Chapter 326
Chapter 326
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 326
Chapter Title: S6. The Grudge the Moon Desires -1
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A land where neither sunlight nor moonlight reaches, untouched by the world's sweetness and joy, where the salvation promised by the gods never comes. The land of demons.
Twelve children fell here.
They were invited to this bizarre world to become living sacrifices. When the children first appeared, the demons rejoiced greatly and danced all day long. Because their dream was drawing near.
The demons desired a god of their own.
An evil and absolute god that mocked everything in the human world, yet biased and kind, sharing sweet honey with them every day. And they were prepared to make their wish come true.
Hot fire, cold hunger, stinging sharpness, damp sleeplessness... The demons sing, carrying twelve kinds of varied torture devices.
Let us give them pain. Let us give them endless torment.
After composing a beautiful symphony with the children's screams as notes, our god in that distant sky will surely respond.
And so, the game of tag between the children and the demons began.
The children who fell into this strange world trembled in terror. But in a corner of their hearts, hope lingered. Perhaps they could escape this world. Perhaps they could return to the 'outside' filled with sunlight and joy.
There was an exit.
From the village hill, a brilliantly shining golden gate gleamed at the boundary. Passing through it would mean escape from this bizarre and horrific realm.
Even though the entire world was overrun with demons, and traps and spells guarded every alley to prevent anyone from fleeing.
Even though the children had no magic power, no physical prowess, nothing at all.
Still, please.
They wanted to get out.
Fwoooooosh—!
I clung to Abraham's waist. Otherwise, I'd tumble off the bike and my spine would snap in half.
Screeeeech—! Bang! Taang!
The violent driving made my guts lurch to one side. Abraham showed off acrobatic, circus-like skills, firing his shotgun one-handed to blow demons' heads clean off.
Already twenty heads airborne.
And as if it were all routine and effortless, he even chatted with me casually. The wind drowned most of it out, but the laid-back tone came through.
"Not uncomfortable, are you?"
"Feels like puking, dizzy as hell, arms aching—but I'm good!"
"Haha, you're young. A short rest and you'll bounce right back."
Even tossing in jokes midway.
I couldn't contain my curiosity and asked what the hell had happened to this old man.
"Th-that prosthetic? How'd you become Mecha-Abraham?"
"I'm a bit different from birth. Not sparked to self-awareness by someone's belief—the Creator made me directly, and the Goddess supplies the energy. So—"
Click, whirrr—!
Abraham's metal prosthetic let out a manly, heart-thumping roar as it transformed. A barrel sprouted from the back of his hand, morphing into a machine gun in the blink of an eye.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat—!!
The demons shredded into rags.
"Not bound by belief means I can reshape freely without glitches. So I asked Dr. Woo Chaerin for some mods."
"...Fascinating!"
Other NPCs are belief-bound, so Centra couldn't suddenly turn into a red-haired geezer. But Abraham was the exception.
This badass metal gramps continued.
"Since records marked me as an NPC, even in this world the Goddess built, I'm treated like one."
"Ah, got it."
"That's why I know the story's background and Clear Condition. It's etched in my head. You don't know, Creator, so I'll share. Saw the Golden Gate on the way?"
I had.
While the bike leaped rooftop to rooftop like flying, I'd spotted that suspiciously bright, massive sparkling gate. Looked like the straight-up exit.
Thank goodness. Without Abraham, I'd be clueless on the clear condition—brute-forcing every corner with trial and error.
I shoved aside my hair whipping wildly in the gale, slapping my cheeks, and bellowed my question. Had to crank the volume or it'd drown in the bike's roar.
"What's the backstory, Abraham?!"
"Creator, the background has no tie to Clear. Yet you're interested. Mind if I ask why?"
"Gotta care about the backstory! In TRPGs, the Game Master's intent is loaded there! Analyze it right, and you glimpse Yuna's thoughts!"
"God's intent..."
Abraham muttered bitterly.
Then it hit me—a chill down my spine. One nagging thought landed late.
All other NPCs got happy endings. Centra reunited with her lover, Pero secured a safe life, Oh Hyein met her friend again, Woo Chaerin saved the world.
They endured trials but triumphed into happiness.
But old man Abraham? The in-session Abraham and the machine-bound one were separate, but he'd merged them by his own will. So he knew.
His daughter Isaac went mad from starlight, turned zealot, and hanged him.
And after all that suffering... nothing gained. Isaac never awakened ego. He'd accepted his daughter as a mere data blob and faced lonely days ahead.
Back then, I never dreamed NPCs could come alive. Who could've predicted a character you created gaining self-awareness and thinking independently? Cold logic says... no fault on my end.
But the guilt was unavoidable. He suffered because of the backstory I penned. Realizing it fresh now.
He left me twisting in self-reproach and began explaining flatly.
"Creator, this world begins with evil demons kidnapping twelve pure children—"
Rumble rumble rumble...
The engine noise tapered off gradually before dying. The bike had pulled up to a church building, its windows boarded tight—no peeking inside.
Abraham wheeled the bike in and introduced the place.
"This is my base. Bringing the Creator to a spot worshiping you and serving the divine—hard to call it blasphemy or piety."
"...Bigger building than I figured? Wide open spaces are a bitch to defend."
"Spacious for one, cramped for eleven."
"Meaning..."
Abraham nodded and swung the door open.
"Yes. The children from the story—I'm protecting them."
Creak.
Beyond the open door, young kids huddled together, trembling in fear as they clutched each other. Eleven in total.
I sensed something off and frowned. Their movements and eyes were out of sync.
"...This."
"Yes. No self-consciousness. No intelligence. Closer to machines, if we classify."
Programmed NPCs to the letter—leagues behind the AI I'd crafted. Just regurgitating preloaded reactions to situations.
Dolls faking terror.
"But don't they maybe have lives too? Couldn't just abandon them. So I've sheltered them."
"......"
Abraham gazed at the children with sunken eyes. A flicker of affection warmed those deep pools. Reminiscing about his daughter, no doubt.
I burned that look into memory. Too pressed now to act, but someday, I'd do something for him.
Shift gears. Clear the game—that's the goal.
Demons crawling everywhere. Filthy numbers. Three per block, feels like. Gotta punch through that density to the Golden Gate. Magicless, no less.
"...Abraham, how strong are you?"
"Ordinary demons are a breeze, but powerful commander-class ones lurk all over. I'd lose against them."
"Commander-class—got a count?"
"Spotted two so far. One in a goat mask, another old and hunched."
Familiar vibes. Goat mask screams that damned Lamb. Rings a bell with the twelve kids too.
Then this tale straight-up allegorizes Yuna's past as a session. Suspected it early, now dead certain.
Twelve lab subjects caged in Violet Magic Tower, mages blocking escapes... project helmed by the Lamb and former tower master.
And... Yuna herself, no magic, no brawn.
Me.
Explains the Magic Block on me. In this story reflecting on the past, I'm cast as Yuna.
"......"
Was set to breakthrough.
Borrow Abraham's muscle, blitz straight to the Golden Gate and next layer. Plan's changed.
"Abraham, we escape with these kids."
"Creator. Unrelated to Clear—actually complicates escape. And they're egoless. Dolls."
True. Pragmatically, solo dash wins.
But I don't want that.
"Meaning and value aren't assigned at birth—they're forged in the heart. If this is Yuna's regret, can't leave 'em like this."
"Vague longing without means—we call it whimsy or faith. Are you praying, Creator?"
"The effort to grasp a star too high, too far—we call it dreaming or conviction. But neither here. Full escape's achievable."
I have a way. A ploy to pierce the demon hordes and save every kid.
Abraham read my certainty and nodded silently.
"What do you need from me?"
"Rest up today. I'll take a day too. Prep paper and pen. Long haul tomorrow—check bike parts. Megaphone if you've got one."
"...Says rest, but piles on tasks. Creator."
"Means finish up, clock out if time left. Let's move. More sleep that way."
Abraham's gripe wasn't sincere. Just a light jab.
While waiting for materials, I drifted to the window and peered skyward. Cloudy, dark, muggy.
A faint moon bathed the ground in mournful light. That round orb mimicked a human eye. So it must weep starlit tears.
Is Yuna watching me, maybe?
"If you are, watch close. I'll vault this mess like always, blaze a trail no one's trod, and wind up right in front of you. Yuna."
And then.
The moon seemed to twinkle, just a bit.
This world's like an amped-up S2. The Grudge the Star Desires.
Bizarre demons hostile to humanity infest every corner, no spells to ship 'em back home, zero helpful NPCs—plus a magic ban penalty.
City looks nuked, survivors just the kids. Cross it all to the exit? Brutal conditions.
Without Abraham, it'd be vertigo-inducing.
Okay, think methodical.
Minus irregular Abraham, characters map 1:1 to Yuna's past. Me as Yuna, kids as fellow sacrifices.
Named commander demon shits: Lamb and ex-tower master.
Mob demons? Obvious. Illusion mages from back in Violet Magic Tower days.
And illusion mages? Twisty fucks by nature. Violet Tower packed with headcases—pre-normalization, the vibe was oppressively dank.
Hence, one killer ploy fits perfect.
"Hey, that Goat bastard's fucked up, right? Struts like hot shit leading the project off one good line. That slimy prick. All flash, prancing in his mask."
"Kerk?"
"Heard from Charlie last time—that fuck gaslights our... Demon King? Boss anyway. Demon cooks up a slick spell for cred, he swipes the glory as his own."
"Kek, kerruk..."
Sowing discord.
Draped in a dead demon's pelt, crouched low, I unloaded maximum gas on the others. Fracture 'em, breed hate—crack the horde wide open.
Magic block? Fuck magic.
No strength? Pit the strong ones against each other!