The Demigod's Will Falls

And yet.

Crack!

Isaac's lightning-fast roundhouse kick snapped the copy's neck. He was no mere weapons specialist — he had a gift for barehanded combat as well.

But the same was true of the Will.

The Will, too, was a creature steeped in battle. It had been certain it could never lose…!

And yet the man before it was dragging every last scrap of his limits into the light, surpassing them, scraping the absolute bottom of his power just to stand against it.

The Will lost its words before movements that went beyond wonder and into something like art.

God of… War.

This man was a god of combat. Nothing else could explain how he was driving it this far into a corner.

But it still could not accept it.

"What… are you? What the hell are you?!"

Having lost the clones of Isaac and Isabella, the Will screamed.

The outcome was already as clear as water. It had lost a game it was never supposed to lose.

What made it worse was that he was killing the clones with nothing but their original bodies. Just like now.

Serengeti's true body stepped forward to face it.

Even though they could have crushed it three-to-one, they were offering a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one-on-one. Daring it to thrash and struggle all it liked.

You absolute bastards…!

Thuk—

The Will severed the neck of the Serengeti it had copied.

In that instant, its mind snapped back into place — and despair began to take hold.

—Aaaagh!

The Will's body tore apart, black fluid pouring out in streams. The end reserved for those who lose the final game.

It had set the rules. It had been so sure of itself that it had staked everything. But the "game" this man excelled at was a field in which the Will, too, had always been confident.

Contaminated Honor.

It seemed the man had absorbed every scrap of honor left behind by those who had died challenging this place.

—D-die!

A truly pathetic creature to the very end.

Its fluids and Contaminated Honor began dissolving everything in the dungeon. Stand still, and we would be eroded where we stood.

The warp is still open.

The one mercy was that the warp the Will had opened was still there. But with the Will dead, its duration would be short.

"Get a hold of yourselves."

"Ah."

The three who had been standing there, faces flushed with residual intensity, finally snapped back to themselves. They looked down at their own bodies, expressions of dawning realization crossing their features — but this was no time to dwell on epiphanies.

Serengeti took stock of the surroundings and spoke.

"We need to leave this place at once."

She was right. We would have done exactly that — if something in my arms had not begun to shine.

It was the Heavenly Spirit Egg — the egg I had recovered after witnessing the end of 'Chaos' in the Tower of Spirits. The same egg that grew by devouring honor and karma was now drinking in the Contaminated Honor pouring from the Will.

—You… to the very end! S-stop! N-no!

The Will's thrashing grew more frantic. It was feeling a terror that went beyond death itself.

At last, the Heavenly Spirit Egg drank every last drop of Contaminated Honor the Will had held.

And in that moment—

Crack!

Kill Phantom!

—Remarkable.

The Constellations of the Hall of One Hundred Constellations offered brief assessments of the result.

However brilliant the leftover dregs of the Constellation of the Brilliant Hero might have been, the Will's power had still been his. A once-in-a-generation genius with an innate gift for handling heroes, moving them, driving them past their limits.

That the Will, which had inherited some measure of that genius's talent, could collapse so hollowly…

There was nothing to say but that it was astonishing.

"…Certainly impressive."

The Constellation of the Brilliant Hero was no less dumbfounded. It had not even been a contest.

The technique of simultaneously observing and directing all three of them was enough to draw involuntary admiration. And that was not all.

Humans, as a rule, fail to properly use even half of their own abilities. Yet he had drawn out one hundred and twenty percent from three people at once — a feat impossible without an exhaustive grasp of each of their capabilities.

Isaac. Isabella. Serengeti.

It meant knowing them better than they knew themselves.

But was that even possible? Knowing someone better than they know themselves?

So obtaining that out-of-spec Mystery was no mere stroke of luck.

He had skill. He had unpredictability. That was why the Constellation's gaze had been drawn to him more than to anyone else.

Never before had every Constellation of the Hall of One Hundred Constellations unanimously agreed to raise a reward. He had forced even those notoriously finicky beings into unanimous approval.

Thinking about it, of course it could not have been luck.

He won overwhelmingly what even the Constellations thought was fifty-fifty.

Though the Constellation had lost the wager, its heart felt clean. Having been defeated without a single doubt remaining, it intended to grant the promised "special reward" as agreed.

"Hm. That is…?"

Continuing to watch him, the Constellation of the Brilliant Hero suddenly tilted its head. It was not alone — every Constellation turned at once to stare at something newly appeared.

Something had been born that seized every last one of their gazes.

And when the Constellations confirmed what that newborn existence was, they could only be stunned.

"That is…!"

—Hah…!

In that instant, two lines of text floated before the eyes of every Player.

It was more than enough to make every head tilt in confusion.

"Demigod Trait Dungeon? That garbage dump of a dungeon?"

"Who the hell cleared that place?"

"No way…"

The worst party dungeon in existence — the one everyone loathed and avoided. Word that the Demigod Trait Dungeon had been cleared.

