The Arena Lord's Revelation (2)
Sometime ago, I'd seen a movie like that. In a virtual reality game, after an NPC realizes it's just a character in the game, all sorts of chaos ensues. I got interested because a famous actor I knew from other films starred in it as the lead, and the protagonist ditches his NPC routine to wreak havoc. I won't spoil the plot, but it left me thinking, Is this just a cliché?
What happens to someone when they discover the world they know is a lie? If I'm really just a brain in a vat, how the hell am I supposed to act? And if this whole world is some vat simulation, how does it even tick? ...At least this was something I never saw coming.
"You know about the Tutorial Stage?"
"Indeed."
"......"
How much did she know? Why the fuck was she spilling this to me? Was Estiel in cahoots with some archangel or something? Had she sniffed out that I was a regressor and was planning to rat me out for some special perk?
"Your head must be spinning. Or no—maybe you know too much, and that's the problem?"
"...I can say with certainty that this caught me off guard."
I threw up my hands in surrender.
"Does this conversation go to the angels too?"
"The angels won't hear a thing. Because I'll keep it secret. Sure, I owe my existence to them, but a being like me is beyond their casual meddling."
"Why? Because it's an A-rank difficulty stage?"
"Exactly. A measly eight worlds or so. A lord-class vampire who can autonomously manage one on her own—what do you think of that, Hero?"
Chekhov was probing me. Her vertically slit pupils scanned me like a predator sizing up prey.
"What do you take me for?"
"Hmm. One of the five who succeeded in killing Helm in this arena stage? Or the revolutionary who wrecked the whole damn place? The one who whored himself out for Exchange Vouchers—everyone thinks about it, some even try, but who the hell actually does it on day one?"
"......"
"Plenty have pulled off one or two of those feats separately. But you're the only one who did them all. So, based on what I've pieced together, there are really just two possibilities..."
She wagged two fingers in a V-shape.
"A prophet with limited foresight... or a regressor who came back with prior knowledge."
"......!!"
"Not a prophet, it seems. So, a regressor it is."
"You—"
"Relax. Our chat's off the angels' radar."
Chekhov tapped her ear lightly.
"If the angels knew you were a regressor, they'd have swooped in and dragged you off ages ago. Even I, the local Tutorial Stage admin, know that much."
"......Why?"
"It's happened before. Seventh arena, I think. Some guy yelled, 'I've done this arena before!' Out of 107 participants, everyone except the regressor racked up five wins and bailed before day seven."
"Except that regressor? Why?"
"An angel snatched him right as he was about to hit five wins. No idea what happened after that."
"......"
My mouth went dry. Something like a swamp was bubbling up from the pit of my stomach.
"Anyway, no need to sweat the angels. The condition for granting my 'Goddess's Blessing' is proving I'm not just some fleeting soul passing through this arena. It's just you and me now."
"...You even know about Goddess Points?"
"Goddess Points, is it? Hmm, the guy from the thirteenth arena called it a Goddess's Blessing. A man with some seriously powerful abilities—he even lunged at me after his five wins. I just snapped his wrist and tossed him aside."
She'd casually beaten a hero who'd cheated with Goddess Points. Clear message: if I was thinking of trying anything physical, drop the bullshit, sit tight, and sip my tea like a good boy.
"...What, you some kinda lesser angel now?"
"Something like that. I struck a deal with the angels to dodge oblivion—now I'm the bound spirit and manager haunting this Tutorial Stage."
"......"
"What you're worried about is probably your secrets leaking out... Rest easy. I didn't summon you here to torment you with confusion."
"Then why? To drop this bombshell truth on me?"
"Because it was fun."
Fun. Chekhov's face didn't twitch, but I was dead certain she wasn't lying.
"Chekhov's Arena has run twenty-nine times, but never has such a small group trashed the place so thoroughly."
"It just kinda happened that way."
"Don't you think you're way too good? Even the military vets were just basic shooters, right?"
"Military service ain't one-size-fits-all. I've got combat zone experience."
Before my ten years as a hero, there was a reason I'd survived the first Tutorial playthrough.
"I've killed people too."
"Hmm. With that background, your performance makes sense. If the others were average, it's possible a standout like you drops in. Mistaking you for a prophet or regressor would be a stretch, though..."
Chekhov pointed at my eyes.
"You should watch your gaze, Hero."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know everything, but that's not the look of someone from modern Earth. You can change your body, fake your words... but not your mind or instincts."
"......"
"Even in a war zone, your aura isn't ordinary. It's the eyes of someone who's butchered thousands—tens of thousands—of monsters in this world."
"I don't think I've been staring like that."
"It's about the pressure you give off. Unless the angels see you as an enemy and confront you directly, they won't clock your true nature."
This woman knew. She knew I was a regressor.
"Really? My eyes gave me away? For real?"
"Pieced it together from various clues, but facing you confirmed it. Among all the Tutorial recruits I've met, you're the closest to a true hero—and the one who's killed the most."
"And if I'm not?"
"Then my vampire lord eyes are fucking blind. The guy in front of me might not just conquer this arena... hell, maybe even take down the Demon King."
Ah. Confirmed.
She thought I'd regressed using a [Goddess Points] skill. Just like she'd read my gaze and pegged me for a "hardcore," I could read her words and eyes—her emotions.
I'd killed the Demon King and regressed. Not with a Goddess-given skill, but through the world's desperate miracles piled up into a reset. A true world rewind.
"Fine. Makes talking easier, then. My respects to the great Chekhov, who's sniffed out my true identity."
"Sarcasm?"
"Who knows? Point is, conversation's smoother now. No need to twist facts and give myself a headache."
(I'm still twisting it, of course. Making it sound like a plain skill regression.)
"So you called me here to confirm that?"
"No. I summoned you to give you praise."
"For a compliment?"
"What if that praise is the Goddess's Blessing granted to me?"
"......"
Figures. No wonder she was so cocky about keeping it from the angels. Just like that absolute private space when I chatted with Estiel about spending Goddess Points—this was similar.
"Once—and only once—as the 'keystone' of this world, I can pass my Goddess's Blessing to a hero who pleases me."
"And that's me?"
"In twenty-nine arenas, no one's matched your feats. The thirteenth guy came close, but you're the first to awaken everyone in the arena like this."
"Wasn't for them. I just did my own thing."
"Intentions don't matter if the results are good. In a world like this. Even if a hero slays the Demon King not for world peace, but for riches, fame, or to fuck the princess and crown himself king—who'd blame him?"
"Killing the Demon King and saving the world—that's what counts. To the people living there, anyway."
"Exactly. And I've been... searching for a hero like that."
You have been chosen by Chekhov.
"That's you exactly."
A status window popped up in front of me.
Acquired the title 'Chekhov's Hero'.
Goddess Points +1.
"A hero who can topple the Demon King—the threat to all humanity—no matter their true motives. That's you."
"What if you're wrong?"
"My instincts don't lie."
Chekhov rose, lifting the hem of her dress in a graceful curtsy, head bowed.
"Only you can defeat the Demon King, humanity's scourge. Hero."
"......One question."
"What?"
"If you give me your Goddess Points, what happens to you after?"
"Simple."
She shrugged.
"I'll become a soul repeating death and revival in the stage, unaware of my own demise—just like the others. A bound spirit tethered to the arena."
The price for wishing a hero victory: her self.