Chapter 157
Chapter 157
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 157
Chapter Title: Infinite Regressor Spins a Tale
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The [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] changed its form.
From the form of a cute blue butterfly that could win anyone's affection to a shape riddled with TV static noise.
It was probably turning into something terrifying.
This corresponded to the moment when the Pariah Deity finally declared, "That's right, I'm Kira," and came out as the final boss. But I wasn't scared at all.
To begin with, in [Death Note], the ultimate black幕 said that line and then switched professions from god to Vocaloid. It would have been weirder to be afraid.
I calmly drew my gun.
A Walther PPK pistol. Godslayer. A dedicated holy armament I had retrieved from Namsan solely for this battle.
Feeling its cold touch, I recalled the conversation I'd had alone with the Saintess 33 days ago.
Yes.
Before delivering the final blow, the protagonist enters a flashback. Another time-honored cliché, isn't it?
The meaningful correlation between a character's flashback and their attack power had already been proven across dozens, millions of works of fiction.
Thus, flashback scene, start.
10
"Mr. Undertaker."
The Saintess whispered.
"Now that I think about it, why did it have to be in the format of a 'speedrun broadcast'? Couldn't it just be a regular broadcast?"
It was a dark night.
Timing-wise, it was the very night O Dok-seo had declared, "I'll save you, mister!" Confident as she was in racking up her black history, the culprit herself was blissfully passed out, oblivious to the world.
On the other hand, neither the Saintess nor I needed much sleep.
The Saintess could just hit the [Time Stop] button with a click and sleep then and there, while my cultivation level was so high that a quick shut-eye sufficed.
When the apocalypse forced proper early-to-bed-early-to-rise lifestyles on all humanity, we two were always the bad adults reveling in all-nighters.
"Ah. It's simply a matter of time."
"A matter of time?"
"Yes. The Pariah Deity known as the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] is waiting for more humans to worship it as a god."
Zzz-.
O Dok-seo's snores were actively propagating noise into the world from the bed.
"People imagine gods in their own ways. A benevolent god, a fearsome god, an omniscient god... The more diverse the images, the more forms the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] can take."
"Take."
"Yes. The depictions of gods in humanity's creations are countless. The [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] can simply choose whichever one it likes."
The [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] could transform into anything.
It could become Cthulhu and film a horror flick, or turn into an exceedingly kind god to draw out voluntary submission from people.
"I suspect that deciding this world's genre is the authority held by the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement]."
"......"
"If by any chance the world's genre gets fixed on something like grimdark, that'll be a disaster. Before the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] chooses a genre, we need to force a specific one on the Pariah Deity first."
"A specific genre... like what?"
"Comedy."
I took a sip of my café au lait.
"You probably noticed it back when we crossed the sea with [The Hamel Legend].... I've been deliberately commentating the situations in a comedic way. Not too seriously. To avoid slipping into grimdark."
"Ah."
"If we can define this regression's genre, at least the early parts, as 'comedy,' then the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] absolutely cannot descend in a terrifying god form."
"...I see. That's why you've kept it jokey."
I nodded.
Works have an atmosphere.
Even if the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] tries to pull off a tragic development, if the work's atmosphere is light and comedic from the start?
It would only get flak for forcing a grim vibe.
That wouldn't be a planned cliché—it'd just be a failed work.
If that happened, the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] would be confessing it lacked the skill to handle clichés.
Pariahs could never deny their own essence.
We had to exploit that flaw.
"Saintess. We've taken the loathed medicine, so all sorts of misfortunes will come rushing at us soon."
"......"
"Once we return to Korea, we'll head straight into Baekhwa Girls' High School. The Avici distorts human time perception endlessly, so we'll probably spend over five subjective years there. To warn you ahead, it'll be hellish."
Therefore.
"We'll deliberately 'skip' these miserable days."
"Skip...?"
"Yes. Omit them, jump over. Not a word about the misfortunes we'll face in Avici's time. That's how we maintain the 'comedy' atmosphere."
"Ah.... Indeed."
By the way. Dear readers, your 'miserable scenes' were also deliberately omitted.
Of course, some with particular tastes might have wanted to see me clutching my comrades' corpses and bawling.
But this was all a grand strategic decision to subjugate the Pariah Deity. Please bear with it.
"That's also why you can't appear front and center, Saintess. You're just not connected to comedy at all."
"......"
"Before the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] settles the world into a serious, heavy genre, we need to charge ahead and claim the atmosphere first. But maintaining 'comedy' long-term in this apocalypse is impossible."
"...Because people are dying."
"Yes. At longest, 50 days. Honestly, I'd like to wrap it up in 30."
Hence, the speedrun.
Before the world turns properly serious and heavy, stage the utmost 'absurdly hilarious' 'gut-busting' 'uproarious' 'pandemonium.'
Narrowing the range of genres the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] Pariah Deity could draw from.
The Saintess wore a look of complete understanding. Toward her, I said.
"Remember this conversation, Saintess."
"Yes?"
"We still don't know exactly what authority the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] possesses—it's all speculation. But if it's tied to fiction genres as I predict――."
I set down my coffee cup.
"This conversation tonight will surely prove crucial."
11
Flashback scene, end.
