At the words I threw out myself, my chest turned cold without me realizing it. Joonghyuk— I mean. I don’t call Yoo Joonghyuk that.

[Fable, ‘Successor of the Eternal Name’, snickers at you.]

Was it because I had absorbed that many of ‘Kim Dokja’s’ fables?

I didn’t know. The feelings I had right now as I looked at Yoo Joonghyuk—were they Kim Dokja’s, or were they mine?

Or were they both.

Even though I knew my words wouldn’t reach him, I spoke to Yoo Joonghyuk again.

“That dumpling you’re holding.”

Normally, it wasn’t something I would do.

This scene was being reproduced by the memory of the Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint. I couldn’t interfere with this memory, and I must not interfere with it.

“If you eat it, you’ll definitely get an upset stomach.”

The Yoo Joonghyuk in front of me wasn’t the Yoo Joonghyuk who had been with me in the ‘41st round’.

The description from Ways of Survival flowing through my head was telling me who the Yoo Joonghyuk in front of me was.

「That day, Yoo Joonghyuk was terribly hungry.」

This was a story from a time when the title Tyrant still didn’t suit him.

「It had been a very long time since he’d been that hungry. He had to eat something. To stay alive and moving, to not die here, he had to eat. Even if it wasn’t something he made, he had to eat and survive.」

As I looked at the shriveled dumpling wrapper clenched in his hand, I felt the sentences in my head vividly being reenacted right in front of my eyes.

「That damn prophet—Anna Croft told him. To go here. That if he went here, he could obtain a clue to saving the world.」

Yoo Joonghyuk’s early regressions, as desperate as that shriveled dumpling wrapper, were right here.

「He needed the power to defeat the constellations. He had to gain the ability to fight those damn bastards.」

Gods who far, far surpassed human limits. To bring them down, Yoo Joonghyuk sought Anna Croft’s advice, and as a ‘mortal’, he arrived in the ‘First Murim’ to find the power to trample the stars.

「That ‘Transcendent’ is here.」

The legendary mortal who was said to make even the stars in that sky fall. Learning of that existence, Yoo Joonghyuk set out in the ‘First Murim’ to search for his traces.

「“Anyone who knows about the Transcendents, come out. I’ll buy any information about the Transcendents.”」

In the process, he went through trial and error, did pointless things, and even got tricked by the black gangs.

「“Mr. Yoo Joonghyuk, this is the Transcendent’s martial arts.”」

Anyway, as befitting an early regression, Yoo Joonghyuk only managed to commit moronic acts, and in the end, he got everything he had stripped clean and became a beggar, collapsing onto the streets of the ‘First Murim’.

“Even so, do you still have to eat that dumpling?”

Even after hearing my words, Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t give up the spoiled dumpling.

I let out a light sigh. I knew. This was Yoo Joonghyuk. A regressor who breaks straight through preordained fate head-on. If the dumpling he was going to eat was spoiled, then he would train and train himself until he could eat that dumpling and still not die—this was exactly the kind of bastard he was.

「Even if this is a reenacted memory, wouldn’t it be okay to change just one dumpling?」

The moment I reached my hand out to him as I was agonizing over it, a gigantic shadow covered us. A chill that blocked even the scorching sunlight. Startled, I lifted my head, and a Murim person as tall as a tree was standing there.

She passed straight by me and approached Yoo Joonghyuk.

“What a very handsome fellow.”

Watching the scenery that moved slowly, I realized anew what this moment meant. Perhaps the Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint—‘Impossible Chivalry’—wanted to show me this moment.

「This was the source of this ‘horror’.」

The reason she chose to become this ‘world tree’ wasn’t anger toward the constellations, nor hatred toward the humans who persecuted her.

The Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint moved her huge hand and grabbed the back of Yoo Joonghyuk’s neck, then asked,

“Are you hungry?”

This story began simply to feed a single dumpling to a disciple worn out by long starvation.

「That was the first meeting between the Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint and 2nd-regression Yoo Joonghyuk.」

*

Intermittent explosion sounds. The screams of incarnations entering <Tamra Heavy Industries>.

Gyeong Sein and Namgung Myeong were hiding within that scene of hell, watching the constellations occupying the <Tamra Heavy Industries> area.

“Representative, will Eun Gong be okay?”

It had already been five hours since Kim Dokja and Jung Heewon entered the main building of <Tamra Heavy Industries>.

[The ‘apocalypse scenario’ is currently in progress.]

A scenario where they steal and take each other’s ‘offerings’.

That scenario was being abruptly transformed by the appearance of a single tree.

“Representative.”

Even at Namgung Myeong’s call, Gyeong Sein didn’t answer. She was staring at the Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint’s tree.

[The end-of-the-world-grade horror, ‘Impossible Chivalry’, takes root in the relevant region.]

