The Newcomer smoothed out their clothing for no particular reason. Most of the others wouldn’t see them, but they simply felt like doing it. They ran a soft rubber comb through their hair and over their ears, then checked the glint of their small, pointed canines.

There were five fundamental Sources in existence. At least as far as the perceptions of the transcendent beings reached. The first Source was being contended with alone by the Young Chaos. Its worlds were also under the System, but no other transcendent was involved there.

The worlds belonging to the remaining four Sources were managed by multiple transcendent beings through the System. The Newcomer didn’t know exactly how many of those beings were “Filial Unfilials” or what sort of entities they were. Over the long ages, some had vanished, some had grown weary and fallen asleep, and some had completely cut off all interaction. Of the many transcendent beings, few remained active; most were old and worn.

Among the administrators of the fifth Source to which the Newcomer belonged, only eight were still active. Of those, three almost never left their posts. The Newcomer occasionally encountered them.

Under such circumstances, it was all the more difficult to meet Filial Unfilials from other regions. Unless one was an eccentric transcendent who liked wandering like a ghost, there was almost no chance of leaving one’s own jurisdiction or sending word.

“…It’ll be fine.”

And yet here they were, gathering for the third meeting already. After the first, overturned by the Young Chaos, and the second hosted by Chatterbox, this third was a meeting for Filial Unfilials only.

The Newcomer drew in a nervous breath and accessed the prepared channel. When powerful beings gathered in any number, it inevitably left a trace. So they sent not their true self but a mental avatar. A white volleyball popped through a cerulean window into a white void. In the air, they saw Waterdrop already there, swaying like a droplet.

The Newcomer: “Hello!”

Text appeared above the volleyball’s head. A ripple of crimson light flickered in response.

Seokyang: “Greetings. You must be the Newcomer.”

Godeungeo: “Young ones are different, indeed. They even know courtesy.”

Heukgeomi: “Give it about three thousand years, and you’ll naturally skip polite greetings.”

Waterdrop: “The Newcomer isn’t exactly young, but you still have that youthful feel.”

Bolmaus: “And that’s for the best. The flesh may be immortal, but the mind is not. When you age enough, the only end is slumber.”

Seokyang: “Unawakened still. Useful as System energy sources, though.”

Siltarae: “The System overflows with magical power. What matters is manpower for maintenance. System administrators are chronically understaffed.”

Godeungeo finned in agreement. Meanwhile, more participants joined until they numbered just over twenty. Though a fraction of the total, nearly all the active ones were present.

Sangrimja: “We’re many in total, but it seems the Filial Addicts and neutrals outnumber us active ones.”

Saseum: “They have more they can do. We combat types are half-retired!”

Geunbaem: “Right. We don’t know the System, so beyond chores there’s nothing for us.”

Siltarae: “Learn, then. Managing Awakened isn’t difficult.”

Saseum: “If we learn that, our fighting prowess drops.”

Doksuri: “We don’t know when the next big fight comes, so keep your blades honed.”

Siltarae muttered a polite curse. The Newcomer inwardly cheered for them. Those gathered included System users and some combat types, though none wore the title of Administrator. The Creators were nowhere to be seen—they seldom left their workshops, so they were hard to spot even at other times.

Bitjaru: “So why summon us? I heard Chatterbox has perished.”

Seokyang: “It’s the first time three transcendent beings have perished in one world.”

Daebyeokkot: “Diarma was helped by Waterdrop, and Chatterbox got what they deserved, but it’s a peculiar case.”

Waterdrop: “In that world, at least two new transcendent births are likely. One is expected to be strong enough to reset the Source, the other a talent for System administration.”

To reset a Source is to force it to regurgitate the worlds it has swallowed—a feat only the strongest transcendent beings can accomplish. Though the combat types called themselves retired, they fulfilled their roles by resetting Sources in the past.

Moreover, System administrators are rare talents. Many transcendent beings can use the System, but only a handful truly qualify as administrators.

Heukgeomi: “That realm’s a real goldmine.”

Siltarae: “I’ve heard of the Dragonlord’s successor. You mentioned you manage them, Newcomer?”

The Newcomer: “Yes. They haven’t transcended humanity, but they already wield part of the System.”

Siltarae: “I have high hopes.”

The Newcomer smiled and straightened up as if accepting a compliment.

Ikki: “Who’s the other one? One of the five innate S-Ranks, perhaps?”

Daebyeokkot: “Naturally. I watched some of Chatterbox’s broadcasts—must be that chain-wielder who shimmered.”

Waterdrop shook silently at the question of identity. Instead, Tree answered.

Namu: “I can’t reveal it. Any of our number could defect at any time. But it’s almost certain. And it’s a place where more transcendent births may occur.”

Waterdrop: “There’s one I transferred my power to, too.”

Bitjaru: “Is it that one?”

