The Glory of an Ant on a Whale's Heart

Anomalies were those who had been completely consumed by an Outer God Fragment.

Since they were already one with the fragment, the task was to separate them from it. That was the very definition of a clear condition — once the fragment left, the anomaly lost its power.

Of course, you could simply kill an anomaly and the fragment would still drop. But then the yield was pathetic.

Digging up a clear method in that cursed, user-unfriendly game had been brutally difficult. Every rift came with its own rules and its own backstory, which meant there was no way through but endless trial and error.

That was exactly why rifts were such a miserable pain in the ass.

But right now, I had Evangeline.

"Von Derk was the eldest son of a famous sword lineage. Though honestly, he didn't look like a noble at all—."

Evangeline rattled off, line by line, information I would once have had to learn by slamming my head against the floor through countless failed runs.

"They say he had a brilliant talent for the sword, so he bore his father's every expectation. Except the truth was, Von Derk liked the guitar more than the blade."

Inside a rift, Evangeline was a walking cheat code. She could find her way through the most hopeless labyrinth in a single pass, and she could even read the memories of anomalies.

The problem was that the danger scaled right along with it. While she was rifling through an anomaly's memories, Evangeline could just as easily be swallowed by it instead.

Exactly like right now.

"Uuuooooh……."

"E-Evangeline?! What's wrong!"

Even at Andy's shout, Evangeline's gaze stayed unfocused. A terrible emptiness welled up in her eyes.

Tch. She's assimilating into the anomaly already.

Her ability was doubly lethal against anomalies, because an anomaly that devoured Evangeline jumped straight to calamity-class in one gulp.

In fact, I'd watched plenty of game overs play out exactly that way.

Preventing it, thankfully, was simple.

Don't let her sink in.

I looked at Andy and gestured at the back of Evangeline's head.

Andy smacked the back of her skull without a single moment's hesitation — reaction speed so fast I almost wondered if he'd been waiting for the order.

"AAAGH!!"

"Hm? What is it?"

Andy asked with perfect innocence as Evangeline whipped around. Her focus had come back.

"……What was that? I swear somebody just hit the back of my head."

"Oh please, who'd hit you."

"That's strange, it hurts. Hmm. Anyway — he followed his father's orders and got dragged off to war. A war with the Kingdom of Sarn, apparently. Has anyone ever heard of that kingdom? This is the first I've—."

Recovered, Evangeline launched right back into her chatter.

Andy raised his palm at the ready, as if begging for his next order at any time. He looked, if anything, eager for it.

By the time Andy had knocked her on the back of the head twice more, we reached the heart of the matter.

"It's the guitar."

I nodded at the instrument strapped to the anomaly's back.

Truthfully, it was obvious. Every time the thing strummed, its speed spiked and its aura sharpened.

The only reason I'd made Evangeline read the quest window was to train her — to drill the habit in early.

I wrapped my hand around the sword hilt, fully intending to finish this.

"Wait! Von Derk just wanted to go home! He never wanted any of this — not from the very beginning!"

Evangeline threw both arms wide and planted herself in front of me. She was shielding the anomaly.

"Genuinely hopeless," Milo said, shaking his head. Andy flapped his hands in wild agreement.

I shared their wholehearted opinion and fought down the urge to nod along.

The Outer Gods and Evangeline were natural enemies. She could not help but instinctively loathe anomalies. And yet here she was, covering for one.

Calling that hopeless was selling it short. It was, frankly, a noble act.

"So? What exactly do you plan to do?"

At my question, Evangeline's eyes went wide. A flicker of hope rose in them.

"I'll talk to it. Ask it nicely to let us leave."

At the announcement that she intended to negotiate with an anomaly, Andy and Milo burst into hollow laughter. Understandable — the idea of chatting up an anomaly sounds profoundly stupid.

Absurd as it sounded, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠though, Evangeline could genuinely pull it off. She could talk an anomaly down and walk out of a rift with it.

But then—

"And the anomaly?"

"Sorry?"

"Is it coming out with us? In that state, the moment it surfaces it gets taken and executed."

"No, just us—."

"You're just going to leave it as is?"

I pointed at the anomaly.

It had already been soaked through with the curse, its very form sagging and melting. Where eyes should have been, there was nothing but hollow blackness, and its rot-stinking curse dripped in thick beads. Even the most notorious black magic had no curse this vile.

Of course not. Because that wasn't a curse at all.

It was a blessing.

A blessing from the Outer Gods.

"Hm. If I were that thing, I'd get down on my knees and beg for someone to take my head instead."

Evangeline's blue eyes churned, rough as a storm.

I didn't push her. This, too, was training.

Evangeline had to grow further. Beyond anomalies—

Until she could read even the Outer Gods.

Delusional as it sounded, she actually could.

Then Evangeline bit her lip hard.

"Please make it as painless as you can."

She bowed her head as she pleaded. Sincerity spilled from every word.

"Don't worry. It's my specialty."

Evangeline gave a weary smile and stepped back.

The anomaly stared at me with its empty eye sockets. That black hollow, where rotten grubs sloughed off and fell, seemed to deliver a warning.

You'll end up just like this.

Tch. You should have managed your pollution rate properly.

I returned the advice in kind and gripped my sword.

"…………………!"

The moment the blade pierced the guitar, a ghastly shriek ripped through the air — a sound like a soul screaming itself apart.

Andy and Milo couldn't withstand the shock and dropped to the ground. But Evangeline clenched her teeth and held on, watching every second of it, as if she refused to look away.

I slid my hand between the split guitar's seams. My fingertips brushed against something small — a repulsive lump of flesh, pulsing with a heartbeat.

So this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is the Outer God Fragment.

As I seized it, the pulse swelled. It was a beat vast enough to rattle my mind, and the crushing gulf between us came through undiluted.

It felt like being an ant clinging to a whale's heart.

And suddenly I understood why everyone accepted the fragments even knowing how it all ended. To become one with something this immense — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wasn't that a terrible, intoxicating glory? Would you refuse that majesty out of fear of mere destruction? Join the glory. Join the glory, and—

Glory, my ass.

I let out a dry snort and crushed the Outer God Fragment. It vanished as if returning to the whole it had once been, and an alien sensation flooded up from my fingertips.

O Glory. O great and glorious.

A grotesque murmur rang through my skull — a side effect of receiving an Outer God Fragment. The moment I tried to dismiss it—

That was strange. Absorbing a fragment granted stats automatically according to its attribute — there was never a selection screen.

Then the stat selection window appeared.

But—

The choices were wallpapered with Glory from top to bottom.

One of the fragment's side effects.

So the side effects were already kicking in from eating a mere C-rank fragment? Not good.

Then — thwack! — a stinging pain shot through the back of my skull. The selection window blurred for an instant. A trivially small gap, but I didn't let it slip.

Grant me a cursed blessing.

I raised holy power and black magic at the same time. Chains and pure-white light tangled together, and an indescribable agony swept over me — a convulsion like my soul melting away.

No — it really was melting. Black magic was collateralized against my own life force.

Thanks to that, my mind snapped clear and the grotesque selection window vanished.

I exhaled slowly and pulled my composure back together.

That was close.

Damn this hard mode—

I was still steadying my breathing when I noticed someone fidgeting anxiously beside me.

"S-something seemed off with you……. And back there it looked like you hit the back of somebody's head when they were off……. I swear I had zero selfish motives, sir!"

Milo stammered it out with a face like he desperately needed a toilet.

So Milo was the one who'd walloped my skull. Thanks to him, I'd gotten my gap — and my mind back.

"Good work."

"Bless you, sir— wait, good work?"

"Yeah. You saved me."

Milo broke into a relieved grin.

I swung my fist lightly.

"AAAGH!"

Smacked on the back of the head, Milo crumpled where he stood and glared up at me, utterly betrayed.

I ignored him and studied my own hand.

Did the fragment absorb properly?

It had come from an aura-attribute anomaly, so if it took, my aura stat should have climbed.

Aura was classically described as flame, and a knight's rank was judged by how finely he refined it. A Lower Knight's aura, for instance, blazed wild and rough like untamed fire. Refine that rough blaze into something steady and you were called a Middle Knight.

A Higher Knight then took that stabilized aura and expanded it beyond the blade. The aura no longer belonged to the sword's shape alone — it could be fired like arrows, or drawn out long like a whip to carve open space.

And past Higher Knight, at High Knight, aura came to dominate space itself.

That was called the Sword Domain — the geomgye.

It was why High Knight was hailed as the transcendent realm.

I was a High Knight.

A bug born from maxing all four stats to S had kept me grinding for twelve years.

Twelve years was a long time — and yet woefully, hopelessly short for pushing all four stats to High Knight level. Side effects were inevitable.

I can't use a Sword Domain.

Despite being a High Knight, I could not manifest one.

Lacking the Sword Domain itself was no great loss. The problem was that the Domain was the gateway on the road to Sword Master. Which meant—

I could never reach Sword Master through enlightenment.

That was why I'd taken to eating Outer God Fragments. I had to force my realm upward.

But ascending without enlightenment demanded an S-rank fragment — C-rank shouldn't have been enough.

So did swallowing a C-rank fragment accomplish nothing?

No. It can raise my realm for an instant.

I called up my aura to confirm it. Unlike before, there was a strange tingling under my skin, and I pushed the aura along that sensation.

The sword began to shiver like an aspen leaf. A tearing pain shot up from the arm gripping it.

Every part of me screamed a warning, but I ignored it all and fixed my mind on the aura.

Before long, the blue aura peeled off the blade and began to spread outward.

The Sword Domain — the proof of a High Knight.

Every knight's Domain took a different shape. Some dragged in a raging sea; some raised an armed fortress. Most were gorgeous and dazzling.

Mine was desolate and barren. A wasteland strewn with abandoned blades—

A battlefield.

Then an overwhelming fatigue crashed over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me, and the aura evaporated in a heartbeat — the telltale sign of running it to its absolute limit.

I retracted the aura in a rush. The half-formed Sword Domain collapsed outright.

Three seconds at most.

Three seconds only if I burned every drop of aura. The efficiency was laughably abysmal — and I beamed anyway.

Side effects were a problem solved by collecting more fragments. What mattered was that I'd confirmed the possibility.

"H-High Knight?"

Milo's stammering voice broke my thoughts. He was staring at me, slack-jawed with shock.

"Classified."

"Classified— yes, sir! Boss!!"

Milo bellowed the reply. Those perpetually insolent eyes were sparkling like a boy who'd just laid eyes on a hero. The man really was simple.

"Kkiyaaaak!"

A shrill scream made me turn — the space around us was caving in.

The rift was beginning to close.

"Time to go."

"How do we get out, sir?"

Milo asked, dead serious. I pointed casually downward.

Following my finger with his eyes, Milo flinched hard — beneath us churned an abyssal darkness deep as a bottomless pit.

"You jump. Milo — fire a battle cry forward for five seconds."

"Sir? What in the world is that supposed to—"

I shoved Milo's back.

He tumbled helter-skelter into the darkness.

"YOU CRAZY SON OF A—!!!"

Milo's scream echoed long after he'd fallen.