The Constellation Conference

A catastrophe, then.

The moment he finished off the Dreadful God Baal and escaped the Abyss, countless spears of light rose into the sky. With a contribution so overwhelming it defied measure, twenty-seven Constellations of the Hall of One Hundred Constellations lost their light.

It had happened once before.

Seventeen Constellations went dark when I cleared the Abyss Labyrinth, too.

And it hadn't only been the clear. He had toppled Laily and completed a false myth. The cumulative usage time of the Golden Rule alone had scored him points beyond imagination.

The same situation—only this time, even more Constellations had vanished.

…The Baal-related quests kept climbing in rank, after all.

When Baal first appeared, the focus had been on a simple "subjugation"—designed so that countless players could participate. But after five cities sank and plummeted into the Abyss, Baal had become "the Abyss Itself." When the target evolved, the quest rank rose with it. That much was only natural.

The problem came after that. Becoming the Abyss Itself, then pressing right up to the threshold of completing "the Deeper Abyss" beyond—the quest rank climbed without end, until even a sliver of contribution returned an enormous score. And he had dealt with Baal alone.

A contribution so far outside the prescribed reward brackets that it forced the reward grade upward—and the Constellations of the Hall of One Hundred Constellations had been poured in to cover the cost.

So they were spent forcing the reward grade higher.

Which left only one solution: raise the reward grade further still. And the only ones who could raise a reward's grade were the Constellations themselves. In the end, every Constellation in the Hall that had been watching him was committed, the reward grade forced up to match his contribution—and twenty-seven of them lost their light.

An unprecedented catastrophe.

Was this a first for them as well? Instead of presenting the reward list at once, they were holding a "conference"—something he had never seen before.

Of course, a few questions lingered. Hadn't the reward grade already been raised and locked in? Or was even elevating a rank-101 reward still not enough?

Something more is going on, then.

Still, they couldn't simply refuse to pay. One way or another, a result would come. There was no need to be impatient. The impatient ones were the Constellations, not him.

"……."

The Hall of One Hundred Constellations. One hundred seats. Twenty-seven of those lights guttered out. Their presence faded, and they were gone.

The remaining seventy-three Constellations fell silent. They were shaken, yes—but more than that, not one among them had expected a "story" of this magnitude to be completed.

"Every last one of the new Stars has gone dark."

The Constellation of the Brilliant Hero—the same being who had once placed a wager in the Demigod Trait Dungeon—cast his gaze across the empty seats as he spoke.

"They scattered their Starlight for nothing. And they never imagined the likes of him, either."

The Constellation of Adventure, keeper of the constellation of Adventure, spoke with open satisfaction. "Him," of course, meant Randolph. The seventeen newly arrived Constellations had rated Randolph's potential far too low. They had flung their Starlight freely among the humans—and before they could reclaim any of it, this upheaval had drained them dry.

"—Even so, this is excessive. Has the 'value' of this story not been set far too high?"

The Cursed Constellation poured out its discontent. They were beings closer to readers of a book—stars that watched from afar. But to read a story, one had to pay its value. Special stories naturally commanded higher prices, yet Randolph's stories had a stubborn tendency to be assessed at particularly steep rates. This one, especially, was excessive beyond all need.

"If you think it's expensive, why not simply not watch from the start?"

The Constellation of Adventure sneered. Why go looking for hardship when you could just look away? But Randolph's stories were the kind you couldn't help watching even if you tried not to. A new myth. An impossible challenge. Reversal and romance. Even an unconventional method—he possessed them all. Beings who could craft a story of that caliber were vanishingly rare.

The Constellation of Adventure pressed on.

"No one threatened you into watching. More than that—he is the only Author of his caliber. His stories fill the emptiness in us and elevate our rank. Is that not precisely why we risk everything to watch his tale?"

"……You seem not to understand what 'excessive' means."

"I think it was too little, if anything. At this point I doubt we even watched the same story."

The Constellation of Adventure was exhilarated. Randolph's adventures always set him alight. Of all Randolph's tales, his favorite remained the one of Laily and the Transcendental Dragon—but this Baal hunt stood no less tall.

An absolute, unbridgeable gap in power. Overturned by the Constellation of the Most Brilliant Light. Transformed into the Dreadful Omen, he had pressed Baal hard—only to die to a "bug." Then the resurrection through Eternal Randolph!!!

A masterpiece without a single disposable scene. A bug crushed under a greater bug. Laily's story had moved the heart; the Baal hunt, in pure entertainment, was a completion without peer.

And they called that excessive?

"Enough. The water is already spilled. If we do not 'offset' that contribution, a greater Chaos will follow."

