Chapter 103 - Make A Choice
"Win everything while risking almost nothing? Or risk everything for barely anything? On paper, the choice is obvious—but the heart and soul say otherwise. Some battles, even losing ones—especially losing one's—must be fought. Because some things are worth losing everything for." – Number 1 Bullshitter
—
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, Sebastian lay sprawled on the cold astral floor, his breaths deep and labored. Weakly, he gazed up at the cosmic, celestial dome stretching endlessly above him.
Seconds bled into minutes as he struggled to recover his mana—or at the very least, the strength to move. His body felt heavy, bones leaden, but he endured, waiting for the interface to process his rewards and let him leave.
Yet, for some reason, it didn't.
Sebastian blinked, brows furrowing in confusion. He forced his aching neck to lift, his gaze settling on the holographic interface floating silently before him.
It just hovered there, unmoving—except for the same looping animation of an arrow circling endlessly on its screen.
"How long does it take to process..." Sebastian muttered, frustration seeping into his voice as he weakly pushed himself up onto his knees. His legs creaked as he forced himself upright.
Wobbling forward, he reached out and tapped the interface, fingers brushing against the holographic display in an attempt to prompt some kind of response.
Nothing.
Just as he was about to launch into a fresh string of curses, he froze.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Approaching from behind before stopping just a few paces away.
Sebastian's expression sharpened. Narrowing his eyes, he turned on his heel—slowly, cautiously—to face the source.
And that was when he saw him.
The man stood at a height nearly identical to his own, though his build was slightly more athletic. He studied Sebastian with quiet intensity—like he was looking at himself.
His arctic blue hair, threaded with faint lavender strands, was tied into a neat man-bun atop his head. Light gray eyes, shimmering with hints of silver, assessed him with an almost clinical detachment. His face was mostly clean-shaven, save for a bit of stubble along his jaw.
He wore nothing but a plain black t-shirt, matching shorts that cut off just above his knees, and a pair of simple flip-flops.
Then, he smiled. A soft, almost casual expression.
Bringing his hands together, he clapped once.
"Congratulations on clearing the Death Trial... I'd say 'good job,' but frankly, that pitiful display was nigh pathetic. So let's just leave it at 'task completed,' shall we?"
Sebastian didn't respond. He didn't care about the man's jab at his performance.
That voice...
It was the same one that had spoken through the interface's intercoms.
His expression darkened.
Without hesitation, he lunged, body weak but intent unwavering. His right arm swung forward, aiming for the man's face.
His fist cut through empty air.
Just like the interface, the man wasn't solid.
Sebastian stumbled slightly as he passed straight through him.
The man sighed, turning to glance over his shoulder at Sebastian, his tone laced with quiet exasperation.
"Give it up, Sebastian. You can't hit me."
Sebastian clenched his fists, frustration flaring hot in his chest, but after a brief pause, he let out a slow breath.
Wordlessly, he straightened, crossing his arms as he met the man's gaze, his voice cold and flat.
"What do you want from me?"
The man smiled. Snapping his fingers, he conjured two chairs between them—simple, comfortable, facing each other at arm's length.
With a polite gesture, he motioned to the seats, like a gracious host welcoming a guest.
"It'll take some time for the rewards to be processed. Care to humor me with a conversation while we wait?"
Sebastian's ocean-blue irises flickered with an unreadable emotion. Then, without a word, he moved around the chair and dropped into it, limbs sprawling as he leaned back without the slightest care for appearances.
The man showed no sign of offense.
If anything, his smile widened. Then, he took his seat as well.
The two sat in silence.
Sebastian looked wholly disinterested, while the man—initially unbothered—began to fidget. As the silence dragged on, his awkward squirming only grew worse.
Eventually, he seemed to reach his limit. Rising slightly in his seat, he broke the standoff with a cough into his fist.
"Ahem. Well, it seems you have no interest in breaking our stalemate, so... although I'm far from used to conversation—seeing as I haven't had a proper one in eight centuries—I'll do my best. Please, bear with me."
Sebastian didn't respond. He simply stared.
The man scratched his head sheepishly before his eyes suddenly lit up.
"Oh, right. I should probably do something about your less than adequate appearance."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, a resounding echo filled the space.
Sebastian sat up slightly as black, white, and gray square pixels flickered into existence around him, shifting and imprinting onto his skin in rapid succession.
Then, he blinked.
His clothes—identical in every way to the ones he wore before the puppet had incinerated them—were back on his body.
His once-unkempt hair was neatly styled again. The ache in his bones and muscles had vanished entirely. His mana reserves were full. And his soul...
Sebastian stilled.
The damage—nearly a third of his soul torn away in battle—was gone. Whole again. Even the part Acier had incinerated days prior had been restored.
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Yet, not a hint of gratitude or joy crossed his face. Instead, he slowly raised a hand to his left cheek.
The scar was still there. Less pronounced, but unmistakably present.
Finally, he spoke.
"Why haven't you dealt with this scar?" His voice was quiet, but firm. "You're able to, aren't you?"
The man—unfazed—smiled softly and nodded.
"Of course I am. For my magic, something like that is a nonexistent hurdle."
Sebastian raised a brow. "So? Why haven't you?"
The man's smile remained, but the warmth in it faded ever so slightly. His tone, while polite and calm as always, carried an underlying chill.
"There are consequences for one's actions—or inabilities. You need to learn to face them." He leaned back slightly. "I'm not here to babysit you. I'm not your guardian angel. Fixing everything else was the most courtesy you'll get from me. If you want to remove that scar, figure out how to do it yourself."
Sebastian held his gaze for a moment before exhaling through his nose. Then, without another word, he leaned back into his chair, tilting his head slightly as he spoke.
"What's your magic, anyway?"
The man's smile softened again, though this time it held no teasing edge.
He wagged a finger in mock scolding. "So eager. Don't you want to know my name first?"
"No."
Sebastian's flat response came without hesitation.
The man sweatdropped before clearing his throat with another cough. "Ahem. A-Anyway... I suppose it'd be right to call me Sawyer. Just Sawyer."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes slightly. "Is that your name from this life, or..."
He trailed off, watching carefully.
Sawyer's smile widened.
"Heh. So you did pick up on me being a fellow transmigrator. Guess you're not a total idiot."
Sebastian sneered. "With the games you made me play, it wasn't hard to figure out."
Sawyer didn't take offense. Instead, he grinned.
"Well, Sawyer is the name of the body you see before you. Of course, these clothes—" he gestured vaguely at his attire, "—are from our old world. I'm much more comfortable in these—"
He stopped abruptly.
Then, scratching his chin, he let out a soft chuckle and shook his head.
"No... I suppose it's wrong to say our. Even calling us fellow transmigrators is incorrect." His eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
"After all, your Earth was fake. And your transmigration? Also fake." His smile returned, slow and deliberate.
"We're not the same."
Sebastian's jaw tightened.
"What exactly do you know about me? How do you know so much?"
Sawyer paused before chuckling and shaking his head.
"Let me correct you on something, Sebastian—I don't know anything about you."
Sebastian stiffened, sitting upright.
Huh?
Sawyer, sensing his confusion, laughed softly.
"Or rather, I didn't know anything about you until you arrived in this place."
Sebastian's brows furrowed. "What do you mean—"
"Just let me explain."
Sawyer cut him off firmly, raising a hand before continuing.
"You asked me what my magic is." He spread his arms wide, gesturing to their surroundings.
"It's Game Magic. The same attribute as that perverted old priest in the Seabed Temple—the power to oversee and manipulate events within a certain area, usually manifesting in the form of games."
His smile turned nostalgic.
"It's common knowledge that mages with the same attribute can develop vastly different types of magic. Not just because of mana reserves and talent, but primarily because of personality. That's why, despite fire being a force of destruction, there have been mages throughout history who could use it to heal."
"And just like that, my Game Magic took a very different direction than... Gifso, was it?"
Not waiting for Sebastian's response, Sawyer carried on.
"In my past life, I was both a hardcore gamer and a developer. So naturally, when I awakened Game Magic, my instincts immediately equated 'games' with video games. And that's why my magic functions the way it does."
Sebastian clicked his tongue.
"You still haven't answered my question—"
"I'm getting to that, jeez..."
