The Truth
Bagan gripped the sword of the dead and focused. Soon after, he practiced the blade in countless ways—from simple swings to dynamic movements that engaged his entire body. He imagined enemies charging in from all sides and sliced through the air one strike at a time.
Cutting through empty space was easy enough. Maintaining perfect composure while doing so was not. Feeling as though he had sliced through something even when nothing was there, overcoming that sense of dissonance—it was all incredibly difficult.
Fortunately, Bagan had nearly perfected it in just a few days. His exceptional physical abilities helped, but what truly made it possible was recalling techniques he had seen somewhere before and attempting them himself. If the reproduction felt accurate, he internalized it as a skill. If it didn’t, he abandoned it without hesitation.
After several days of sword training like this, he had spent the day before yesterday gaining real combat experience in the Zairan Forest. Through it all, Bagan realized he possessed quite a talent for swordsmanship. Even without relying on his body’s gifts, his posture and intent were free of unnecessary movements. His sense was excellent too.
The best training wasn’t simply treating practice like real combat or combat like practice. It was doing better in real fights than in training, then refining in practice what had fallen short in battle. Bagan was the living embodiment of that principle.
He would test in the Zairan Forest the techniques he had practiced on monsters, then return to refine the parts that had felt lacking in actual combat. Today was no different—he had just finished another session.
“Master Bagan, lunch is ready.”
Barret had prepared the meal at the perfect time.
“I’ll be right there.”
Worried he might smell of sweat, Bagan wiped himself down neatly with a towel before heading to the mansion’s dining hall.
As expected, Barret was waiting for him alongside a lavish spread.
“Master Bagan, would you like a quick shower after your meal?”
“Yeah. Just prepare some clothes for me.”
After making the request, he began devouring the food like a storm.
“Mmm. Barret’s cooking really is something else.”
As an outstanding maid, she was exceptionally skilled in the kitchen. Whether she approached it as work or a hobby, she seemed capable of making almost anything. Once, when he had been craving modern flavors and listed off a bunch of dishes he missed, she had only half-listened—yet the next meal featured chicken soup, and the one after that, somehow, seaweed soup. The finer details weren’t identical, but the taste was every bit as good.
Bagan was genuinely looking forward to the kimchi stew she would eventually make, though it seemed her research into kimchi wasn’t complete yet.
Today’s dish was steak.
“To think I’d get to taste a specialty from the Coirang Baru Kingdom in person.”
The Coirang Baru Kingdom was a desert nation, eighty percent sand, yet it boasted an astonishing variety of ingredients and was known as a paradise for chefs. Its most famous delicacy was, of course, Solar Cow.
The Tebel Hill in Coirang Baru sat at the easternmost edge of the Shoes Continent, the first place to greet the sun each day. The cows raised there, fed exclusively on the Sun Herb that grew only on that hill, were called Solar Cows.
Their meat was in an entirely different league from ordinary beef.
‘The flavor is incredible, but above all, that electrifying aftertaste—like biting into the sun itself!’
No matter how tender the meat, swallowing could sometimes feel laborious. But this had a subtle, tingling kick that made it effortless. The first bite could be startling, but the closest comparison was a perfectly seared steak topped with wasabi. Thanks to that, the meat was incredibly juicy and flavorful—so much so that he didn’t even want to wash away the lingering taste with water.
“You really do know everything, Master Bagan. You keep mentioning kingdoms I’ve never heard of.”
“Guess I did. Want to hear about it? I can tell you what the kingdom’s like.”
Bagan looked at her cheerfully, ready to explain, but Barret firmly refused.
“No thank you. I am Lord Palamus’s servant. I simply attend to my duties.”
“Tch. Fine.”
Bagan pretended to sulk at her attitude and continued slicing into the Solar Cow steak.
After finishing his delicious lunch, Bagan took the quick shower he had promised Barret and changed into fresh clothes.
On his way back to his room, he once again felt a strange sense of wonder at the dozens upon dozens of doors lining the halls.
‘Isn’t this mansion way too big for just the three of us?’
The sudden curiosity prompted him to ask.
“Barret, has anyone else ever lived here besides Lord Palamus, you, and me?”
“No. Not that I’m aware of.”
Her answer only deepened the mystery.
“How long have you been working here?”
“Hmm. I haven’t counted precisely, but I believe it has been over a hundred years.”
Bagan was genuinely surprised, but he responded playfully.
“Whoa. So you’re actually my noona.”
“I am Lord Palamus’s first servant. It is only natural.”
Yet Barret took it completely seriously. Even when he indirectly pointed out her age, she didn’t seem the least bit offended. It was as if she lacked that particular sensitivity entirely.
“Not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
She never lost an exchange. Not once.
“Then got anything fun around here?”
“For example?”
“Books or something. It’d help pass the time.”
“As I told you before, there is no library or archive in the mansion. The only books are the few in Lord Palamus’s personal chambers.”
Bagan looked disappointed. Actually, he had already been disappointed the last time. There was nothing left to feel sorry about now. More than seeking entertainment, he needed to grow stronger as quickly as possible.
It was then that she spoke again.
“Ah, now that I think about it, there is a basement beneath the mansion. I have never been down there myself since I don’t have the key, so I don’t know what’s inside.”
Bagan’s curiosity instantly flared.
“No key means it’s locked, right?”
“Yes. It is the only place in the entire mansion I cannot enter of my own will.”
The word “basement” immediately made Bagan think of the game.
‘A location that wasn’t implemented in Fantasy of Pangea.’
In the game, the only places you could visit when encountering Palamus were the cave and the mansion. You met him outside the cave, entered the mansion with him, and that was as far as the implementation went. Since it was technically his lair, exploration beyond that point had been impossible.