The <Tamra Heavy Industries> area was covered by a dense forest, and the vines that spread out were already affecting even the main buildings of other Companies.

“Kuaaaagh! Run!”

“We’re going to get eaten!”

If a few more hours passed like this, the ‘First Murim’ would vanish because of that tree. A single tree would finally become a forest, grow endlessly, and become the origin of a world that builds a new universe.

“Representative, we should start moving too. They say incarnations are gathering in the Southern Earth.”

Gyeong Sein turned toward the Southern Earth. Incarnations who didn’t belong to any Company were gathering. Those who weren’t chosen by a major Company and couldn’t even gather the offerings needed for ascension.

“All comrades of the Jianghu, gather! The time has come to protect our ‘Murim’ together!”

“Let’s go save the Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint!”

Gyeong Sein couldn’t clearly remember when she last heard an expression like our Murim. It still felt unfamiliar that such incarnations existed in this city.

“Why aren’t they all running away?”

Ascension wasn’t the only way to escape the scenario. If they contracted with a different constellation or nebula and fled into a different ‘constellation context’, if they at least took refuge in the region where the former ‘apocalypse region’ had been, the incarnations could survive.

But the incarnations didn’t do that. The ones who had been coveting each other’s offerings until just now were joining forces to stand against the appearance of a calamity trying to destroy Murim.

[The end-of-the-world-grade horror, ‘Impossible Chivalry’, gazes at ‘New Murim Earth’.]

Maybe this, too, was the effect of horror. The appearance of that tree awakened some chivalry that Murim people had long forgotten.

Even to Namgung Myeong’s eyes, a faint heat had been wavering for a while now.

“They’ve decided this place as their ■■.”

“■■?”

“Can’t anyone choose at least where they’ll die?”

“Even if you die here, it’s a dog’s death. You know that.”

Gyeong Sein continued in a strangely agitated voice.

“This isn’t a scenario we can intervene in anymore. Soon, the nebulae will appear, and a war will break out over that tree. There won’t be any room for mere incarnations to intervene.”

“…….”

“You, and the people too, are being dominated by horror right now. That horror is forcing futile convictions onto you.”

This situation was clearly abnormal. People who had been gathering offerings and aiming only for ascension were gathering in one heart and one will. For one reason only: to protect this city where even the names had become meaningless, and nothing was left to protect.

“If this is the effect of horror, then that isn’t bad either. If only by getting drunk on this horror, both I and the people barely managed to find courage.”

“That kind of courage is…….”

“I know too, Representative.”

Light flashed from one side of the sky. In that moment, Namgung Myeong’s expression, caught in backlight, looked strangely twisted.

“You want to say that the ‘Murim’ we’re going to protect no longer exists. That’s what you mean, right.”

[The Recorders of the ‘Afterglow Archive’ are intervening in the record of the relevant region.]

Under the narration left by the Recorders of Horror, fables were blooming. One by one, the protagonists of the fables were revealing themselves in Murim’s sky.

[Nebula, <Asgard>’s constellations are gazing at the relevant region.]

[Nebula, <Veda>’s constellations are gazing at the relevant region.]

[Nebula, <Olympus>’s constellations are gazing at the relevant region.]

The nebulae that sensed the appearance of the world tree were finally beginning to exercise plausibility upon the battlefield.

In particular, <Tamra>, which had deployed its main force, was spewing a truly terrifying fighting spirit and dominating the battlefield sky.

Gyeong Sein had also heard of their fame.

「The Five Hundred Generals of <Tamra>.」

As the power of a giant nebula—hard to see even in supermassive scenarios—gathered, Murim’s night became bright like midday.

「A sight of a ‘giant fable’ that is hard to face even once in a lifetime.」

Amid the spectacle woven by the many stars, Namgung Myeong added in a trembling voice.

“It might be a dog’s death, just as you said, Representative. Both I and the other Murim people will most likely be swept up by the appearance of that ‘giant fable’ and die. But if this is Murim’s last story, I think an ending like this isn’t so bad. Humans die in the end, don’t they.”

Humans die in the end. Before that self-evident proposition, Namgung Myeong’s eyes were shining as brightly as the constellations in that sky. An expression only someone who has accepted their mortality and resolved themselves for the end of the story can make.

「Perhaps this is the last gift the ‘Heaven-Breaking Sword Saint’ is giving to Murim people.」

The god of Murim who loved Murim—giving the incarnations here one last chance so they could end their lives as ‘Murim people’.

“I want to be written as a fable.”

Namgung Myeong, who had seized that chance, continued.

“My Murim already ended once. If anything, right now feels like a chance to be written again.”

Only then did Gyeong Sein realize. This man, these people, weren’t contaminated by horror. They truly knew.

「They chose this scenario as their last stage.」

As if rebelling against that, Gyeong Sein said,

“What’s the point of any of that? It’s just a fable. It’s only a story. What’s the point of being written like that—”

“Fables get read by someone someday. Damn it, they do.”

At Namgung Myeong’s unexpected line, Gyeong Sein went blank.

“I want to personally make the image of ‘Murim’ that will be engraved into the stars.”

Gyeong Sein knew people who spoke like that.

「“Yeah, maybe we’ll fail.”」

Companions who left her here and departed to seek the next scenario.

「“Even so, if it’s that guy, he’ll understand. He’ll definitely read it—the fact that we lived the story he likes all the way to the end. That’s enough.”」

With the exact same expression as those companions back then, Namgung Myeong was asking,

“What about you, Representative?”

“…….”

“When the other representatives of the Companies left this place, I heard you stayed here alone. What were you trying to prove by staying here, Representative?”

What was she still here to prove.

Enduring the faint dizziness washing over her, Gyeong Sein opened her mouth.

“It’s not like I stayed here to prove something.”

With her head lowered, continuing as if squeezing it out,

“When all the other companions left for the upper scenarios, outwardly I got angry, but inside I was happy.”

If she stayed here, she didn’t have to take risks. She didn’t have to attempt an adventure, and she didn’t have to face terrifying constellations.

“They probably knew too, the party. That I didn’t want to fight. So no one said to me, ‘Come with us,’ right.”

Kim Dokja of the snowfield said,

「“Someday, ‘he’ will appear in the scenario again. When that happens, tear this paper.”」

From that moment, her role was decided.

When a new Kim Dokja appeared here, tear the transmission paper and inform Kim Dokja of the snowfield.

When she put her hand into her pocket, the transmission paper she received that day was caught in her hand. The texture of cold, soft paper. Feeling that tempting texture, Gyeong Sein confessed.

“I’m a coward. I don’t have grand convictions or a great cause. I can’t stake my life for that. I can pretend, but I’ve never once been sincere about it.”

If she tore this transmission paper, her mission would be completed. Kim Dokja of the snowfield would keep his promise, and she could escape this story.

“I want to live. Just surviving. That’s my only goal.”

She could return to a universe where nothing had happened, as if all of this had been fiction.

“You’ll despise me, right. Call me a coward without ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) courage. You’ll think what’s the point of surviving like that.”

Instead of answering, Namgung Myeong watched the battlefield with a brief pause. How many minutes passed like that. Namgung Myeong opened his mouth again.

“Once, I heard a story from constellations who were after D coins. They said that in this universe, there is a very old god who loves stories, and is dreaming all the fables of the universe.”

In that moment, Gyeong Sein lifted her head.

Namgung Myeong continued.

“I don’t have anything like faith, but after I heard that story, I briefly thought it would be nice if such a god really existed. Because no matter how trivial a life I’m living, it would mean at least one person is watching me.”

From far away, she heard the sound of the dense forest shaking. Mixing her words like a soliloquy into the noise of the forest, Gyeong Sein murmured.

“Do you think that god is watching me too?”

“I don’t really know, but if such a god really exists…….”

Slowly moving his steps toward the Southern Earth, Namgung Myeong said,

“I want to try making a slightly more interesting choice too, for that god.”

Namgung Myeong turned away and walked off, and Gyeong Sein was left alone. Taking the transmission paper out from her pocket, Gyeong Sein looked down at the sheet of paper where nothing was written.

Just tearing the paper.

Maybe it was a very easy thing. And yet, the reason she couldn’t do that easy thing was—

「Because it felt like there was more story left to write on this paper she would tear.」

Did someone like her, who had read this story only once, have the right to be curious about the next story?

Maybe she, too, had been stained by horror. However, at that moment, Gyeong Sein was certain. If Kim Dokja was reading this story, then right now, she would be getting recorded like this.

「Gyeong Sein did not tear the transmission paper.」

Once she made up her mind, everything became clear. The death she had feared so much felt as light as a single sentence line inside a story.

She had to help Kim Dokja. She had to go to that forest.

But in that moment, the transmission paper shone brightly, and letters floated up on the paper.

「“As expected, you made that choice.”」

Startled, Gyeong Sein’s eyes went wide. She couldn’t hear a voice, but she immediately knew whose sentence it was.

The Kim Dokja who gave up his fables to the stars and built this ‘New Murim Earth’.

Kim Dokja of the snowfield was speaking to her.

「“It looks like you chose the ‘Kim Dokja’ you want, so now I will ask you.”」

Gyeong Sein’s hand trembled. Kim Dokja of the snowfield had known from the beginning that she wouldn’t tear the transmission paper.

If so, what did this ‘transmission paper’ exist for?

「“Sein.”」

From far away, the forest began to pour out a bright light. At last, the final chapter of this scenario was about to begin.

「“Can you really stake your life for a ‘story you read only once’?”」