Chapter 45
Chapter 45
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Sorrow
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Inside the private jet bound for America.
Jeremy gazed out the window at the lights below, lost in thought like a child.
'Moon Byul...'
The owner of the Cosmic Grimoire, whom he'd only brushed past briefly.
His files had come together faster than expected, courtesy of the Association. Ronnie had even confirmed with the Chairman himself—no lies there. He was indeed the Grimoire's true master.
There was no real need to track down a mage who was out and about, but on the flight back to America, Jeremy felt another twinge of unease.
To shake it off, he started reviewing everything from the beginning.
Why had he sensed something off about a mage who'd simply passed by? Because he was some hidden powerhouse masking his strength? Sure, that could be it.
But there were even stranger things when he thought about it.
Every living creature has a presence. Humans, of course, but even small birds, squirrels, or ants crawling on the ground—they all emit a wavelength screaming, "I'm alive."
Trained assassins or climbers can pull tricks like stopping their heart for extended periods or walking without a sound, leaving no trace in the snow.
"Care for a glass of wine?"
"Thanks... no, actually, mix me a coffee you brought from there."
"Korean coffee?"
"That stuff's good."
There are plenty of ways for a living being to go silent. Magic makes it commonplace in this world.
But could you erase your life force entirely?
That's not some spell to hide your presence or traces.
'It felt like there was no blood flowing through his veins.'
Slurp.
'Damn, that's good.'
The coffee was sweetly warm, the perfect amount of sugar sending its heat coursing through his body.
Yeah, that warmth—that spark of life—was missing from that guy.
To Jeremy's super senses, the man wasn't biologically alive.
Yet they'd locked eyes, conversed directly. A man with mass had casually descended the stairs.
So why?
"Why no pulse of blood flow? Why no sense of him even existing right there?"
"What're you talking about?"
"Ronnie, that guy on the stairs. Did he lie?"
"The mage who happened by?"
"Yeah."
Ronnie pondered for a moment, then tilted his head.
"Now that you mention it, it's weird. Target lock just... wouldn't engage."
"What do you mean?"
"My skill's all about targeting, but it felt like the whole system glitched out."
"......You little shit, why the hell are you telling me this now?"
"You didn't ask... Ow!"
Jeremy bellowed toward the cockpit.
"Turn this thing around! We're staying in Korea a few more days."
It had been off from the start.
What kind of artifact is a Grimoire? The only one that suddenly appears to seek out its master.
The Cosmic Grimoire shattered that premise from the jump.
There was no precedent yet for what happens when a Grimoire's owner dies.
Does it seek a new master? Or vanish with the old one?
A Grimoire that popped up out of nowhere and stayed ownerless for years.
What if the core assumption was wrong from the beginning?
Jeremy formed an intriguing hypothesis.
When the Cosmic Grimoire first appeared, its owner was alive. It probably sought him out back then.
But what if the owner died?
The masterless Grimoire flew into a rage, lashing out at greedy fools who tried to claim it.
Time passed, and suddenly Han Yu Seong picks it up—no issue.
The Grimoire had lost its reason to rage.
But Han couldn't use it. Why?
Because he wasn't the owner.
Here's the kicker: What if the real owner—presumed dead—came back to life right around when Han tried wielding it?
That explains the Grimoire calming down and Han's failure.
Being a smart artifact, the Grimoire hopped around until it returned to its master's arms.
If climber Moon Byul was already a corpse, Jeremy's senses picking up zero life force fits perfectly.
His super senses didn't lie—never had.
The unease stemmed from Jeremy sidelining his infallible instincts in his logic. That tied it all up.
The big question.
So how did the supposedly dead true owner, Moon Byul, come back to life?
"We've arrived in Korea."
"Head to the Association first. Make contact."
"But isn't it all wrapped up? Why backtrack...?"
"My hunch is..."
There's only one man in this world who toys with death through magic.
"Alex Scott's not in China. He's here in Korea."
The Chairman greeted Jeremy's group at the Association despite the late hour.
"Sorry for the late hour."
"No trouble. Must be urgent."
A nudge to Ronnie signaled he was ready.
"Two big questions. First: Seen Alex Scott lately?"
"The American solo climber? I can say for sure—no contact or meetings since the Tower appeared."
Tap.
Truth.
"Then, about mage Moon Byul."
He hadn't expected much there. This was the real probe.
"I went through his files, and something felt off."
"What exactly?"
"Straight to the point: Any tampering in Moon Byul's personal records, owner of the Cosmic Grimoire?"
"No idea why that matters, but no tampering."
Tap, tap.
"...Got it. Thanks for cooperating so late."