And on top of that—
‘A space he’d keep secret even from Barret?’
Bagan’s sense of adventure surged.
“Let’s go!”
Like a child who had just received a new toy, he excitedly pushed Barret ahead of him.
“But I told you I don’t have the key…”
“It’s fine.”
With a mischievous grin, Bagan pressed forward. In the end, Barret had no choice but to lead him to what appeared to be the entrance to the basement.
“Whoa. Just looking at it, you can tell something’s down here.”
The basement door was a gothic black iron gate. A thick chain and heavy padlock secured the handle.
“I told you I can’t go inside.”
Barret grumbled belatedly, pretending she regretted coming. But her expression clearly showed she was just as curious as he was.
“You want to see what’s in there, don’t you?”
“N-not at all.”
Barret was a terrible liar. Having lived with her this long, Bagan had learned to read her perfectly.
‘I wonder if this will work…’
Anyway, the mansion might get destroyed once they fought Palamus. Breaking one lock wasn’t going to make the dragon throw a tantrum.
Deciding Palamus wasn’t the type to be so petty, Bagan grabbed the padlock.
“Hup!”
Crack!
A small bursting sound came from his grip as the lock shattered.
“W-what are you doing?!”
Barret looked shocked. She was stunned by Bagan’s audacity—acting without even asking permission from the mansion’s owner, Palamus.
“It’s fine. You really think Palamus would hide anything important from us? It’s probably just an unused space he never bothered to open.”
“That may be true, but without Lord Palamus’s permission…”
When she continued to hesitate, Bagan simply took her hand and pulled her along. Then he opened the basement door.
A thick cloud of stale dust instantly filled the space, only making him want to explore even more.
“Cough, cough! M-Master Bagan!”
Barret was dragged along weakly at first. But perhaps her own curiosity had gotten the better of her—by the time they reached the stairs leading down, she was walking on her own without him pulling.
“See? You were curious.”
His voice echoed in the narrow space. Still, Bagan hoped she would find some enjoyment in this small act of rebellion. After all, she was essentially his only friend. It was only natural he would feel this way.
“Is this it?”
“Ahem. I can’t see anything.”
Whoosh!
Several orbs of flame, like will-o’-the-wisps, rose around her and brightly illuminated the surroundings.
And then—
“What the hell is that?!”
Bagan recoiled at the horrifying sight revealed by the light.
“M-Master Bagan, this looks like…”
“Us.”
Hanging in the basement like slabs of pork in a butcher’s shop were countless bodies—hooks driven through their necks. There were so many, stretching endlessly into the darkness, that it was as if the entire Persona Mountain had been converted into a basement. Their sheer scale was beyond comprehension.
“N-no, that can’t be right. This is…”
She seemed deeply shaken. Bagan felt the same.
Staring at the endless rows of bodies that looked exactly like the two of them, Bagan instinctively understood what he was.
A homunculus.
He had read the description that Palamus had created them, but he never imagined they were literally artificial life forms that had been manufactured. Ordinary homunculi often turned into grotesque monstrosities and were considered failures. Yet judging by himself and Barret, this batch had clearly been successful.
After processing the revelation, Bagan turned to Barret, who was still reeling from shock.
“You’re a homun—”
Slap!
Before he could finish, her palm struck his cheek.
“Do not say that word.”
“…Why are you suddenly—?”
She looked angry, but her eyes were filled with sorrow.
“Hic… I thought I was special. That Lord Palamus…”
Bagan gently pulled her into his arms.
It was then that a voice rang out.
“Since you have seen this place, I suppose it cannot be helped.”
It was Palamus’s voice.
“Figures. Dragons really can’t be trusted.”
At this point, Bagan saw no reason to speak to him with respect. Everything was finally beginning.
Regardless, Palamus looked at the sobbing Barret and spoke.
“Heh heh. Are you disappointed, Barret? That you were not a special existence after all?”
“L-Lord Palamus…”
Even as she felt betrayed, she still addressed him with honorifics.
“Am I not your servant? Were there enough replacements for me? Is that why you were so cold?”
Palamus replied in a tone completely devoid of guilt.
“The only beings worthy of serving a great dragon are, naturally, perfect homunculi.”
Watching the creature oozing with superiority, Bagan could no longer hold back.
“You son of a bitch…”
Only then did Palamus finally acknowledge him properly.
“Bagan, I knew you were not the same Bagan as before. But that does not change the fact that you are still a worthless insect.”
Palamus had seen right through him.
“Ah, now I understand why I never saw Barret despite meeting you hundreds of times.”
“What are you talking about?”
In the game, Bagan had progressed through the main story that inevitably led to encountering Palamus, yet he had never once met Barret.
“You kept going on about being a dragon, but the moment you became a homunculus yourself, you had no choice but to eliminate this child—another homunculus. Because only you were allowed to be special. What a pathetic way of thinking.”
Palamus looked as if his inner thoughts had been completely exposed. It clearly displeased him. How dare this insect try to understand a dragon?
“It was going to happen eventually. What does it matter that you learned it now?”
“Of course it matters. Because this time, I met Barret.”
Bagan truly cared about her. Even though she had initially served him on Palamus’s orders, she had gradually opened her heart to him. No—in his mind, they had already become real friends.
“…You need to get hit.”
The final battle had arrived far sooner than expected. He still lacked preparation, but somehow he didn’t feel like he would lose. He wasn’t afraid of death. Was it because he had already experienced it? No.
Was it because he felt sorry for the crying Barret? That was part of it, but not the deciding factor.
The real reason Bagan didn’t think he would lose was simple.
“…You piece of trash.”
He had never lost to trash before.