The One Slumbering in R'lyeh (2)
"Damn it, what the hell is this mess..."
Once everything was over, the Academy canceled its entire schedule and sent all the cadets home—apparently because one of their own professors had fallen victim to a villain, of all people.
And so, unceremoniously dismissed from campus, I spat curses at the sheer absurdity of it all on my way back to my apartment. A sigh escaped me before I could stop it.
Unbelievable. An Academy professor, brainwashed by some mind-controller. Professors at that level were widely regarded as top-tier powerhouses—solidly A-rank even among Heroes. Anyone capable of brainwashing a man like that and smuggling him into the Academy was no pushover. No, "no pushover" was underselling it—they were probably knocking on S-rank's door.
Officially, there were only thirty S-ranks in the world. But that figure counted only the Heroes' side; widen the scope to include villains, and the number climbed considerably. After all, if the villains hadn't fielded their own top-tier powerhouses, the Heroes would have purged them ages ago.
The most infamous example was Cartesia, the S-rank villain who had united every cartel in Mexico and seized the entire country for himself.
"A declaration of war, huh."
For me—someone who had reached the realm of the Constellations while still wearing a human body—none of it mattered much either way. But from another angle, this whole affair really did read like a challenge letter addressed to the Academy itself.
As I said, brainwashing a professor meant the enemy was on the cusp of S-rank. For a powerhouse of that caliber to strike with no apparent gain—it was only reasonable to see it as an open provocation.
A war could break out before long.
Not that it would matter to me, since I'd be backing the Academy anyway. Being on the Heroes' side and all.
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
I punched in the door lock's passcode with my eyes closed—a motion worn into muscle memory by now—and pushed the door open.
"Daaaddy!!"
The moment I stepped inside, Yehwa—who had been watching TV as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world—threw both arms wide and came sprinting at me.
Damn it, this is what life is about.
Thump.
It was only Day One of being a dad, but I basked in the overflowing paternal love all the same, scooping her up as I turned to Nyarlathotep, who was busy playing Po*kémon on a handheld console.
"So, did you find out anything about her?"
"Naturally, she exhibits none of a human's physiological responses whatsoever. And whether it is because she was born of thy divine power, the child has already Awakened, it would seem."
"She's Awakened?!"
Nyarlathotep delivered it as flatly as a weather report. But what lay beneath those words was nothing short of staggering.
"Yehwa, sweetie, can you use mana?"
"Ma-mana?"
Startled, I lifted her up, and she tilted her head at me with a curious little blink. Awakening came to everyone—without a single exception known to history—only after reaching adulthood. No one, anywhere, had ever Awakened before growing up.
And yet Nyarlathotep, who'd taken an intense interest in the child from the start, had already uncovered her Awakening. She had Awakened before even reaching adulthood.
What that meant, I—as her father—understood all too well. It meant she would begin learning years ahead of everyone else. The kind of head start even the most gifted prodigies never got their hands on.
"Planning to sweep the whole world the day you grow up, are you?"
"Kyaaaah!!"
Flustered by the sight of her already rampaging around the house, I hurried things along. I hoisted Yehwa up for a piggyback ride one last time before setting her down on the floor, and off she dashed straight back to Nyarlathotep, delighted about who-knows-what.
"Go pester Cthugha for playtime... why must thou cling to me so relentlessly..."
No wonder she'd looked so worn out when I walked in. Nyarlathotep had been playing with Yehwa since morning and was now utterly exhausted.
"Why come to me and not to thy own father..."
"Kyaaaah!"
Well, the kid clearly adored Nyarlathotep, so I left them to it and headed into my room. Childcare really was no joke. Thank god Nyarlathotep had taken over—I'd have been run ragged otherwise, doing all of that myself.
Click.
I pressed the power button on my computer, and with the hum of spinning fans, the monitor lit up. It had been so long since I last turned it on that even the operating system felt strangely foreign today. The window-pane logo of the OS swept past, and the desktop filled the screen.
Ah, Cthulhu's on too.
Cthulhu. She was the being I'd met back when reading the Necronomicon had trapped me in that strange underwater prison. That was speaking in terms of real-world encounters, though—if you counted our gaming history, we went way, way back.
