Chapter 132 - The Doomsayer IV

5

Let’s talk about Old Man Scho.

Flashback. The distant past.

Long, long ago, in my twenty-first run, I once laid out drinks on a sky-blue bridge pier and exchanged drunken confidences with him.

["Embalmar. What do you think happens to the world after we die?"]

["After we die?"]

Old Man Scho and I were probably the only two regressors in the world.

That was why we occasionally got carried away discussing subjects that only regressors could truly obsess over. Just like now.

["Well, once both of us are dead... I mean, doesn’t the world regress along with us? Time turns back."]

["And what if it doesn’t?"]

["Sorry?"]

["Perhaps this world keeps going even after we die."]

["But that doesn’t make sense, does it? We open our eyes right after dying. How could the world keep going?"]

["Hear me out."]

The old regressor’s argument went as follows.

――――――――――

A. The [World After the Bad Ending] Hypothesis.

Explanation: Even if a regressor dies, the world does not regress. Time continues until the universe ends.

Only after the end is complete does the world get “rolled back.” A server reset. Yet for some reason, the memories of the regressors—Old Man Scho and me—are preserved without being reset.

――――――――――

["Ah... So subjectively, we feel as though we regain consciousness immediately after dying, but objectively, we only open our eyes after the world has ended?"]

["Exactly. In that case, our ability would be closer to [Memory Preservation] than [Regression]. And since you, Doctor, happen to have Perfect Recall, it fits reasonably well, doesn’t it?"]

["Oh..."]

["There’s another hypothesis, too."]

――――――――――

B. The [Parallel Worlds] Hypothesis.

Explanation: When a regressor dies, their consciousness and memories transfer to “another parallel world.”

Though they might look identical, the world they lived in before and the one they inhabit now are entirely separate worlds.

The regressors simply have not observed any differences between them.

――――――――――

["If the parallel worlds hypothesis is correct, perhaps we ought to call our ability [Worldline Transfer]."]

["That’s honestly a perspective I’ve never considered."]

["That’s because you normally wander around without a single thought installed in that skull of yours, Embalmar. Ignorant brat. You really need an education. Calling a social democrat a commie, making fun of German history at every opportunity—utterly uncultured. You’re disqualified as a human being, disqualified as a person, and disqualified in character."]

["You’re ambushing me with slander now...?"]

["I support the parallel worlds hypothesis."]

I blinked.

["Uh... Why?"]

["Because does it make any sense for the entire world—for time itself—to regress just because two measly human bastards die?"]

Old Man Scho swirled his soju glass.

["It’s far more plausible that only our consciousnesses move to another world. Isn’t it?"]

["Hmm."]

Something about his words left me uneasy.

If “turning back the world’s time” was absurd, as he claimed, wasn’t “moving an individual’s sense of self and memories to another parallel world” equally preposterous?

Assuming the existence of countless parallel worlds might actually place a greater burden on the theory.

["Then the world we originally came from... All the ‘parallel worlds’ we’ve passed through must have ended, right? We’re just leaving behind a home that’s already gone and wandering from one new world to the next."]

["Exactly! We think we’re trying again and again, endlessly, to save the world... But in fact, humanity in all those worlds is already dead. Those anomaly bastards won."]

Looking back on it now, his impassioned argument lacked consistency, as drunken ramblings so often do.

Suppose Old Man Scho truly believed in [World After the Bad Ending] or [Parallel Worlds].

Shouldn’t that have made him value his own life all the more?

If regression wasn’t simply turning back time—if countless worlds really had met their end—then our lives carried a weight equal to that of an entire world.

It would mean that every time we failed, another world perished.

And yet, before long, Old Man Scho went on an extended vacation.

Why?

Did he trust me that much? Did he believe that even if he gave up, I never would?

Or was his beloved far more precious to him than a world that had entrusted its weight to the likes of us?

One world and one love. Of those two, did the latter ultimately weigh more?

The wasted old man swayed on his feet.

["What is this if not a goddamned world, Embalmar? I really... truly don’t know why any of this happened. I don’t know."]

