Fantastic Baby

With a laughter unlike any other, Hell tore through the warp and made his entrance.

Unlike the other Orthodox, he did not possess multiple pairs of wings. Yet a single pair alone — Hell's very existence itself — was more than enough to seize every gaze in the room.

"……"

Those who had been endlessly boasting about their own Orthodox fell silent.

"……"

Those who had been sneering and frowning at the other Orthodox fell silent.

"……"

Even Number One, the man in the Golden Mask, fell silent.

Kyahahahahaha!

Every last one of them stared, wordless, at Hell perched atop my head.

How could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they not? The gulf between the Orthodox they had summoned and mine was something even they could feel.

"Those wings……"

"White?"

"Is that…… a hybrid?"

Even those who had swaggered as if they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠knew everything under the sun, who had looked down on the world with absolute arrogance, could not put a precise definition to Hell.

One white wing. One black wing. Every other Orthodox bore only black wings — so the contrast was impossible to miss. A hybrid, pure and simple. Mixed.

Why the difference?

The Tower of Spirits. The Trial of Chaos. He was waiting at the end of it.

When I climbed the Tower of Spirits in the Dryad Forest, at the very end of the Trial of Chaos — the end beyond the end — I had finally found it: a spirit egg of the Heavenly Realm.

I recalled the description of that egg as I had seen it then.

Just two sentences. But those two sentences alone were enough to explain the egg's worth.

An egg fallen from the Heavenly Realm. A being only a Heavenly Being can see and bring to life.

That was Hell.

Still, that condition alone felt a little thin as an explanation for the difference between him and the other Orthodox. There had to be a decisive reason for the gap between them and Hell.

My best guess:

Corrupted Honor.

The Demigod Trait Dungeon. The cursed stretch everyone had called impossible — the stretch even Wilhelm had failed to clear. After defeating the dungeon master Demigod there, Hell had swallowed every last drop of the Corrupted Honor pouring off that creature, and at last cracked free of the egg.

That had been the decisive trigger for Hell's hatching.

Of course, Hell might have been a different kind of being from the start. But looking back over the process of discovering him and hatching him, every single step had been extraordinary. Those differences had stacked one atop another until they became the Hell sitting here now. Naturally, he could never be the same as Orthodox woken by ordinary means.

"……I can hardly believe it even with my own eyes, but…… it seems he truly is the twelfth Orthodox."

"But white wings on an Orthodox……"

"Can he not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wield Death God Power, then?"

"Impossible. That Orthodox hatched only recently. He doesn't look like he's even had a proper meal."

"Mm. True enough. An Orthodox's real worth begins at three wings."

The masters of the golden masks each offered a comment as they studied Hell. Appearance aside, one word snagged my attention.

Death God Power?

It seemed to be the name for the force an Orthodox wielded. And because Hell had only just hatched, he supposedly could not yet call on that power — something beyond simply freezing and restarting a warp, some further miracle.

Kiki?

Kekekekeke!

Keokeokeo!

……And then something else remarkable happened.

The moment Hell appeared, the other Orthodox had gone quiet as if by prior agreement. Now they all erupted at once, noisy and restless, and began to circle around him.

"Wait. What are they doing?"

"I've never seen them like this……"

The patrons frowned in confusion, staring at their own Orthodox. Paying those stares no mind whatsoever, the Orthodox had already formed a ring around Hell — as if performing some kind of ritual.

Were they simply glad to meet one of their own kind? Celebrating the appearance of a new Orthodox? Or was there some other reason entirely?

I couldn't tell. Neither could they.

Orthodox, and True Heir.

Whatever they meant by Orthodox, Hell clearly was one. But there was a subtle difference in the wording.

Orthodox meant something of the same line, the same blood. And when Hell first woke:

It had clearly read True Heir. It still did. The window floating neatly above his head — visible only to me — proved it.

If the other Orthodox were labeled the same way, people would call them Heirs, not Orthodox.

That was what puzzled me. Why call them Orthodox at all? If every one of them was a True Heir, wouldn't Heir be the more natural word? Who looks at "True Heir" and shortens it to "Orthodox"?

I turned it over carefully.

If the Heavenly Realm originally held twelve eggs, and the only one that fell was Hell……

Then their insistence that "there can be no twelfth Orthodox" made sense. If they never knew an egg had fallen, they would never have imagined a twelfth could exist.

