Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: War History (2)
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E3 was finally over.
Considering the preparation period, it felt anticlimactic, but seeing the results, it was a satisfying conclusion.
Studio Rewind returned to Korea the day after the event ended.
There was a small incident where Russo followed me to the airport and clung to my leg, but looking back on it now, it's just a funny memory.
―Think about it again! You must! You must! Remember that I'm always open―!
―Director! Please, stop...!
Ayado's troubled expression was quite memorable.
In any case, that's enough about the past.
A single day was enough to bask in the festival's afterglow.
Now, it was time to diligently move forward again.
Of course, I didn't start working right away.
I took a few days off, needing time to recover from the trip and adjust to the time difference.
I also had one other thing to take care of.
My promise to Jo A-yun.
“You can drink now.”
“Okay!”
At a corner table in a barbecue restaurant, amidst the sizzle of grilling pork belly, Jo A-yun swiftly picked up a soju bottle.
Her wrist, gripping the neck of the bottle, spun with a flashy twirl.
Then she paused, and a whirlwind formed inside the bottle.
I said to the proud-looking Jo A-yun,
“Looks like you've picked up some flashy tricks.”
“M-my friends all drink like this...! Not that you would know, President...!”
“?”
What did she mean by that?
There was no time to ask.
Whether she was quick-witted or just oblivious to my expression, Jo A-yun poured a shot and handed it to me.
“Here you go!”
Her beaming face looked like someone who had just arrived at an amusement park.
Well, she was the type who would live and die for alcohol in her past life, so the drinking ban must have been quite tough for her.
Thinking of her past life, a worry suddenly surfaced.
‘Will she ever be able to get married?’
It was a concern that arose because I knew the future.
Was Jo A-yun in her mid-thirties back then?
Despite always singing the praises of marriage, Jo A-yun never ended up getting married.
I even asked her once if she planned to live as a bachelorette, and her reply was,
―There has to be a good man out there first!
―You're not really at an age where you can be picky...
―Team Leader, you wanna go?
―...
Now, it's a memory only I have.
Suddenly, the Jo A-yun from that day overlapped with the Jo A-yun of today.
She was exactly the same, except for her hair color.
Looking at her like this, Jo A-yun really had a face that didn't age.
“President, cheers...!”
Her voice erased my thoughts.
I raised my glass and clinked it against Jo A-yun's.
*Clink!*
With that clear sound, the drinking session began.
The ending was as expected.
“Pres'dent... I can' walk...”
“Get on my back. I'll take you home.”
“Pres'dent's house...”
“Your house is closer.”
“Ughh...”
Jo A-yun, having failed to get me drunk, had self-destructed.
Her words were slurred, and her body swayed so much I thought she'd fall and bruise her knees.
In the midst of it all, I realized her past-life habit of seeking out my house when completely drunk was still present in this life.
And so, carrying Jo A-yun on my back, I arrived at her house, which I had visited a few times, and saw her mother for the first time in a while.
*Smack!*
“Aigoo, this girl! What gives you the right to drink like this in front of your president!”
“Ughhh...”
Her mother's back-smack was beyond the level of art.
I suddenly wondered how many smacks it had taken to reach that level of mastery.
In response, Jo A-yun launched a counterattack that only someone in their early twenties could.
“Urrp...!”
The precursor to a flood, or perhaps a reverse flow.
Her mother's face began to turn pale.
“W-what? Not in here! Noooo!!!”
*Creeak—*
I turned away, closing the front door on the scream behind me.
I erased what had just happened from my mind.
‘It's getting hot.’
It was summer.
* * *
For five days after E3, the entire company was on holiday.
It was a decision made as both a cooldown and a reward for the employees who had just overcome a major hurdle, and it seemed to have been quite effective, as their complexions were glowing.
Their voices were all full of energy as they greeted me.
“Good morning!”
Is rest truly the best employee benefit?
I felt a renewed sense of apology for the rest they hadn't gotten, despite my efforts.
It was then that I ran into Han Seo-rim.
“It's been a while. Did you enjoy the holiday?”
Like the other employees, her face looked bright.
Given her personality, I thought she'd be itching to get back to work, but that didn't seem to be the case.
I nodded and replied.
“It was alright. You seem to have had a good time too.”
“I went to discipline my mind.”
Han Seo-rim stared into the distance and laughed soullessly.
Indeed, had she come back after healing from the trauma of cosplaying?
I didn't ask what she did.
I was just relieved that she seemed to have gotten her composure back.
After a brief greeting, I returned to my desk, where the planning team welcomed me.
“You're here!”
“Good morning.”
I could see all six members of the planning team at a glance.
It truly felt like it was time to get back to work.
‘Shall we begin?’
I turned on my computer and reviewed the project's progress.
‘Chapter 2 was finished during the demo phase. Chapter 3 only has major debugging left... and the modeling for Chapter 4 is in its final stages.’
‘For Chapters 5 and 6, the concept art has been confirmed, and they're waiting for modeling.’
‘That will proceed alongside the level design work.’
‘Beyond all that, the thing I need to focus on most is the final chapter, Chapter 7.’
*Click—*
I opened the documented draft.
It was a file where I had organized the parts corresponding to *Hellic 3* from the notes I'd written right after I regressed.
The monitor displayed dense text and a few illustrated examples, which were the best I could manage.
I read through it carefully.
*Tap, tap.*
I tapped the mouse with my index finger.
‘...I just went for it, but...’
The ending already existed in my head.
Not only had I actually seen it, but the method for incorporating it into the game was also quite clean, so it was just a matter of completing the documentation.
That's why I was re-examining it at this point.
The final chapter is the end of the narrative the game will express.
It's the element that will hold the largest stake in the player's final impression and one of the major pieces that will determine the game's completeness.
Naturally, it had to be delicate.
It had to present a clear destination, and it was necessary to lay down intricate foreshadowing along the path leading to it.
I took a deep breath.
I sank back into my chair and closed my eyes.
As I had done quite a few times before, I asked myself a question.
‘The ending...’
How will I shape it?
* * *
Past the Swamp of Grief to the Coffin of Delusion, breaking through that to the Isle of Servitude and the Highlands of Repentance, and without stopping, they pressed on to the Citadel of Ambition and the Cavern of Selflessness.
The four pilgrims passed through six trials and finally arrived before the last door.
Their appearances were different from when they had started.
So much so that one could no longer find any trace of how they looked on the first battlefield.
It was only natural.
After all, wasn't hell too long and vast for a fragile human body to traverse?
Furthermore, it was so horrific that not a day went by without them suffering serious injuries.
In order to advance, they had eventually been forced to accept one fact: 'the weapon is the true body.'
Their battles, using their bodies as consumables, were part of that adaptation process.
I recalled the original names of the bodies they wore.
‘Caesar, Genghis Khan, Richard, MacArthur.’
A Spartan, a Barbarian, a Paladin, and a Soldier were their respective owners.
My gaze was fixed particularly on the Soldier.
It was inevitable.
That body held a certain implication.
‘As I thought, the flow of time in hell is a mess.’
If my memory was correct, MacArthur was a man who died in the 1960s.
But the Soldier was someone who had passed away in the 20s, during the height of World War II.
So how was it that MacArthur, who died later, had arrived here before the Soldier and existed as a corpse?
The only possible answer was a 'tangled flow of time.'
‘How long has it been since I fell here?’
Thinking about it yielded no answer.
Here, one neither ate nor slept, there was no distinction between night and day, and no element existed to indicate the passage of time.
Moreover, whenever I crossed into a new space, the events of the previous hell remained only as information in my mind.
‘...’
Unlike now, after regressing, that fact had felt profoundly distant back then.
To the point where there were moments I felt a sudden fear.
Anyway, putting my sentiments aside, here.
The final gate, like the other doors of the temple, blocked their path with a colossal size that the word 'gate' couldn't do justice.
The four of them lit a bonfire before it.
It was a process they had started performing like a ritual before entering a new place.
The Soldier, sitting on the ground, spoke.
―This must be the end. If the information we obtained on the highlands wasn't a lie, that is.
The information had been acquired at the entrance of the fourth temple.
From a record left by someone who had passed through before, on a rock in the endlessly stretching highlands.
The Barbarian snorted, blowing his nose.
―Doesn't matter if it's not the end. We go all the way.
He was still as reckless as ever.
The Paladin clicked his tongue and chuckled.
The Spartan poked at the bonfire, adjusting the flames.
It was a sliver of leisure.
A leisure that might very well be their last.
―It's deeply moving.
said the Spartan.
―We've finally made it this far. Now we'll be able to find out. Why we had to fall to this place.
―It's not just us. Soldiers from every era are here simply for participating in war. I don't want to accept that. If the calling to protect one's country is a sin, wouldn't that be too terrible?
―We all feel that way.
There was an undeniable shadow in their conversation.
I could understand.
Hell didn't care about their calling.
It merely fixated on their actions.
So they were forced to think.
That this thing called hell was not something you could reason with.
A gloomy atmosphere thickened.
It was then that the Paladin spoke up.
―W-why is everyone so down?!
He cleared his throat, as if determined to change the mood, and then spoke.
―Worry not. I may not look it, but I am one who has fought a holy war in the name of God. A man of the cloth, you see.
―Holy war, my ass.
―Ahem! Don't interrupt and listen! I am about to offer my theological interpretation.
This wasn't the first time.
The Paladin had not lost his faith even after coming this far, and he had tried time and again to interpret the trials they faced based on that faith.
The other three generally ignored him.
The Barbarian, in particular, had even scorned him, saying, 'Naggy. Go back into your woman's body.'
But today was different.
Was it the magic of the word 'last'?
The three men silently allowed the Paladin to speak.
The Paladin continued in a rather pleased tone.
―Originally, hell is a place where sinners come to be punished. And God has defined war as a sin and sent us here as punishment. We must focus on that part. Isn't that how punishment works? The sentence varies depending on the gravity of the sin. Furthermore, one can reduce the sentence through sincere repentance.
―So what's your point?
―My point is that by passing these trials, our sentences must have been reduced!
The Paladin's voice grew louder.
He clenched his fists and continued his speech.
―We have washed away our sins through penance! We have faced all the sins we committed in our lives and have come this far by accepting them, have we not? What does that mean? It means we have been reborn as warriors who have overcome the Lord's trials.
At the time, there was no way of knowing if he was right.
But one thing was certain.
The other three, for that moment at least, were intoxicated by the Paladin's words.
That's how I judged it.
Perhaps it was because it was a hopeful observation that they wanted to lean on it.
That they wanted to believe a happy future surely awaited them at the end of all this adversity.
―The end of hell...
the Soldier muttered.
―Plausible. Your words simultaneously resolve the questions of 'why hell exists' and 'what are the criteria for sin, and where do prisoners go after completing their sentences.' Perhaps the reason we fell to hell was because our souls needed to be cleansed before moving on to the next life.
―Not the next life, but heaven! I am one who has read the Holy Scripture dozens of times. The scripture says the dead go to the bosom of the Lord, so does that not mean heaven?
―Naggy, a woman who only reads books.
―Shut up!
Smiles bloomed on their lips.
It was a scene incongruous with being in hell, and for that reason, it was a precious one.
I, too, hoped their trials would end in happiness.
Whether it was rest or another beginning, it didn't matter.
Though I was cut off from them as if by an invisible wall, I had grown fond of them while watching from the side.
―Well, if we've rested enough, let's get going again. To see this so-called end of the trials.
the Soldier said, loading his gun.
The other three rose to their feet.
They looked more hopeful than ever before.
It was the moment they crossed the stone gate.
*Ruuuumble!*
‘...Ah.’
Hope crumbled.
At the sight before me, I was forced to realize it once more.
The reason hell is hell is because it drags out even the hope you harbor and smashes it on the ground.
* * *
That place, unlike the other trials, did not reveal a different space.
There was only a stone chamber, of a size one might expect to find just beyond a door.
Within that chamber, there was no great knowledge, no god to greet the warriors who had completed the trials.
All that existed was a single, ornate throne, and upon it, a humanoid figure sitting with its chin resting arrogantly on its hand.
I called it a figure for one reason.
It had no defined facial features.
Its naked body also lacked any physical organs that would indicate a gender.
Black and white spots crawled across its skin like waves.
In the areas without spots, veins and muscles were visible beneath the skin, their color resembling that of rusted iron.
―W-what in the world is that...
the Soldier stammered.
The four of them did not know its identity.
But I did.
Because the moment I saw it, hell, as always, told me its name, the process of its formation, and its role.
A heavy, hollow laugh escaped me.
‘...Truly vicious.’
There was something we had all missed.
Yes, thinking back, it was strange.
The minimum condition to leave the battlefield and reach this temple was to cast off madness.
To repeat life and death countless times until one's soul resided not in the flesh, but in the weapon.
The same must have been true for the predecessors who had reached this temple first.
‘Then where did those people go?’
One couldn't simply say they died.
Because rest does not exist in hell.
‘But why were their bodies there?’
There is only one answer.
They, too, must have had their weapons as their true bodies, just like the four of them, and for that reason, they would have continued to advance by transferring bodies.
So, what became of them in the end?
That thing was the answer.
*Creeak!*
Its arm transformed into a weapon.
It formed and erased all sorts of shapes—spears and swords, bows and guns, axes.
―Dodge!!!
the Spartan shouted in a shrill voice.
But it was too late.
The warden's arm had already become a gun and fired at the Soldier.
*Rat-tat-tat!*
―Aaargh!!!
Bullets pierced his thigh.
I frowned.
It wasn't a difficult story to understand.
There was no salvation waiting at the end of the trials.
This temple had been built simply to stop those trying to escape the Hell of War.
In other words, it was a trap created to suppress those who had become exceptionally extraordinary amidst the special circumstances of war.
The predecessors, just like the four of them, had advanced through the temple to escape hell.
They had reached this place, only to be devoured by that figure.
To be precise, they had become one with it.
Because their true bodies, their weapons, had been absorbed regardless of their own will.
‘...Because catching a variable with another variable is the most efficient way.’
That way, it could guard hell more securely.
That thing was an abomination formed from countless war heroes layered and clumped together, thereby embodying the entire history of human warfare in a single body.
It was a symbolic being, with hope and despair etched as spots on its body, and the rust of iron flowing through its veins.
Its name was War History.
The figure was the warden that guarded the Hell of War, completed by swallowing the souls of heroes from history.
War History (2)