels like a little too much. Sometimes."
It had all started for the sake of revenge. Kill the Celestials, and once every Celestial was dead, kill the demons too. The evil of this world — the pack of wickedness that had thrown me, and everyone else, into the abyss. But that pack was something the current me could never hope to overcome. No matter how strong I became, I could never win.
Immutable. The laws fixed from birth never changed.
He looked at me with eyes full of pity.
"…Think only of getting stronger. And survive. That is the entirety of what you owe me."
"…I will have my revenge."
"Then stop at that. Remember it. Never — never stand against the Six Demon Kings or the Eight Seats."
'Because if you do, you will surely die.'
.
.
.
"…Ah."
Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!
The alarm, sitting in its usual spot, rang in my ears. Seven in the morning. Time to wake up.
Glug-glug…
I poured the coffee from the pot into a mug and stepped out into the living room. I'd fallen asleep without checking whether it had been night or day when I conked out, but either way, roughly a day must have passed. I turned on the TV in the living room — a purchase from when I'd moved in, though I rarely watched it.
Beep.
News covering DeoEn was playing. This wasn't some minor channel — it was a major broadcast station. Since DeoEn's arrival, the rankings of the major networks I once knew had been thoroughly shaken up, but a few of the old ones were still around.
Game content on the evening news. It might have seemed strange to some, but I'd seen so much of this since the day I returned that by now it was utterly familiar.
'I get appearance requests all the time, anyway…'
Through my manager, dozens a day kept pouring in — interviews, TV shows, ad deals — and I turned every one of them down. If there was a particular reason… it was that I'd had no time back then with the Mock Siege Battle coming up, and honestly, I didn't much feel like it either.
'Being a poster child is exhausting.'
Fighting or lecturing was one thing, but I had no desire to parade around as some living emblem of 'celebrity.' I'd done more than enough of that back in my days as the Saintess.
"Come to think of it, it was the 8th, huh."
June 8th. The Mock Siege Battle had been held in early April, and I'd spent the two months since hunting the World Boss. Almost four months since I'd returned.
"Four months…"
It felt like so much had happened — yet only four months had gone by. I wouldn't call it a peaceful life, but even compared to the past, I'd been busy. One incident after another, and after that incident, another still… No telling what would come next.
"Well. I'll just keep running."
A little more at ease than before.
Somewhere in DeoEn.
In a deep underground chamber cut off from the world, a man moved. A violet sword-blade swept through the air, and what looked like an achingly slow purple slash stretched outward.
His opponent was a monster dozens of times harder than a level 80 field boss of the continent, possessed of several times its raw strength besides. Yet the monster, sensing its own future, took a single step back. It had once had hundreds of kin — and even a 'King' whose strength was beyond comparison to its own — but all of them were dead.
'That monster.'
Because of that monster.
"M-m-monster…"
FWOOOOSH!
Your level has increased!
LV. 90
Leaving those last dying words behind, the monster fell. The man was silently retrieving his sword when he suddenly paused. Two messages — and a third that should have arrived alongside them, but didn't.
"…Why didn't I get the title?"