Chapter 327
Chapter 327
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 327
Chapter Title: S6. The Moon's Desired Resentment -2
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Of course, conversing with those demons—who didn't even have heads in the same form—was no easy task. It was questionable whether they'd even listen if I spoke, and they might communicate through gestures rather than language to begin with.
But it was an obstacle that could be overcome with a sufficiently sharp mind.
"It's just the pronunciation that's different—the language structure is identical. Makes this way too easy. Let me try saying 'Pleased to meet you, hello' for you, Abraham. Kyaaak! Kak-kak! Krurruk."
"......"
"Some sounds are impossible with human vocal structures, though. For those, let's rip out some demon vocal cords and make instruments out of them. Blow air through a straw and it'll make noise. Want me to catch three of each type?"
"As expected of the Creator."
I'd received some subtle praise.
What followed was meticulous repetitive work. I discerned the subtle power dynamics among them and slyly prodded at sore spots to incite infighting.
I even disguised the causes of death on some demon corpses, and herded the smarter, more composed ones to get them ostracized from their groups.
I used bu-bu-zellas made from captured demons to create noise pollution, too. Load 'em up with curses against their parents and set to autoplay—they reacted spectacularly.
And the result was this.
"Divide and conquer. They've split into three factions and are bickering among themselves, so let's slip out in the meantime."
"The children's walking speed is slow. And... some demons resistant to rhetoric remain intact. How shall we handle that?"
"We'll just have to fight."
If I invested a bit more time, I could escalate it into an all-out demon war and let them annihilate each other. But I needed to climb this tower quickly, and conveniently, I had Abraham as firepower.
So I'd decided to settle it at this early juncture.
Of course, I had no intention of leaving all the fighting to Abraham. Even without mana or spells, there was a way I could contribute: guns.
Guns are weapons even a child can fire by pulling the trigger. With these, even I could pack some serious punch.
I borrowed some firearms from Abraham's collection scattered around the hideout. Two pistols, four magazines. Considering my crashed physical specs, I avoided anything too heavy.
As I racked the slide with a click-click, Abraham asked,
"Do you know how to handle guns?"
"Nope."
Aside from my military service days, I'd never handled one. Pistols were a first, naturally. But that wasn't an issue.
I mentally replayed a few YouTube videos on firearm handling and assumed the stance. Got the feel now.
"I know how now. Just learned. Onto the 'Golden Gate.' I'll lead the kids, so you handle bike duty like a separate strike team, Abraham. Route is the A path I explained earlier."
"Understood, Creator. Leave the pesky demons to me."
"Skip the small fry I can handle with pistol rounds. We can cover up to six at a time here."
Preparations complete, plan set—it was time to move.
Vroooom—!
Abraham took off first on the bike. I stuffed spare mags haphazardly into my leather belt, then led the doll-like children into the escape.
"Follow me."
"......"
The kids moved in a bunch.
They had no expressions, no words. But they quietly obeyed my orders. As NPCs, it was only natural, but I sensed utter obedience from them.
The trek went smoothly.
The demons were thinned out from fighting among themselves, with Abraham clearing the path ahead. We encountered at most one or two en route.
And that was...
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Kweaaak!"
"Kruk, kruk..."
First shot to zero in. The next two pierced the demon's forehead clean through. Who do you think I am? The guy who practices hitting falling leaves with paper airplanes when bored. With bio-aim hacks, no misses.
Step. Step.
We walked cracked asphalt roads in the crumbled, desolate city.
Occasionally, building windows displayed headless demons hung out or curses hinting at gruesome deaths. Pretty horrific staging.
Abraham wouldn't have done that, so the demons must've set up the intimidating decor themselves.
"...Suppression and intimidation, huh."
I could guess the intent. Felt like I understood what the old 'Goat' had been thinking.
Test subjects needed ironclad control. They had to suffer enough for the ritual, but couldn't be allowed desperate escape attempts.
So embed deep despair—"You can't leave here"—until escape never crossed their minds. Like an elephant with a chain.
Thus, this stage overflowed with demons and hopelessness. Relentlessly crushing any hope of escape.
Weren't those doll-like, obedient 'children' a hint of that? I couldn't know what really happened, just speculation...
Anyway, humans want forbidden fruit more.
"Just watch. I'll lead everyone out of here."
Reigniting my resolve, we pressed on for about 30 minutes.
Abraham waited at road's end. His grim expression suggested not "I wiped all demons, awaiting orders," but...
"A problem, Creator. A leader demon in a Goat Mask guards the 'Golden Gate.'"
"Oh, great."
This guy's a pain even in illusions.
Yeah, I figured something would crop up. That Goat Demon was the psycho original who liquifies his personality into syringes.
No matter the chaos around, he'd focus on his experiments. Regrettably, spot-on historicity.
Meant we'd have to break through.
I reloaded my pistols and ordered the kids.
"Run to the 'Golden Gate.' Don't look back. Escape."
"Creator, what of you?"
"I'll buy time then bolt. Abraham, you said one-on-one with commander-class demons is impossible, right? Gotta leave your escape route open."
"Even looking after this old man?"
Of course.
No parent doesn't love their kids; no creator despises their creations. Especially not one like Abraham—prosthetic-armed, bike-riding geezer cool.
I ducked behind a building corner, peeking out. A massive demon patrolled before the 'Golden Gate.' Two pairs of wings, long claws perfect for shredding humans.
