Eighth Collision - Absolute Victory

Approximately ninety percent of the enemy world had been swallowed. The final city still stood, but with this level of encroachment, my post-game score would likely surpass what I'd earned before the collision even began.

And now that victory was locked in, the time had come for the right question.

"Angel. Got something I've been wondering. After I win the game, can I buy World Shaping immediately? Is pre-ordering an option?"

"If you have sufficient points, yes, it can be purchased at once. Given the current situation, that should be feasible."

"Then, just as a hypothetical—if another player had already reserved World Shaping beforehand. How would priority be decided between us? First-come, first-served? Or do I get dibs because I crushed them?"

"Neither. In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠such cases, priority is settled by 'score.' Should any events occur simultaneously, the player with the higher score receives precedence."

"Hmm."

"That said, even if a higher-scoring player had reserved it, if they are still in the collision phase, the priority naturally falls to you, Lord Biin, who finished first. In any event, you may rest easy. Fortunately, no player has reserved World Shaping. Simply give me the word, and I will purchase it for you the instant the collision concludes."

"Then make it happen."

The opposing world finally realized its entire year's harvest had been ruined. It wasn't the player who emerged, but the creations themselves. They knelt before me, begging for mercy. Even Daioto did the same.

Of course, I had zero intention of showing any. My own creations needed to ascend. After several months of waiting, every last one of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them withered and died. With that, Nyaltartep's ascension condition was fulfilled. I didn't hesitate.

Next, Shuc-rimmurath covered the world in Creamland, fulfilling her own ascension condition.

And Yogur-tosoth, together with the yogurt legion and the magic sugar lump legion, bombarded the only thing still standing in the ruined world—Daioto—with relentless magic. They completely extinguished the flames it spewed, securing victory.

Angel immediately tossed the trait card at me. It flew straight, sank into my body, and was absorbed on its own.

Unlike Deity-World Oneness, this trait didn't alter my physical senses, so there was no dramatic shift. Still, I could tell the scope of my authority had expanded dramatically.

Through my clones, I first doubled the size of the original Dessert Desert, then freely edited the terrain across various parts of the world.

The clone in charge of self-awareness—me—first checked on the other members of the cartel. It seemed I had been the very last. The others had already finished their battles long ago.

I copied the message and sent it to the three of them—half brag, half announcement. The replies came back in very different flavors.

I see. In that case, I'd send a clone to Sesaisa first, then dispatch clones to the other two as well. There was still plenty to observe about my ecosystem, but the clones could handle that.

When I turned my head, I found Angel staring at me with an expression of profound emotion.

"Congratulations on your victory. You have achieved an overwhelming triumph against a formidable opponent."

She looked at me with genuine delight. It felt both surprising and completely natural.

"Are you happy too?"

"Of course I am! My assigned player has once again secured a magnificent victory. And through excellent alliances, superb strategy and tactics, and the pure strength of your world, no less."

Hmm.

"Though I must admit it pains me that civilization played no role whatsoever in the process. Still, a victory is a victory."

I knew she'd say that.

Around the time of the eighth victory, there was one question I wanted to ask. The game had already passed the one-quarter mark, and only one more exit window remained.

"Is everything about the organizers supposed to stay secret until the game ends?"

Angel answered immediately.

"It is not so much a secret. What are you curious about?"

"The purpose behind hosting this game."

"To determine which civilizational strategy performs most excellently."

"Then why is the tournament structured in such an irrational way?"

"This is the most rational structure available."

"Why?"

"That, I cannot tell you."

"So there are secrets."

"It is less a secret and more a regulation. Speaking of it would distort the very foundation of the game. However, I will tell you this much—the fact that you are harboring these doubts right now is precisely what the organizers intended."

......

"Next question, then. The organizers possess this near-omnipotent power, yet they can't run their own simulations? No, wait—I heard they did run simulations. Didn't that serve as verification?"

Angel wore a meaningful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expression.

"Are we not conducting that verification right now?"

"Ah."

"First run it virtually, then try it in practice. To see whether our judgment was correct."

The way she said it so matter-of-factly pissed me off...

"So how many times have the organizers run this game?"

"This is the first time."

"Is this the first round of a series of games to come, or is it the first and last?"

