Trying Man
Back home, McDeras sat staring into space, replaying in his mind what the System had told him once before.
Possession of McDeras into the body of the deceased trying man has been completed successfully.
There was no question about it. The moment he had entered this novel—The Growth Diary of an Inferior Knight—the System had declared that Trying Man was already dead.
That was precisely why he had been forced to use possession instead of a simple warp. Reason said Trying Man was dead. And yet… was that truly the case?
This feels strange.
When he had coldly brushed off Levia's request to get closer, something in his chest had ached. And now, reading the post she had uploaded under the handle WeepingWillow, his heart was hammering as if it meant to break free of his ribs.
This emotion was not his. Of that much he was certain. Did that mean it belonged to the original owner of this body—Trying Man? Did the feelings of a dead man still cling to the flesh he had left behind? The questions piled up, and none of them produced an answer.
"Trying Man. Are you dead, or are you still alive?"
Speaking into the empty air brought no reply. He changed the target of his question.
The System that had guided him this far—the same faceless thing that had once announced he had been appointed administrator of the DoomNovel Gallery and rattled on about the rest—would have to answer him directly. Whether it would answer at all, he had no idea.
"System. Did you not state that Trying Man was deceased? No matter how I turn it over, his lingering thoughts remain inside this body. Explain yourself. If the DoomNovel Gallery administrator functions include anything relevant, execute it."
Insufficient administrator privileges.
Not unknown. Insufficient administrator privileges.
So there is something here I am not meant to know.
If the man were truly dead, the most reasonable inference was that his soul had not yet left this place. All of them, after all, were beings whose souls had been torn from bodies that once existed on Earth and forced into possession within novels. Even after death, a soul could still exist as an independent entity.
I have no idea.
Trying to reason it out only dragged him into abstractions and complications. So he accepted it. Somewhere, Trying Man was watching him. At the very least, some fragment of the man's thoughts still clung to this body.
"I'll say this first. I despise people like Levia."
The type McDeras hated most was the opportunist—those who put in no effort of their own, then scrambled to ride whatever current shifted in their favor. Some called that a talent in its own right. McDeras did not want such people anywhere near him.
Whether Levia herself was an opportunist was harder to answer. She had been kind enough to a talentless outcast like Trying Man, and she had even offered to testify to the instructor about the violence done to him. If he had not smothered her with relentless confessions, the two of them might well have become genuine friends.
Even so.
After reading that post, he could no longer look at Levia kindly. Why had she only now begun to feel something for Trying Man?
Because an inferior swordsman everyone ignored had suddenly appeared wielding overwhelming power? Because he had saved the little brother who used to be bullied? Because his future looked promising, and she wanted to hitch a ride? Or because she had genuinely fallen for the man who stood up to a noble's threats and rescued her without flinching?
Any of those answers left a bad taste in his mouth.
McDeras sorted through his thoughts as he scrolled through the DoomNovel Gallery. Then a function caught his eye.
Administrator Shop
After saving Plimia's world, he had been granted access to the Administrator Shop along with a store of points. The message from back then had looked something like this.
McDeras's Administrator Points have increased by 3,000. Points may be used to purchase desired privileges from the Administrator Shop.
He had been too busy examining the new administrator abilities to properly look through the shop. Now, for the first time in a while, he opened it.
The Administrator Shop held quite a number of functions, most of them related to the DoomNovel Gallery. Either they were useless to him, or useful enough but priced so steeply it made him wince. Then, just as the disappointment was settling in, he found one entry that actually mattered.
DoomNovel Gallery Deceased Board?
Interesting enough. McDeras currently held 3,100 points. Buying it would leave him with a hundred, but the cost felt more than justified. He pressed purchase without hesitation.
3,000 points consumed. Remaining points: 100.
The Gallery of Novels Destined for Destruction Deceased Board menu has been activated.
When he clicked the Deceased Board menu, an interface unlike any he had seen before floated into the air before him.
Welcome to the place left by those who could not leave—the Gallery of Novels Destined for Destruction Deceased Board. This space is administered by the Ready Outside Operator. Be advised that disruptive behavior may result in the permanent annihilation of your soul.
The DoomNovel Gallery itself had been placed under McDeras's administrator authority. The Deceased Board, by contrast, was managed directly by the Ready Outside Operator—and the threat of soul annihilation made the consequences of misbehavior perfectly clear.
Security is tighter here than on the main gallery. Something shady is going on. There might even be information connected to the Ready Outside Operator.
He began browsing the moment he connected, but most of the posts were little more than people lamenting their previous lives.
Most users here operated under the handle "Anonymous," just as on the main board, though a few maintained fixed nicknames.
After browsing for a while, McDeras reached a conclusion.
There's nothing particularly useful here either.
Among those who had spent a long time in the novels they possessed, many had built families there. Some of the deceased therefore posted the titles of the novels they had inhabited and the regions they had lived in, asking whether anyone still alive might know something about their families. There were trolls, of course, but there were also people who genuinely offered information when a connection existed.
Wait…
With a trembling heart, McDeras used the post search function.
Title: The Talentless Mage Dreams of Becoming an Archmage.
He searched for the name of the world he himself had once possessed for a simple reason. If any of the people his slaughter magic had killed had been possessors, they would almost certainly have ended up on this board.
This title cannot be searched.
…
McDeras stared quietly at the message and thought to himself.
Maybe that's for the best.
Among the comrades he had killed, there had almost certainly been one or two possessors he had never known about. If he ever met them, there were things he wanted to say. That he was sorry he could not save them. That he was sorry for sweeping them up in the slaughter magic. He wanted their forgiveness.
In the interspecies world war, McDeras's slaughter magic had saved countless lives—and slaughtered countless allies at the same time.
Had they resented him? Or had they forgiven him for leading the war to victory? Even he could not know.
…
After staring blankly at the board for a long while, McDeras made a post of his own.
He did not troll. He did not stir up chaos. He simply used a throwaway handle—Anonymous7001.
Amid the endless flood of posts, McDeras's thread sank without a trace. Not a single comment appeared beneath it.
He was about to leave, telling himself that was about what he should have expected. And then—
Trying Man's comment appeared—and it even named McDeras.
The soul of Trying Man, who despite every effort had been forced to meet a tragic death, was still wandering this world.