Chapter 134
Chapter 134
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 134
Chapter Title: The Pit (2)
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The game's development announcement should have already been made.
Yet, the reason for procrastinating on it was simple.
“Because of the possibility of cancellation.”
“Cancellation?”
“It's common in our industry.”
“That's true, but... it still makes you think, 'Why now, all of a sudden?'”
Yang Gil-sang was right.
After all, Rewind was a developer that had never canceled a project since its founding.
There were several reasons for this.
First, the fact that Hell, the motif for *Hellic*, provided a fairly concrete direction.
Second, the results we got when we actually proceeded with the project were quite good.
And finally, the biggest reason of all.
“Because our financial situation was so unstable that if one project failed, we would have gone under. Until now, that is.”
Anyone with even a slight interest in games knew a certain fact.
That for one game to see the light of day, countless projects are scrapped time and time again.
And that the risk remains the same even after actual development has begun and the game has been revealed.
The risk of such a project being canceled grows astronomically for the company the longer the development period stretches on.
Until now, we had no foundation to cover such losses.
Given the nature of our company, where hundreds of people and even management personnel are mobilized to develop a single game, there was a limit to what we could cover with game sales without massive investment.
That situation has now changed.
We've achieved a string of successes, and our cash cow, *Demon's Relic*, has also shown tangible results, so our pockets are quite full.
At this point, it's more beneficial for the company in the long run to release another solid flagship title, no matter the cost, than to save money right now.
That's why, for this project, we considered the possibility of cancellation.
I mulled over these things for a moment before speaking.
“That's all in the past. Whatever the case, *Hellic 4* has turned out well.”
“Yes, the internal response has been very positive.”
Yang Gil-sang quickly agreed.
It wasn't a critical discussion.
The important thing now was that the time had finally come to announce *Hellic 4* to the world.
The key question, then, was how much of the game to show.
And in what manner to show it.
I had my own thoughts on this matter.
‘As expected...’
A cinematic is the most traditional approach.
We could also release a gameplay demo video of the core systems for users who want more information, but...
‘...No, that's revealing too much. At this stage, we can't decide on the final systems to be implemented.’
I suppressed my ambition.
We're still in the first year of development. While the game's release is confirmed, the specific content can still change at any time.
Even *Identity* was like that.
The decision to fully utilize mods in the game was made midway through development.
*Hellic 4* was still a premature infant that needed more deliberation.
“...Let's go with a cinematic.”
“The first cinematic, you mean? What about the timing?”
“The fourth quarter. If Ayado was the one who reached out first, they were likely considering their year-end stock prices. There's no harm in accommodating them, is there?”
2017 was the year *Breath of the Wild* came out.
Nintender swept the entire game market, making it a year of disappointing performance for Sony.
Of course, other complex factors were involved, but it was a clear fact that Sony needed to build anticipation to survive against its competitors.
I recalled my memories.
‘They couldn't have reached out only to us.’
No, we were secondary.
The main attractions were elsewhere.
Needless to say, they were the blockbuster titles that would build hype for the coming year.
‘Last year's big titles were *Legend of War*, *Ready Dead Redemption 2*...’
In addition, *Monster Hunter*, *Spider-Man*, *Assassin's Creah*.
Those were the ones that came to mind immediately.
In truth, there were a few other outstanding games, but the impact of these was stronger.
Most importantly, all those games were compatible with the PS.
Even in this situation, a thought occurred to me.
‘...There'll be a lot of games to play next year.’
This first half of the year was quite enjoyable, as I spent my spare time playing *Breath of the Wild*.
A masterpiece isn't called a masterpiece for nothing.
Though I'll have to put the Link series aside until 2023.
‘...Hah.’
It's quite ironic to be reminiscing about the future and waiting for that day to come, but what can I do? This is the fate a regressor must bear.
I have to accept it.
Pushing aside stray thoughts and focusing on my own benefit, I could see that we could insert *Hellic 4* into the red-hot 2018 lineup.
I got up from my seat and said.
“I'll leave the schedule coordination with Sony to you.”
“Yes, sir. So, will you be proceeding with development as usual?”
“I have to. It's an important turning point.”
This part will be a great aesthetic boon for the cinematic's design as well.
Yang Gil-sang asked playfully.