Namu: “Anyway, the reason we called this meeting is the next Filial Addict to concern themselves with that world. If everyone agrees, we’ll attempt negotiations.”

Waterdrop: “The Awakened there have grown enough. The Filial Addicts will regard them as expendable pawns and abandon them otherwise.”

Though the world was strange and fascinating, three transcendent beings had perished there. Moreover, its Source had become hard to force into devouring realms. So the Filial Addicts were likely to look elsewhere early.

Waterdrop: “Even if they stay involved, they won’t intervene directly. But the world’s children need further threats to continue growing.”

Siltarae: “What’s the dungeon’s status?”

The Newcomer: “It’s expected to strengthen more slowly than the main Awakened’s growth rate.”

Waterdrop: “But a too-aggressive transcendent is dangerous. The sapling can be trampled before it becomes a tree.”

Namu: “So we’ll propose a method like Chatterbox’s to the Filial Addicts—threaten them without killing them. We’ll need to offer something for a smooth agreement.”

Seokyang: “They’ll suspect foul play, though.”

Waterdrop: “We’ll find a good excuse. We have at least two valuable chips. Too valuable to abandon.”

Various opinions were exchanged. Though a few clashes occurred, most were positive.

Geobugi: “Long time since the Newcomer. Do you think this one will avoid devouring their own world?”

Doksuri: “Even so, it’ll perish before us someday. Worlds and species have lifespans independently of the Source.”

Sangrimja: “What matters is that it doesn’t vanish by force. In the end, it’s repetitive work.”

Bolmaus: “We’re big-scale workhorses ourselves. Just a cycle of ordinary days.”

Bitjaru: “No boss, but no welfare either. More like self-employment. System management is an office job, after all.”

The Newcomer quietly observed the seniors’ conversation. There was no sense of mission to save the world. To them, destruction and birth were mundane, daily business. Perhaps treating it as routine was better than holding lofty ideals—if the targets weren’t intelligent, independent beings.

After a while, participants began to leave one by one. Deer and Tree departed, leaving only Waterdrop and the Newcomer. The Newcomer used the System to close the channel. The white light dimmed, and Waterdrop flickered with a soft blue glow.

Waterdrop: “Are you ready yet?”

The Newcomer: “Uh… just a bit more. I’ll be done soon.”

Minimizing emotional feedback through the avatar, they spoke calmly. The volleyball’s painted smile stayed fixed.

Waterdrop: “Even if you’re delayed, it can’t be helped. Luckily, Honey has grown since last time. I’m glad Lu accepted Paeya’s power without shortening their lifespan.”

This meant Han Yujin’s capacity for power had increased.

Waterdrop: “Perhaps more than a simple reset may be possible.”

The Newcomer: “Yes, Honey is amazing.”

Waterdrop: “Next time you meet Honey, hand over the contract. Just something saying they’ll help when needed.”

Waterdrop paused as if to exit, then turned back.

Waterdrop: “They say the Crescent Moon has fully awakened.”

The Newcomer: “Really?”

Waterdrop: “Aren’t you pleased? You used to like the Crescent Moon.”

The Newcomer: “That was when I was young.”

Waterdrop laughed, teasing that they still seemed young. The Newcomer smiled back. They once loved the Crescent Moon—it had reached out to their loneliness and guided them to the transcendents’ ranks.

But the Crescent Moon treated everyone equally. At first, the Newcomer found that wonderful, but soon they grew lonely again. Equality meant no one could be special. Yet to Han Yujin…

‘Honey must like me more than the others, right?’

Perhaps not more than the Young Chaos, but still. The Newcomer withdrew their avatar, tugged lightly at their own ear, and gazed at a painting on the wall: a Christmas tree and Santa’s sleigh.

“…In the end, I couldn’t speak of the Crescent Moon.”

Nor did they share other information about Han Yujin, beyond that his life was safe. What now? They didn’t want to remain idle but didn’t know what to do. The Newcomer had never taken independent action, only ever followed orders.

They tugged at their ear again and opened the System.

They dozed off and woke repeatedly. Others had told them to sleep soundly, but that was hard. Still, a bit of rest left their mind clearer by dawn.

‘No answer, really.’

But when had there ever been one? It was always like this. Only this time, they felt more guilt toward others, so it was harder. The people who would warmly understand that they chose a rough path—just knowing that made it tougher.

Looking up at the dawn light filtering through the ice ceiling, they organized their thoughts.

The Crescent Moon sought to eliminate Seong Hyunjae’s persona and make him a new god. Fortunately, she wasn’t all that eager to act—she only reached out before Reversion and today because of Song Taewon and the Lunar Eclipse. If not for a crisis that threatened to lose Seong Hyunjae forever, she would likely wait patiently, as she had over the ages, building up a human life piece by piece.

‘But if Seong Hyunjae finds a sure way to escape her, she’ll do everything possible to hinder him.’

