“Our world is deeply intertwined with the system.”

How much could I reveal? I worried, but this was a made-up past world. Even if I told everything, it wouldn’t affect reality. Though I couldn’t be certain, I resolved to be bold.

“In truth, I—”

“Wait, little human.”

The fluff shook its head and stared at me with its eyeless face.

“We choose not to think about it. All of this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yujin, I told you.”

The Crescent Moon whispered softly. What could she mean…?

Dissonance.

Transcendents feel dissonance in false spaces. She had said they develop a sense of rejection.

The moment I understood, all the Transcendents’ gazes turned to me—calmly. A chill ran down my spine.

“I couldn’t care less.”

Only the young Chaos spoke matter-of-factly. My feet barely touched the ground as the fluff’s antenna tapped his leg again.

“Obliviousness is our pride! We must pretend ignorance fervently!”

The Lighthouse Keeper shrugged. The cold atmosphere thawed, yet my heart remained tight.

“I am simply myself.”

“Always so straightforward!”

“There was a time we felt nothing. Even now, that could return. We may see the glass wall and touch it, yet another glass wall may stand beyond.”

At Chaos’s words, the fluff shuddered.

“True. We might think we hold perfect freedom once we leave the zoo within the vast preserves. Yet we remain under observation and protection. But it is dangerous—at least for little humans like this one.”

I swallowed a dry gulp. This world was a virtual construct of past fragments, and they themselves were not real. If such a truth crystallized in one’s mind, madness would follow. I would become a shrimp among shining whales.

“This child was once kin in my world, and can speak of the future.”

The Crescent Moon explained. She had promised to do so—for me and all others. The Keeper nodded, and the fluff fell silent. I wondered how much they understood and accepted: this situation, their own existence.

At least they had accepted that I knew the future.

“I have seen a world where the system was complete.”

I matched her statement. The Keeper crossed his arms casually.

“I’m curious—did it succeed?”

“The future is not fixed, but I—”

“It seemed successful at first. Probably.”

The system had indeed helped many worlds, a beginner’s aid of sorts.

“But the Transcendents managing the system began to interfere more and more.”

“But we cannot meddle in worlds, can we? Even if the system strengthens, its barrier thins only slightly.”

“Yet a Transcendent entering directly is difficult—and unnecessary.”

“Unless one seeks to obstruct it. The system applies automatically; it only needs upkeep.”

True. I glanced at the Crescent Moon, who quietly listened to the fluff and Keeper.

“With time, things change. Even in a mere hundred years, organizations once valuing freedom and equality chase money and power. So, I have to ask—are there any cheat codes for the system?”

If so, I could easily win this game—unfair though it may be, since I was forced to play.

“The system is incomplete. It’s in its infancy. No cheat codes exist, nor will they.”

“Aren’t the system-makers present? Couldn’t one be inserted—”

…But it wouldn’t apply to reality. It was too early. I should have come just before completion. How to slip forward in time?

Even the contract between the Crescent Moon and Hyunjae yields no answer now.

I watched Ppiyak dozing atop young Chaos’s head. Ppiyak’s arrival had glitched the system; he had struck a tentacle and transported us here. I’d always suspected Ppiyak was strange.

“Ppiyak.”

“Ppiya.”

He yawned, beak wide, then floated into my arms. His round, black eyes stared up at me. Cute. I suspected he knew of a white bird and a snow-covered tree, but could not interrogate a non-speaking creature.

“Ppiyak, you really can’t talk?”

“Ppiyak!”

“Peace would speak faster than you, though.”

“Ppiyakpiyak!”

“Can anyone here understand what he says?”

They were Transcendents—perhaps they could. At my question, the fluff quivered its antennae.

“‘Food!’”

“Excuse me?”

“He said, ‘I’m hungry, Papa!’”

Indeed—my Ppiyak. I pulled a small mana-stone shard from my inventory and fed it to him.

“Ppiyakpiyak!”

“He wants more.”

“No, Ppiyak. No overeating. But why did you strike the tentacle earlier?”

“Ppiya?”

“Food?”

“The tentacle—the appendage, that antenna.”

“Rude.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ppiyak!”

“Maybe TV? A toy?”

Ppiyak knew nothing. Or perhaps clever Ppiyak orchestrated this scenario. At his urging, I gave him another tiny shard; the fluff trembled all over.

“I can’t bear this any longer!”

With that, it bounded away like a ripple, and the Keeper stepped back too.

“Only you in this place are real.”

The Keeper said. Since I alone was genuine, closeness to me heightened their dissonance.

“I felt nothing until I saw this one.”

Young Chaos lightly tapped my head.

“But he’s truly ordinary. Entangled in things, yet just a child.”

“Don’t overthink it! Don’t be curious!”

The fluff shouted from afar. Simultaneously the space quaked. The Keeper retreated further. Ppiyak inside my arms spread his small wings.

Once more, darkness fell.

“…Ppiyak.”

