The screen begins with Philip grabbing a handful of roasted at, chewing it with gusto.
"I promise not to leave any descendants. And after my death, to pass the throne to Kafney. If Your Majesty wants to take my head, I can give you that opportunity too... just give ten years."
On Philip’s face, there appeared a sincere, respectful smile.
"...You are avoiding responsibility."
Annan was not in the fra.
But his voice, faintly ringing in Thirteen Fragrance’s ears, even made him feel a slight itch.
"Your Majesty, I live for myself."
Philip spoke very clearly. "Even if I run away, I’ll do it with my chest out, head up, and never look back—"
Suddenly, the screen shifted.
"Prince Philip... was assassinated last night."
Before Annan, a man with his head bowed and a trembling voice, slowly spoke.
And behind Annan, Victor slightly squinted his eyes.
Annan clenched the tristaff in his hand.
"—He can’t be dead."
Annan’s calm and indifferent voice emanated from off screen. "It’s even less likely that he would kill himself."
And the screen showed Annan looking down at the palace, watching the oblivious people outside walking back and forth like ants.
Annan’s voice sounded faintly. "Soone wanted to harm him."
Then, a steady voice Thirteen Fragrance had never heard before bood from beside him.
"Nicholas II wanted to use Philip as material to activate his potential as a ’Celestial Chariot’..."
Simultaneously with this voice, Thirteen Fragrance saw a young man with white hair and green eyes, and the soul of the spirit monk Bernadino, who had already been killed by players, appearing in the sa place.
That person must be Nicholas II.
At this point, the spirit monk hadn’t obtained the Philosopher’s Stone yet... his aura was far less terrifying than when he incinerated the Heath Tower of Black.
—He had already known Nicholas II!
"I promise you."
Nicholas II gazed at Bernadino and responded in a low voice.
And Bernadino chuckled, revealing a terrifying smile.
Through that smile, Thirteen Fragrance montarily saw the blazing Heath Tower of Black.
The crackling sound of the fierce fire, like a horrifying auditory hallucination, echoed in his ears.
When the sound subsided, the burning Heath Tower of Black turned into a bright candlelight.
Annan moved his gaze from the candlelight to the pale, slender hands of Elizabeth, filled with many callouses that she placed in front of him, then slowly pulled upward.
Crown Princess Elizabeth said solemnly, "According to our investigation, the one who killed Philip was a fallen one..."
"—And a mber of the Nicholas School."
"Nicholas II?"
Annan’s voice rose hurriedly and confused.
"It is Nicholas II."
Crown Princess Elizabeth slowly answered, "His real na is... Nicholas Flall."
Annan shifted his gaze back to the candle.
As the candlelight brightened, the voice of "Old Bread" Daryl erged nearby. "If it’s really him, you had better be prepared."
"Kafney said..."
The voice of Prince Albert also ca from behind, "His soul is like a demon."
The next instant, the sound of dripping water abruptly rang out.
The fla was instantly extinguished—the screen seed soaked in a mist of blood and beca blurry.
A blood-colored butterfly fluttered about... A child’s song, giving a slight sensation of horror, echoed in his ears.
As the butterfly landed on a child’s limbless corpse, its eyes wide open in terror, a sudden shock ran through Thirteen Fragrance.
Beneath him was the not yet dried corpse—while around him, children locked in cages looked on.
Old people, young people, children... nurous bodies were piled together.
It was the "material" gathered from the massacre of an entire village.
Blood pooled together, like a lake.
The scarlet butterfly fluttered down, sucking at the not yet dried traces of blood, like falling cherry blossoms.
And Nicholas II was cutting up a corpse that still retained so warmth; Philip’s head was imrsed in a jar, placed within a container.
Nicholas seed to sense sothing and looked over through the cara.
His erald pupils beca murky and indifferent.
As he casually swung his scalpel, blood splattered—blurring the world before him as if it were covering the lens.
After the scene shifted once again, the bloodstain happened to cover the body of the "Faceless Poet." Allowing only the players to hear the oppressive, god-like voice.
"...This is what is happening now."
The Faceless Poet leisurely said, "So, Annan... what will you do?
"Stop him imdiately, or wait until his experint ends?"
"Do I even need to ask?"
Annan responded without hesitation.
The light in his eyes was as bright as ever, not even the bloodstain could obscure it.
"Of course I’m going to save them!"
"You, all by yourself?"
Maria’s voice of doubt ca through, "That would leave you completely isolated!
"Nobody knows if he still has any assistants—"
"I will never be completely isolated."
Annan’s clear voice ca through, "Because soone will always accompany ."
—Thirteen Fragrances held his breath.
He himself was a host of a gaming information show.
Unusually sensitive to things like "trailers."
He almost imdiately realized... a new BOSS had appeared!
At a ti when the Kingdom of Noah was about to return to peace, driven by his own desires, he disrupted the balance, assassinated Prince Philip—possibly even directly related to the previous tragedy of Heath Tower of Black being burned!
A fallen wizard deed "an extrely dangerous demon" by Kafney and the old baker, who slaughtered a village for research...
Actually, at a certain mont,
Thirteen Fragrances wondered—was the initial goal, just to rescue a few dozen villagers, too much of a fuss for such a "small matter"?
But upon hearing Annan’s voice, he suddenly felt ashad of his "gaming conscience."
Because he realized—it wasn’t just virtual data.
They were real, living people!
It’s not necessary to "save the whole world" to fight a world-ending demon. Even if it’s a bandit destroying a village.
Even if the demon intended to destroy just one village—it can’t be ignored because "the number of people saved is too small."
Even if it’s just to save one person!
As long as he could see that soone needed help and that they could actually provide it—they couldn’t possibly ignore it!
It doesn’t matter if he accompanied Annan or not.
It wasn’t about "farming" for levels, experience, gear, or other benefits.
It was simply—for justice.
A word that felt awkward even to say, enough to make one’s toes curl on the floor.
A word he had long stopped believing in.
The subway ca to a stop, and Thirteen Fragrances opened his eyes again.
He quickly walked out the door—first walking fast, then jogging, and then running at full speed.
—Just like the dreams of his childhood.
He had also dreamt of becoming a superhero or a masked rider... fighting to the death against evil for even a single innocent bystander.
And now, he finally had the opportunity to fulfill such a dream.
Not a dream of "suddenly getting rich" or "living an effortless, thoughtless life."
But an earlier dream...more pure, more transparent.
—He longed to be soone’s hero.
A hero who, for even just one person’s life, fought against the scorned justice of adults and never retreated, even to death.
Thirteen Fragrances sprinted back to his ho.
He was surprised that he could run so fast, so steadily—
There was no ti for a shower, no ti to order takeout.
Instead, he dove into bed—his soul plunged into the River of Dreams, flying toward the Mist Realm.
While waiting for the connection, he montarily felt like Superman flying to the scene of an event.
Though you don’t really die in these battles...
"—But even if I’m only one-third of a hero, it should be no problem at all!"
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