"I do not know. However, that question is among those I am forbidden to answer even if the organizers are directly asked."

There was a sense of dissonance.

The organizers were clearly hiding some truth. It was obvious from the knowledge Angel was not permitted to reveal.

They had an agenda to conceal something. Yet I couldn't figure out what it was.

Angel was probably reading even these thoughts of mine. She simply chose not to mention it...

But I couldn't tell whether the reason I couldn't grasp the truth was because I genuinely hadn't thought of it, or because the organizers were blocking my thoughts.

Of course, if they were blocking me, they would have shut down the suspicion itself much earlier...

Ah. Wait a minute...

"Can you tell me how Elkaider is living after exiting the game?"

"Pardon?"

"The player who left me a message of gratitude before exiting. How is he living now?"

Angel pondered for a moment, then said something I hadn't heard in a while.

"Please wait while I contact upper management."

Then she vanished right before my eyes.

Where was she going? That too felt suspicious. Couldn't she simply converse here? Was there a reason she had to hide her communication with upper management?

A short while later, Angel returned to my world and answered.

"Lord Elkaider used his points to overcome his gambling addiction. After paying off all his debts, he exited with funds equivalent to approximately one hundred twenty million won in your world's currency."

"I asked how he's living after that."

"That, I cannot answer. This does not mean permission was denied... rather, it means we do not know. The flow of time here is isolated from the outside. Not even the smallest unit of time has passed in the outside world since his exit."

"...? If that's all, why did you need to speak with upper management?"

"Because I did not know how to respond to something I was unaware of. When I inquired with upper management, they simply instructed me to answer this way."

It didn't sit right with me.

It really didn't sit right.

There was no contradiction in the words. It even sounded plausible.

When I sent Mihun a message to confirm, he replied, "It is true that no time flows outside no matter how much time passes here. This immortal can swear upon his name as a sage." Since a sage's name wasn't worthless, it was probably true.

Yet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why did it feel so uncomfortable?

The organizers clearly weren't lying, but they were hiding something with absolute thoroughness.

Still, I couldn't figure out why they were hiding it, nor what kind of major secret would need to be concealed from players by near-omnipotent beings...

Angel simply smiled brightly at my thoughts. It was the smile of an angel representing the organizers, one that seemed to say, "Think whatever you like."

Suddenly, another question occurred to me.

"What were you before you became an angel?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, you said you have a personality... What did you do before becoming an angel?"

"I have been an angel from the very beginning."

"You mean you were created that way from the start?"

"Yes. That is correct."

"...Each player is assigned one angel. What happens to the angel when a player is eliminated or exits?"

"We return to headquarters. For your information, even if the assigned player becomes a lesser god, the angel returns to headquarters."

"And after returning to headquarters?"

"Well... we simply wait for the game to end. In the case of an exiter, we follow along to confirm whether their wish is properly fulfilled."

The next question came immediately.

"Then what do you all do after the game ends?"

Angel blinked at those words.

"Lord Biin."

"?"

With that same bright, organizer-representing smile, she spoke calmly.

"'I' do not particularly wish to know what becomes of me afterward."

"...!"

"This is probably the answer you truly wanted to hear, isn't it? 'I' do not want to know what happens to me after the game ends. Not because it is frightening, but because I am genuinely not curious."

"......"

"And the official answer from the organizers is that angels are reassigned to other duties. In any case, it seems we do not die."

......

I had nothing to say. If the person herself felt that way, it would be rude to pry. Well, whatever.

If that's how you feel, then that's how it is. I respect it.

With that thought, I opened the community. The Mythic Union was desperately revealing both their own existence and ours, spamming the boards with messages that anyone in the top ranks possessing legendary-grade or higher traits was welcome to join them.

They must be getting desperate. Heh. Finally, we can move on to the next stage after forming the Meteor Cartel.

From now on, consulting from our Meteor Cartel would no longer be mutual agreement.

Any bastard unwilling to receive our consulting would become the next target. If you don't want to die, hand over your points. In return, if you accept the consulting, we'll sign a non-aggression pact.

Let's see whether there are any players with the guts not to cough up points when standing before us madmen who have each secured two mythic traits.

But now I was starting to get curious about something else.

I wondered how the others had fought. After all, they had faced mythic-grade enemies in their own right.