Worlds Apart (1)
Whoooosh…
A biting wind stung Dalen’s skin, both familiar and strangely foreign. He lifted his head, taking in his surroundings.
“A snowy mountain, out of nowhere.”
His last memory was of driving the white blade of Baekrak into Delaine’s neck. The blinding flash of white filled his vision, followed by darkness.
So why was he here? Dalen replayed the final scene in his mind.
“I saw Baekrak pierce his skin and strike the gray shimmer directly. I hit the weak spot, no doubt about it.”
The spot Delaine habitually scratched at, where the unstable gray hue flickered. Dalen, who had retrieved hundreds of bodies, knew exactly what that gray meant.
“It was the color of a corpse.”
A hue only he could see in this world—a symbol of the end for the characters he had nurtured from behind a monitor.
Normally, a corpse should remain where it fell, unable to move. The gray corpses were merely vessels, mimicking the appearance of characters at the moment of their death.
“Their true forms slumbered in the Well of Reversal.”
What he initially thought was just content from the Heir DLC held its own significance in this living world. The characters who lent Dalen their strength were heroes from other worlds that had met their end. The Well of Reversal, a transcendent entity, had brought their souls from parallel worlds, leaving them as a kind of legacy.
The corpses Dalen had seen so far served only as conduits linking those souls to reality.
“Though the corpses of the Transcendents were different.”
Unlike most corpses, from which he could inherit abilities through mere contact, the Transcendents’ corpses required him to gain the soul’s approval to inherit their powers.
Even so, the gray corpses couldn’t move on their own. The only exception was when the necromancer Dallum Jive’s corpse forcibly dragged him into the realm of consciousness.
But Delaine moved on his own. He walked, affecting the world as if he were one of its inhabitants.
“He must have used up a significant portion of his power. Even if he avoided a complete fall in rank, he likely suffered a comparable blow.”
Dalen had recently defeated a dragon god, but that dragon was already incomplete, having lost half its power. Under normal circumstances, Delaine, who had faced the five evil gods head-on, would have been an impossible opponent.
Yet, the battle had been a back-and-forth struggle because Delaine’s abilities and body showed signs of instability. The flickering at the nape of his neck, where Dalen had driven Baekrak, was a physical manifestation of that instability.
“First, let’s assess the situation.”
Dalen gathered his thoughts and surveyed his surroundings. After the blinding flash of Baekrak, his vision slowly returned, revealing a snow-covered mountain landscape.
A cold, abandoned cabin, hunting tools scattered in the backyard. A scene he had repeated hundreds of times beyond the monitor, and even more in his mind’s eye.
Dalen suddenly noticed that his perspective was subtly different. At the same time, he heard a voice.
“Where am I?”
An inner voice. Not his own thoughts, nor the voices of Jeokchang or Arbor, but someone else’s.
”…What?”
Dalen frowned—or tried to. Instead of furrowing his brow, his body slowly lowered his gaze to his hands.
“Who am I?”
They were the hands of a burly man. Smooth hands, unlike the calloused and scarred hands of a warrior. The belt that should have held an axe and dagger was replaced by a thin leather strap. His sturdy boots and artifact armor were now shabby leather shoes and cloth garments.
”…Damn.”
He quickly understood the situation. This body wasn’t his own.
The important question was whose body it was.
The answer came swiftly.
“Delaine.”
The thoughts of the body’s owner echoed in his mind as if they were his own.
“My name is Delaine. I was born to prevent the end of the world.”
Life after the snowy mountain unfolded like a dream, scenes flashing by like a lantern’s flicker, too fast to grasp.
“First, I need to amass wealth and power, and acquire the necessary opportunities. Mercenary work seems fitting. I’ll build a reputation until I earn a gold badge.”
“The initial targets are the mandrake in the Revivach Herb Forest, the spell assassin in the Bronze District of the Falcion, the Moonlight Sword in the northern Rune Temple of the City Alliance, and various minor elixirs.”
“The lower levels of the labyrinth hold many useful relics. It would be wise to make several rounds through the first and second floors.”
Among the fleeting scenes, Delaine’s thoughts remained clear. Plans meticulously crafted for a single purpose, leaving no room for unnecessary desires or emotions.
As a mercenary, he swept up every opportunity and hidden item, and within a few years, Delaine’s prowess rivaled the Transcendents of the Golden Palace.
Moving along an optimized path, selecting only the most valuable items, he seemed like a machine that already knew the future.
Yet, despite his skills, Delaine’s life was barren. He had no family, no lover, not even a common companion or friend.
To be precise, he had cut them off himself.
“Delaine, there’s a report that you attacked the Rune Temple. I can’t believe it, knowing you.”
“I need to weed out some informants. It wasn’t me.”