Our very first meeting had been at a hunting ground in some RPG. She wasn't claiming a spot, wasn't grinding—her baffling behavior gnawed at me until I finally struck up a conversation, and that's how it all began.
Judging by her gaming tastes and the way she talked, she had all the hallmarks of what you'd call a shut-in loser, sure—but she was a friend whose vibe just clicked with mine. Though honestly, I had no idea she was an actual god at the time.
Maybe I'll play with her for old times' sake?
I'd sworn at the Academy that I'd do nothing but game until I dropped today, so game I must. And grinding alone felt a little pathetic, so I did need a partner. I'd been planning to drag Cthugha or Nyarlathotep along, but plans change.
I'd leave those two in charge of entertaining Yehwa, and spend today gaming with Cthulhu.
Click, click.
I clicked my mouse and fired off a voice call to Cthulhu, whose icon glowed green.
Doo-roon du-roon, doo-roon du-roon.
Her bizarre octopus-like icon floated to the center of the screen, blinking and pulsing along with the muzak of an incoming call.
Boop.
"Hello?"
Before long, Cthulhu picked up.
"H-Hyunseong? It's b-been forever? What's up?"
An incredibly soft, beautiful voice. This was Cthulhu—a voice that alone could have captivated scores of men—stuttering her way through a question even today.
"Nothing much. Just figured we'd game together, first time in a while."
"...! R-Really? You're leaving Nyarlathotep and the others behind and playing with... me?"
"You were the only one on."
Scanning my friends list, Cthulhu was the sole person actually in-game. Everyone else was apparently busy—not a single one of them had their game client open.
In other words, the only being available to game with me right now was Cthulhu, the genuine, full-time shut-in whose client never closed, day or night.
"R-Really? Hehe... hearing you say that makes me happy."
...What is?
I wasn't sure "nobody else was available" was something to celebrate, but I didn't feel like picking that particular fight. I just shrugged and asked,
"So, found any fun games lately? I'm in the mood to try something new for once."
"A-actually, I've got one all set up and waiting for you to come back... wanna try it?"
"Uh, sure."
Boop.
The moment I answered, a message popped up on That's Code.
A link to some fledgling game studio. I followed it and browsed their catalog—besides one brand-new release that had been out for barely a month, there was nothing else.
The game was called Boss Raid. A survival-type game where you fought off an endless barrage of bosses, one after another, and simply tried to stay alive.
"Sounds fun. Let's give it a shot."
It happened to be a 2-to-4-player game. Games like these are best with all four slots filled, but since Cthulhu was the only comrade available, we settled on a duo for now.
"Hehe, okay! Download it~"
The game cost 1,200 won. More than reasonable for a day's worth of entertainment—pocket change, really.
Payment cleared in seconds and the download started immediately. The file size was as light as the price tag and the graphics suggested, the progress bar racing along.
After five minutes of idle chatter, Boss Raid was fully installed.
"You're all done downloading too?"
"I-I downloaded it ages ago..."
When I asked if she was still installing, she replied she'd finished long ago. Which meant... she'd already been certain I'd play with her?
Love her as I might, a god was still a god. Never underestimate the intellect.
I launched the game, and the studio's logo appeared first on screen. Then came the title screen: cartoon-style characters striking dramatic poses, battle-ready grimaces on their faces.
I hit Multi Player, but the game was so starved for players that not a single server existed.
Aside from the lone server Cthulhu had created, the server browser sat completely empty—enough to evoke the ghost towns of every dead game I'd ever seen.
This game's actually okay, right?
As someone who gravitated toward mainstream titles over niche ones, a sparse player base made me nervous by default. An empty game was a dying game—simple as that.
Click, click.
Shoving the unease aside, I joined the server, where a character that looked like Cthulhu was already standing in the ready position.
The game will begin in 5 seconds.
Nudged along by Cthulhu's impatience, I hit Ready, and the countdown began with a robotic voice-over.
Wait... isn't this one of those cheap free TTS voices?
Something about the countdown voice naggingly familiar, the game kicked off—and Cthulhu immediately struck up conversation.
"I-I'm so excited. Aren't you...?"
"Yeah, sure am."
Well, if the certified game-fiend Cthulhu dredged it up, it had to be fun, right?
I loosened up my shoulders and gripped the keyboard and mouse tight.