Just as she had ignored System rules and intervened before Reversion. She didn’t lose her power or anything; Lu’s and Paeya’s power ranks were high, but the Crescent Moon’s was higher. If pushed, she might destroy our world entirely to reclaim her little moon.

‘This is hard.’

We’re just trying to live our lives—why must it be so difficult? It’s hard for me, and for Seong Hyunjae too. I worry what I’d be doing if I left now. Even the greatest grow tired. Even if memory is erased, traces of all experiences remain—and the despair of walls once crashed against stays too.

‘…I feel guilty.’

In the end, I’ve hidden away because I’m struggling. But I can’t say, “Sorry, I was hasty—please come back.” She’s perceptive; I couldn’t conceal it. …So until I get stronger, just a bit longer.

‘Aside from the Crescent Moon matter, is everything else roughly settled?’

I need to meet the Newcomer to confirm, but I doubt any transcendent will seek revenge like Chatterbox did. Diarma didn’t. The Filial Addicts might send a successor, but none will risk their life like # Nоvеlight # Chatterbox.

They’ll likely approach Chatterbox’s followers and use them to obstruct world protection. I’m wary of Chohwaun’s group and the S-Ranks who gained Chatterbox’s power, but they’re still manageable.

“Director Song…”

My throat felt rough. Director Song Taewon, standing like a statue at the entrance, turned at my call. Even when told to rest, he hadn’t listened and stayed all night.

“Returning directly to Korea is too dangerous, right? I don’t think Chohwaun’s group will give up.”

I yearned to go home, but a fight in downtown Seoul would be chaotic. If they targeted Dodam and Haeyeon, compensation claims could bankrupt us. Damage from a Hunter-versus-Hunter conflict isn’t covered by monster liability.

“…Coordinating with the European Hunter Union to round them up before returning would be safest. But since Han Yujin isn’t combat-type, he could return covertly first.”

“If I’m not there, you’ll bear the brunt, Director Song.”

If I sneak out alone, Yuhyun and Yerim must stay. And Seong Hyunjae left my side, not Director Song’s—so he might slip back in. Other European S-Ranks won’t just attack the prophets, either. Director Song’s peace of mind matters.

“At least I’m tired too; I can’t handle a long move immediately. Let’s rest a couple of days and assess. Oh, your hair’s still pale.”

“It’s silver, precisely.”

Yerim, calling it quite beautiful. Silver or white—what’s the difference? I hope it doesn’t stay this way. Even though the Crescent Moon’s power in me faded with the sunrise, my hair remained unchanged.

“Yuhyun, how are your eyes?”

“They’re darker, though not their original color.”

“Have my hairs bleached completely? Do I need dye?”

White hair at my age—does France even sell black dye here? Still better than never needing to dye grays. …I hope the Crescent Moon hasn’t shortened my lifespan again.

“Let’s go out.”

I sat up and stretched. Everything aches. We could return to the ship above and wait, but—

“Since we’re here, we should inspect the mansion first.”

I still hadn’t properly assessed the lady of the house. I tried to contact the ship, but the comms were down—of course, after Seong Hyunjae’s lightning.

“I’ll go up to the ship.”

Noah spread his wings.

“I’ll try contacting your sister. The Korean dungeon should be wrapped up by now; she won’t be caught in this fight.”

If Riette arrives, it’ll be a madhouse, but reassuring. The Alps are vast—one sheared peak won’t show. Maybe she’s already smashed a few.

“Marcel, you must be tired. You should return first. The mansion must have at least one or two cars.”

They’d offer transport for wedding guests, surely.

“All right. Be careful.”

Noah soared into the sky. With a crack, ice shattered, and sunlight poured in. His golden wings gleamed like the rising sun. I watched him ascend, then stepped forward. I only wavered slightly, but Yuhyun and Gyeol immediately supported me.

Gyeol: “Careful, Dad.”

Yuhyun: “Brother, want a hug?”

Gyeol: “My arms are here too. I lifted Director Song easily!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Peace, re-embody. You’re startling people.”

As this was a grand mansion, there were likely non-Awakened staff. I hoped they’d been evacuated. Director Song led, with Yuhyun and Yerim at my sides. Had Seong Hyunjae been here, he’d naturally have covered my rear, and I felt that absence.

After walking some distance, the red carpet ended and white marble appeared. Sunlight through the windows cast dark crimson patches. …Am I all right? Wait—weren’t other S-Ranks here?

‘Damn, I should have asked Director Song to come with me!’

Surely they weren’t taken again? I hadn’t heard any commotion… Anxiety quickened my pace. At the end of the corridor, I opened the door to the mansion.

“Welcome.”

A middle-aged woman and man bowed politely. The woman was unfamiliar, but the man—

“…Mr. Vantes?”

He was from the Sesung Guild, Seong Hyunjae’s aide, Idel Vantes. He smiled gently at me. Oh—hmm, did he transfer here…?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep