Ancient God and Creation (2)
“……Hero?”
I blurted out in bewilderment. The word that had slipped from her lips felt so alien, so utterly out of place. But as if my reaction was unexpected, she twitched the corner of her mouth—which had been faintly downturned—into a distorted sneer.
“Hm? You didn’t know?”
A faint mocking edge laced her voice. Yet I didn’t miss the ominous undercurrent woven into it. As though realizing she’d made some fatal mistake, she clicked her tongue and let out a low sigh.
“Tch… Did I let something slip I shouldn’t have?”
Her demeanor was that of a general who’d carelessly leaked vital intel to the enemy. In that instant, a chill seeped into my heart. Instinct told me I’d just uncovered something crucially secret.
“What do you mean, Hero!”
The moment those words left my mouth, the air itself grew heavy and sank. It was as if the entire world had frozen solid around me. She continued to stare right through me. But this time, without a single word, without the slightest twitch, she enveloped everything in silence, exuding a spine-chilling pressure.
“……”
At that moment, my mind began to reel dizzily. Was what I’d just heard real? Hero… I mulled over the meaning like someone hearing the word for the very first time. But no matter how I turned it over, it made no sense. If the Hero she spoke of truly existed, only one person came to mind—the sole soul who’d ever saved me before.
“Arnold…”
I murmured his name unconsciously. In that instant, the flow of the air shifted. An ill wind stirred around us. She let out a deep sigh, her face twisting as if trying to suppress her emotions. But the sentiment leaking from her depths was all too clear. Fear. No—more precisely, wariness. As if, in this moment, or perhaps with that name alone, even she hesitated to tread carelessly.
“Tch.”
The sharp click of her tongue sliced through the silence. Her expression flipped in a heartbeat. The leisurely air evaporated, replaced by pure hatred. A cold, profound loathing rippled in her eyes like thick shadows.
“Well, whatever. The outcome won’t change.”
Her voice was icy and resolute, like a god pronouncing an unalterable fate. I clenched my fists with all my might, knuckles whitening.
“No! This time, I’ll erase you from existence and fulfill my mission!”
My shout made her gaze flicker oddly. But it was fleeting; she suddenly let out a snicker, looking down at me with pity.
“Your mission…”
She arched one eyebrow as if mocking me. Then she approached slowly, deliberately, her face carrying that strangely sympathetic look—which only heightened my unease.
“Have you forgotten the mission I first bestowed upon you?”
My heart pounded at her words. The meaning I’d first been given, the purpose of my very birth. But I gritted my teeth and shook my head.
“Shut up! I’m not who I used to be! I won’t be your pawn anymore!”
She waved her hand dismissively, as if weary. A flash of irritation crossed her features.
“Sure, that’s what you say every time.”
Her eyes gazing down at me were frigid.
“Anyway, if you think you can, go ahead and try.”
And as if tossing it out carelessly, she added, “Just know that if you fail again, something very special will happen.”
She flashed a final, meaningful smile—as if my fate was already sealed. In that moment, a cold shiver raced up my spine. Her lips stretched into a grotesque grin. With that smile lingering, she snapped her fingers lightly, and everything crumbled away. My vision plunged into blackness, and I tumbled into an endless abyss of darkness.
The room was shrouded in darkness, not a single candle lit. Faint sunlight seeped through cracks in the window, barely enough to make out the space. In the silence, I stepped cautiously inside. Cold air brushed my skin, and that’s when I spotted Lucy—my senior—collapsed on the floor.
Her face was deathly pale, as if life had drained from her. Her long lashes trembled faintly, hinting at something stirring even in the depths of unconsciousness. Her breathing was shallow but steady. No visible wounds, so it wasn’t simple fainting.
It’s begun, just as expected.
I knelt carefully beside her and checked her pulse. It was oddly regular, like she was simply asleep.
“Senior, you okay?”
I shook her shoulder gently. I’d expected her to stay out like last time, but something felt different. Her eyelids fluttered slowly, and with a long exhale, she opened her eyes bit by bit.
“Ugh… Arnold?”
She gazed at me with bleary eyes, as if waking from a deep slumber. Relieved by the subtle signs of life returning, I helped her up.
“I heard you collapse and came running.”
“Oh… I see.”
Her voice echoed faintly, like she hadn’t fully returned to the world. She tried to sit up but wobbled, strength sapped. I extended my hand reflexively, and she grasped it without hesitation. Her fingertips were unusually cold.
She looked at me. Hard to believe she’d been unconscious moments ago—her eyes held complex emotions. Not mere fatigue, but deep worry and hesitation.
“What’s wrong?”
I asked carefully, her reaction nagging at me. She seemed on the verge of speaking, then shook her head lightly.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
Her demeanor matched the game’s version closely. But one thing bothered me. What conversation had she shared in that mental space? Originally, this was meant to hint at Varis’s hero qualities. But if I—devoid of any such traits—had hijacked the event, how had her memory of it changed?
“……”
Still, I pushed aside the unnecessary curiosity. With Lucy’s storyline truly unfolding now, there were far more pressing matters.
After clearing the second event, I told the group I’d fetch supplies we needed and headed out alone. Naturally, Eily and the others insisted on coming, but I barely convinced them to let me go solo. If I didn’t seize moments like this, shaking off their meddling would be impossible.
“Hmm…”
I strolled along the bustling streets, eyeing the shops. Bellgard Dungeon City thrived on dungeon delving, so goods here were cheap and high-quality. We’d prepped in the Royal Capital, but some essentials were smarter buys here. Overloading would just slow us down, so only portable amounts.
“I’ll take five of these potions, please.”
First stop: an alchemist’s shop for night vision potions. Dungeons were dark with poor visibility; one drop cleared that right up.
“Got it.”
The alchemist nodded curtly, packaging them neatly. Faint blue glow inside the vials.
“Any enchant scrolls left?”
Next: a magic tool shop.
“Specific element?”
“Holy affinity, please.”
Deep temple zones crawled with wraiths and undead. Holy enchant scrolls were essential against them. The owner’s were pristine paper infused with pure white mana, radiating soft light when unrolled.
“Smart pick. Five silver per scroll.”
Pricey, but worth it for the utility. I handed over the coins without hesitation.
“Welcome! Looking for anything specific?”
Last: a junk shop at the end of a quiet alley. This item was different—seemingly unrelated to dungeons, but far from it.
I scanned the shelves quietly and picked up my target.
“…Could you sell me this key?”
It was worn and battered, faint ornate carvings eroded by time.
“Huh? Sure… I’d be grateful.”
The owner eyed me curiously.
“You know what it’s for, sir?”
“Nah, just a collector’s interest.”
I smiled briefly. The real reason stayed mine. In the game, it appeared without fanfare—tucked in an overlooked junk shop corner, dirt cheap. Ignored on first playthroughs, but pivotal later for Lucy’s fate.
I scooped it up with a light gesture, slipping it into my pocket while murmuring to myself.
“Alright, got everything we need.”
“…Time to head back?”
The most crucial piece secured. This antique-looking key’s true worth? It’d reveal itself soon enough.