Rule Breaker

Now I understood.

The hidden intent behind this game.

Reclaim what was taken. That is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all this game has ever been about.

What does it feel like to have the thing most precious to you stolen by another?

You would taste a rage and a loss beyond description.

And if, in that state, you were locked inside a prison where you could do nothing at all?

You would go mad.

You would thrash and unravel. The desperation to take it back would only grow sharper.

Gathering starlight for an expedition was nothing more than a pretext. This game was entirely about seizing what ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠others held dear — and about reclaiming what had been seized from you.

And if, in that process, you came face to face with a hidden truth… then the “most precious thing” would, before you knew it, degrade into the “most useless thing.”

Was that not so?

Once the Heavenly Demon learned the Evil God’s true design, could he still keep holding the Cheonmado?

Once the Owner of the Tomb realized its master was dead, would it still try to go on living?

Raiga… would he still try to inherit the Palga — the very lineage that had slaughtered everyone connected to his parents?

The other participants, myself included, would be no different. The moment we confronted the truth, we would collapse into despair, and we would regret every year we had lived in ignorance.

Even so, I have to know.

Even if it meant hurling myself into a pit of dust — if there was a chance to set something wrong right, I would take it. If I only realized it later, after more time had passed, there would be no chance left to correct anything at all.

What did it matter if the memories were faded, torn, and shredded? Anything was better than the regret of having been able to do nothing.

“My body… seems intact.”

In a space black as pitch, I ran my hands over my arms, my legs, my neck, my face, checking for anything missing.

The flesh was fine. The heart still beat properly.

Winter and the Archetypal Armor are still here too.

If the body was whole, the next check was equipment. The things most precious to me — my finest gear — were of course Winter (Ultimate Twilight) and the Archetypal Armor. The Throne of Light was here as well, though without further reinforcement it sat a half-step below those two.

Everything is still here.

Nothing had vanished. And yet I had clearly seen the message that my “most precious thing” had been plundered. Just as I had plundered others, I had assumed I must have lost something.

So what is gone?

…Strange. Nothing was missing. Not the body, not the gear or tools, not even a scrap of memory.

Everything is still connected.

Just to be sure, I checked the links to Hell, Baal, and Blade Queen Hana. A faint presence answered. The moment I confirmed they were still bound to me—

Is there something even more precious? Something I don’t even know about?

What could it be? Something more precious than these, more precious than Winter or the Archetypal Armor, more precious even than my own flesh.

I called up every person bound to me by fate.

Wilhelm. I had not forgotten his memories, his habits, even his star.

Isabella, who had come with me all the way into the Abyss — almost certainly a Night Spirit.

Serengeti, the Pure White Knight, my closest aide who never once failed my expectations.

Hudson, the work-obsessed man who devoted himself to me without fail.

Isaac and Valte, my rapidly growing former characters.

The Dragon God of Earth, Blade Queen Hana.

My trump cards and beloved children — Isera and Lucaria, who called me father. By now they would have finished the Balan Kingdom’s affairs without a hitch. I had no doubt of that.

Anyone else?

I wrung the rest from my mind as well. Priest Andrew, who by now should have reached the Elven Forest at the so-called edge of the world. Marquis Weiser, Serengeti’s father. Andasar, Andrew’s child turned Archlich. The White King who ruled northern Kramdel, and his daughter Aria. Among the Four Pillars: Dae-to-ryong, Gunggi, Medusa, and the Death King still held by the Black King. Saintess Seia. And of course Auryll, the elf who had only recently joined us.

Every bond is intact. I haven’t forgotten anyone. I haven’t lost anyone.

Then was it something so ordinary I had not even realized I possessed it — and yet something that had still been precious — that was gone?

Would I know once I left the prison?

A flood of rules appeared the moment I was transferred for the first time. All of them were things I already knew or had already figured out.

So this is why the Heavenly Demon and the other participants started moving differently after they were sent to the prison.

You only received the proper briefing after you had lost once and entered the prison. Which meant the game knew its players would only truly commit once they had tasted defeat.

Still, there were a few rules I had not known.

Seize, or reclaim. You could choose one of the two. Either way, if you wanted your precious thing back, you were to throw yourself into the game with everything you had.

But one doubt arose here. Did “every participant” mean the rulers of the Abyss and the Primal beings? Or did it include the Night Spirits as well?

If the latter, the situation turned grave. A Night Spirit that lost a Starlight Expedition was annihilated.

The Skin Hybrid of God…

I stroked my chin, thinking of the game’s host. Master of the island, god of the hybrids. The other participants had already made me certain that the island’s master was the Skin Hybrid of God — but the real question was why it had created a game like this.

The people of Pangenia and the Players were used to this sort of thing. Dungeons and towers were always packed with bizarre rules and entertainment value. But this place was different.

The residents of the Abyss are not accustomed to games of this kind.