["Ah, come on, old man. Get up. Sleep somewhere like this and you’ll wake up with a crooked mouth. Good grief. You’re always pulling this stuff because you think your Heaven-Gifted Martial Physique will take care of everything."]

... The old man before me was like a Sherpa straining to load an even heavier burden onto his already overburdened shoulders.

It was a twofold approach chosen by the captain of a steadily sinking ship.

Approach A. I cannot run aground here. Because if I fail, the world will end.

Approach B. But if I do run aground here, there is nothing to be done. Because this ship carries far too much cargo for one mere human being to bear.

Yes.

Old Man Scho was undoubtedly driving himself harder precisely so he would have an excuse either way.

["I’m sorry, Embalmar... Sorry, lad..."]

["What the hell? Now this German geezer’s even picked up a dialect. You’re driving me nuts. Maybe I should just shove you into a gas chamber."]

["You crazy racist bastard..."]

["I keep telling you, that accusation doesn’t work when a white guy uses it on an Asian guy."]

In my twenty-first run, I was still young. I couldn’t see what was going on inside his head.

So even as I supported his drunken body, I failed to support his heart.

Had I gained a little more experience, encountered a few more anomalies, I would have told the Old Man Scho of that time in a cool, level voice:

‘Old man.’

‘Whether [World After the Bad Ending] or [Parallel Worlds] is true or false is not important right now.’

‘Because all of those things would be voids. Anomalies.’

6

End of flashback.

Let’s shift our viewpoint back a few thousand years again.

My reunion with Old Man Scho in the unconscious world was the worst.

"Oh. Guild Leader, he’s spotted us."

Go Yori murmured, but there was no need for her helpful warning.

The blow Old Man Scho had casually unleashed with a steel pipe was already hurtling toward us.

"...!"

The Swordmaster’s strike was faster than sound.

Have you ever seen a night sky inlaid with the Milky Way like a softly gleaming jewel?

Visit the clean apocalypse, free of pollution and fine dust, and you can enjoy it every day.

You can also witness it in Old Man Scho’s aura.

KRRRROOOOM!

Aura the color of the night sky charged in a straight line, bisecting the ruined buildings in its path as though they were a nuisance.

That was the decisive reason Old Man Scho had come to be called the Sword Star. His blade held the Milky Way and starlight.

The thunder of collapsing buildings rang out several beats behind his attack.

Only after I barely managed to draw Doha and deflect his blow did the tremendous blast of its aftermath assault my ears.

"What the fuck...?"

Not only were my hands tingling, my entire body was shaking. All my senses were throwing up.

One blow.

In my 261st run, blocking a single attack had made my heart plummet. Since I got by on aura rather than martial skill, it felt as though my MP had been halved in an instant.

Seo Gyu’s soul abruptly possessed my chest. The words “You fucking bastard, quit cheating so much” came spilling out of my mouth on their own.

"Fuck, you were never this strong!"

"..."

"Even if this is the void and you’re an anomaly, your original was just some geezer who became a no-show from run twenty-five onward! How is it fair for you to be this strong?"

Old Man Scho was expressionless. His facial muscles had probably degenerated along with his millet-sized brain folds when he Fell into an anomaly.

"..., ..., ..."

His lips moved constantly, muttering something.

Living with Lee Hayul had honed my lip-reading to a high level. Even from this distance, I could more or less decode what he was saying. Germans had been rather vulnerable in the field of “eavesdropping” since World War II, anyway.

The intercept yielded the following:

"Adele, Adele, Adele, Adele, Adele, Adele, Adele."

Fucking hell.

The Sword Demon raised his steel pipe again.

At the force emanating from the old man’s fingertips, every goose bump on the back of my neck crowed in unison. At this rate, I’d end up on the geezer’s dinner table tonight as regressor chicken.

"Hah."

At that moment, I had a brilliant idea.

I grabbed Go Yori, who was standing blankly beside me in spectator mode, and put her out front.

"Oh?"

"Yori, let’s be friends!"

A forbidden secret technique handed down on the Korean Peninsula since ancient times: the Friend Shield.

If I fled recklessly now, there was a risk that the Fallen regressor—the anomaly called “Emit Schopenhauer”—would pursue me.

Wouldn’t it be better to aim for mutual destruction instead?

