Around a year after the release of Soul Academy, players still hadn't dared to create mods for the game.
I had no skill in programming—I'd given up after restarting "Day 1" a hundred times—so I didn’t fully grasp what people were saying back then. But I got the gist from forum posts:
“Coding is so god-awful that I can’t even begin to touch it.”
“It’s like a monstrosity with arms for legs, legs for arms, and a torso where the head should be, but somehow, it works. Where do you even start modifying that?”
“What the hell were the developers thinking? How did they even manage to program something like this? Did the God of Coding bestow some kind of miracle?”
By the time people started joking that deciphering Soul Academy's code would result in divine enlightenment, one user posted an announcement: they had discovered how to make mods for Soul Academy.
As clueless as I was, I couldn’t understand a word of the guide they posted. But it marked a turning point—a revolution, even. People started shouting about the breakthrough, and soon, users began creating the mods they’d always dreamed of.
Mods ranged from the utterly basic, addressing the game's minor inconveniences, to the downright primal, serving humanity's basest instincts. Others added new characters, weapons, abilities, and dungeons, or even ventured into wholly original concepts.
The ingenuity of one user brought a second golden age to Soul Academy, and I indulged in every mod I could, gorging myself with glee. Little did I know that golden age would be so short-lived.
Not that I could’ve predicted it. Who could’ve known we’d be starved for DLC and quality mods for years afterward? If I’d known, I would’ve rationed them out, savoring each one.
Of all the mods, new dungeon mods fascinated me most.
After a year of wringing every drop of content from the base game, new dungeons were an absolute necessity for me.
The quality of these user-created dungeons varied wildly, of course.
As I’ve mentioned before, most were garbage—pranks and trolling wrapped in dungeon format.
Still, I kept exploring them. With nothing else to do, I had no choice, and every now and then, amidst the trash, I’d find a hidden gem.
The dungeon I was in now? It was definitely one of those gems.
<How horrifying. This dungeon reeks of malice, as if it exists solely to kill intruders.>
When a trap launched a spear at me out of nowhere, I sidestepped effortlessly, and Grandpa gasped in alarm.
The spear wasn't just a simple trap—it was imbued with magic, capable of not just piercing but detonating upon impact. The sheer malevolence of its creator was unmistakable.
‘Right? The person who made this dungeon was a complete sadist.’
If I hadn’t dissected this dungeon piece by piece back in the day just to spite the creator, even a veteran player like me might’ve been in real danger.
For anyone else? They’d have died four steps in, taken down by the triple combo of traps lying in wait.
<Ahem.>
Hearing Grandpa’s cough, I realized I’d been muttering some rather choice insults under my breath, recalling all the times this dungeon had pissed me off.
Normally, Grandpa would’ve chimed in, agreeing with my complaints, but he stayed uncharacteristically silent this time.
‘Wait, Grandpa. Don’t tell me... Do you think the Main God might’ve created this dungeon?’
<Ahem-hem.>
Convincing him otherwise was surprisingly easy.
‘No way! Do you seriously think the noble and benevolent Main God would create such a hellish dungeon? That’s absurd!’
<...Really?>
‘Of course! A kind god making a dungeon like this? That doesn’t make any sense. And honestly, Grandpa, doubting the Main God like this? That’s kind of blasphemous, don’t you think?’
<...You make a convincing point. Yes, you’re absolutely right. How could I have doubted the Main God like that? They would never create something so filled with malice!>
His faith restored, Grandpa unleashed a torrent of colorful commentary about the dungeon’s creator.
Whoever they were, he said, they must revel in watching people suffer. The traps here were crafted to drive people to despair. Even dungeons created by dark gods wouldn’t be this sadistic.
He wasn’t wrong, of course, but there was just one little problem: I was certain this dungeon had been created by the Main God.
As awful as it was, this dungeon was undeniably well-made—one of those rare gems that stood out amidst the garbage.
It wasn’t just better than other mods. It was on par with the dungeons from the base game, good enough to feel like an official part of it.
The quirks of Soul Academy’s developers were all over it. I was sure this dungeon’s creator was somehow connected to the original team.
Back then, I’d just assumed the developers were busy dealing with internal issues—delays, DLC setbacks, the usual nonsense.
But now?
If the mod I’d played back then was replicated perfectly here, in this world, then it could only mean the creator was also here.
And given how much interest the Main God had shown in me, even going so far as to rope me into their schemes with that absurd Apostle contract...
It wasn’t hard to connect the dots.
‘Main God, you bastard. If you were going to possess me through a mod, couldn’t you have at least picked a decent one?’
What the hell was up with the Mesugaki Mode anyway? Was that just your personal fetish?!
Fuming, I powered through the dungeon.
I knew this place inside and out, having torn it apart countless times to spite its creator. Even after, I’d revisited it often, nostalgic for its quality.
So, despite years having passed, I remembered this dungeon better than the one I’d explored earlier today. My pace didn’t falter.
When the final door came into view, I felt a wave of relief.
‘Let’s just get this over with.’
<Wait, Lucy. Something’s off.>
Grandpa’s voice broke through my focus.
‘What now?’
<There’s no sense of danger beyond that door.>
‘...What?’
That was impossible. The boss waiting beyond was one of the most challenging in the dungeon—there was no way it wouldn’t radiate a sense of menace.
But Grandpa had never been wrong before.
His instincts were sharp, and they’d saved me countless times. If he said something was off, I had to believe him.
Still, instead of fear, a grin spread across my face.
‘Good. I was getting bored of running the same dungeon over and over. It’s about time something new showed up.’
I pushed the door open without hesitation, expecting some kind of surprise.
What I saw froze me in place.
It wasn’t a terrifying new enemy.
It was a young girl.
A girl who looked exactly like me.
How could little Lucy Allen be an enemy?
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