The Heavenly Realm
“…There are angels in the world, so there must be demons as well. And your system, infused with the power of God, is mighty tempting prey from their perspective.”
“Demons… you say?”
“Indeed. Imagine this: what if the system you possess fell into the hands of a demon who lives for eternity?”
The system's power had elevated his bug-like physical abilities to that of an ordinary person in just two days.
Thinking about it that way…
“…It would become uncontrollably powerful.”
“Exactly. Do you think a demon would use that power for good? No, it would wield it for unimaginable atrocities, enough to endanger the entire world.”
He had always assumed that if angels existed, so must demons. He wasn't sure if they could roam the earth as freely as angels, but from the old angel's words, it seemed far from impossible.
“That's why demons covet that system and any other divine power. Hmm… let me put it in terms you'll understand. The demons' goal is to hack your system.”
“Hack it?”
“Yes. They hack the system, transfer ownership to themselves, and infinitely multiply the karma they hold—bypassing those pesky quests to gain transcendent power. That's what they're after.”
If a demon had the skill to hack the system and change ownership, multiplying the karma it already held or buying endless items would be child's play.
He couldn't quite picture a hacking demon, but since it was just a metaphor, he grasped it easily enough.
“If angels can access the system, then no matter how secure it is, demons will eventually breach it. Whether it takes ten thousand years or twenty thousand—it doesn't matter to them. Demons live forever.”
“Considering those vermins' obsession and madness, there'd be hordes who'd spend ten thousand years trying nothing else!”
“The flow of time on earth, in heaven, and in hell are all separate… From your perspective, it might feel like the demons seized your system before a single second had passed.”
What the fuck. He'd thought it was irrelevant since it involved ten or twenty thousand years—plenty of time for human civilization to crumble and rebuild multiple times.
But if each dimension's time flowed differently, that meant it could be hacked in an instant!
The explanation was convoluted, but their expressions didn't suggest they were lying. They were deadly serious.
“I get that they can steal the system regardless of time. But isn't that a flaw in the system itself, unrelated to me? Why am I the problem here?”
“Because of the measure put in place to prevent demonic intrusion into the system.”
“So safeguards are already in place?”
Phew… He let out a small sigh of relief. At least that was reassuring. Especially since this wasn't just a possibility—it was practically inevitable. A divine safeguard should be impenetrable to demons, right?
“…No. There are no safeguards.”
“What?”
What nonsense is this?
“Wait… what the hell do you mean? You just said measures were taken! But now there are no safeguards?”
“Hmm… The measure was implemented, but no actual safeguard was made.”
He realized one crucial fact. Logically analyzing the angel's words led to a single conclusion.
Angels get dementia when they age!
It wasn't unreasonable. Anyone hearing this old angel's drivel would think the same.
Noticing his furrowed brow, the angel began to elaborate.
“My explanation was insufficient. Eons ago, an idea emerged regarding the security of the countless systems destined to be breached anyway. If realized, it would be a method no one—not even under any circumstances—could penetrate.”
“What method was that?”
“To completely seal and isolate the system itself, barring access from anyone. Even the creator.”
…An incomprehensible answer.
Of course, removing the door entirely would prevent intrusion into a room. No matter how skilled the thief, no door meant no entry.
But then even the owner or builder couldn't get in. Though since this was a conceptual system, not a physical room, he—the owner—could still use it. More precisely, he was the treasure inside that needed protection from thieves.
However, that approach meant no changes, patches, or modifications to the system once created.
“So that's why the system's internals can't be altered even now?”
“Yes. Officially, that's the case.”
Officially…
Those who coveted systems like demons believed that, but in reality, there was a way to modify it—contrary to common knowledge.
Just as he'd pieced together.
“In truth, you didn't eliminate the 'door' that controls the system.”
“…”
The old angel affirmed it by not refuting him.
“Why not?”
“It would be meaningless. As I said, no matter how sturdy the barrier… in the face of eternity, it crumbles inevitably. Even a sliver of probability becomes a certainty before infinity.”
The angel's words made sense. But his personality wouldn't let him accept it.
Just abandon it because it was futile?
“I can't comprehend that. Even if it's pointless, it's better than doing nothing. Even futile struggling is better, isn't it?”
