[□□□□□ System New Registration]

A message window appeared before my eyes.

[Creator Number 05 – □□□□ – Hermit of the Tree’s Shade]

Unreadable characters flashed by.

[Temporary System Administrator Han Yujin

Registering under Creator Number 05]

[Do you agree?]

“If I become affiliated with Mr. Sloth, nothing else changes, right? I must be careful where I stamp a contract.”

Sloth glanced at the Lighthouse Keeper as if to have her answer in his stead.

“In terms of system management only. You’ll be able to block misuse of the system. Once you step down as temporary administrator, that’s the end—you’ll be like retired.”

So I couldn’t sneak and spy on system data.

“Becoming a subordinate means less responsibility but also less freedom?”

“Your own privileges weren’t that great to begin with—temporary staff. They won’t hand you vast power.”

That was true. Better safe than risking a low-probability disaster… Though it felt a bit of a waste. No—no gambling. I agreed to join Sloth’s affiliation. Immediately willow-branch–like blue sigils spread from my hand across my wrist.

“No Transcendent will detect Sloth’s mark. There were no hostile Transcendents here. You’ll be safest.”

He’d avoided social life out of annoyance, it seemed.

“His magic is well hidden. He specializes in working discreetly. Final adjustments will finish soon.”

“Just a few more! Um—could I form a dependency contract with you?”

I doubted the Lighthouse Keeper would fuss. She was dozing most of the time. She smiled at my question.

“Sleep alongside us?”

“…No.”

If I became dependent, would I adopt the same state as the ‘master’?

“If an Origin abandons devouring a world, what exactly happens? Some worlds surely survive.”

“It varies by world, but on average—when an Origin departs, dungeon ranks gradually fall until they vanish. Mana concentration also drops, making it harder for Awakeneds to operate. Your abilities remain, but mana becomes scarce. Healing slows too.”

I’d better stock up on mana potions.

“Even so, dungeons take at least ten years to fully disappear. Mana won’t fall below a certain level—some worlds were always rich in mana. Your world’s mana was very low, but once under an Origin’s influence, it never returns to its old levels. It’ll stay at under half.”

“That means S-ranks become more like A–B, but if dungeons vanish, things get complicated.”

“In exchange, monsters spawn naturally. When mana reaches a threshold, even non-sentient creatures accumulate mana and turn into monsters. In your environment, you’d see many in the sea.”

…Yerim would say, “That’s just like your world.” Even so, ten more years of dungeon stability meant adapting to a changing world wouldn’t be too hard.

“Ju—”

“Wait, Mr. Sloth! A little more!”

Sloth nodded slowly. Thanks! What essential question remained?

“Please tell me everything you know about the Crescent Moon!”

“Kind and cute.”

…Does the Lighthouse Keeper’s sense of aesthetics have a fault?

“How about her abilities?”

“Lovely.”

“No—skills and such!”

“Basic manners forbid prying into her detailed powers. Hmm… she sometimes wove silver threads. Shimmering strands undulated slowly, as if moonlight lingered around them. She was kind to everyone; never fought. She disliked harming others. As a Transcendent she’d be strong, but…”

…That was almost no help. There must be more than one person named “Crescent Moon.”

“My lifespan’s been erratic. Is there a way to live long without contracting to a Transcendent?”

“Take good care of your body. Exercise.”

“Any items to extend lifespan?”

“That’s hard. Your lifespan drain comes from the overload of your existence. Dependency is the easiest relief.”

“I want to provide for the kids—any way to obtain SS-grade or higher items or skills? L-grade or even Mythic grade if possible!”

“The system rewards based on causality. That’s why Wishstones—hard even for us to create—sometimes appear. But you’ve done much inside and outside the system… I’ll review separately via the rookie.”

“Thank you! I love you!”

And again:

“What about eliminating an Origin—what do you think?”

The Lighthouse Keeper frowned. Sloth, half-asleep, glanced at me.

“Opinions vary. This world was made by the Origin. Removing it could improve things. But the world itself might vanish with it. Frankly, I don’t want to meddle with uncertain risks.”

Aging makes one wiser, the Lighthouse Keeper waved a hand.

“In this world…”

Sloth sighed and continued.

“I believe nothing exists without reason.”

Why the Origin creates and then devours worlds must have its own purpose.

“There’s little time left. This space slows time greatly—about five seconds have passed for you. They’ll sense something odd soon.”

Only five seconds. Spatial teleport’s seconds feel long, though. I seemed to have learned all I could from the Lighthouse Keeper. She didn’t know what the Filial-Rebel and Filial-Addict plotted, so I’d let that go.

“Is there any way for me or nearby S-ranks to become as strong as Transcendents and drive them off—obviously not.”

Please don’t look at me like that.

“Even if your results exceed expectations, limits exist. Wishstones themselves aren’t normal outcomes.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Even if they say he died, he wasn’t originally one person. Considering title ranks, their worth should’ve at least been E-grade. Yet it was calculated as F-rank solo achievement.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. Recalling that was still painful—especially this cold calculation.

“It’s not an impossible figure, though.”

“…Well, fine.”

Even if someone meddled, I’d gained a Wishstone, so I should be grateful. Then… one final pressing question remained.

“And is there any way to resurrect the dead?”

I’d wondered all along. If it were possible—

“It depends. If the body—and in your terms the soul—remains, revival is possible. Repair the body and rejoin the soul. Not easy, especially if either body or soul’s life force is fully spent.”

The Lighthouse Keeper extended a hand. A magic stone floated above her palm.

“When life ends, the soul returns to the Origin. Soon—fast as immediately, on average within a day, never beyond a hundred days—it vanishes. After that, true resurrection is impossible. Even if you repair the body and extract memories as if revived, it won’t last and will collapse.”

Ruga Peya had told me something similar. Perfect replication of a person without Origin intervention was nearly impossible.

“This stone is a Soul Crystal. All sentient beings contain some fraction of the Origin’s power, you know?”

“Yes. Born S-rank, Original-Source bears the greatest ratio of Origin power.”

“When a person becomes SS- or SSS-rank, like monsters they generate a crystal. It’s like a pearl, formed around minute Origin power within the person. Why F-rank monsters have crystals isn’t fully clear—perhaps the Origin creates them for special purposes.”

The stone spun above the Lighthouse Keeper’s palm.

“Though not as whole as a soul, a crystal can revive someone. Yet crystals lose data over time; old ones become mere clumps of power. Even if you revive directly, much info is missing compared to a soul.”

“…I see.”

So my brother was—impossible to restore. I’d expected it, but still it drained me. Sensing my emotion, Yuhyun softly mewed and pressed his head against my chest.

“Thank you both. I don’t know your time’s date, but Happy New Year. I’d bow deeply if I could.”

Maybe I’d get New Year money. Sloth stared at me, then spoke.

“All right, receive New Year blessings.”

His pink eyes curved in a smile.

“To have a child receive greetings….”

“It’s been so long, right? You must have a similar culture.”

“Indeed.”

Thunk—a black pouch appeared on the table, like a lucky bag. I set Yuhyun down and sprang up.

“How many bows?”

Sloth held up three fingers. Three bows, his custom.

“Even if slightly different, be gracious.”

I’d never known about New Year money, but I accepted it. With all my sincerity I bowed three times. The Lighthouse Keeper watched us incredulously.

“May all your wishes come true, sleep peacefully. Now, Yuhyun, bow too. He’s my brother—kind and adorable.”

“The first day’s sun, the last day’s moon.”

Offering auspicious words, Sloth placed a smaller pouch on the table and slid it toward Yuhyun and me.

“Thank you!”

“Looks like you prefer gifts over troubles. Tuck them away. There’s truly no time now.”

Hurriedly, I stowed both pouches in my inventory.

“My brother—”

“He’s in danger, so we’ll return him.”

Yuhyun shifted back to human form.

“Hyung!”

“Yuhyun, it’s safe. Go on ahead. Everyone will worry; please tell them you’re fine.”

“But—”

“You saw the mood—even if he can’t hear, it was fine. We asked all the questions we wanted.”

“Don’t speak.”

The Lighthouse Keeper warned. He had enough sense for that. Yuhyun looked between Sloth and the Lighthouse Keeper, then gave me an anxious glance.

“…Be careful, Hyung.”

“I will. I’ll be back soon. That’s okay, right?”

“They cannot harm you.”

“See? They say so. Ah, here—your New Year money.”

I handed him his pouch. Hesitant, he stepped back, then his form vanished. Darkness enveloped me, and I was whisked away—

“Ugh!”

My footing slipped. I couldn’t plant my ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) feet and tumbled, wedging into a gap. What is this place? The curved floor was deep, clear crimson—like a jewel, smooth and hard, flecked with gold dust. Some red version of lapis lazuli, perhaps? The decor was bizarre—

Gr-gr-grudge—

“What, what is this!”

The floor began moving slowly. Gigantic red gem columns collided and writhed… gasp!

‘…Scales?’

A section of the rounded floor rose, revealing distinct cracks. The diamond-shaped fissures resembled serpent scales—those of a massive snake.

A gigantic red gemstone serpent.

Kradak!

Segments of its body slammed together, jostling its scales. Any creature wedged in those could be flattened in an instant. I fumbled to activate Grace, trying to stand—but my feet slipped again, my body rolling along the serpent’s coils like no time to don boots.

Thunk—somewhere I heard a snake tail strike the ground. A visceral revulsion crawled up my spine. I didn’t hate snakes—Bellare seemed cute—but not at this size!

“Stop!”

The serpent’s speed increased, my body bouncing this way and that. Thanks to Grace I escaped serious injury, but I was bruised from collisions. Soon I’d be covered in bruises all over.

“Ugh, enough!”

I was dizzy! I struggled to rise when the floor vanished beneath me. As I fell, something coiled around my waist and lifted me. A cold, repulsive touch pressed through my clothes.

“Ugh…”

A snake as thick as a human body—though I was small—had wrapped me in its tail. As the floor finally cleared, countless large and small serpents writhed around. Scales of every hue glittered. A true snake pit.

“You’re small and weak.”

A low, heavy voice, as if somewhat hoarse, spoke. I lifted my head. Amid the sea of writhing snakes, a magnificent throne rose high. Its gold and red gemstone-adorned seat, draped in luminous fabric, held a being with a human torso and a serpent’s lower body.

His crimson hair flecked with gold, his irises bright red with black and gold pupils. Below his human torso his long snake body tapered to the tail that gripped me.

His serpent half, excessively long, coiled neatly. Naturally, I was brought before the throne. In true form he must be that enormous serpent. A Fear Resistance prompt flickered before my eyes. I felt sorry for Bellare—now I might truly dislike snakes.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep