Chapter 123
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Paradise Game Artifact
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It was an artifact worth hundreds of millions from the start.
To nobles, 300 million cel might not seem like a huge sum, but it was definitely an amount too hefty to buy up casually in bulk.
For poor noble houses, it was a price they couldn't even dream of touching.
That's why I hadn't poured much passion into creating that so-called game.
It was just a moderate diversion—an added feature, really. The main draws were the newly added terrain and functions...
No need to travel far; it was a paradise artifact made for enjoying vacations right at home. But it felt like building a PC for paperwork only for games to steal the spotlight.
At this rate, maybe I should add some strategy games too.
As I racked my brain with all sorts of thoughts, those two giggled away, chattering about equipment efficiency without a clue to my inner turmoil.
It was called a virtual reality artifact, but it wasn't full-body immersion. Instead, it used mental commands to control the avatars.
Reviews favored a slightly surreal feel over pure realism.
About a week passed like that.
Isna, who came to relay some news and ended up a huge fan of the game, kept diving into the artifact to play what I'd made. Through that, I managed to gather some useful feedback and tweak things accordingly.
In the process, I had to admit that game development wasn't as easy as it seemed.
I made a few adjustments beyond the original plan, adding just the board game and one hero-themed game from the start.
As for the main storyline—the core narrative—I didn't have any special talent there, and to avoid copyright issues, I drew moderately from my past life's memories to implement it.
Once the product was somewhat complete, I handed it over to Aurora, and she dove into work with uncontained delight.
Rebecca, the rising star rookie of the Heracles Mercenary Corps, lowered her gaze with a complicated expression.
The shocking story she'd heard at the place the red-haired woman from the alley had led her to still lingered in her mind.
"Rebecca, what's wrong?"
Lura, another promising rookie and an elite from the Magic Tower, poked her head out from under the bed and asked.
"Ah... it's nothing. Just feeling a bit tired, I guess."
"You were like this after meeting that Leon Cascadia guy too. You've been acting weird lately."
Leon Cascadia. The moment that name came up, Rebecca felt every hair on her body stand on end.
And for good reason. Ever since then, she kept reliving the same scene every night.
Remember this. We're not saints or holy maidens. So what you saw wasn't a prophecy or precognition.
Someday... it'll be a memory of what you went through.
Absurd nonsense.
She had no memory of dying in such a wretched state.
But the leader of the Watchers of the Moon spoke as if she knew.
Saying it was something that had happened once before.
She wanted to call it bullshit, but as time passed, she found herself grudgingly accepting it bit by bit—and that chilled her to the bone.
Once you've experienced it, the memories will grow clearer over time. It's like a disease. If it gets too hard to bear, come find us.
What the hell is this world, then?
Either the first time or the second.
They told her to seek them out again once she'd made her choice when the time came, then let her go.
The Watchers of the Moon weren't just some assassin group.
They were people who had all gone through the same thing as Rebecca.
All moving toward the same goal.
To stop those memories from growing clearer.
Their reach spanned commoners and peasants to merchants, nobles, priests, and mages alike.
Not a huge number, apparently.
Someday, Rebecca might join them too.
Even if she did, she wouldn't have to leave the Heracles Mercenary Corps.
But even so, Rebecca couldn't easily buy into their words.
That made her all the more curious.
Whose were those cold sky-blue eyes that had pierced her heart?
Recalling that pitch-black darkness, lit only by the glint of those icy eyes, she felt her body freeze in terror once more. She shook her head vigorously to shake it off.
Of course, having the items ready didn't mean they'd sell out instantly, so we only handed over the initial batch of around 300 units.
The total contract was larger, but Aurora insisted on releasing them in phases to avoid chaos from a sudden flood.
And now that there was no point in hiding the artifact's creator, we decided to slap the Cascadia logo on them.
During negotiations with Aurora, Isna seemed curious and wanted to tag along, but Aurora dodged any joint meetings with her senior, muttering something about her being a bit...
