The Weaver of Space-Time

Wafflach-Nacha.

Out of respect for Jumito’s wish to leave no trace of himself behind, I shaped its face as a waffle-like grid pattern dotted with multiple eyes and mouths. Its body was modeled after the carnivorous breads and rice cakes from my ecosystem that already resembled spiders or scorpions.

Overall, it felt like I had simply taken existing life forms and heavily added a spider motif on top.

Rather than sticky, thin spider silk, Wafflach-Nacha spun tough, elastic threads like rubber bands. They stretched from the underworld to the sky, from the ground to the heavens. Hanging in midair, it gazed down at the legacy left behind by the one who had offered it both body and soul.

I couldn’t say for certain that I had guided things to this exact outcome, but since it was a legion commander, I figured I might eventually create other creatures named after waffles. I had no idea what form they would take, though.

The silent Wafflach-Nacha, seemingly of a taciturn nature, closed its many mouths and simply observed the world. It then set about constructing Creamland in the sky and the Great Boundary. The image of Jumito, who had quietly carved records into stone, rose in my mind.

It was a strange coincidence. Before the ninth collision, I had thought it would be nice to have a creature that could continuously build and weave spiritual realms in my stead. And now, such a being had appeared. I believed it would work extremely hard to construct the world until the collision began.

Wafflach-Nacha’s stats and traits were as follows.

Looking at the stats, its combat abilities stood out as evenly high across the board. Intelligence, charm, and magic were all lacking. What was particularly noticeable was its exceptionally high Spirit.

Besides combat, its main role was constructing spiritual realms in the sky, and it possessed numerous abilities to command the Dessert Legion.

But that wasn’t the whole story of this thing’s true value. Perhaps because I had heard Shikadoz’s tale, Wafflach-Nacha was a holder of the Space-Time mystery. Therefore, it could weave that very mystery to construct space itself.

It couldn’t casually hop over to enemy worlds like Shikadoz, but it could lead an army, drop a dimensional gate right in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠middle of enemy territory, unleash terror, and then retreat. Or it could freely dismantle an enemy’s spiritual realm and rebuild it however it pleased.

In truth, it wasn’t particularly outstanding at fighting itself. It was certainly powerful, but it couldn’t be called a combat-specialized creation.

However, its survivability was high. Its abilities were perfectly suited for terrorism, making it ideal for throwing enemies into utter chaos in the early stages. In peacetime, I could simply leave it alone to focus on construction. A truly excellent legion commander.

Compared to the other legion commanders who each had multiple uses, the Fourth Legion Commander was truly only good for fighting and nothing else. In contrast, the Fifth Legion Commander was subtly superior in both internal affairs and combat, which was far better.

As I watched the newly created Wafflach-Nacha continue building the world on its own, my clone in charge of humanity quietly looked down at the city beneath it.

The legacy that had once existed there was gone. Everything had been sacrificed to create Wafflach-Nacha. It was now nothing more than a stone structure shaped like a city, devoid of any mystery.

Even so, living beings still survived there. Their evolution toward cooperating across species to oppose the Dessert Legion had been so successful that they had formed what could be called multi-tribal clans. They fought against jelly-type life forms, gamchi, gums, caramels, sugar lumps, and so on.

Wafflach-Nacha didn’t seem particularly interested in the survival of any life forms. Jumito’s personality was not present there. Only his desire for architecture and the sense of fulfillment it brought remained.

That was the ending Jumito had chosen for himself. In the end, he had given up on fighting to the very last while protecting himself, on migrating to another world, and instead wanted the most important part of himself to continue living—even if it meant transforming into such a monstrous form.

I could never reach that answer. I already knew that.

“Is that so?”

“Angel?”

“Yes. As always, I am your angel. The being who appears only before you, and no other life forms in this world.”

When she put it that way, it sounded less touching and more creepy….

“Such harsh words. Anyway, why do you think you cannot reach that answer?”

“Well… because I literally cannot reach that answer. That’s just a redundant way of saying the same thing.”

“Indeed.”

It had been impressive. Jumito had died well.

A death that left behind no lingering attachments. And a rebirth. I didn’t know exactly what the underworld meant in this game, but perhaps he had no regrets even there.

He might feel bitter that his new form had turned into a hideous spider, but that was a trivial matter.

“For the dead, it is indeed a trivial matter.”

I could never die like that.

“Is it because you are different from Jumito?”

“That’s too obvious. The important thing is how we are different.”

“How are you different?”

Jumito had done whatever he wanted without any interference, only to realize at the end that it was all emptiness. Yet he soon understood that even if the result was hollow, the process itself had been joyful. Since there was nothing left for him to achieve, he left his talent and the joy of creation to Wafflach-Nacha and departed.

I was different.

My life had been a continuous series of restrictions. I had never been able to do anything the way I wanted.

If you asked whether it was truly the worst, I’d say it wasn’t quite that bad. If this game had been an unhappiness battle, I would have dropped out around round nine. In the end, no matter how you phrase it, I was someone who hit the jackpot with coins in my later years.

Although I was an orphan, both the director and the social workers were good people. I wasn’t abused.

But they had no money. Society simply didn’t give money to orphanages. At least I didn’t starve. Beyond that, there wasn’t a single thing I could have as I wished.

School was overflowing with things I “couldn’t do.” I couldn’t join in on my classmates’ conversations. I couldn’t become friends with others. Simply because I had no parents, I was ostracized and couldn’t even date. Studying was something I could do, but even that required money.

I had already solved used reference books and workbooks by erasing them with an eraser. Even though my head was clearly better than theirs, I couldn’t keep up with the kids who went to academies.

I couldn’t even use a computer properly. As for phones, I lived during the transitional period when smartphones were just becoming widespread, so I couldn’t treat them as daily necessities and had to use an outdated one. I wanted to work part-time to earn money, but middle schoolers weren’t allowed to work.

The only thing I could truly do was draw. I had talent for it, but I didn’t particularly want to draw incredibly well, nor did I want to make a living from pictures.

“Really?”

I liked drawing, but fundamentally, the kind of pictures I liked had little demand, so I couldn’t survive by only drawing those.

I tried drawing pictures that were in demand and selling them. I posted online that I would draw “anything,” only to encounter the abyss of this world. As a middle schooler, I faced dirty desires in order to make money somehow, scraped together cash however I could, and lived while at least indulging in my hobby.

“That’s a bit pitiful.”

Social life the moment I became an adult was a series of hardships. Bosses who seemed to question whether they even understood what drawing was, webtoons I poured my body into that had terrible original ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stories, failed to gain popularity, and had to be abandoned.

I gained some recognition, but fundamentally, living as an illustrator in modern society was a path of suffering.

Creative work inevitably requires a strong ego, but the stronger your ego, the more insults you eat on the internet.

“Hmm. Well…”

I couldn’t do what I liked. That became even clearer when monster girls with chests like monsters received far more positive responses than the monster pictures I liked.

When you sell drawings to otakus, even with a mediocre following of a few thousand, you end up suffering every kind of humiliation from all ages and genders.

It was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all disgusting. My main job gradually made me hate humanity itself.

“That really is quite pitiful.”

Well, objectively it was a bottom-tier life. It was unhappy.

But not to the point of wanting to die.

There were small joys, but it was an ambiguously bad life that I couldn’t call satisfying.

I had never experienced the kind of frustration or emptiness that came from doing what I wanted to the fullest, like Jumito.

Because I had never done what I wanted, and I had never been able to do it freely.

I couldn’t do anything, and I was always dissatisfied.

“So your life wasn’t about choosing the best option, but simply picking the lesser evil each time.”

Yes. If someone asked how I lived, I would always answer that I had simply chosen the lesser evil among the given options.

If I lived like Jumito, I would at least need a clear goal of what kind of life I wanted to live.

That was why his answer was of no help to me. He had solved it by reflecting on himself and realizing his purpose, but I couldn’t do that.

“Then what will you do now?”

“As one of the leaders of the craziest faction, the Meteors Cartel, there’s no place left to retreat. The dropout section is long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠behind me.”

Since things had come to this, I would become a Demon King thoroughly and perfectly.

A Demon King who commands monsters. The master of mass extinction who destroys all civilizations and leaves behind only endless wilderness and a horribly dried-up Dessert Desert.

Because humans are just so fucking disgusting. Because I genuinely hate intelligent beings. Because I believe society and civilization have no real need to exist in this world.

They’re disgusting, so I’ll kill them. For no other reason than that I don’t like them, I will massacre civilians, destroy cities, starve the innocent to death, and annihilate the souls of players called gods.

It’s not from some clichéd self-hatred. Even if I continue this madness and am eventually driven into a corner and destroyed, I would rather charge forward.

“If it’s not self-hatred, then what is the reason?”

Because the game is fun.

After I finally earned enough money to remove all restrictions, the “best choice” I made wasn’t luxury to resolve the deprivations of my childhood, nor was it a comprehensive improvement or redesign of my life. It was simply holing up and playing games.

The freest choices I had ever made in life, the most fun and rewarding thing I had ever done among everything I had experienced, was the game you all created and then invited me to.

I don’t know how it will end. But games are fun even if you lose. And they’re fun if you win, too.

“So, if you reach the end and win?”

I’ll think about that after I win. There are still over two million competitors left. Drinking kimchi soup before the meal would be ridiculous.

But if there’s one thing I’m certain of, even if I win, I probably won’t just sit back for eternity observing and enjoying the ecosystem I created.

If I wanted that pastoral life, I would have dropped out early.

Just as Jumito gave up eternal life and instead chose to end his life as Jumito. When my work is done, I too will not hand over eternal life. I will bring a clear end as the Demon King.

For now, I would win here and then think about it.

I would kill my enemies here and advance to the next round.