But that was a place everyone had given up on. Phantom, Gracia, Master, and every other top-ranked Player had challenged it only to spit curses on their way out. It was not a place designed to be beaten. So who on earth…?

One name flashed through every Player's mind.

"Randolph!"

"Insane…!"

"He actually cleared it?"

"That's impossible!"

Unbelievable — but true. Randolph stood proudly in first place on the Hall of Fame for Main Quest 6: Clear a Party Dungeon. Overwhelmingly, once again.

Which meant Randolph was the one who had cleared the Demigod Trait Dungeon.

Special, unique places like the Demigod Dungeon were recorded as "history" upon being cleared and announced to every Player. There was no chance of a false report.

"…Drag Phantom before me. If he resists too hard, kill him."

"Yes, Master."

The moment he saw the announcement, Master set his Shadows in motion. If the dungeon had just been cleared, he would still be there. A perfect opportunity to seize Randolph.

No matter how far Randolph could fly or how deep he could dive, he could never stand against the Shadows. They were elites trained to hunt even Transcendents who had consumed Stars.

To think he would actually clear that place…

After the Shadows vanished, Master wore a faintly surprised expression. He had not expected Phantom to clear the Demigod Trait Dungeon. A place even Wilhelm had failed — why bother?

Trying to show us, are you? The gap between you and us?

He thought he finally understood what Phantom was thinking as he moved. The man was putting on a demonstration. The difference in caliber. The class gap between them and himself. No matter how many years they prepared or what they did, they would never surpass him — and he was forcing them to recognize that all over again.

Just like before. Just like when he had played as Wilhelm.

Grit!

That smug bastard.

Master hated Phantom. Because the man was insufferable. Because he strutted around alone like some lofty crane. Becoming a Player had not changed that one bit.

Most Players panicked and died the moment they arrived. Without proper help, they were wiped out in the early stages. Pangenia was no place for solitary survival. They had banded together to live, and Master had led the pack and become a king.

Yet Phantom, as if mocking him, was accomplishing everything alone. And thanks to that, Master's Hall of Fame ranking had been shoved back again.

A drop in Hall of Fame rank was never a simple matter. It meant his authority had been damaged — because every Player could check the rankings.

If I don't eliminate him, he'll threaten even my position.

Not only his — he would start threatening the seats of the other heroes as well. Once people began calling Randolph's name one by one and following him, it would become unstoppable.

He had to be eliminated first. And if elimination failed, he at least had to be captured.

Master picked up the remote and switched on the television mounted on the wall.

Every channel and every medium was plastered with stories of Dimension Warriors. Building and crafting the image of heroes was his role. He had been laying the groundwork from the bottom up for three years already, so none of this was strange.

A tower built with care. He would not allow that man to topple the empire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he had created.

Eliminate him, capture him, or at the very least uncover his identity…

Any one of the three would be his victory. But it had to happen before the man climbed any higher.

Still, he was not worried. If the Shadows locked onto him properly, Phantom would have no future left.

This time, I will not let you slip away, Phantom.

The moment the Will died and the dungeon cleared, the rewards appeared before my eyes. Faced with those transcendent offerings, I was left speechless.

Each of the eleven items on the list surpassed every reward that had come before. They far exceeded anything one should be able to receive at the stage of Main Quest 6.

Every last one is a top-tier item.

Unless something was Unique-grade, almost nothing could rival them. Just agonizing over which to choose was enough to make a person scream with happiness.

And I had not even checked the reward from the Constellation of the Brilliant Hero yet.

But even those overwhelming rewards failed to hold my gaze.

"…Is this… a spirit?"

"It looks just like…"

"…"

What had hatched from the Heavenly Spirit Egg. All three of them recoiled as they stared at the newly born spirit. They could not help it.

Serengeti, in particular, spoke with the certainty of someone who recognized what she was seeing.

"That is not a spirit… is that a Death God?"

Fist-sized. A body wreathed in flickering flames like a black cloak, a scythe in hand. A frame and face of pure bone. No matter how you looked at it, it was unmistakably a reaper.

Of course, it differed from an ordinary Death God in one respect: the wings. One black wing and one white wing beat together, lending it a certain endearing quality amid the dread.

Kyah-kyah!

It climbed onto my shoulder with swaggering confidence.

A spirit born after devouring every scrap of Contaminated Honor — taking the form of such an unusual reaper. But had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it not clearly been a Heavenly Spirit?

I turned my head and studied it carefully.

Its level and identity floated into view. The tag of Heavenly Spirit was clearly attached.

Is the Heavenly Realm connected to Death Gods somehow?

I did not know. Everything related to the Hidden Trait of the Heavenly Realm was a mystery. The only thing I had managed to learn through the quest to obtain a Mystery was that there was a racial trait called "Heavenly Being" — and that was all.

Orthodox Successor.

Orthodox. A word meaning the proper lineage, the rightful bloodline.