Chapter 110
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Please Call My Name
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In the game, the heroines wielded their exclusive weapons, but there was never even a single description of them doing so.
However, in this real world, Rike had always used Vanitas and claimed her weapon felt like a living being. Whether researching blood magic or handling the unconventional scythe, it assisted her movements.
She said it constantly fed her images into her mind for support. I hadn't had the chance to hear details about Eclair's Innocence yet.
From my perspective, bound weapons weren't easy to classify as alive or dead... but perhaps they possessed a will to aid their owner, like a system of sorts.
It knew its own name and came when called—more like a bound weapon crossed with a pet. With my limited knowledge, it was hard to define precisely.
For starters, as proof they weren't mere hunks of metal, neither Vanitas nor Innocence responded to appraisal spells, and you couldn't view their status windows like normal gear.
That marked them as something entirely different.
But while it fed Rike images, it never expressed its will in words.
Ego swords that spoke existed conceptually, but in all my playthroughs, there were no actual ego weapons inside the game.
According to an explosive leak from an anonymous insider on the forums back in my past life, they were prepping side businesses using player IPs, so there were tons of fixes needed—and ego weapons, or mythical items like Mjolnir and Longinus, had zero DLC or patches planned. It was nailed down.
Given the game's trajectory at the time, it rang true, and even during my final sessions in Tehran, no such patches existed.
And yet here I was.
Facing a mythical item right before my eyes.
...
...
The iron chains floated lightly, circling my body once before brushing past. It felt like a cat that loved people rubbing against my legs.
The thickness of the chains spilling out from the void varied wildly from strand to strand. Some were thinner than a pinky finger, others thick enough to moor ships in the harbor.
"This child embodies contradictions and uniqueness, born to bind beings of higher realms. It may be hard to see it as a weapon meant to harm living things, like the blades you desire. But does its form not change based on the wielder's capacity and intent?"
The sensations from its cold, metallic surface matched that inconsistency.
Some parts were silky smooth like fine cloth, others rough as sandpaper, and there were even squishy sections like a kitten's paw pads.
I was absently listening while fiddling with the chains when she lifted one corner of her mouth and offered a piece of advice.
"Remember this: it can wield unyieldingly firm and mighty power matching its user's level, but conversely, it could snap under a baby's gentle touch."
"It... can be cut?"
A mythical artifact severed by human hands? I hadn't seen that coming.
"That's the nature of a pure concentrate. Its power varies infinitely with the owner's capacity—that's a true divine tool. Isn't that contradictory in itself? A binding chain that means 'the open one'—such a fitting, touching form for this child... Ahh—! Truly romantic!"
This wasn't some joke to mess with me; her voice echoed with genuine emotion through the space. It was a bizarre emotional thread I couldn't follow.
The memory of those previous chains shattering resurfaced, and I narrowed my eyes at her.
"...And if it's broken or severed? Can it be repaired or reattached?"
"Haha—!! Of course. If the corrupt chains holding your tainted possessions can be mended, this splendid child could surely manage it. Should it ever be cut or destroyed...
"Then what?"
"Even I don't know what it might demand as payment... but it's such a modest, shy little thing. It won't ask for anything grand. Hahaha!!"
...
This wasn't something to brush off with hearty laughter. Being mythical, it might demand years off your life or permanent bodily harm for repairs.
'What the hell kind of full disclosure is this? Gives it away without knowing squat. Wait... hold up.'
If the chains she mentioned were the ones slumbering in my inventory—the Chains of Immeasurable Retribution—then... had she been peeping on my entire daily life, not just glimpses or fragments?
"Hold on. Sorry to derail, but... how about toning down the unannounced voyeurism? A stinky bachelor's life isn't exactly entertaining viewing."
"Would I neglect oversight for one inheriting my lineage?"
If this were an adventurer's tavern... the second she spat that nonsense so brazenly, I'd have smashed a bottle over her head.
But I hadn't secured the tempting artifact yet. Swallowing my irritation, I forced the gentlest tone possible.
"Didn't you say you'd reconsider the second trial? So let's call it: no more peeking from now on."
She clamped her mouth shut at my words, drumming her fingers on the chair as if at a loss for rebuttal.
Unexpectedly, no demands like withholding the artifact or holding it hostage. Calling it her "child" showed how dearly she cherished her treasures.
"Ugh... Must you be so stingy with me?"
She was backing off, signaling to drop it and call it even.
"Stingy or not..."
I pondered deeply, stroking the drifting chains like a dog.
The varying textures per link were addictive and fun, and oddly, I could feel this... thing? Child? Growing pleased, which brought a sense of accomplishment.
'Amazing... it really feels alive.'
I could finally empathize with Rike calling Vanitas a living being!
Separate from that joy, I shot a slightly curt question at the seated woman.
"Anyway... I don't get it, so let me flip it: what's the point of watching?"
"..."
A silence unlike any before stretched on; her lips were sealed like stone, no answer forthcoming.
"No one likes feeling watched. Without a damn good reason, I'm not okaying it."
"...Bored."
Her voice was so faint, even my sharp ears barely caught it. Irritated by this out-of-character behavior, I scowled deeper.
"What was that?"
"...Aren't you bored too!! I've waited alone in this space for decades? Centuries? Millennia? An eternity without end! Isn't that pitiful? If you can't pity one like me, your bloodline must run cold as goblin ice!"
Who held a knife to her throat forcing her to craft this thought-form? She'd made it herself to find an heir, yet spied on folks out of boredom?
I wanted to slap her and say no way...
'If we threw down, I'd lose for sure, right?'
I might've charged in earlier despite the odds, but things were different now. I hadn't received the artifact yet, and getting booted sucked.
Honestly, I wanted it bad.
Scratching my chin in thought, I proposed a compromise.
"Fine... make a promise with me."
"Speak."
Post-nut clarity hit? Her voice was drained as she covered her closed eyes with her hand.
"When I'm with my women... always ambiguous. No watching us get intimate. It's not me—it's them I won't allow."
"Heh heh~ Fine by me! That much is easy. Outwardly fierce, but so devoted to your ladies."
Her mood lifted instantly at my permission; she nodded vigorously, satisfied.
Her emotional swings were wilder and stranger than anyone I'd met here.
'Bipolar from isolation?'
Even without permission, she could've kept quiet and watched anyway—this concession was surprising. Internally, I was floored by her repeatedly.
Her emphasis on verbal oaths built trust. Feeling the promise's binding in this space firsthand made her all the more enigmatic.
As I kept interacting with the chains, she twitched beneath her covered eyes, then snapped her fingers to seize my attention, remembering something vital.
"Right! Nearly forgot. This is crucial advice—listen closely!"
"...?"
"I love all divine tools equally, corrupt or not. But for the other chain you met today—never use Nachal's White Flame on it."
I'd never tried White Flame on anything but blades or blunt weapons due to control issues.
The game never classified chains as aura-conducting weapons anyway.
Attempting it demanded insane focus—their complex, fluid movements and unpredictable swing radii made even basic aura flow a nightmare.
White Flame was still a pipe dream. But I'd planned to try eventually, so I naturally questioned:
"Why not?"
"Think an object imprisoning lowly beasts or vile things of field and fen would like White Flame's 'purifying' power? I hear their terror, feel it. From the moment you gained Nachal's power, that child has feared flames touching it."
If true, that was vital intel. Our powers definitely clashed.
"...Thanks for the tip. I'll keep it in mind."
"Heh heh—I thought saying thanks would sprout thorns in your mouth, but you managed."
You say thanks for doing what you're supposed to...
"So. What's next?"
Shhrrk—
Sensing its turn at last, the chains that had been savoring my touch coiled up my arm, slinking around my shoulders and neck like a playful rub.
Part affectionate snake, part mischievous parrot.
"Speak its name and bind it—it'll handle the rest. Isn't this the place for it?"
"Hmm~"
The conditions were straightforward.
"Heh heh... This shy child might not reveal its name easily. You may be stuck here years? If you shed your prickliness and offer the nine prostrations of respect, I might help—"
"Gleipnir."
Chaaaak! Clank clank clank—
The chains thrashed wildly, shooting from the void beside her straight into my hand at blinding speed.
A sensation that it was now part of me—like an arm or leg.
"Wha—huh...?"
Vmmm—
Brighter than the thought-form's white expanse, light erupted around me. I waved to her stunned, stammering face.
"Thanks for the help."
Blinding radiance enveloped me, the floating sensation of my mind faded, and when I opened my eyes—there was Rike, focused on her studies right in front of me.