"Come to think of it, you're from the Academy too, aren't you, Lady Isna?"
"Yes, that's right. Though I graduated."
Watching her munch on ice cream in both hands and snacks in her mouth made me wonder if she ever gained weight.
Actually, thinking about it, that seemed common here. Women especially, but even men rarely packed on pounds.
"Why do you ask?"
"I've got to swing by the Academy soon about Melissa's enrollment issue. My little sister's stubborn and won't come home, but as her big brother, I'd like her to graduate properly."
She tilted her head at my answer.
"But the Imperial Academy is pretty far from here, isn't it?"
"There's a solution for that. Commuting."
Attend classes during the day, handle territory work when free.
Isna tilted her head again at that.
"The Academy's mana gates aren't really suited for daily commuting, though."
"We won't be using those."
To make that feasible required spatial leap abilities, which led to the development of small teleport gates.
Conventional teleport gates were too massive to be practical, but upon reaching 7th circle in necromancy, a new spell became available.
Shadow Transfer.
It was the same one used with Death Authority—resonating with linked undead to swap positions, a necromantic spell.
Applied right, it could serve as spatial jumps.
The drawback? It required undead or equivalent at the target location. But that was easy enough—drop by the Academy under pretense of withdrawal paperwork, plant one, and link it up.
More precisely, imbue the Shadow Transfer spell into an object, using it as a medium for the user to transfer with undead.
A plain Shadow Transfer could've been forced at 6th circle with circle overload, but embedding it into an item required at least 8th circle mastery.
Melissa would gripe about the pointless hassle, but big brothers exist to torment little sisters.
If I honored Father's will by getting her to graduate, she'd have no time to meddle with me—perfect.
"Then let's go together. I can show you around the Academy; it's been a while since I visited."
"No need to trouble yourself."
"Oh, you might not know, but the Imperial Academy's paths are deceptively maze-like. Newbies get lost all the time. Someone even got stranded in the back mountains once."
Was that for real?
Well, it wasn't a bad deal. Walking with her might draw eyes, but it wasn't criminal or anything.
"Please don't wear that doll costume."
"Okay."
"And no reaper cloak either."
"..."
I'd seen it before. At the Black Friday auction, she'd ditched the doll outfit for the reaper cloak instead.
In Mielephon territory, folks might just shrug it off as the lady at it again... but elsewhere? No way.
Why did she act out while I bore the embarrassment?
After much deliberation, she nodded as if reaching a grand decision.
"So, when are we going?"
"Planning to observe a day more, then move."
"Got it. I'll prep by then."
Why did that sound so ominous?
Imperial Academy.
Many academies dotted the continents, but the one founded by the Pascalia Empire stood among the most prestigious across them all.
High-caliber students played a role, but so did the elite faculty specs and top-notch facilities.
Plenty enrolled from abroad like Melissa just to attend.
Annual new admits numbered a mere 300-400.
Naturally, competition was brutal.
Thus, selecting faculty and assistants was crucial.
And here's where trouble brewed.
"Too many talents have been slipping away lately..."
Bismarck Rommel, a professor at the Imperial Academy, had lost numerous assistants and TAs to rival academies or untimely accidents, leaving gaping holes.
It happened so suddenly that the Academy's response lagged.
With exams in full swing, proctors were critically short.
Backup plans needed skilled overseers for the cadets.
These students weren't average; to differentiate them, exam difficulty was cranked way up this time.
So he'd sent feelers to his contacts.
If only one solid recruit showed... but even that was tough now.
His best list? Mostly decliners or busybodies.
Bang!
"Professor Rommel, still no luck finding TAs or assistants for proctoring?"
"Professor Pivian."
"Why not borrow some from my side?"
Rommel inwardly clicked his tongue at the smirking middle-aged woman entering.
Professor Pivian. Not someone he welcomed.
Her skills weren't bad, but her money-grubbing was shameless.
For her to offer her people now? Something was up.