The Constellation of the Brilliant Hero stepped between them. Infighting among Constellations would serve no one. This was the hour for countermeasures. Every Constellation of the Hall had poured themselves into raising the reward grade, and twenty-seven had lost their light—yet that contribution still had not been offset.

"Could we not simply offer our treasures, as we did before?"

One Constellation ventured the suggestion. The Constellation of the Brilliant Hero shook his head.

"Is there anyone among us who still holds enough Starlight to materialize a treasure?"

No hand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rose. Of course not. The Baal hunt had consumed Starlight on a massive scale—and not only this time. Randolph's stories had bankrupted them more than once.

"Moreover, that contribution will not vanish unless the reward completes a Unique-grade item."

"That is absurd. A Unique-grade reward?"

"Constellation of the Brilliant Hero—rewards beyond Myth grade lie outside our authority."

It was true. Unique-grade rewards were beyond their power. The highest grade the Constellations of the Hall could elevate a reward to was Myth. There were exceptional cases, but—

"……Then only one path remains. We propose a special privilege to him, and have him accept the reward as it stands."

A murmur swept through the Constellations.

"The Constellations of the Hall, striking a bargain with an Author?"

"There is no precedent."

"What manner of privilege, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exactly?"

The Constellation of the Brilliant Hero opened his mouth with deliberate care.

"……What if we allowed him to use the Shop under our charge?"

How much time had passed since the conference began?

…What the hell was this?

The reward list itself was familiar—but the additional benefit beneath it was something he had never seen. Why had something like that suddenly appeared?

Every reward is a Myth-grade item, sure—but for a Baal hunt, it's nowhere near enough.

Twenty-seven Constellations had lost their light over this. For a contribution of that scale, they ought to have offered a Unique-grade reward at the very least. Apparently that had proven impossible, so they were negotiating some other additional privilege instead.

Shop—that would mean the Golden Rule Shop.

To think the Constellations of the Hall were linked to the Golden Rule Shop. Or perhaps not only that.

……If I keep pushing the main quests, other shops will appear. That's what this means.

The modifier "All" implied the Golden Rule Shop was not the only one. Progress the quests, and more shops would surface.

He stroked his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chin thoughtfully. Looking ahead, a ten-percent discount was a genuine privilege—useful even in the Golden Rule Shop right now. But still.

"I refuse."

Even so, ten percent was a bit low.

Trying to lowball me, are you?

How much had he poured into hunting Baal? Four billion gold's worth of value, the Throne of Light bearing the "Most Brilliant" prefix, an Intact Golden Rule, and even a chance at resurrection—all of it ground down and spent. One Myth-grade item and a ten-percent discount was nowhere near enough to call it even.

"Do I look like a sucker to you?"

…Just as he thought. The Hall had clearly proposed a "deal." And if he didn't play along, it seemed something damaging would befall them as well—losing their light entirely and evaporating, perhaps.

A compromise will have to be struck somewhere reasonable.

The Hall of One Hundred Constellations was not merely a place that raised rewards. It was a place that might yet play any number of additional roles in the progress ahead, offering help along the way. There was no need to turn hostile for no reason. Strike a deal, compromise moderately—that would do.

Of course, I decide what "moderate" means.

That said, he had no intention whatsoever of being beaten down to a bargain-bin price. Smiling at his leisure, he stepped through the warp.

The monster city of Kramdel unfurled before his eyes. A special warp linked to the Labyrinth City. The last time he had crossed through this warp, the Death King had been there to greet him. Today, the Death King was nowhere to be found.

"What are you? How did you cross this warp?"

"This warp is set so that only the Fifth Lord can pass through it."

Monster rats in crimson helms—administrators whose skill had been recognized in Kramdel. They had been ordered to guard the special warps, and this one, linked to the Labyrinth, was among them. But they did not recognize him. They couldn't have.

…It's gone.

The Glutton trait could maintain only a single form. The appearance he had worn as the King of Corpse Crows had been lost the moment he became the One Who Blooms Darkness.

"The more I look at you, though……"

"Hah. What a hideous creature. Identify yourself, or die."

Hostile. He let out a sigh, then drew a seal from his robes.

"…The Fifth Lord's seal plaque?"

"C-could it be—?"

A proof plaque engraved with a crow's seal, crafted and handed over by the White King himself. The moment the monster rats saw it, their hostility only sharpened.

"Did you kill the Fifth Lord?"

"Report to the other Lords—!"

In an instant, a monster legion formed up around him in perfect order. They had decided a monster that murdered the Fifth Lord was assaulting Kramdel. He shook his head and opened his mouth with deliberate calm.

"I am the Fifth Lord, caw."