The Abyss’s Floor (3)
Beyond the swirling blizzard, a solitary cabin stood on the snowy mountain.
The memory of the first time Dalen had found himself here, years ago, was still vivid.
That night, after a fierce battle with the Apostles of Regression, he had faced their grand apostle in front of an altar hidden in the mines.
He had torn apart the demon-infused foe with a single blow, and as he retrieved the fallen body, exhausted and racing against time, he recalled the moment.
“I almost died because I couldn’t handle my muscles growing.”
”······.”
“Even the most dedicated bodybuilders wouldn’t go that far. You trained so many strength-focused characters, yet couldn’t add a single more muscle fiber to your body?”
The man chuckled, hands on his belt. Dalen shook his head with a look of disbelief.
This was the legendary hero who had saved humanity from evil gods thousands of years ago, the high ancestor of the war gods and high orcs.
If Lucia heard that frivolous laugh, her face would probably turn pale.
“Isn’t it a contradiction if an omnipotent being can’t even crack a joke? Gods aren’t just distant observers. Why create the world if that were the case?”
“You sure have a way with words.”
“Wouldn’t it be a shame to lose a verbal spar with a mere creation? Go train some more.”
Damn it. He never loses an argument.
That day, when he nearly died absorbing the strength character, was also when Dalen first became aware of his own domain.
The landscape of the domain was eerily similar to the snowy mountain where he had first awakened on this continent.
So similar, in fact, that for a moment, he mistook it for a return to the past.
Fortunately, even then, his sensory abilities were sharp enough to detect the oddity.
The simultaneous sensation of his consciousness wandering the domain and his body remaining in reality created a strange dissonance.
In other words, the domain’s scenery was so close to reality that even his keen senses were momentarily confused.
’…Come to think of it, it’s not entirely unreal.’
A place with different rules and order, unlike the continent where conventional physical laws and magic flow.
A space where all possibilities exist with their own probability, and can become almost real depending on the will of their owner.
The snowy mountain and sky before him were landscapes born under such boundless possibilities.
’…A world of illusions.’
The more he thought about it, the more fascinating it was.
He knew the labyrinth connected the continent and the world of illusions, and that its depths were essentially within the boundary of the illusion world.
But he hadn’t expected the seventh floor, where the Stone of Wishes was said to be, to be the domain of the illusion world itself…
“You’re mistaken.”
A voice cut through his chain of thoughts. The man spoke.
“This isn’t the seventh floor of the labyrinth. It’s the landscape of your own mind.”
“What? Then why am I…?”
“Why are you here? Because you obtained the Stone of Wishes, of course.”
Before waking up here, he had experienced reaching the bottom of the abyss.
He remembered squeezing out the last of his strength to move forward, collapsing onto something that shimmered.
Was that really the Stone of Wishes? If so, the seventh floor of the labyrinth was the ground he had stood on then.
“That’s right. The seventh floor of the labyrinth is the bottom of the abyss. The Stone of Wishes is the seventh floor itself. The bottom of a bottomless place. A precious object placed there. Not just anyone can reach it, nor can it be obtained simply by wanting it.”
The man grinned broadly, a smile of pure delight.
“And wishes are always held in the deepest part of a person. That’s why we’re in the domain beyond your mind.”
“So, what, am I supposed to go on a treasure hunt here? Is my wish hidden somewhere?”
“What nonsense. You already know your own wish.”
Then why am I here? Dalen was truly at a loss.
The man, who seemed to read minds with ease, widened his smile. He removed his hand from his belt and slowly stepped aside.
Revealing the background that had been hidden by his massive frame.
A log cabin likely built by an unknown hunter, and a shabby back door facing the backyard.
“To make a choice.”
A choice?
Before he could tilt his head in confusion, the back door of the cabin swung open.
The scene visible through the narrow door was a fragment of memory he hadn’t seen with his own eyes in years.
The hum of machinery, including the cooler, filled the air.
Inside the transparent plastic cover on one side of the black case, the graphics card and CPU emitted neon-like primary colors.
A desktop computer, upgraded to the latest model two years ago. The adjustable desk held the computer and monitor.
A plush chair, often found in internet cafes, sat in front of the desk, and next to the glowing keyboard, a cold beer and freshly air-fried fries steamed invitingly.
”······.”
Speechless, he slowly walked into the cabin. He stood in front of the desk and pressed the height adjustment button.
With a whirring sound, the desk rose. The tactile click of the mechanical keyboard under his fingertips.
The droplets on the beer can were tantalizing, and the aroma of salt and seasoning from the fries was almost irresistibly tempting.
Only then did Dalen understand the meaning of the word “choice.” And he realized he had heard that word a few times before.
‘I came today to tell you that your choice is imminent.’
That was what the man had said in passing, after the battle with the blood spirit, during a dream.
‘You will have to choose, just as a warrior who preceded you did long ago.’
It was something Dalen had mentioned during his last incarnation, when he manifested on this continent, sacrificing his own power.
‘Life on Earth, or life on this continent.’