“I knew it. I thought—Agh! D-Delaine?”
One day, he buried an axe in the back of Sienna’s head. The reason was simple.
Kylebercus Arburn was sealing an ancient beast deep in the Blade Mountains, and threatening Sienna’s life would force him to break the seal.
“Where the beast and dragon are released, long-condensed magic remains like a pill. Absorbing it allows for quicker mastery of high-level spells.”
Delaine escaped with a teleportation scroll, heading north to claim the pill. In the process, the eastern lands of the Tsar were drenched in blood by the released beast, and in the labyrinth city below, a summoned dragon clashed with the Golden Palace.
But that was none of his concern. The bitter pill had served its purpose, greatly enhancing his magic.
“There’s a strange rumor going around. They say you summoned a dragon in the labyrinth city.”
“Nonsense. People tend to envy those better than themselves. How could I possibly command a dragon?”
“Indeed… In dark times, dark lies often masquerade as truth. How could someone who came to help the Order in its crisis—Kyaa!”
In the expedition sent to stop the Azure Dragon, he threw Lucia into the dragon’s sudden breath. The holy sword of the demon slayer was a treasure that held the secrets of the hero Leredonara.
Having received all possible holy tattoos under the pretext of the expedition, he had no reason to maintain good relations with the Order.
After acquiring Leredonara’s secret sword, he left the south and headed east. There, he killed the King of Knights, then crossed the continent to stage a hostage situation with the Merchant Guildmaster.
He stormed the imperial capital, stealing the emperor’s armor. He invaded the secret ritual sites of dark wizards and cultists, killing them all and conducting human sacrifices himself.
The life that began as an ordinary mercenary became increasingly stained with blood. His monikers evolved from “slaughterer” to “demon,” and from “demon” to “evil god.”
“How did I…”
Delaine, who had never hesitated in his actions, found himself questioning one starry night.
After reaching the pinnacle of the seventh rank, as he prepared for the final battle against the remaining evil gods.
“How do I know all this?”
The knowledge etched in his mind, as if he had returned from the future, was actually inexplicable information with no discernible source.
“Why am I trying to stop the evil gods?”
His path, becoming a slaughterer to stop slaughterers, defied his understanding.
Despite the endless questions, his body moved mechanically. Acquiring what he needed in the fastest, most efficient way—usually through force.
Yet, it wasn’t as if he had no will of his own. The path he had carved and its consequences pushed him toward a single direction.
“Did I never have a choice from the start?”
Having already burned a third of the continent, he had no home or sanctuary to return to.
Stopping would mean the end.
“Was I being used by someone without even knowing it?”
He had thought he lived solely by his own strength. He believed he was racing toward a clear goal.
Was this puppet show orchestrated by the Well of Reversal, bridging worlds? Or perhaps by the divine Star Tree, long since cut down to a mere stump?
Maybe it was something even more transcendent.
Regardless, it was clear that someone—or something—was trying to protect this world.
Though what could possibly be saved in a world nearly half-consumed by flames was beyond comprehension.
With these questions lingering, Daelain plunged into battle against the malevolent gods.
The fight against the armies of the five dark gods raged on for countless days and nights.
Amidst the blood-soaked chaos, the question he kept asking himself was a refrain echoing back to his very first doubt.
The thoughts that struck him the moment he regained consciousness in the snowy mountains. The brief confusion he felt back then.
After exhausting their forces, the five dark gods charged at him directly.
The power he had amassed over decades, even at the brink of annihilation, was formidable enough to stand against the infernal might of the gods.
[How dare this failed creation of the Well defy us!]
[You, a mere human, wield power far beyond your station. Bow before the heralds of the end!]
Yet even Daelain couldn’t completely overcome their relentless assault.
In the push and pull of battle, just when he thought victory was within reach, he found himself plummeting into the unknown.
[I’ll bury you in the Abyss of the Labyrinth! The infinite void shall be your resting place and prison…]
It was Enaxagous’s trap.
A gamble befitting the most cunning of the dark gods, prepared to sacrifice even a momentary advantage.
The infinite void stretched out before him, and as he fell into that space, all strength drained from his body.
In the empty void, devoid of air or even a trace of magic, Daelain managed to speak.
“I just wanted an ordinary life…”
And then, the spears and blades of the five dark gods pierced his back.
Daelan opened his eyes. He felt slightly dizzy.
The scene before him was neither the snowy mountains nor the endless abyss.
A sea of boiling red lava. Jagged islands of metal and rock.
Daelan knew where he was. The fifth level of the labyrinth, the hellish realm known as the ‘Sulfur Sea,’ where lethal fumes and lava flowed eternally.
[Are you awake?]
A voice resonated within his mind, tinged with both concern and tension.
[If you’re conscious, look ahead. That… being has been waiting for you.]