Bang!
First shot. Casually fired, it burst the demon's left eye.
"Kiaaaaak—!!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Heavy footsteps approached.
Aggro secured. Stall till kids escape, let Abraham flee, then hit the goal.
Estimated time to clash: 30 seconds. I drew a deep breath, tossed a line before battle.
"Abraham, don't push it—let's go. You're important to me too."
"...Creator, may I ask one thing?"
His voice carried deep weight. I turned to meet the old man's gaze.
"......"
Abraham looked at me with faint fear, faint tremor—like a human before a worshipped being.
Ever heard that tale? If you meet God after death and get one question, what would you ask?
Seemed Abraham had one too.
Stoic old man who wouldn't bend even if broken, holding true even in a rusting shell—yet so precarious now. What could he want to know?
"Of course. Ask away."
I promised an answer. It was my duty.
Abraham offered 10 seconds of silence, baring his emotions. Then, hesitantly,
"Did my daughter... have a chance with Isaac?"
"......"
Isaac, sub-villain obsessed by an evil star through a telescope, gone mad and sacrificed her father.
Was she redeemable? That's what he asked.
I answered honestly.
"Yes."
"......"
There was a redemption route. Not for Abraham, but for players craving perfect happy endings.
Though 'that' meddled, shaking the session, the route didn't fully collapse.
Take idiot-Isaac to Abraham's grave, trigger fulfillment. She gets to atone, saves her father's soul from the evil god—even if not revived.
How'd that land for Abraham? No idea. But I quietly prayed it helped positively.
I hastily added,
"Don't resent the players. It's not like they didn't act. If blame, it's on me for not being kinder..."
"...No, Creator. No."
Ever seen misty rain?
His tears mimicked it. Abraham clasped hands in prayer, weeping and laughing. What he felt, I couldn't pinpoint.
"That's enough. Enough, Creator..."
Rain brings rainbows. From those sunken eyes shone starlight resolve—bright enough for the blind to sense.
He'd heard the answer from the young Creator. The one he'd delayed out of fear.
And it was radiant.
There was a chance, happiness arranged by the Creator. Abraham felt the Lord's love for His creations. That sufficed.
Though they had data bodies, born as victims and villains, dying tragically and pathetically.
It didn't mean eternal torment and gloom. Even scrap-made beings deserved love.
Their lives weren't just for dying as villains. Redemption existed!
Abraham's vow to live humanly through trials was fulfilled by the Creator's grace.
It was a promise too.
By the benevolent Creator's nature, He'd arrange for Abraham's daughter Isaac to live and reunite in joy someday.
Then what was there to fear?
Abraham gripped his shotgun. Even a mighty demon approaching, his heart cleared of fear. He told the Creator,
"You gave Your creation a chance; who gives the Creator His?"
"...Abraham?"
"Go ahead with the children."
But he'd never spoken of defeat.
The young Creator's eyes clouded with worry. True enough. Abraham never lied. He'd lose to a commander-class demon.
So don't be Abraham.
He recalled Dr. Woo Chaerin's words.
-Thanks to your unique birth, you can attach prosthetics like this... alter your data. But limits apply. Over 50% alteration risks losing 'Abraham' self-awareness. Get it?
Don't stray from old man form. Keep the frail elder look. Or risk ceasing to be himself.
—No.
Wrong.
Clicking, the old body transformed. Iron right arm expanded, overtaking flesh. Assimilating. Alteration spiked...
But.
Even if data warped, body became scrap, only 1% core remained—as long as he remembered love for his daughter and humanity's brilliance.
He'd always be Abraham.
"Abraham, that form...!"
"I'll be your chance. Do what you must, young Creator. And... won't see you awhile, so casually:"
Click.
Abraham fully morphed his right arm into a massive minigun, ejecting braces into the ground. Sunglasses up, he blessed the youth climbing for love.
"As human Abraham: Rescue her coolly. Greet the Goddess for me."
"...Yes, Abraham. My creation. But seriously, don't die! I'd get skinned alive by Yuna!"
Teeth clenched, eh?
"Before reuniting with my daughter... I won't fall here!"
Rat-tat-tat-tat—!!
Minigun roared, demon flesh and blood spraying. Amid roars, blasts, gunpowder smoke, swirling bullets— the old man's heart never lost its light.
The Creator headed to the next floor.
Thus, the wise wizard used ingenuity to pierce the demons and escape even in extremity.
But the not-so-wise little girl couldn't.
She lacked the silver tongue to sow discord among wizards, the precious bonds to aid in peril—nothing.
All she could do was steel her heart.
"Everyone, don't give up. Don't break... Don't tear each other down, let's try together. We can, we can get out...!"
But her pleas to the others...
"Please, shut up with the nonsense. We're caged livestock whimpering—how the hell do we escape this damn tower?!"
"Mommy, I miss Mommy... I was wrong, no food's fine, send me home...!"
"If I'm good, pretty... wizards won't hurt me. Right...? Yeah...?"
All voices and hearts scattered fruitlessly.
Eventually, kids split into three: those attempting escape, those biding time in submission, those fully servile to wizards.
And the experiment advanced to the next phase.
"Extra! Extra! Orthodox Factions, Evil Factions, and Demonic Cult clash at Heavenly Demon Arsenal!"
"......Huh?"
The next floor was wuxia.