“So, this time it's not the Werewolf Jedi that Bae-seok likes so much, is it? What's the map concept?”
I replied.
“A pit.”
“A pit?”
“Yes.”
Not just any pit, of course.
“A pit worthy of Hell. For the protagonist.”
For the protagonist alone, that place was the most horrific pit he would ever experience, even including the countless hardships he would face later.
***
The scene was the inside of a house where a man and a woman lived together.
On the dining table were a white tablecloth and a gothic-style candelabra.
The living room was illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight, and the man and woman were looking at each other.
In the darkness, only their faces and gazes burned red.
“What is all this?”
the woman asked playfully.
The man seemed quite nervous.
He let out a deep sigh before unceremoniously downing a full glass of wine.
After that, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Then, from his pocket, came the main event of the evening.
A ring box.
“Here.”
“What is it?”
“...You know what it is.”
The man avoided the woman's gaze.
With a click, he opened the box.
It was a proposal ring.
“I thought it was about time.”
“Is that it?”
“Don't do this. You know I'm not good at this stuff.”
“How about you try, just for today?”
The woman remained composed to the end.
The way she tilted her head while resting her chin on her hand was as sly as ever.
The man looked at the woman resentfully, then got up from his seat and knelt before her.
It was the unmistakable posture of a proposal.
“...Marry me.”
“Is that it?”
“What more do you need?”
A humming sound, “Hmm...” escaped the woman's lips.
Immediately after, she recited her words as if singing.
“A dark house, the menu is chicken and wine, and there's only one candle...”
“There's a ring.”
“Pfft...!”
The woman let out a low laugh.
Her face slightly more flushed, she neatly extended her left hand.
“You missed one thing.”
“I think it's more than one.”
“No, you didn't mention the most important thing here.”
Wiggling her ring finger expectantly, she said.
“There's you and me. That's all we need. The ring is just a bonus.”
The man finally let out a deflated laugh.
“I can't win against you.”
The man's shyness entwined with the woman's slender finger.
Their soft laughter echoed through the space.
A modest, and therefore unforgettable, moment.
The man's fifth reverse scale was the proposal ring.
***
Every moment the man walked through Hell, his expression was somber.
It was too severe to be just someone having a bad day.
If I had to describe it, it was as if all positive emotions had been castrated.
To say it was natural for someone who had fallen into Hell was strange.
Because of what I had seen.
Even in Hell, humans are still human.
They share the common traits of feeling joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure, regretting the past, being buried in the present, and thus fearing the future.
The Hell of Slaughter amplified this.
As a place that fundamentally mimicked human society and forced its inhabitants to repeat the murders they had willingly committed in life, the emotions felt by its residents tended to swing wildly between pleasure and despair.
No one wore a deathly expression all the time like the man did.
With one exception: the mentally dead and corrupted monsters.
The man was not a monster.
And yet, he showed nothing but despair and regret.
What I could discern was that the source of his emotions stemmed from the woman in the photograph, and his suicide attempts were an extension of that.
The fifth journey began amidst such questions.
I couldn't remember how we got there.
I only recalled climbing a slope covered in something like mold, and at its end, falling with the man into a large pit that could be called a sinkhole.
The surroundings were red.
The sheer cliffs forming the pit had a texture reminiscent of a creature's torn flesh, and looking up, something red was spread out like an aurora, entangled with the cliffs.
The man had been strange ever since entering that place.
His already gloomy expression was now contorted in anguish, and at times, as if unable to bear the emotion, he would take deep, ragged breaths and lower his head.
However, the Hell of Slaughter was not so lenient as to let him be.
—*Kkiik, kkik...*
Filling the area were strange monsters that were somewhere between human and melted flesh.
They were numerous, but individually weak due to their small size.
However, they were so grotesque that one wouldn't want to go near them, yet the man skillfully pushed through them, investigating the inside of the pit.
A change occurred at night.
Above the pit, a bright moon had risen, casting a soft glow inside.
It was around then that strange things began to appear.
—*Grrr...*
The creatures we had encountered until now grew in size and charged, spewing moonlight.
It was a crisis for the man as well.
Although he would just revive somewhere else if he died, he seemed unwilling to let that happen, desperately rolling his body to survive.