The only ones who might be familiar were Raiga and myself. And even Raiga had spent his time wandering the Abyss — so the only truly familiar participant was me alone.

…Had it been made for me?

Don’t be absurd.

I shook my head. The Skin Hybrid of God. It was not as though I had no connection to the thing. I had encountered it twice.

The first time was during Main Quest 4, which began at the Marquis Weiser estate — Seal the Rift in the Dark Space. It had tried to appear then. Fortunately I cleared the quest before it could fully emerge.

The second was after I killed Baal. More precisely, when the Jeju Island civilians and Players who had sunk into the Abyss were escaping — the moment I woke inside the Black Egg. Countless Abyssal “eyes” had looked upon me, and among them, I was certain, had been the Skin Hybrid of God.

…No.

Wait.

How am I so sure that what I saw was the Skin Hybrid of God — when all I saw were eyes?

I had found a contradiction. I had never actually seen the Skin Hybrid of God. Not once had I faced its full form. It had never been summoned during Main Quest 4, and the eyes that rose from the Abyss that day had numbered in the thousands, the tens of thousands. How had I known that one among that throng was the creature?

And yet all this time I had been certain, without a shred of doubt. I knew a monster I had never seen as naturally as breathing — as if I were supposed to know it. As if knowing it were the most obvious thing in the world…

Who are you?

I stared into the dark. A space of nothing but pure black. This was the Star’s Prison. A star was a memory. And if this place was a prison of memory, then something strange was bound to be found here.

I reached out. A rough-surfaced veil caught in my hand.

Iron bars.

A prison for confining inmates. What held them and crushed them was not the space itself, but these iron bars. Under normal circumstances, gripping them and tearing them free would be impossible.

I will not move only within your rules.

I was one who ignored the rules. Eternal Monarch Randolph — the Rule Breaker.

Rrrriiiip—

I put my strength into it and tore the veil apart. And behind it, I found the “eye” that had been watching me.

The Skin Hybrid of God.

…No. It was not.

That was the prison’s warden. The monster that guarded the prison. The being that prevented inmates from acting abnormally or escaping. At the same time, it was the Star’s Prison itself.

I thought I knew who he was.

“……Eternal Ascetic.”

The Eternal Ascetic! The protagonist of the quest that had appeared when my Hidden Traits fused and transcended, becoming Eternal Monarch Randolph.

The Eternal Ascetic said to be sleeping on God’s Island. He had been locked inside the Star’s Prison all along.

Then the vast eye stirred.

Goooooh.

The Owner of the Tomb tilted its head. The moment the starlight duel ended, the Dreadful Omen had vanished. Baal had disappeared as well. Even the Fragment Hunter had lost to the Dreadful Omen and been transferred to the prison.

But something remained.

Gooooooooh—

Staring at what it held in its hand, the Owner of the Tomb pondered. This was the Dreadful Omen’s most precious thing. Just like its own copper coin, something that could never be let go. And yet it could not tell what the thing was.

Something that glittered. Sometimes gold, sometimes emerald, sometimes pure white — a small, round something.

Goooooh?

Hmm. It did not only shine. At times it darkened to black as well. And it was so fragile that a little force might shatter it.

Goh. Goooooh.

Indeed. After staring at it for a long while, the Owner of the Tomb began to understand a little of what it was. A scrap of memory had drifted in — a hidden memory, one it had never needed to know.

But no matter how it thought about it, the thing did not suit the Dreadful Omen at all.

Then should it simply crush it?

Gooooooooh.

The Owner of the Tomb sank into deliberation. The Dreadful Omen had handed over its copper coin without demanding any price. It had never met such a being in the Abyss. The Omen even knew where its master was. A benefactor. Its name was Dreadful Omen, yet it was a being that shone with brilliant light.

By contrast, this “thing” — its most precious possession — was terribly unstable. And there was a high chance the Omen did not even know this thing existed. That was what the memories suggested. For the Dreadful Omen’s sake, it might be better to crush it and erase it entirely.

Goh. Goh. Gooooh.

The deliberation stretched into the next day. And in the very moment it was still agonizing over whether to destroy it or not—

“……Give it back now.”

The Dreadful Omen appeared. Had the deliberation run too long?

Goooooh.

The Owner of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Tomb wavered for a moment.

“Will you not return it? Or do you also think it would be better not to receive it back?”

Goh?

The Owner of the Tomb was puzzled. “Also”? Who else had thought the same?

“Give it back. That is without question my most precious thing.”

It still did not understand why anyone would want to embrace something so unstable — but if the Omen insisted that far, there was no choice but to return it.

In the end, the Owner of the Tomb handed over what it had been holding. And the Dreadful Omen, receiving it, spoke its name.

“……Park ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hyunmyung.”

It called the name of Randolph’s most precious thing. The one who had moved in his place for so long.

…A name more precious than any goddess, more precious than Wilhelm, more precious than any of his lovers.