The Holy Star

By refusing to abandon myself, I found myself.

I came to know who I was, and finally understood what it meant to live as Park Hyunmyung.

Was the phenomenon unfolding before me a kind of reward for that realization?

Or a curse?

A second awakening.

I had achieved an awakening no ordinary Player could ever reach — starting over from the beginning, yet under conditions so overwhelming that I would never yield to anyone in the world.

And so I found myself deliberating.

My path.

The road I would walk from here.

This, too, was uncharted territory. Every step would need to be taken with care.

But looked at another way, a different thought crept in: Do I really need to?

Perhaps caution was unnecessary after all.

If I reveal myself — what do I stand to gain?

First, the connection to Randolph would vanish. No one would ever think of me as Randolph, or as Phantom. The only people who could awaken here on God's Island were the Unawakened — not Players. I could draw a clean line and claim my freedom. Randolph had always been shrouded in mystery, after all. He had conducted himself that way deliberately, to free himself from every entanglement — Players, the White King, the Empire, all of it.

But I — Park Hyunmyung — only needed to concern myself with Earth. I had no other relationships to manage.

In other words:

I do as I please. Not bad at all.

It meant I could act however I wished. No need to read anyone's mood, no pressure to shoulder, no reason even to insist on a particular gender if I didn't want to… well, maybe not that last one.

Either way, it was the perfect alt character.

…Me, an alt.

I had become a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠secondary character without meaning to. But I didn't mind. No — I loved it.

It's not unheard of for an alt to surpass the main.

If the Main Quest and the Hall of Fame were shared and linked between them, the day would surely come when the three syllables of Park Hyunmyung sat above Randolph's name. First and second place, both filled by my own records. Just imagining it set my pulse racing. For a record-obsessed gaming addict like me, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

I would break the records I myself had set.

It wouldn't be easy — but hadn't I already walked this road once before? Think of it as a kind of speedrun.

I overwrite everything.

I made up my mind. My path was decided.

The moment I settled on it, I began monopolizing every scrap of content the Survival event had to offer. Taming the hybrid albatross had been pure curiosity — Could I fly it all the way to the center of the island? Of course, it had failed. A shame. I'd thought it might be a hidden piece.

"We've met again here of all places. Must be fate. Let's get along from now on."

Apparently, life did have its hidden pieces after all — given that I had beaten astronomical odds to run into someone I already knew.

Manager Kim.

And not just anyone — the same Manager Kim I'd crossed paths with only a few days ago. The kind of man capable enough, in this day and age, to climb from section chief to department manager. Of course, that had nothing to do with real ability. Extreme sycophancy and political savvy, a pride and self-worth he'd thrown out like dog food, a sacrificial devotion that would hand over his liver and gallbladder for the company's sake, and a merciless refusal to treat his subordinates as human beings — those were the things that had seated him in a manager's chair.

Drunk on power he just stumbled into, and the screws have come loose.

Or had the past two days of trials driven him to despair? One thing was certain: he was not in his right mind.

I glanced casually at the space above Manager Kim's head.

Level 5. Remarkably high for something achievable on only the third day.

He must have been snatching every last hit to level up.

Back in the day, Hudson had hired mercenaries to farm last hits the same way — and it had backfired. His level was high, but his stats were so low he couldn't hunt alone. And the higher your level climbed, the more the system demanded you hunt solo to earn experience. At Level 9, that tendency became especially severe.

There was no chance Manager Kim had reached Level 5 hunting alone. He had almost certainly used people as sacrificial lambs, stealing their last hits to grow. A shameless man like him was more than capable of it.

His grip tightened with a sudden crack, and he looked down at me with a swaggering glare.

…Unbelievable.

I sighed inwardly. Honestly, when we'd first met, his contempt hadn't bothered me in the slightest. In crude terms, he was beneath notice. Fresh out of the company, maybe it would have stung — but after everything I had experienced and accomplished since, Manager Kim was less than an earthworm writhing on the ground. And who gets angry at a writhing earthworm? Something even lower than that laughing at me was just amusing.

But now that earthworm had climbed onto the top of my foot. And it was posturing — acting as though it were superior, as though I ought to fear it. The same intimidation tactics he'd used on me and the other employees back at the office.

At this point, I almost felt grateful to Manager Kim.

I've grown. Inwardly and outwardly.

He had shown me just how far I'd come. He had become a measuring stick proving I was no longer the old Park Hyunmyung.

I smiled faintly.

CRUNCH.

"…?!"

Crack. Snap!

Bone shattered. Shattered bone punched through flesh. The agony was so severe that Manager Kim couldn't even scream. Without treatment, he would never use that right arm again — but I didn't care. Whether he became monster food or was killed by people who held a grudge against him, that was his problem to endure from here on.

"AAAAAGH! My hand! My haaaaand—!!!"

Manager Kim, his hand ruined, screamed and rolled across the ground.

A wave of golden light poured from his shoulder and briefly settled over me.

The Ruthless Constellation.

A name I'd never heard before. Among all the Constellations of the Hall of One ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hundred Constellations that I knew, none bore a title like that. I was familiar with the epithets of nearly all one hundred Constellations of Baekseongjeon — and I had never once seen a name matching or even resembling "Ruthless Constellation."

The ones watching us here aren't the Constellations of the Hall I knew.