To cut to the chase, he ultimately succeeded in surviving.
The blood of the enemies the man had defeated was pooling in the pit, enough to form streams.
In the midst of it all, he was profiling.
Around that time, he realized a rule of this Hell.
That the further one moved from the city where Hell began, the more the distorted backgrounds formed their own distinct domains.
And that these domains irregularly displayed the murder methods, backgrounds, and so on of the sinners who had stayed in this Hell for a long time, killing things.
The man seemed to be trying to find the master of this place.
Should I call it meticulous, or obsessive?
The man revealed a deep emotional chasm, almost bordering on compulsion, as he collected clues one by one, and eventually found the answer.
—*Gurgle...!*
In the deepest part of the pit, there was a werewolf sitting on what looked like a large boil as if it were a rock.
It was not a typical werewolf.
Its body was covered not in silver fur, but in silver needles.
Its chest was cut open, and through holes in its organs, parts of what appeared to be children's bodies were sticking out.
Though a werewolf, it had no teeth.
However, its long claws, sharper and more dangerous-looking than any teeth, glinted in the moonlight.
I reviewed the information.
[—Gail Rhoden
—Suspected of kidnapping and murdering infants and young children
—Cannibalistic tendencies present
—Presumed to be from the modern era
—Prefers to eat raw, does not cook
—Signature is a steak knife]
The reason he was represented as a werewolf was likely because his murder method resembled that of a werewolf from a fairy tale.
Of course, that was a secondary issue.
It was strong.
But weaker than the man.
It was vicious and unique.
But, again, to a lesser degree than the man.
It was also formed from just one reverse scale.
It was the mold, one of the environmental devices that had created the man named Gail Rhoden, the root of the horrific crime of consuming infants.
I didn't know the full story, but the moment it saw the mold, it clearly stiffened and its movements became jerky.
The man's revolver pierced it accurately, and it met its end.
*Thwack!*
The man rummaged through the werewolf's opened stomach.
He pulled out a ring, and at that moment, the man collapsed.
—*Hhhh...*
A sound like a sob escaped his lips.
The ring solidified my certainty about the man's backstory.
I deduced that the woman he loved was killed by someone, and the man had committed a planned murder for revenge, landing him in this Hell.
The most plausible cause and effect.
Which is why it was soon proven wrong.
*Squish, squish.*
The man began to climb out of the pit.
Climbing the steep slope with a physical body seemed quite arduous.
I followed him in my spectral form, passing the red aurora embedded in the cliff and emerging outside.
It was still a sloped area.
That thought changed after we had completely left the area.
‘...!’
My breath caught.
Because looking back at the path from a distance told me that everything I had perceived was wrong.
First, one wrong answer.
‘A person...?’
What I had thought was a mountainous region was the corpse of a person, magnified to the size of a mountain range.
Wrong answer number two.
‘...No.’
There was no mold or red aurora.
What I thought was mold was the texture of magnified fabric.
What I thought was a red aurora was a blood-soaked piece of clothing.
Even what I had thought was a cliff was a scar gouged into the corpse's body.
Everything was so colossal that I couldn't grasp its true form up close.
No, more fundamentally than that, the moment I saw the corpse, I was thrown into great confusion.
It was for no other reason.
Because I knew who the ‘woman’ lying there was.
My gaze turned to the man.
He was looking at the mountain-sized corpse, his expression contorted.
...Yes, that woman was the one who had been smiling in the man's photograph.
In my mind, all my previous speculations were rewritten.
‘Regret.’
The emotion that had dominated the man until now was regret.
What if it wasn't regret over a series of events, but regret for a choice he himself had made?
The cause of that regret is all too clear.
‘A gunshot wound.’
There was a gunshot wound in the woman's chest.
That was what had stained her clothes red.
The man is a police officer and carries a revolver.
In other words.
‘He killed her.’
The one who killed the woman in the photo is this man.
The man was regretting it, and one more thing.
‘The werewolf was an uninvited guest?’
The original owner of the space where this woman's body lay must have been the man before me.
For now, only the confusion was mounting.
However, one secret had been definitively solved.
‘There was a reason he knew this Hell so well.’
The man had been wandering this Hell, sane, for a much longer time than I had thought.
For a time long enough for his murders to be expressed as a domain.