As a guardian of human civilization, I had always respected the Code of Hammurabi. An eye for an eye. An anomaly for an anomaly. Go Yori for No-Scho.

If even one of them—the regressor anomaly or the brainwashing-beam anomaly—was taken down, I’d come out ahead! Why quibble over methods?

"..."

He hesitated.

Old Man Scho, who had taken a stance as though about to unleash wave after wave of attacks, stopped.

I clenched a fist in my heart.

Of course. Even Old Man Scho had to hesitate before the brainwashing hypnosis beam. Even after slogging through 261 runs, I had no countermeasure and could only avoid it. Who did this wet-behind-the-ears old man think he was, throwing his weight around?

"Um... Guild Leader?"

"What? I’m busy. Don’t talk to me."

"But I think I should probably tell you."

Reduced to a human shield in my left hand, Go Yori spoke with an awkward look.

"As you know, Guild Leader, people perceive me as the ideal person they would find most appealing, don’t they? Then... ‘who’ do you suppose I look like to the old gentleman who reached that ending?"

"..."

Ah.

"AdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdeleAdele."

A “night sky” unfolded around Old Man Scho.

To use the latest trendy analogy, it was a Domain Expansion. Considering the geezer’s age, a Reality Marble.

His terrifying aura spread from the tips of his feet, staining the earth and sky. Night suddenly descended upon the ruined city in broad daylight.

Killing intent that surpassed sword aura.

The martial talent the human named Emit Schopenhauer had originally possessed. The absolute limit of its potential.

Before me unfolded a distant transcendent realm I had never witnessed even when Old Man Scho was at his prime in reality.

"If he were maintaining his reason normally, he would never confuse me with the wife he loves so much... But in an ‘ending’ where he’s Fallen this far and lost his reason, hmm. This puts me in a difficult position, too..."

"Turn off your brainwashing!"

"Ahaha, honestly, Guild Leader. It’s a passive ability, so I can’t do anything about it. More importantly, this is a problem. It looks exactly like his beloved wife is being held captive by a kidnapper. Oh, but of course, I’m glad it’s made us friends."

I immediately threw Go Yori far into the sky—as far as I possibly could.

"Ohhh—?"

Go Yori flew beautifully, like a missile. Maybe she’d been manufactured in North Korea. If only she stayed true to her country of origin by exploding at the end, too.

Naturally, the No-Scho anomaly’s gaze shifted from me to the Yori missile. That unparalleled romantic of a geezer threw away his steel pipe and sprinted after her.

My one and only opening.

I bolted immediately. The protagonist of an infinite-regression story must never miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Adeeeeeeele!"

RUMBLE!

CRASH!

The city was being destroyed in real time.

Old Man Scho’s wrenching cry reached me from far behind, but that was none of my business.

May you two live happily ever—

"Adele."

At that instant, I sensed a presence beside me.

There was no time even to turn.

SHICK!

Something sliced through my protective sheath of energy like tofu, taking my head off as well.

‘Ah.’

I pitched forward without losing any of my running speed.

As my head flew into the air, I barely managed to look to the side.

Old Man Scho, whom I thought I’d left far behind, had already caught right up and was running “alongside” me. Blood stained his hand.

A point-blank strike. A single knife-hand blow had severed my neck.

Go Yori was tucked under his arm. She gave me a wry smile—or more precisely, gave one to my head as it staged its escape.

Sensation vanished. Sound and consciousness rapidly receded.

Perhaps that was for the best. What would living a little longer get me besides a romantic scene of Old Man Scho kissing Adele-Yori?

I wanted to at least move my lips.

‘No, seriously, isn’t this a bit too much?’

At the same time, I felt as though I had returned to those early runs long ago, to my childhood as a regressor.

Back then, I hadn’t needed to run toward the end alone. The back of a damage dealer more dependable than anyone had always been before my eyes.

See? Old Man Scho’s potential really was unprecedented.

If that monstrous talent could fully blossom—not in a bad ending like this, but in reality—old man, the two of us could surely take this “goddamned world” and—

With a thud, my consciousness tumbled to the bottom.

Death felt much the same in dreams as it did in reality.

Blackout.