Chapter 72 - The Architect II

4

'He said their headquarters were in Hawaii, right? Then how about a casual little vacation to Hawaii?'

In my forty-sixth run, I was far too pathetic to entertain that idea.

In your average web novel, hearing that a regressor had slogged through forty-six runs would elicit something like, "Oh, they must be a total veteran! Though if they still haven't saved the world by then, aren't they kind of incompetent?" In my story, however, run forty-six was still such a fresh, green newbie that it could have topped up your vitamins.

Anyway, like most South Koreans who say they've traveled abroad, the farthest I'd ventured by run forty-six was Japan or China.

India? America? Europe? All I knew came from rumors. I'd never personally fed my shoes any dirt from those parts of the world.

Oh, Old Man Scho did once shoot his mouth off about showing me his hometown sometime, but even promises between men apparently don't have a shelf life longer than a thousand years. Fucking old bastard.

"This is Site Seven.

CRZZZT

I am Director Martin Russell.

BZZZT

The food stored in the bunker is slowly running out."

"Have the projects the Foundation prepared in anticipation of the world's destruction not been activated? Or have they already been activated, and is this place merely a remnant of the world left behind?"

"Either way...

CRZZZT

I will continue making these recordings in the belief that my audio files may someday prove useful. Director Martin Russell. Day 677 of survival."

The broadcasts continued.

I named this anomaly the "Unidentified Foundation Radio Broadcast," or "Foundation Broadcast" for short.

And after a great deal of time, I managed to establish its characteristics in considerable detail.

1. The broadcast never plays if there is any listener besides me near the radio.

It was intriguing enough that I called Sim Aryeon and Seo Gyu over and sat them down, but the radio remained silent.

In the end, they shook their heads, saying, "Ugh, the Guild Leader/Boss is playing pranks with anomalies again..."

Wait, was I really this untrustworthy? Why? How?

As a test, I suggested that the Saintess use Clairvoyance to listen with me, but apparently even that counted as a "listener," because the radio still wouldn't work.

"Um... Mr. Undertaker, however bored you may be, pranking me with anomalies is honestly a little troubling. I'd appreciate it if you exercised some restraint."

"..."

I felt wronged.

2. The "Foundation Broadcast" occurs in different runs, and the "old man" always broadcasts from a bunker at Site Seven on Molokai, Hawaii.

However, this anomaly appeared only in the Zenith K731 radio I'd personally collected as an antique. No other radio could ever pick up the "Foundation Broadcast."

Why? Dunno.

Anomaly ecology is just that mysterious.

"This is Martin Russell. Uh, um. Observations continue to show the overwhelming majority of escaped entities concentrated in North America... Goddammit. It's already day 1203. Has humanity survived at all? Am I truly the last survivor?"

The broadcast times were erratic, but generally fell between 1 a.m. and 7 p.m. If the broadcaster was in Hawaii as he claimed, that would be between 6 a.m. and noon there.

Exactly the sort of hours when a person would be awake.

And this was the most important point...

3. The content of the broadcasts changes subtly with each run.

In run forty-six, he'd clearly said an entity called an "evil dragon" had emerged from Site Seven and destroyed the Foundation. But in run forty-nine, for instance:

"God! The moonlight! Ah, the goddess of Parmenides has finally gone mad! This is an emergency transmission. Under no circumstances are you to come into contact with moonlight! Not unless you want to melt like candle wax!"

"Wiped out? Have all the Foundation's organizations truly been wiped out? What about the backups? Oh, God. God, why? Why this worst-case scenario of all things...?"

He wailed like that, broadcasting an account in which this so-called "moonlight" had exterminated humanity.

With each new run, the way the world ended changed subtly as well.

I smiled wryly over my café au lait.

"If this is true, North America must be a monstrous hellscape on par with the Indian subcontinent."

Though at the time, I suspected it was probably all lies.

I had no particular intention of eliminating the "Foundation Broadcast." Apart from whispering radio broadcasts to me, it wasn't doing humanity any harm, was it?