But the real problem was the hatching condition. Only a Heavenly Being could wake Hell.

So every one of these people has the Heavens?

All of them carrying the same Heavenly Hidden Trait as me? No. I shook my head inwardly. However unknown and formidable the Empire might be, I had only raised the Heavens after paying an enormous sum of SP. It was a Hidden Trait ordinary SP couldn't even approach. There was no way all eleven of them possessed it unless they had paid with the entire world. Other Hidden Traits, maybe — but the Heavens especially.

And to call these people themselves Heavenly Beings felt far too human.

……They're all human.

Human, without a doubt. And I was certain: a human cannot become a Heavenly Being. The spirit egg of the Heavens had clearly "fallen" from the end of light, darkness, and chaos.

If they neither possessed the Heavens nor were Heavenly Beings, how had their Orthodox woken?

From the beginning, their Orthodox never had the condition that only a Heavenly Being could wake them.

Unlike Hell, that restriction simply may never have applied.

"……What on earth is this?"

"It almost sounds like a chorus."

Kyahahaha!

If it was a chorus, Hell was unmistakably the conductor. One thing was certain: every Orthodox present was enjoying itself.

"……"

For a long while, no one could find a word. They simply watched.

"Well then. If the doubts are settled, let us begin the Banquet."

How much time had passed? At last, over the endless chorus, the man in the Golden Mask spoke. He was announcing the start of the Sashin's Banquet.

He continued.

"First, we will confirm the results of the Cleansing. In this Cleansing of the Darkan Territory, twenty-five sinners were identified."

"That's all?"

"Weren't those people gathered with considerable care?"

"I expected at least fifty."

Everyone answered as if the number were a surprise — too few sinners for a Cleansing led by the Golden Mask.

The Golden Mask looked at me.

"Because that Black Goat won our wager. Thanks to him, I learned that not everyone my eyes mark is necessarily correct."

"You wagered on your eye for sinners?"

"I did."

"……And you lost?"

"Yes. I lost."

The Golden Mask admitted it cleanly. At that, the way the other mask-wearers looked at me shifted. Not as dramatically as when Hell appeared — but winning a wager against the Golden Mask itself was clearly no small thing.

"In any case, every sinner taken in the Darkan Territory will be offered to the Banquet."

"Isn't that obvious?"

"If that's all, I'm disappointed."

The Golden Mask gave a short laugh.

"Naturally, if that were all, I would have no right to attend the Banquet."

In that instant —

Ssssss—!

Behind the Golden Mask, reapers in black began to appear one by one. Each reaper carried a small flame balanced on its scythe. Look closely into those flames and you could see the sinners trapped inside — souls the reapers had reaped.

Every gaze locked onto one of them in particular. A flame fully three times larger than the rest.

"A high-ranker in the top one hundred?"

"That's…… StickyRiceBeanCake! Oho. You managed to find him."

……StickyRiceBeanCake?

StickyRiceBeanCake was a nickname that regularly appeared in the top one hundred of the Main Quest Hall of Fame. Were these people hunting rankers as well as ordinary players?

"Hahaha! Is that the best you can present at a Banquet? How disappointing, Golden Mask."

The man in the golden lion mask. Reapers appeared behind him as well — but their forms were subtly different. Like the Orthodox, these reapers had horns.

"I caught Gracia! No one else will have prepared a more certain feast than mine!"

"Oho. Gracia?"

"So you finally caught that rat of a man."

……Wait. He caught Gracia?

I frowned inwardly and looked at the enormous flame hanging from the scythe of a reaper with three horns. Gracia was truly there — standing expressionless inside the fire.

But that was not all.

"Why isn't he moving?"

"Is that really Gracia?"

Every other soul trapped in flame was thrashing, struggling desperately to escape. Gracia did not so much as twitch, as if painted into place. When someone pointed it out, the patron in the golden lion mask answered.

"……There was an interference, so I only took his youth. But thanks to that, I now know exactly where he is in real time. Of course — left alone, he'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠die soon enough anyway."

"Mm. Then you'll bring him in before long."

"Who interfered?"

Regrettable, but capture was only a matter of time. When someone asked, the Golden Lion answered.

"A Constellation."

"A Constellation……"

"Anyway — has anyone prepared a finer feast than mine?"

