Ch.311311. Observation (3)

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Playing games with genuine passion is part of who I am, even in my current situation of being possessed inside a game.

I’m the type who invests tremendous amounts of time when I dive into something, so my gaming experience isn’t limited to just Savior Rising—my range is quite extensive.

That’s why…

I can immediately recognize what kind of “challenge” Mobius has prepared to face me.

“It’s a boss rush, isn’t it?”

[…A boss rush?]

“That’s a thing.”

I answer with a wry smile to Calivan who’s asking through the Soul Linker, while analyzing the “stage” configuration before me.

You know, it’s that classic gimmick in final boss battles. Making you face all the previous bosses you’ve encountered one after another in succession.

It’s a time-honored structure that lets players who’ve survived this far revisit memories while testing their skills.

The problem is…

“…I can clearly see the intention behind this.”

I say with a hollow laugh.

Well, it’s obvious when you look at what he’s prepared as bosses.

[…Aren’t those ‘replicas’ of demons?]

‘Isn’t that obvious to anyone?’

The first one standing in front is an automaton surrounded by blue energy.

With all its joints meticulously crafted, it’s obvious to anyone what—or rather who—it’s imitating.

[Riru?]

‘It’s Riru.’

Thinking that, I scan the row of automatons Mobius has prepared behind it.

Each and every one clearly designed to imitate the people around me, filling the entire area.

-Look at this bastard.

The setup is so maliciously designed that I can’t help but mutter in disbelief.

It’s obvious, but this isn’t just to upset me.

‘He’ll probably block my use of demonic magic.’

Since I declared I’d face him with everything I’ve got, he’s likely abandoned any pretense of “experimentation” and is now determined to take me down with full force.

It’s clear he’s prepared some method to seal my greatest weapon.

He’s saying he’ll prevent me from using what I normally use while throwing everything he can at me.

[Are you going to do this?]

‘What, you think I’d back down after coming this far?’

[…I can’t imagine you retreating in this situation either. But let’s be clear about one thing.]

Calivan sighs and continues.

[That guy is supposedly the head of the Demonic Spire, right?]

‘That’s right.’

[For someone of that position to so obviously try to get under your skin feels more like he’s setting a trap. Walking straight into it might not be the best idea, don’t you think?]

‘That’s something to worry about later.’

I’ve never been one to forgive those who mess with people around me.

And this guy hasn’t just messed with them—he’s committed atrocities that are hard to even look at.

As I said before, killing him once wouldn’t be enough.

“If he tries any tricks, I’ll just split his head open.”

[…Hmm.]

I run my hand through my hair as Calivan exhales through his nose.

His concern is reasonable.

Honestly, the conditions are extremely unfavorable.

We’re on his home turf, he can use whatever resources he has available, and he’s holding hostages.

I sigh and organize my thoughts.

‘The objectives are.’

Kill Mobius.

Save Astrid.

And…

“…”

If possible, save that guy too.

With that thought, I look at the human standing next to Mobius who’s sitting at the control station far away.

Bogart Marquis.

Originally destined to be stashed away somewhere and eventually “disposed of,” I heard Professor Mobius personally summoned him to keep by his side.

[…Why him?]

‘Do you know this, Calivan?’

Thanks to the various abilities I’ve accumulated while surviving until now, I could quickly discover one fact.

That human is rotting from the inside out.

He doesn’t have much time left to live.

It’s good that I know this, but…

Given how things have unfolded, I can’t just let that man die and brush it off.

‘If it weren’t for him, I might never have known that my mother ended up in such a state.’

[…]

‘…I should at least thank him, shouldn’t I?’

Anyone who isn’t a fool would understand.

I don’t know from where he started planning this, but…

That guy.

I understand that he somehow “created” this confrontation to use me to reveal Astrid’s situation and somehow rescue her from there.

‘And, it’s not like I have nothing to rely on.’

Thinking that, I look at the Prime Minister beside me.

And meeting my gaze, the Prime Minister nods with determination.

“Should we run away even now?”

“…”

No.

What a deflating thing to say.

As I look at him with narrowed eyes, the Prime Minister continues in a gloomy voice.

“…We barely succeeded, didn’t we? The fusion.”

“…”

That’s true, isn’t it?

Certainly, it’s ridiculous but…

After all that smoke and mirrors, all that hard work practicing “fusion” with the Prime Minister, we can barely control that state stably even 10% of the time.

Using a technique with that level of stability in actual combat would be suicidal.

“And honestly, its power is—”

“No.”

I cut off the Prime Minister’s words with a smile.

“That’s enough.”

The Yellow Demon’s power has greatly declined.

Having used the power to travel from the future to the past, it’s no wonder.

Compared to Mobius’s trap where he’ll pour out everything the Demonic Spire has, what I hold is just a small dagger.

But.

That small blade will definitely cut through.

[…You’re talking as if you have some basis for this confidence?]

“—Well.”

I answer Calivan’s question with a slight smile.

“I’ve never lost a life-or-death battle.”

The very fact that I’m standing here alive proves that.

●

Exploring another person’s memories is like swimming in an ocean of emotions made of colors.

At least, that’s how Elnore felt.

‘…They seem to get along well.’

That was the thought that drifted through her mind as she floated through the accumulating time spent with the girl who had become her “protection target.”

The previous Darwood had undoubtedly appeared to be a person devoid of emotion.

The mental world reflecting his emotional ocean made entirely of achromatic colors clearly showed that.

The environment where he was born and raised was perfectly suited to form such a person.

Even though he was assigned as a guard, he merely orbited around the girl like a ghost. Doing what he was told. Learning what he was instructed to learn.

Just making efforts to survive in that place, with no emotional exchange visible anywhere.

At first.

“Hey. How about trying to smile a bit?”

“If it’s an order, I’ll try.”

“You’re no fun.”

The girl tirelessly kept knocking on the inner emotions of this wooden man.

Despite his clearly annoyed, irritated, and sometimes even angry attitude, she never tired of wanting to look inside this man’s heart.

‘-Ah.’

And in that image…

Elnore suddenly recognized someone.

‘Somehow, this girl resembles me.’

Always.

Toward this man who never shows the deepest part of his heart to others.

The way she devoted her time, effort, passion… everything to “court” him reminded Elnore exactly of herself when she first met him.

Of course, despite that, Darwood’s heart clearly didn’t open easily. Achromatic emotions don’t change color easily.

‘-Ah.’

But.

Time accumulates.

Memories, experiences, recollections, and emotions pile up.

The song of water droplets bursting through waves dyed in eye-piercingly blue and snow-white foam.

The lines of currents, the touch of wind, the placed stones, landscaping the infinite potential of things underwater.

As Darwood spent more time with the girl, the colors of emotions passing around him became increasingly deeper and more vibrant.

‘I see.’

Because Elnore always monitored Darwood’s every move. Because she was someone who knew everything about him.

She could see clearly.

The “origins” of his current habits.

Most of the “foundation” that makes up Darwood Campbell’s personality comes from the time spent with this girl.

The first warm attention he ever received. Hospitality. Human bonds.

All of it was built from experiences with this girl.

The essence of the human called Darwood Campbell originated from these memories.

“…”

Elnore, who had closed her eyes momentarily, slowly opened them again.

When you let yourself drift in the flowing rapids, you can roughly sense what lies at the end.

‘…A chill.’

Bad memories.

If the “warmth” that formed the basis of Darwood Campbell’s personality ends here…

The latter part of the “trauma” he embraces seems to start from here.

Memories intensify.

A spiral rotating quietly but violently.

Horror.

Red and black.

‘This way.’

Elnore slowly traced back through the memories following the remnants of those colors.

The incident happened on an evening night.

A hostage situation targeting the only daughter of a wealthy family.

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