What did he wish to show me? Or ask of me? I watched the shifting starlight. Should I ask the white bird rather than Ppiyak?

I closed my eyes and opened them again. Suddenly, an arm yanked me up.

“You’re late.”

The scent of blood struck my nose. Young Chaos dropped me down as if discarding trash. I staggered to my feet and saw an endless sunset before my eyes.

“I expected you to reappear.”

“…You remember me, Elder?”

“Yes. Whether by natural remembrance or implantation, I cannot say. Who is behind this?”

Chaos stood before me, sword in hand—a pitch-black greatsword slicing the air.

Grrrr…

The blade growled low. Heat flared at its hilt—the Conqueror’s Blade, hosting a dark dragon’s restless spirit. The young Chaos regarded me curiously.

“You seem quite close to it.”

“Well… I’m not sure if I may say so.”

“It matters not. I don’t mind.”

“Shall I say, ‘I gave it a fragment of the Dark Dragon’s heart and combined it with a mana-stone to grant it a new body’?”

Chaos grinned and brandished his sword.

“That little one is your future parent.”

Rumble!

The blade trembled violently. He did not seem pleased—Seol did not welcome me either.

“Stand still.”

He warned me, turning to the twilight. No sun remained—only a blood-red sky studded with star-like glimmers. No… they were eyes. They watched us. In that instant, my Fear Resistance skill notification flickered rapidly.

They were immense. I exhaled. Thanks to Chaos’s presence, their direct menace was muffled, but their very gaze made the hairs on my neck stand.

“The system nears completion.”

Before the eyes, Chaos calmly explained.

“It spreads through all worlds created by the Five Origins. The makers have sunk into the system, and a new law’s birth approaches.”

Crackle…

A fragment of endless twilight twisted.

“Transcendents cannot be fully free of the system—whether they support it, oppose it, or remain neutral. For as long as it becomes law.”

“…Opposing Transcendents?”

I looked at the broad back before me. The scent of blood lingered again. His tied-up hair was messier than before. His sleeve and shoulder bore dried crimson stains. I glanced to the side: broken swords and sabers, blades embedded in the ground.

“Are you all right?”

“Worry not for me. I have no petty pride—just a bit of grime.”

“You could have learned more, though. The fluff must have fallen asleep too.”

“I thought all nagging ceased, but here comes another.”

Twilight convulsed once more. Young Chaos stepped forward. His long sash and cloak fluttered.

Kriiiish!

A bone-rending sound. I hugged Ppiyak tighter. Something bared its teeth. My eyes could not discern it clearly; the air vibrated, and all around bent like a faulty old TV.

Through it, Chaos raised his sword.

“They use every trick to assail us.”

He danced lightly on the balls of his feet, spinning. The °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° blade moved feather-light—so it seemed. Yet nothing penetrated its soft arc; every blow was repelled and shattered.

“A single purpose remains.”

Whether a chipped stone axe or a missile of bound magic, the outcome—death—remains the same.

The black blade curved, its slash long and singular in purpose.

A clear line appeared in the twilight. A Transcendent’s power surged. Layers of defense sprang up, yet the blade simply cut through. To the edge of infinite twilight, everything was split. The world around buzzed. Faint cries of fury drifted. Chaos smiled.

“Now comes the night.”

He sheathed his blade.

“I prepared this so I may rest. Even Transcendents cling to their nature; environment matters. This night was crafted with great care by many makers.”

Darkness fell.

“Even a young Transcendent is the protagonist on my stage.”

Ching, ching.

Familiar bell-tones and moonlight spread. The watching eyes vanished swiftly. Moonlight raced to envelop them.

Ching, ching.

With clear metallic notes, silver chains wrapped the fleeing eyes.

ROAAAAR!

A colossal crimson dragon, pierced by countless moonbeams, thrashed and was dragged out. Its claws shredded moonlight, but more rays instantly entangled it.

“Crescent Moon!”

I instinctively looked skyward. There she was—moon incarnate. Her long pink hair floated in the dark, fading to icy silver at the tips.

Another Transcendent’s scream echoed while she smiled gently—kindly, lovingly.

CRACK!

Moonlight cleaved bone and flesh. She did not mourn; her gaze brimmed with love, as if she would cradle them in her arms.

The shattered Transcendent’s remnants fell through the night sky and vanished.

Young Chaos’s hand covered my eyes.

“Do not seek understanding.”

“…But… you said you love them.”

“Do not try to comprehend those beyond your world. Your understanding is for your world alone. Some realms hold murder virtuous; others deem kindness profane. Emotions, values, ethics—none are singular. Acknowledge difference, but do not presume understanding. You live your world as yourself.”

Moonlight settled on me and the young Chaos—a cool yet comforting glow. The hand over my eyes lifted. The Crescent Moon stood before me.

“…Is this fair love?”

She had told me not to seek understanding, yet I could not help asking. Her smiling lips moved slowly.

“Of course. I love all of them—whether they wish it or not.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep