The Light of Beginnings (3)
A deep rumble grew louder and louder.
A massive white pillar connected the sky and the earth, expanding in size and power.
Reflecting on it now, it had been quite some time since I first pondered the nature of that pillar. My curiosity was piqued after I successfully opened the domain in the Revivach Forest.
”…”
I was intrigued.
Why did the pillar of light appear at the peak of the snowy mountain, where every character’s journey began at the hunter’s cabin? Why did it only become visible after reaching the pinnacle of mortality, surpassing the hierarchy of transcendence? And why did it scatter colors so eerily similar to the white screen at the start of the game?
“The Well of Reversal, the passage for heroes.”
The seventh floor of the labyrinth.
The answer I received from the war god after obtaining the Stone of Wishes resolved all those questions.
“A path connected to the well of this world line.”
It was also a clue to the greatest potential among the many scenes within his domain.
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Beside the ever-growing pillar of light, a smaller one descended silently. A large figure emerged from it, towering a head above Dalen.
“Hoo…”
A low sigh escaped, and his muscles, like boulders, twitched in response.
Scars and white tattoos crisscrossed his bronze skin, and his grayish-white hair, tied back, swayed gently with each step.
“Dalber.”
“Yes, the hero of prophecy who soothed the lion’s grudge.”
The warrior whose name was called grinned, revealing sharp fangs.
“I watched from the well. On the northern battlefield, where the fate of the Tsar’s nation hung in the balance, you completed my final strike and crushed the avatar of Suum.”
The warrior bowed deeply, his ash-gray hair cascading over his shoulders.
“You also saved the High Orcs from extinction and helped them continue their legacy.”
”…”
“Thank you.”
Drip. Drip.
Tears fell silently from beneath his hair, landing on the rocks by the shore. Dalen watched in silence, etching the moment deep into his heart.
”…”
Sometimes, silent emotions carry more weight than words. A simmering rage can be more intense than boiling fervor, and a lingering smile after joy has passed can be the truest form of happiness.
“And so… my fists are yours now.”
The owner of a spirit as unyielding as ancient stone pledged his fists for that very reason.
As Dalen nodded, another pillar of light descended beside the warrior known as the Gray Fighter.
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“It was painful.”
Emerging from the light was a man of slight build, reaching about Dalen’s shoulder.
His pale face and loose robe marked him as a typical mage, one who had devoted himself to theory and practice, shunning physical pursuits.
“The endless wait, the powerlessness that never diminished over the eons.”
Yet with each word, the sky rumbled with thunder, and lightning crackled from his fingertips, scorching the rocks on the shore, proving his formidable power.
“It would be a lie to say I wasn’t envious. But it’s true that you kept your promise.”
The man stopped just in front of Dalen, smiling.
Daltalion, the archmage summoned by the Sky Fortress, and the god-slayer who vanquished the true form of the evil god Suum.
His face bore a bittersweet smile, yet it was also filled with relief.
“You completed the lightning and protected those by your side. You promised what no one else could achieve and risked your life to accomplish it all.”
The mage slowly raised his right hand, where a vivid blue lightning flickered.
“So my lightning is yours as well.”
As he declared this, the blue lightning split and scattered in five colors, as if waiting for a signal, and the descending pillars of light began to touch the ground in succession.
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“You managed to save both the Mithril Smith and the One-Eyed Craftsman.”
The bearded blacksmith, Dallukahim, owner of the Dragonbone Sword, laughed heartily as he emerged.
“You are the rightful owner of my hammer and weapons.”
As he lifted the hammer that had dismantled countless dragons, hundreds of weapons poured from his spatial pouch, forming a defensive formation.
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“Even just confessing the end of my atonement was enough, but… you truly showed us a miracle.”
The necromancer Dallum Jive, who had screamed at the end of the world, bowed deeply in gratitude.
“The souls sacrificed by my sins will also stand against hell, following your will.”
As the dark mage’s hollow eyes flashed with power, countless souls lined up behind him, emitting a wailing sound akin to a horn.
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Pillars of light descended all around.
Heroes of all kinds emerged.
The dark mage who stalked the witch. The mage who wielded a sword.
The sixth silver-masked apostle. The sage turned stew.
The paladin who lit a sacred flame from the depths of hell’s shadow rose again, wrapping his sword in holy fire.
The betrayed herald of the evil god raised his banner, aiming his sharp spear at the army of the god who abandoned him.
Some were ordinary criminals, others were exceptional sorcerers or warriors.
Some seized wealth and power with their talents, while others never escaped a life of poverty.