“…There seems to be a vast difference in our perspectives. Inevitable, perhaps—you're mortal, we're immortal. We can't fully understand each other. From our view, your 'struggling' is like closing your eyes to a predetermined future: sheer folly.”
“…Even so…”
“More importantly, there's a better solution than safeguards. One that makes them not even dare to try.”
A way to deter demons from attempting it… He already knew it. The angel had spelled it out.
But even thinking it himself, he couldn't believe it. It wasn't a sane decision.
Contextually, there's only one possibility… but isn't that pure gambling?
Half-doubting, he voiced his hunch.
“'No door means no entry. No one tries to break into a doorless room. The administrator must enter, so pretend there's no door… The administrator can enter, but intruders won't even attempt it.' That's not it, is it?”
His eyes squeezed shut. He hoped he was wrong. He wanted this angel to scold him, insisting heaven wasn't that stupid.
If true, a demon could seize the system a second from now, and it wouldn't be surprising.
“That's exactly right.”
Fuck. Why was his gut always spot-on?
The method was so flimsy he wanted to grab the proposer by the collar. What kind of idiot came up with this?
What if even one demon tried? One angel leaked the secret? What if there were spies or traitors among them?
Innumerable variables. He didn't even want to argue.
He spread his palms toward the angel, his expression pure bewilderment—not acting, genuine shock.
“This is… too much to explain piecemeal. I'll transmit the information directly into your mind. That should resolve your doubts.”
The angel did nothing. Yet information flooded his head naturally, like rediscovering a forgotten memory. Similar to when Baby Angel had given him memories of Park Chanyoung.
…
“…This might… actually work…”
“It has. This secret has held for eons beyond your imagination, never once breached.”
Just ten seconds ago, he'd dismissed it entirely. Now he understood why angels adopted this method.
Damn… I mistook them for humans because they look so similar.
Angels and demons weren't human. They were transcendent immortals.
Thus…
“Immortals can't endure meaningless time.”
“Just as humans eat to live… you have no choice but to do the same. To survive.”
Using 'to survive' for immortals felt absurd, but they could die. Their bodies decayed but regenerated; souls were eternal, unmarred. But if the self crumbled, that was true death for an immortal—a hollow puppet remaining.
“Imagine you're a transcendent living eternity. Could you pour immeasurable eons—mountains to canyons, seas to deserts—into meaningless acts? Drift in time's vortex, chasing uncertain goals, until your very self erodes?”
Quite the lofty rhetoric.
Stripping away the needless metaphors, it boiled down to this: immense time. Devoting it to one task with guaranteed fruit preserved the self, thanks to immortals' inherently ironclad egos.
But endlessly pouring water into an empty jar for millennia—say, trying to enter a doorless room? Could any being endure without madness?
If it could… it wouldn't be alive anymore.
It transcended patience or obsession. It would be a machine devoid of emotion and thought—self extinct.
“Of course, some fools might dismiss our claim that 'no door exists' and try anyway. Two thousand years of persistent effort would suffice to breach it. But…”
“They wouldn't last a century.”
“Precisely.”
Even the dumbest intelligent being would realize after a month: if the angels' words were true, no amount of time—ten thousand years, multiples thereof—would work. It was physically impossible. Forever.
Then what's the point of my actions?
Even if they persisted? Two thousand years to breach. Endless doubt assailing them—questioning themselves, the possibility—24/7, no sleep, no respite.
“Bound by that speck of doubt, they'd live restless days. A century? No—fifty years of ceaseless mental torment would shatter reason, compelling self-destruction.”
Those capable of breaching knew this. Attempting it was suicide.
Only the smart could breach it—but the smart wouldn't try.
A perfect, theoretically impenetrable barrier.
“Flawless… as long as the door's existence stays secret.”
“Yes. That's why you were summoned. You figured it out.”
What the fuck. Why manage such a critical hint so sloppily that a mere human noticed?
Who was the angel responsible for that blunder?
“Ugh…”
A groan drew his gaze. Anzelli, seated in the audience, lifted her ashen face, unable to straighten up.
Come to think of it, she'd said putting the growth potion in his inventory was her way of showing consideration.
If Anzelli did it, I have to forgive her.
He was extremely lenient with beautiful women. Especially one as stunning as her. They said a nation-toppling beauty could fell empires—Anzelli nearly tilted dimensions. Clearly more gorgeous than any legendary temptress.