With [Perfect Memory Ability], I could perfectly recall the past anytime, anywhere.
Even now, as I placed my finger on the trigger of the Walther PPK pistol, I finished the 'past flashback' in an instant.
And.
"Monkey's Paw."
I muttered.
"Now is the time to fulfill the promise."
-Eek, kee-gee-gik, kee-keek!
The invisible Monkey's Paw wailed.
All the misfortunes we'd accumulated so far. Though not covered in the broadcast, 'off-screen,' we had undoubtedly been miserable.
The total amount of misfortune and fortune is equal.
Even when the speedrun broadcast wasn't running, the [Monkey's Paw] hovered by our side.
"The fortune I desire is but one."
-Kee-gee-gee-keek, eek, kee-hee-hee-hik!
"Infuse all fortune into the bullet fired from now on."
Zzzt!
The right sleeve of my dress shirt burst open. Monkey fur sprouted in an instant, covering my entire right arm.
Countless buffs began stacking onto the holy armament called the Walther PPK pistol.
First buff. [Luck Total Amount Principle], reverse-utilized through the overlap of [Monkey's Paw] and [Loathed Medicine].
Thus, the single bullet I fired from now on would be imbued with freakishly potent fortune.
Second buff. [Chekhov's Gun]. A gun that appears is guaranteed to feature in a decisive scene.
Moreover, the gun I brought wasn't just any pistol—it was the Pariah itself, overlaid with the 'Godslayer' image.
Thus, the single bullet I fired from now on would inevitably crown the battle's finale.
The third buff was.
[Mr. Undertaker. Now's the time.]
The Saintess sent me telepathy.
Perfect timing. That line itself was the third buff: the 'past flashback' cliché.
Not just me, but the Saintess remembered that night's conversation and gave me the hint.
Thus establishing the cliché: 'We foresaw this situation long ago and prepared in advance.'
Completing the fourth and final buff.
"We've won――."
I murmured with a smile.
――"Just as planned."
Yes.
One of fiction's greatest clichés.
The 'everything unfolded according to the protagonist's masterful plan' cliché.
I'd stacked countless causal links to boldly claim this cliché.
From the 135th regression to the 593rd, even dying strangled by No Do-ha the workshop master—I'd died to build these buffs.
Into this single bullet.
[Luck Total Amount Principle].
[Loathed Medicine].
[Chekhov's Gun].
[Past Flashback].
[Just as Planned].
Infusing them with these Pariahs and clichés.
Click.
I pulled the trigger toward the god.
-Baaaang!
The gunshot echoed long.
Perhaps too long.
The [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement], belatedly realizing my strike, attempted evasive maneuvers. But it had just declared itself the final boss and was in the midst of transforming.
Attacking mid-transformation violates creative etiquette, but if it's just once across the whole series, such ambushes are permitted.
Zzzzzzt-!
My bullet grazed past, scratching the Pariah Deity's static-filled domain.
16-bit noise, 8-bit noise, 4-bit noise—the low-res domain expanding toward the Pariah Deity was pierced layer by layer by the bullet.
The bullet whipped up a vortex, shattering the low-res world like glass.
Messages flooded from the Pariah Deity as the bullet bore down. So frantic they skipped basic formatting, bombarding my vision simultaneously.
['Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement' claims the 'Twist Upon Twist' cliché.] ['Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement' claims 'Attacks Mid-Transformation Fail' cliché] [Revival] [Regeneration] [claims] [To followers and shamans: activate 'Did I Get It?' cliché] [Cliché] [Requests] ['Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement'] [is] [is] [■] [is] [is]
That was the Pariah's scream.
The bullet pierced the Pariah Deity's wing.
['Man■Myriad Amuse■ ■■er'] [Ah] [is] [Ah] [Ah] [Ah] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■]
Zzzzzzzzzzt.
The 16-bit space stretching to the horizon contracted rapidly. The contraction point was the hole pierced by the bullet.
Black, gray, white static swirled like a black hole into a single point. Tens of thousands of NPCs likewise screamed eerily as they got sucked in.
And holes began punching through the world here and there.
Crash! With the sound of shattering glass, bullet holes appeared in the sky, on the ground, in the hotel building.
[■] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■]
Wah-luk. Wah-luk. The holes spewed pitch-black liquid like waterfalls.
The black vomit reeked of petroleum.
As the liquid flowed, eerie sounds rang out. Much like a broken radio's static.
The revolting stench and displeasing noise overflowed in an instant, blanketing the entire world in black.
O Dok-seo and I were submerged in the Pariah Deity's vomit.
Though the black liquid rose over our heads, fortunately, breathing was no issue. It probably wasn't physical liquid to begin with.
Closing my eyes once under the black surface and opening them again.
Around me stretched a 'white space' nearly infinite. All directions pure white, making it hard to gauge up from down.
This was the divine domain.
Not the comedic temple I'd artificially created, but the true space where the [Operator of Myriad Phenomena Amusement] existed.
"Ah, mister? Where are we?"
"......"
The only ones invited to the divine domain: me, O Dok-seo, the Saintess—three people.
Perhaps we three alone were recognized as this story's protagonists.
-....... ....
Before us such folk.
The domain's master lay collapsed.