As they left the Association, Ronnie asked,
"Can't read the play. Why fake records that don't even need hiding?"
"Something was altered. Missing person or death, probably."
"...Huh?"
The Chairman seemed unlinked to Alex, but still.
"We hit the jackpot. Contact America."
Moon Byul was a corpse puppeteered by Alex Scott.
"What the hell does that bastard know, and what’s he scheming?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Alex Scott slumped on a bench for a breather, spitting curses.
"Fuck."
Truth be told... this regression round was pure shit.
Not that it was a total clusterfuck across the board—yet.
"Feels like my personality sours more with every loop."
Plan A: Summon Veil as my familiar, hop on a wyvern, and bolt to Shanghai.
No time for explanations back in the States. I wouldn't let Veil chow down on me either, and saving Kan meant hightailing it ASAP.
That leg alone pissed me off—the wyvern wasn't a jet; US to China took forever.
If that was it, fine. But those dragon rider tales in novels? Bullshit. Winter combat was impossible.
Even with a mana stone sleeping bag that preheated automatically, the wind cut right through. Brutally cold. S-rank awakener, and still freezing. Colder than the 60th floor boss room.
Made it to Shanghai miserable, but eating there felt great.
Then my old buddy Kan pulls some dumbass stunt and isn't there.
He was always in Shanghai rounds 1 and 2. Where the hell was he?
Up to then, not much diverged from round 2. I'd suffered butterfly effects back then, learned a ton. No one played it safer than me.
But yeah, butterfly hit, and shit unraveled from here.
No Kan, Heavenly Demon trashing Shanghai. Solo run felt dicey.
What choice? Shanghai was half-gone from orbit view. Had to step up.
Did, somehow bagged it. Conqueror tag aside, the guy's a top-tier brute—gave me hell.
Problem after.
No Kan meant no witness to me saving Shanghai. Citizens? Dead nearby, and even if any left, did they carry Kan's clout?
By the book: Chinese gov, moved by my sacrifice and heroism, calls America like, "Your golden boy's here—what's the misunderstanding?" Opens diplomatic channels.
From experience: Otherwise, talks start at the Pentagon. Waste of time. Or I'd have to tango with King Team and Daidai.
But nope! Some piled-up grudge, and China slaps a bounty on me! Who asked them to explain to America? Fuck no.
You ungrateful shits—I saved your asses! Solo! What were your climbers doing?
US brass, Chinese brass—they don't get it till you show 'em. "Prophet called it, but time crunch—no choice!" Done.
They ask why no heads-up? "You assholes didn't believe me last round!" Soft-pedaled with prophet excuses.
Stuck to the script, still got misunderstandings galore.
Normally, Kan would've shielded me from US pursuit, cleared the bounty with a few allies after explanations.
"Prophet's lost it."
Kan ghosts, now Prophet too. What, no visions? You always showed prepped in Shanghai! Every damn time!
Fine, I'd go. China stay was burned anyway.
Hours of "fuck fuck" in the sleeping bag, land in Korea.
You know Korea's convenience stores run 24/7? Revolutionary.
Dumped food and beer on the counter anywhere.
Cashier rings up total—slick hands—but no Korean cash. Card? Instant Pentagon alert.
"Sir?"
Plop a lowest-grade mana stone. Mana stone in Korean?
"Here."
"Ha... no money? Hey, no money? No Korean? Fuckin' problem foreigner."
Yeah, I looked rough. And I know some Korean—Prophet taught me last round, asshole.
"This expensive."
Cashier eyes me, the stone, nods—trade approved.
Outta the store, arms full of grub, hit the beachfront.
Reality crashed hard. S-rank climber treated like this for no cash.
Bank account's loaded, I'm loaded for real...
Itched to bail to next round, but held. Can't anyway. Die, then die.
Munched on the bench by the sea, recapped.
First: Unprecedented anomalies so far.
What the hell twisted things this bad?
My moves were solid, at least.
'Another regressor?'
Nah, impossible. Another one, and it wouldn't have gone this smooth till now.
Major divergences... a few suspects.
Han Yu Seong's Yuseong Guild broadcast.
New. Cosmic Grimoire stayed masterless. Didn't show when Korea got wrecked—probably dead.
Another one.
"The maintenance."
Unseen in any round. Korea's server check. Some butterfly warped Korea—who knows—but a sudden glitch.
Too slammed to check en route, but had to now.
All anomalies pointed Korea. Prophet's Korean too. That's why I flew here.
Ramen, sausage, kimbap, kimchi—wiped clean. Downed the last beer. Haa, living again.
Alright, first up...
"The Prophet."
Regressor, mobilize.