On the contrary, whenever I wanted to listen to the radio to pass the time, the "Foundation Broadcast" made excellent background audio.

Again, there wasn't much entertainment available in this era. And here was a radio channel whose content changed every time? Fucking jackpot.

What's more, the details about the "Foundation" that the old man casually let slip each run provided me with plenty of inspiration. You could say I learned a lot.

What did I learn, exactly...?

5

"The standardization of information."

Back to run 562.

Oh Dokseo tilted her head at me with a dumbfounded expression. The radio beside the table was leisurely playing a Mozart symphony.

"Information... standard-what?"

"This so-called 'Foundation' assigned extremely detailed classifications and rules to its entities. Hmm. Let's take gremlins as an example."

Gremlins were anomalies that latched onto all kinds of electronic devices and broke them in bizarre ways.

At one point, a rumor circulated in South Gyeongsang Province that gremlins only infected televisions and radios, leaving cell phones untouched.

In North Gyeongsang Province, on the other hand, warnings circulated that cell phones were the most dangerous of all.

And in Gyeonggi Province, the belief that all electronics except CCTV cameras were safe became widespread. Can you believe it?

It was all a consequence of human society's devastated capacity to transmit information.

"Under these circumstances, sharing information isn't easy even within the Korean Peninsula. Back when civilization was intact, we could have shared visual references through videos or whatever, but..."

Today, every form of mass media except radio had been wiped out. SG Net served as a place to share information, at least, but even that was far from perfect.

"Anomalies having all sorts of different properties is the least of our problems. How do we convey exactly how powerful a given anomaly is?"

"Uh..."

"S-rank? A-rank? What's the difference between an S-rank anomaly and an A-rank anomaly, and how dangerous are they? A power level of 1000? 2000? Let's say something has a power level of 1200. Does that number give you an intuitive sense of what it means?"

"... No."

Exactly.

So, inspired by the "Foundation" in the radio broadcasts, I launched a fictitious organization called the "Library Society."

Its premise was simple: a secret group that had studied anomalies since ancient times and therefore established a "professional classification method"—in other words, a "standard."

In reality, however, it was a database containing the full wealth of my experience and knowledge as the regressor Undertaker.

An Akashic Record forged from my blood and sweat over repeated regressions and battles against countless anomalies.

The "standard" established by the Library Society—in short, the anomalies' threat levels—was as follows.

Lv.1: Village. Village-class.

A threat level assigned to anomalies capable of destroying roughly one village, just as the name suggested.

"It's basically the minimum threshold for being considered a 'dangerous anomaly.' It also filters out the minor ones."

I scribbled examples in a notebook and showed them to her.

Perhaps this "lore book" interested her literary-girl sensibilities after all. Though the shock still lingered in her eyes, Oh Dokseo managed to follow what I wrote.

"A single goblin isn't even worth assigning a threat level. But thirty goblins? Forty? That's more than enough to qualify as village-class."

"Oh...?"

"In other words, even though it's the lowest level, the moment something is designated village-class, it's effectively been declared 'extremely dangerous.' Ordinary people must flee, no exceptions, and even awakened should generally avoid it unless they specialize in combat. Yes, Oh Dokseo, I mean you. You."

"..."

In fact, most awakened who fought village-class anomalies one-on-one ended up donating their heads.

In one run, even Lee Hayul, the "Puppeteer," lost an arm after taking on a village-class anomaly brimming with baseless confidence.

To my mind, the names the "Foundation" used for its threat levels sounded cool, but ordinary people who knew nothing about them would inevitably respond, "So exactly how dangerous is that?"

I prioritized intuitiveness when selecting terms. "Dangerous enough to annihilate a village = village-class."

"Well? Simple, isn't it?"

"... Yeah. It's simple."

"Starting with the next threat level, it goes beyond merely threatening individual lives."

Lv.2: Polis. City-class.

Once these anomalies appeared, leveling an entire city was the bare minimum. Absolutely brutal bastards.

"Tenlegs is a prime example."

The anomalies "Chaos" and "Greed," which I mentioned during my trip to Mount Hua in China, were also city-class.

Between them, they had ground up nearly ten million human lives. Though that was only an estimate.

Tenlegs only seemed laughable now; early in my regressions, it had single-handedly devastated the Korean Peninsula. Even city-class was an insurmountable wall of despair for awakened, you know?

Most of the culprits that turned modern nations' clocks back to the Iron Age belonged to the city-class category.

"Whether you're an ordinary person or awakened, if you haven't prepared for battle beforehand, you need to run like hell. Of course, the odds of failing to escape are much higher."

"Whoa... I've seen you finish it off with a one-turn kill, Mister, so it's not really sinking in..."

"Tsk, tsk."

This was why I avoided putting on a one-man show during Tenlegs raids whenever possible and left things to the other awakened.

"Anyway, next."

Lv.3: Continent. Continent-class.

If city-class anomalies were the despair of humans, continent-class anomalies were the despair of humanity.

"This is where the continued existence of Homo sapiens as a species starts to come under serious threat."

"..."

The World Tree "Udumbara," which spread a zombie virus throughout East Asia using eternal immortality as bait.

"Meteor Strike," which brought the heavens down repeatedly over seven years until the entire world became an ashen territory.

These were the culprits that made modern humans spontaneously cry, "Come on, this is fucking bullshit!"

"Mister, hold on."

"Hmm?"

"If Meteor Strike is only level three, does that mean there's another level after it?"

I wondered what she was talking about, but then recalled that she'd read around forty serialized chapters through her [Prophecy]... In terms of my life, that covered fewer than twenty runs.

No wonder she didn't know.

I swept my ballpoint pen across the page.

"Yes. Of course there is."

Lv.4: Five Oceans. Ocean-class.

"Ocean-class..."

Oh Dokseo murmured as she looked at my notebook.

"... I'm kind of stunned. This feels so different from the situation you were in in the novel I read. You were definitely this hot-blooded male character fighting Tenlegs in a desperate bloody battle..."

"Ah, brings back memories. Those were the good old days. I thought I'd save the world within thirty runs at the latest."

"... What kinds of anomalies are ocean-class?"

"I'll describe them, but you probably won't get much of a feel for them just from hearing it. Sim Aryeon hasn't drawn any illustrations of them yet, either."

The "Eight Million," which would descend upon the Japanese archipelago. "Asura," "Astra," and "Sands of the Ganges," which would turn the Indian subcontinent into the most dangerous void on Earth.

I was always joking about how the Korean Peninsula's location made it the Fire Peninsula or Hell Peninsula, but compared with those places, it was paradise.

Let me urge you once again: do not travel abroad in this day and age.

After hearing my entire explanation, Oh Dokseo went pale.

"D-do I have to fight those anomalies? Me too?"

"Don't be too frightened. The you of run 561, run 560, run 559, and run 557 all held up well."

"..."

"The you of this run will hold up well, too."

"... Wait. Why did you skip me in run 558? What happened to me then?"

"..."

"Why did you skip that one?!"

I looked away.

"No... Aaargh! Mister! I only have [Prophecy] in the first place! Why are you dragging a noncombatant around battlefields?!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down. Calm down. Do you really think I'd drag you around without any precautions? You're actually an awakened with multiple abilities, Dokseo. Once you awaken your second ability, you'll be fine no matter what battlefield you're dragged into."

"... Really?"

"Of course, really. You can survive a battlefield with an absolute, complete, one-hundred-percent guarantee! All you need to do is complete a training curriculum tailored specifically to Oh Dokseo and verified over multiple runs. Just trust me."

"... I'm really putting all my trust in you, okay, Mister?"

"Of course."

The training curriculum was murderously intense, mind you, and the Oh Dokseo of run 558 had actually crossed the River Jordan during training. But that was an accident caused by a combination of bad luck and misfortune, and it would never happen again. Absolutely.

"Ugh. How did I end up mixed up with a crazy old guy like you...? I should never have read that web novel..."

"Not every anomaly has overwhelming physical power, either. We'll start with easy, fun ones like 'Trolley Dilemma' and 'Hero Syndrome,' so don't worry."

"How can an anomaly be easy and fun? There really is something wrong with your sensibilities, Mister... Oh, right. Then what's the strangest anomaly you've ever faced?"

"I'll tell you about that later."

Leaving Oh Dokseo to her despair, I sipped my café au lait. The coffee had gone cold while I told my story, but the fullness rolling over my tongue was still superb.

Judging by her expression, I'd better keep quiet about the fact that I'd never once said anomaly threat levels ended at level four.

Lv.5: Alienation. God of Alienation-class.

The final level. These were my true enemies as a regressor, the chief culprits forcing me to repeat a near-eternity of runs.

Well, there was no need to rush and explain everything to Oh Dokseo at once.

We still had plenty of time.

"Oh."

Oh Dokseo rose from her chair.

"Sorry, I need to use the bathroom for a second."

"You don't need to announce that. Just go."

"Ugh. I always drink too much coffee when I'm with you, Mister..."

As Oh Dokseo left, grumbling, static began to rise from the vintage solid-maple Zenith K731 radio, which had been placidly playing a Mozart symphony until then.

BZZZT

CRZZZT

"This is Martin Russell, Director of Site Seven. Damn it. Monitoring equipment has confirmed that the zombie virus has reached California. The nuclear warheads... What? What the hell is the Foundation doing? Why are the missiles pointing...? My God! No! Stop! Oh! God, please have mercy on humanity..."

"..."

I observed a moment of silence in my heart for the humans of North America, who, without fail, had met yet another new apocalypse in this run.

6

There is an afterword.

At first glance, you might think this episode ends here, and indeed, that was where my conversation with Oh Dokseo in run 562 concluded.

But a mystery still remained concerning the "Library Society."

Since I've committed to always being as honest with you as possible, I have no choice but to use this opportunity to confess about that mystery as well.

It happened in run 924. In other words, much, much later.

"Uh, Boss."

"Yeah?"

"I think you need to come over here and check this out."

At the call of our SG Guy, Seo Gyu, I approached the computer. He was busy managing the community.

"What's going on?"

"Well, you know how you asked me to make that Library board, or whatever it was, a little while ago?"

"I did."

"The traffic there has increased dramatically... Really dramatically. I thought I should ask whether you were doing something with it."

"Hmm. That was probably Aryeon."

"Sim Aryeon? Her?"

"Yes. I put Aryeon in sole charge of managing the Library Society board."

Even after hearing my answer, Seo Gyu wore an odd expression.

"But... Even if Sim Aryeon is a jobless forum-bound ghost, this much...?"

"She's no ordinary ghost."

"Sure, but... No. It still doesn't make sense. Look at this, Boss."

Seo Gyu gave me a closer look at the computer screen. As he scrolled up with the mouse, posts came pouring down.

Like a veritable rainstorm.

"Four hundred posts have gone up today alone. Oh, just now. Another one. You saw that, right?"

"..."

"They aren't just shitposts, either. Most are private, but if I go in with admin privileges and look... See!"

I looked.

――――――――――

[Library Society Anomaly Encyclopedia]

'Illustrator'

Aliases: Illustrator, Fan Art

Threat Level: None

Contamination Level: Unknown

Habitat: SG Net (online community)

Interpretation: All information belonging to the Library Society, except for documents whose loss was unavoidable, has been safely transferred to the SG Net Library Society Anomaly Encyclopedia board.

However, at a certain point, "attachments" began appearing on these documents. All attachments are "illustrations"—that is, image files.

The illustrations depict the forms of anomalies, and cross-verification by multiple librarians has confirmed these depictions to be "extremely accurate."

Anomalies spread void poison not only through their actual forms but through reproductions—in other words, copies captured in photographs or videos. These illustrations are extremely dangerous.

The Book Burning Department attempted book burning a total of 501 times but ultimately failed to delete the illustrations. It has been officially acknowledged that all Library Society documents have been contaminated by the "Illustrator."

Advice from a librarian of the Library Society's Book Burning Department and orders from a librarian of the Forbidden Books Management Department are appended below.

[House of the Pyre V]

The best we could do was add an [Open/Hide] function to the illustrations in every document.

We have also confirmed that all documents with illustrations attached have had their privacy locks removed and are being made available to the public.

Librarians must not carelessly open and view illustrations. If inspection is necessary, please submit a formal request to the Book Burning Department and obtain approval.

[Pavilion of a Thousand Seas M]

Notice from the Forbidden Books Management Department: The activity histories of all librarians are recorded, including whether they have viewed illustrations.

The personal information and complete community activity history of the "Viscount of the House of Calligraphy and Painting," a member of the Prophecy Department who viewed illustrations without authorization 41 times in violation of Book Burning Department guidelines, will be disclosed to the public.

This history includes all activities conducted under the librarian's alias and anonymously. The disclosure covers login times, post contents, and comment contents.

Furthermore, the Viscount of the House of Calligraphy and Painting is ordered to live jointly with a librarian belonging to the Book Burning Department from now on. LSO procedures for the Viscount of the House of Calligraphy and Painting are suspended.

――――――――――

"..."

A post containing material I'd never seen before was sitting there in plain sight.

'House of the Pyre? V? What's this supposed to be?'

The Library Society was unquestionably nothing more than a bit of make-believe lore I'd created hundreds of runs ago.

The Pavilion of a Thousand Seas, the Hall of Black Books—all of them were merely masks I wore, and naturally, I hadn't written this post.

More importantly, there was no character called "House of the Pyre" in my lore book. V... Could it stand for Viscount? The rank of viscount?

'My lore book is... multiplying on its own without my knowledge?'

Beside me, Seo Gyu spoke so excitedly that he sprayed spit.

"Right? These are all properly written posts, Boss. No matter how much of a crazed forum ghost Sim Aryeon is, how could she write this fast?"

I remained silent. Partly because I had no answer, but more because the shock was simply too great.

'... I've never seen anything like this.'

Again, this was run 924.

I mean that, truly, genuinely, completely new events in my life had become as rare as finding a diamond fragment on the banks of the Ganges.

"There's even a translation function, Boss. See this [Select Language] button? It looks like they've translated everything into the languages of every country in the world."

"... Could someone have left AI or something running to keep generating posts?"

"Maybe, but... how? You can't even access SG Net unless you're awakened. Unless someone awakened a skill like 'AI Utilization' or 'Automatic Post Writing,' this is simply impossible."

"... You're right."

"Besides, I checked the IPs with admin privileges, and they've all registered on SG Net through the proper procedures. So if an awakened did this, they'd also need an ability called [SG Net Account Creation]... Is that possible?"

"... It would be possible if they awakened a skill called [Online Community Trolling] that combined all those abilities into one."

"Oh."

"But it's definitely an abnormal phenomenon. I'll report the situation to the Saintess and ask whether she can track their locations. Keep monitoring it, Seo Gyu. You did the right thing by telling me."

"Yes, Boss."

Before long, the Saintess replied.

["I can't track their locations."]

"Pardon?"

["My Clairvoyance can't identify the awakened associated with those IPs, Mr. Undertaker. Are these really people who exist?"]

"..."

For the first time in a very long while, a cold shiver crept up my spine.

Countless hypotheses crossed my mind. The possibility of a skill that neutralized the Saintess's Clairvoyance. The possibility of an anomaly causing another worldline to intersect with SG Net. The possibility that even anomalies themselves could now access SG Net...

I stared at the computer monitor. Every time I hit refresh, documents bred on the board in real time.

"Then... if these aren't humans who exist in reality, where do the authors currently uploading hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of posts to that website in real time... exist?"

["..."]

The Saintess had no answer.

... Again.

It seemed this world still held many unknown mysteries beyond my knowledge.

- The Architect. End.