It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about it.
The goal of obtaining the Stone of Wishes had initially stemmed from a longing to return to Earth.
There was a time when he had stayed up all night wrestling with this question. But at some point, it became a forgotten query.
With so many immediate challenges to overcome, worrying about a choice that hadn’t yet arrived seemed foolish.
And his answer remained the same this time.
“I’ll defer the choice.”
He had often missed important moments in the present, torn between right and wrong.
The privilege of pondering a better path was reserved for those who stood at the crossroads.
And now was no different.
If one of the options disappeared, would the concept of choice even exist?
If he wanted to deliberate between two worlds, he first had to ensure both remained places where people could live.
”…Defer, huh.”
The man chuckled, shaking his head. He scratched the back of his head and continued.
“You’re right. For someone not yet at the crossroads, worrying about choices is often an unnecessary luxury. However.”
”…However?”
“Once you reach the crossroads, it’s true that you don’t have much time to choose. Life is guided by time, and it’s not a journey where you can stop or rest along the way.”
Here we go with the cryptic talk again. Dalen frowned.
“So you’re saying I have to choose right now?”
“Something like that. But you still have a bit of time. Let’s talk again in a little while.”
What difference does a little while make? As Dalen tilted his head skeptically, the man began to walk away slowly.
“Follow me.”
The man said. And for a moment, Dalen couldn’t believe his eyes.
The man’s strides and pace were short and leisurely, reminiscent of neighborhood uncles hiking.
Yet his figure ascended the mountain slopes effortlessly.
The large figure quickly shrank to the size of a palm, then to a mere dot.
Damn it, some kind of teleportation. Dalen muttered as he ran.
His physical abilities allowed him to catch up with the man easily. Running alongside him, Dalen spoke.
“I don’t know how much time I have left, but I need the power to fight right now.”
“Power, you say?”
“You said obtaining the Stone of Wishes would clear the game. Doesn’t that mean gaining the ability to defeat the evil gods and the great hell?”
The man didn’t answer. He just continued walking silently.
His pace quickened with each step. Dalen felt slightly out of breath.
As they moved forward, the blizzard intensified, lashing against his face. The cold wind pushed icy snow into his mouth.
Then, suddenly, the man stopped. Dalen also came to a halt, leaving a deep groove in the snow.
They had reached the mountain’s peak.
A blinding pillar of light obscured his vision.
The shimmering light, reminiscent of the screen that filled the game at the start, pierced the summit of the highest snowy peak among hundreds of mountain tops.
Though light shouldn’t produce sound, the cascade of brilliance before him roared with a deafening noise.
Dalen found himself sifting through his memories. This place was the same one he had encountered in a dream, where the man had told him that a choice was imminent.
“Do you know what this pillar of light is?” the man asked, breaking the silence. Dalen shook his head.
It was a light he had started seeing since he ascended to the sixth rank—a waterfall of light cascading from the distant sky. He knew from experience that the power of the realm operated around this light, but that was the extent of his understanding. Why it worked that way or where it led remained a mystery.
“This snowy mountain is connected to the Well of Reversal. The well is both the passage that sends heroes and the path that connects to it. All heroes, except for you, are souls and bodies crafted by the Well of Reversal, sent through this passage.”
Heroes created by the well, their souls and bodies. It was an answer to a question he had long pondered, yet it was an incomplete one. The origin and causality of heroes who belonged to both sides remained unclear.
“So, are those characters my creation, or are their lives merely reflected on my monitor?” Dalen asked.
“A simple question,” the man replied. “Which came first, the chicken or the egg? What do you think?”
“One or the other, I suppose.”
“Exactly. It started as one or the other. But does it matter to you whether you eat the chicken or the egg?”
Dalen shrugged, unsure. The man chuckled softly and continued, “It doesn’t matter, not to the owner of the chicken farm, nor to you. In the cycle you’ve already entered, the beginning isn’t important. What matters is that the chicken and the egg are linked in an unbreakable loop, just as you and the Well of Reversal are.”
A gentle ripple spread from the man’s fingertips, like a wave of pure white light. It was as if he had dipped his hand into a waterfall. The fragments of light scattered and slowly descended, eventually blending into the snowy ground, disappearing like embers from a fire.
“The Well of Reversal has tried everything to overcome the end,” the man continued. “It crafted hundreds of souls and bodies, attempting to aid them. Yet, despite countless efforts, the end could not be stopped.”
”…”
“The well realized then that it, too, was bound by fate, and it was only natural that the heroes it created couldn’t alter that fate.”
A soft breeze blew from somewhere, pushing against the waterfall of light, gently parting the storm clouds above. The source of the light lay beyond, in a garden Dalen had wandered in a dream long ago, at an inn in northern Eclahim where he had met Charina.
”…”
The scene mirrored itself, with an uprooted tree and a well standing before it, just as the man had described. The pillar of light extended from that well.
Looking up at the same sight, the man spoke again. “Just as it was thousands of years ago, an external presence was needed once more. That’s why you are here.”