That confirmed it.

…Another Hall of One Hundred Constellations had appeared.

Baekseongjeon was not singular. Whether these were simply Constellations of a different jurisdiction or something that had suddenly emerged, I couldn't say — but one thing was certain: they, too, would be of great use to me.

So I raised my middle finger.

"Get lost."

I said it to Manager Kim and to that Ruthless Constellation both. The sheer gall of trying to freeload off me with a reward that pathetic was thoroughly distasteful.

Rage all it wanted — there was nothing it could do to me. I knew that better than anyone. What a Constellation ultimately desired was a story. A more overwhelming, more perfectly crafted scenario. Once it watched the narrative I was writing, it would come scrambling back in a panic.

…The Constellations of this Hall seemed to get along rather well.

I shrugged and looked toward the fairies. The two of them were flying companionably through the air, shouting at the top of their lungs.

"Everyone! This is the perfect chance to raise your levels!"

"Illegal intruders have appeared on God's Island!"

"That Follower is one of them!"

"A Follower of the Heavenly Mountain Divine Cult!"

"Survive against that Follower!"

With a violent tear, a figure ripped through a warp and appeared.

"A human…?"

"What? That's not a monster."

It was unmistakably a person. I looked at the space above his head and frowned.

Level 8!

A powerhouse far too formidable for Awakeners who had only just entered their second day. The sole reason the two groups had merged was to face this single Follower of the Heavenly Mountain Divine Cult. It wasn't just the level — his abilities were clearly exceptional as well.

…The Heavenly Mountain Divine Cult?

And an illegal intruder, no less. Had the Heavenly Demon, suspicious about his lost memories, sent a reconnaissance team?

Flames of demonic fire ignited across the Follower's entire body. Judging by the wind-up, it was an area-of-effect skill.

I drew in a breath.

Then I stomped the ground hard, jolting everyone back to their senses. At the same instant, the flames the Follower had been gathering shuddered violently and were nullified.

Seeing it, the Follower cried out in stunned disbelief.

"Th-the Heavenly Demon Dominion Step…?!"

The ones who had infiltrated God's Island were the Yaksha.

Under orders from the master of the Heavenly Mountain Divine Cult, they had been charged with the critical mission of entering God's Island and extracting its secrets.

"…Why can't we get in?"

But entry was impossible. The Blood Moon Divine Maiden — captain of the Yaksha Unit and vice-leader of the Blood Cult — stared at the shimmering warp before her and spoke.

"It appears those who possess martial power above a certain threshold cannot enter, Captain."

Hearing the man at her side, the Blood Moon Divine Maiden furrowed her brow.

"So only children who haven't even reached first-rate have gone in."

"What are your orders?"

"The Rakshasa Unit… I meant to enter before that damned Ice Moon Divine Maiden, but at this rate…"

The Blood Moon Divine Maiden sighed. She was not the only one who had received the Heavenly Demon's command. There were rivals — the rising talents of prestigious houses. Among them was the Ice Moon Divine Maiden, who had emerged as her direct competitor. But if anyone of first-rate or higher was barred from entry, all she could do was wait.

Yet no matter how long she waited, there was no word at all.

Why is no one coming out?

She bit her lip. And then, after a full three days had passed—

Someone emerged through the warp. A figure wearing a black hood embroidered with the mark of the Yaksha. But his condition was horrific beyond description — severed, crushed, a body for which simply being alive was a miracle.

"What happened? What went on in there?"

"L-long live… long live… ten thousand years…!"

His face was filled with terror. Chanting the cheer permitted only for the Heavenly Demon, the man finally died.

The Blood Moon Divine Maiden's brow furrowed even deeper. What in the world had he endured, for a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠member of the Yaksha Unit — men trained with merciless severity — to die in fear and reverence?

Then, from beside her, the gu-poison sorcerer holding a jar shook his head.

"Captain. It appears every Yaksha who entered the island has been annihilated."

The insects inside the jar — the gu — lay dead with their bellies split open. If every gu had died, it meant every Yaksha who had entered was dead as well.

"…Annihilated?"

"Yes. However, something is strange."

"What is strange?"

"The condition of several gu… it looks as though they took their own lives."

"Are you saying the gu committed suicide?"

What kind of nonsense was that? Bugs killing themselves? Gu never died of their own accord — the very definition of a gu was the final insect that had survived through sheer tenacity. She had never heard of such a thing.

When the Blood Moon Divine Maiden demanded an answer irritably, the gu-poison sorcerer shook his head.

"More precisely… it may be that the Yaksha Unit members who carried the gu took their own lives."

"Why on earth?"

"I-I don't know."

The Blood Moon Divine Maiden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turned her gaze back to the dead Yaksha. Long live, long live, ten thousand years — the man who had died crying out as though he stood before the Heavenly Demon himself.

Who did he meet in there?

…Surely he hadn't actually seen the Heavenly Demon? Had the Heavenly Demon himself urged him to take his own life?

No. That couldn't be it. He had most likely witnessed a powerful hallucination.

This is unsettling.

But a foul, indescribable unease continued to fill the Blood Moon Divine Maiden's mind, refusing to be dispelled.

On the exact seventh day after entering God's Island, change came with the morning light.

The path to the center of God's Island had opened.