There were those who burned cities as agents of evil, and others who lived such unique lives that their intentions were inscrutable.
Yet they all shared one commonality.
“Welcome back to life, brothers. Though it’s a limited resurrection… it’s the first time we see each other so clearly, body and soul.”
As the saint inhaled deeply, savoring the moment, it was clear they were all once corpses, now returned to life.
Heirs to a legacy, they had become the legacy itself, reborn with new bodies as scenes within the domain.
After awakening at the brink of the continent’s destruction, they each fought their battles in their own ways.
And the regrets and intentions they harvested at their journeys’ ends had sprouted here once more as seeds of potential.
“Is this our final battlefield? The alliance of hell versus the alliance of heroes. Not bad.”
The legendary archer who shot down stars nocked an arrow and strolled forward.
A summoner adorned with bracelets and necklaces muttered incantations, clasping his hands toward Dalen.
About a hundred ordinary people and hundreds of superhumans.
And at their forefront, like a general leading an army, stood eight transcendents.
Wooong…
Centered around Dalen, a faint, dark wave began to ripple outward in concentric circles.
As it passed the transcendents, each added their own color, amplifying the wave’s reach.
[The Well of Reversal… Do you intend to bring down the world itself with your own hands?]
Had someone been watching all this from somewhere unseen?
The lake rippled again, and the voice of the shocked evil god echoed across the shore.
[Inheriting power and summoning external beings are entirely different! They have no anchor in this world. They are entities that cannot exist!]
“Bullshit.”
It was Dalen.
He chuckled, black lightning coursing through him, and added.
“The bastard who almost got killed by me while trying to swallow the continent is all talk.”
[…You dare boast because you’ve reached the pinnacle of divinity! I don’t know how I fared in your world line, but I am now a complete being, the conqueror of the five great hells!]
“Look at that. His tongue is as long as ever.”
With a snicker, Dalen waved his hand, scattering dark lightning like waves.
With a single gesture, he evaporated the rippling lake and continued.
“Why wouldn’t there be an anchor? There’s that shut-in loser.”
”…?”
“Though he was a loser dumped by his girlfriend in a past life, here, he’s the seeker who bears all our burdens.”
“If you’re going to insult, insult. If you’re going to praise…”
“It’s mirror therapy, you idiot.”
The warrior raised his middle finger with a smirk.
It was absurd enough to elicit a laugh, but the words weren’t wrong.
‘Did I create and control these characters, or were their lives merely reflected on my monitor?’
Upon reaching the seventh floor of the labyrinth and obtaining the Stone of Wishes, the familiar snowy field of the mountain appeared in my mind’s eye. When I asked the war god about the sequence, he had replied like this.
“Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Does it really matter to you?”
At the time, it seemed like nothing more than a riddle from a fortune teller.
But now, I’ve moved beyond mere acceptance to a full understanding.
It’s impossible to know which came first.
Yet, one thing was certain, regardless of where it all began.
In the endless cycle of hundreds of iterations, Dalen, clicking away at his keyboard and mouse, was the hero of each world line.
The lives of these heroes, marked by struggle and perseverance, converged to fill the cramped room of a gamer, where the computer hummed incessantly.
Despite their different appearances, personalities, inner visions, and life goals.
They were Dalen.
And Dalen was them.
“Therefore.”
Boom─!
The ground shook under the firm step of a martial artist.
“Our swords, spells, powers, and visions belong to one person.”
Crackle──┬┴┬┴
The electric mage’s lightning began to charge alongside his beast companion.
“The tasks and duties we left unfinished rest on the shoulders of one.”
Bang!
The clang of a hammer summoned thousands of weapons.
“In this battlefield, our bodies and souls are bound to a single person.”
Creak──
A giant skeletal hand appeared in the air, tearing open a rift teeming with vengeful spirits.
Woooooo━━━━!!
The holy light from the saint illuminated the darkness of hell.
The archer’s arrow, nocked and ready, spun wildly, transforming into a golden line.
As an ancient giant slowly rose from the gaping earth, hundreds of superhumans and mortals drew their weapons in unison.
On the faces of the heroes, preparing for battle in their own ways, was a determination clearer than anything else.
“Alright, friends. Looks like we’re ready―”
The leading Dalen spoke up.
With a sly grin, he drew the sword slung across his back.
“Domain Descent”
“The Black Sun that Burns the Mortal Realm”
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A pillar of light tore through the darkness of the sky, casting shadows with a sinister, smoldering black sun.
[―From now on, we will annihilate every demon and monster in sight, leaving none alive.]
The voice of the war god, returned from the abyss, echoed thunderously across the hellscape.