The Outer God's Feather

It seemed he truly couldn't write a longer answer.

Then again, looking at the replies from other constellations, none of them ever exceeded five lines either. Perhaps the length of a response varied by rank.

I kept reading the letter he had sent. Of course, all that remained was a single line.

…The Outer God's Feather.

It was the one thing that had drawn the least attention. Of everything on the list, he was telling me to pick the item I had never once given a second thought. I had naturally assumed it would be the Ouroboros or the Source of Mana.

But there was no need to deliberate further or waste any more time.

Those words alone had been enough to decide.

The Outer God's Feather.

Something changed. No — calling it a cataclysm would not have been an exaggeration. A transformation of that magnitude came crashing down.

"The World Tree Community?"

"Constellations are answering questions themselves?"

"You can post guides and earn Golden Rule Fragments?"

In an age when even the most basic strategies — let alone the countless rare pieces of information scattered across Pangenia — were classified as coalition secrets, the decisive reason certain coalitions kept growing larger was information collusion. Never share. Guard every secret with absolute ruthlessness.

And then the arrival of the World Tree Community shattered that entire approach head-on.

"'Aile's Waterdrop' is in the Takan Desert? No wonder I couldn't find it!"

"'Dry Fire' wasn't actually dry fire — it was the name of a mountain path…"

"The constellations are really answering. Whoa. Insane."

Basic information no longer required endless wandering. Simply posting a question was enough to receive an answer from a constellation. Naturally, the Golden Rule Fragments required scaled with the importance of the question. Of course, constellations did not always give correct answers, and the knowledge each one possessed varied — that much was inevitable.

But the mere fact of liberation from the coalitions' endless gatekeeping made the World Tree Community a goldmine for awakeners who preferred to play solo.

And that was not all.

Guides could be sold under complete anonymity. Information that the great coalitions and guilds had monopolized until now began flooding the boards overnight. Plenty of it was already widely known, and plenty of posters set absurd prices hoping to snag even a single buyer.

"No completely new guides, huh."

"It's all just stuff Phantom already wrote."

From a veteran player's perspective, there was almost nothing of real value. Most of it was material Phantom had posted endlessly back when he was still active as a gamer, back when Pangenia still had an official website.

But setting the guides themselves aside, there was no shortage of interesting material. It was a strategy board, yet pure strategy posts were not the only things that appeared.

Some users specialized in the kind of gossip people were hungry for. The most active among them was an awakener going by the handle Overwhelm. But the prices and the credibility of the content naturally invited skepticism. Pure speculation ran rampant. Almost no guide writers were putting out anything of real substance.

"Nothing but scammers."

"Not a single decent author."

With the World Tree Community only just opened, finding a trustworthy writer was like searching for a needle in a desert. And since everything was anonymous, there was no way to know who anyone really was.

Then it happened.

"Huh?"

"Wait, the username…"

"Phantom?"

A post appeared out of nowhere. The title itself was nothing special. The problem was the username of the person who had written it: Phantom.

"Come on, it's obviously a fake."

"Someone must have claimed the name first."

Anonymous usernames on the World Tree Community could not be duplicated. Only the person who claimed an ID first could use it. And most awakeners had at least tried to register the name Phantom at some point. The boards were littered with handles like Phantom1 and Phantom2.

"It's a scam. Total scam."

"The price is cheap, though. Should we just check what it says?"

"Hmm. I am kind of curious…"

Curiosity about who had managed to claim the original name. People looked at the title of Phantom's post one more time.

"Kramdel. The monster city in the north?"

"That's the place where humans get slaughtered the moment they set foot inside."

"You can actually get in there?"

No method of entering Kramdel had ever been documented. To humanity it was uncharted land, a place steeped in countless secrets. It was fascinating. For a mere one-hour fragment, you could learn an entry method that had never been revealed — and confirm the identity of Phantom at the same time. There was no way not to click.

Vast walls of text. Line after line of dense prose.

"Why is the introduction this long?"

"Wait. This familiar feeling…!"

"This bastard is more obsessed with Pangenia than anyone alive!"

"Th-this might actually be Phantom?"

People reeled. Those who had read every single guide Phantom had ever posted on the official website were especially stunned — because it was identical. The way he structured a guide. The tone. The unusually long introductions. Even the etymology explanations nobody had asked for. That distinctive Phantom habit of laying out encyclopedic knowledge as if showing off made it almost impossible not to wonder if this was the real thing.

And as they focused on the guide in earnest, people soon cried out in revelation.

"What? Is this real?"

"It's way more detailed than I expected."

The sheer volume and precision. Only Phantom could write something of this quality. In the end, people started moving. They found the Raven Graveyard in Necrovalley. And after wandering for a long time inside the Raven Graveyard Dungeon—

"Th-there really are graves…"

"I found the tombs!"

"Jinha… Jinwoo?"

The graves were real. The graves of two children named Jinha and Jinwoo. They knew they belonged to children because of the T-shirts laid on top of the mounds — a small blue short-sleeved shirt embroidered with an elephant, and a single pair of glasses.

"Rest in peace."

"We've come on a pilgrimage."

"Please let us succeed."

Everyone who found the place pressed their hands together and offered prayers. A movement even began to identify the owners of the T-shirts back on Earth. If the children had been players summoned from Earth, their parents would still be searching for them.

And so, one week later—

"Ah… those are Jinwoo's clothes and glasses. Jinha… Jinwoo…!"

The children's parents were found in Korea. After ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so much time without knowing whether their children were alive or dead, they were in terrible shape — but the awakeners delivered the clothes and glasses, and at last the children returned, however late, to their parents' arms.

After that, doubt became certainty.

"It's Phantom!"

"It's definitely Phantom!"

"Lord Phantom has descended!"

People went wild. They had no choice. It was not simply because he was the divine figure worshipped by the Phantom Cult. The guides he had left on the website had been the awakeners' bible. Every single one of them was a gem. But Phantom's guides had stopped at a certain point — because everyone had become players, and the website could no longer be accessed. Those who had checked Phantom's last guides on the site before it went dark were the ones who monopolized information and grew stronger. Information monopolies and collusion formed naturally.

But now it was different. Everyone was certain the author of that post was the real Phantom. And if Phantom had returned — if he had decided to write guides again — then the monopoly on information, long treated as the exclusive property of the strong, would be no more.

Ten days after the first post went up—

Phantom's guide had once again taken its place as their bible.

Ten days had passed since the conquest of the World Tree Dungeon. In that time, I had been renovating — sanctifying the place where ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the World Tree of Honor stood.

Buildings rose without end. It was a new ability unlocked upon resurrecting a god — the power to create divine structures using Golden Rule Fragments. As befitting structures of the gods, they demanded staggering quantities, but that was fine.

I'm practically drowning in Golden Rule Fragments.

From a single guide post, I had secured a volume of fragments I had never experienced before. Even after the thirty percent commission, it still came to roughly twenty-seven thousand hours' worth. No matter how much I spent, there was no end to it.

I never expected this strong a reaction.

A method of entering Kramdel. I had never written a guide on that before. These days the materials were relatively easy to obtain, but back then the Celestial Dragonkin Set itself had been rare. And it was only because I, as the Fifth Lord, had installed the fixed Warp that appeared every thirty days inside the Raven Graveyard Dungeon that the route even existed — without that, there would have been no conventional way to reach it.

At any rate.

This should be enough.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The rough renovations were finished. I had successfully transformed the Sanctuary of Honor completely. From now on, this place would stand as a divine domain centered on Hypnos. But that was not the only reason I had poured everything into this site.

I drew the Outer God's Feather from my coat.

And then—

A massive wormhole tore open in midair, radiating a crimson aura.

Dimension Warp!

This warp possessed several abilities. First—

Wherever a Warp existed, I could set foot even on lands that had never been linked. And there was no land in Pangenia without a Warp. In other words, if I wished it, I could go anywhere — even places that were sealed off and unreachable. That alone would have made it astronomically valuable.

The most important part was that last line. The Outer God's Left Arm. I was genuinely curious about what it was. So I immediately summoned it.

In that instant—

KRAAAAAAAAAAANG—!

A colossal roar shook the entire land. And as I looked upon the form of the arm that appeared, I found myself at a complete loss for words.

Adrium, the holy capital of the Goddess Sect.

The Warp at its very center began to thrash without warning.

"What? Why is this Warp—?"

"Th-this Warp is sealed!"

The Warp at the heart of the holy capital was sealed and inactive. It was only permitted to operate in emergencies — and only the Pope could grant that permission. Without it, unauthorized people could ride the Warp straight into the center of the capital. Under normal circumstances, entry was only possible through Warps beyond the Goddess's Barrier.

And yet—