Everyone shook their heads. Even if he had only taken Gracia's youth, he had still claimed the most exceptional sinner of all. When no one stepped forward, the Golden Lion burst into laughter.

"Kwahaha! Of course not. No one would — unless they'd brought in Randolph himself!"

They even knew about the player Randolph — about me. From the way he spoke, they seemed to know I had surpassed Gracia and claimed the Hall of Fame. And from the way every one of them reacted to the name Randolph, I could be certain: I was the player they wanted most of all.

I absolutely cannot be found out.

I had never planned to reveal myself — but in that moment I swore it even harder.

Once all eleven had summoned their reapers and presented their feasts—

"……Mm. Black Goat. Your Orthodox does not yet possess Death God Power, so you will have no feast to show at the Banquet."

The Golden Mask addressed me. Death God Power, it seemed, meant the power to summon reapers. Naturally, young Hell could not yet call them.

"But do not worry. If you challenge the Full Feast at this Banquet and take a meal, your Orthodox will gain Death God Power as well."

"……You're giving a Full Feast chance to someone who brought nothing?"

"Golden Mask. Isn't that too much favoritism?"

"I caught Gracia — I should go first!"

The others protested. The Golden Lion in particular was openly furious. The order of the meal, it seemed, was decided by the grade of the feast each had presented.

The Golden Mask shrugged.

"Did not each of you, at your first Banquet, challenge the Full Feast by the grace of the others? That is custom and rule. Or have you simply forgotten, after so long?"

"Hrm."

"……Fine. But it is only the chance."

They accepted it, however reluctantly. Nodding at their reaction, the Golden Mask looked at me again.

"Black Goat. Your Orthodox is the first challenger of this Banquet. It is also a chance to measure the vessel your Orthodox holds."

"What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Mm. Your Orthodox will feast on the sinners we have offered. When a first-time Orthodox consumes every sinner, we call it a Full Feast — though no Orthodox has ever reached one. If the Full Feast is not reached, the next Orthodox in line eats, and so on, until those flames are entirely gone."

In other words: feed those souls to Hell. The meal of the Orthodox. Sinners' souls were the primary fuel for growth.

But until now, Hell had only ever eaten my Honor. Perhaps that was why his growth had been so slow.

Kyahak?

Sensing my gaze, Hell came closer. Then he looked up at the enormous fire set upon the table — a single blaze formed from every sinner's flame combined, packed with countless trapped souls.

"Above all, this sinners' fire is larger than at any previous Banquet. You are fortunate."

At the Golden Mask's words, everyone gave a small nod. Then he studied Hell and spoke again.

"Well then. Begin. Judging by his state, this will be your Orthodox's first meal — so let him eat until he bursts. Should he somehow reach a Full Feast, he may gain tremendous Death God Power."

Just as the Golden Mask said, Hell was reacting to that fire.

Kyahahaha!

Hell began to circle the flames, spinning round and round. Did he truly want to eat that badly?

But I could only hesitate.

Every one of them is a player — or a person of Pangenia.

This went against every path I had walked. Why was I even here? Simple curiosity about the Death God Religion?

……I have to stop the Four Calamities.

Of course not. I had set foot here to keep the Four Calamities from destroying Pangenia and Earth. Baal, released because of me, had already sunk four neutral cities into the Abyss. I felt the weight of that responsibility keenly.

But moving without certainty could throw away the only chance I had — which was why I was still here. If I had tried to take the Baal Armor the moment I won the wager, the Golden Mask would have seized on that weakness and demanded something far greater.

So I could not tell Hell to eat a fire mixed with people of Pangenia and players.

Kyahahahak!

In that instant — without waiting for my permission — Hell opened his mouth wide.

Whoooooosh—!

Wind rose, and the flames began to thrash violently.

"……!!!"

"……What?!"

And then, seeing the result that followed, every person present — myself included — could only stare in shock.

End and Completion

The mercenary city of Cartel.

To defeat the Four Calamity Baal, countless people had gathered once more in that last remaining neutral city.

……In the end, I never found the Hydragon's Soul.

At the center of it all stood Gracia — white hair streaming, gripping the Unique-grade sword Blue Dawn.

Despite a massive public campaign, the Hydragon's Soul had never been found. Korea's Hero Alliance had thrown everything it had at the search, and it had made no difference.