Sawyer rubbed his head, clearly fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Then, finally, he made his point.
"In well-structured video games with proper database implementations, developers, admins, and moderators can track player activity and access their information." His grin sharpened. "This entire world you're in right now? It's my space. A game of my creation."
Sebastian's expression darkened.
Sawyer continued.
"Rather than a mage, I've always thought of myself as an admin. So when you entered this space, you became data. A piece of information I could instantly analyze, break down, and comprehend. That's how I learned your name—how I learned about your experiences."
Sebastian's fingers curled into a fist.
"Then what's the point of this conversation? Why act surprised? If you're the admin—if you already know what I'm thinking, what I want—then just satisfy me and let me be on my way."
Sawyer sat back in his seat, crossing his legs and folding his arms.
"As I've said before, I have no intention of babysitting you. I'm not going to just give you everything you want." He tilted his head slightly. "And this conversation isn't pointless. After analyzing you, I disabled those specific admin privileges. Your thoughts are your own. I'm not reading your mind right now."
"Yeah, right..." Sebastian muttered, unconvinced. His eyes narrowed. "Then what about that orb under the demon skull? The thing that brought me here. That was obviously a trap meant for me."
Sawyer let out a slow sigh.
"No, it wasn't. Not really."
Sebastian's glare deepened as Sawyer went on.
"I placed that there eight centuries ago—for any transmigrator."
Sebastian stilled.
Sawyer's expression grew distant.
"Hage was once home to the elves. I was good friends with the elf leader of that generation. And though humans and elves never got along, I figured any fellow transmigrator—even the most pathetic of the bunch—would at least interact with them."
A complicated, sorrowful look flickered in Sawyer's eyes.
"Who would've thought an entire race could be wiped out just like that..."
He snapped himself out of it, shaking his head before refocusing.
"So, after observing the stars, performing countless divinations, and running endless calculations, I planted that magic array in that location. It was designed to react to a transmigrator's presence—since transmigrators possess a unique soul aura."
Sebastian clenched his jaw.
Sawyer leaned forward slightly.
"Unfortunately, you are a fake transmigrator. And the aura you carried was thin. So it took two trips to Hage for the array to stir... and a third and final trip to pull you in."
Sebastian blinked, staring at Sawyer like he was an idiot.
"Why make it so complicated? As long as you mapped out where the ancient demon skull would be, all you had to do was place the array there. Any transmigrator would eventually visit the skull or Lemiel's statue."
Now it was Sawyer's turn to stare at him like he was an idiot.
"Sebastian, have you forgotten? Your dream wasn't real. Black Clover doesn't exist on my Earth. It only exists in yours. That manga—nothing more than a guide to lead you to the Primordial, to that damn Scribe's ideal conclusion."
Sebastian opened his mouth, then closed it.
Sawyer continued.
"I was born three centuries before the so-called First Wizard King. I knew nothing about Lemiel or Licht. Forget Asta, Yuno, Lucius, and all the others—I wasn't privy to any of that until I analyzed you."
Sebastian parted his mouth comedically wide.
"Ohhh yeah. I forgot."
Sawyer rolled his eyes.
"And let's say Black Clover did exist in my world—what guarantee would I even have that a fellow transmigrator had read it? It didn't exactly seem like the most popular or most loved series in your dream."
Sebastian winced. "Alright, alright, I get it, jeez..."
Taking a moment to suppress his embarrassment, he rolled his neck before asking the next questions that came to mind.
"Who is that 'Damn Scribe'? Why do you seem to hate him so much? And... why did you just call this the Primordial World?"
Sawyer answered them one by one, in his own way.
"You already know who He is. The Celestial Scribe. It's better not to say His name directly—lest it attract His gaze. Normally, He wouldn't be able to peer into my space... but that might not be true anymore."
"As for why I hate Him? Hate isn't quite the right word. Let's just say I'm not fond of Him."
"This world is called the Primordial World because it's not just the first mortal world in creation—it's the only one That One directly made with His own hands. Every other world? Just a byproduct of the natural processes of the universe He created."
Sebastian's expression shifted with each response—first indifferent, then annoyed, then genuinely intrigued.
Though, something from the first answer did catch his attention.
"What do you mean normally? Why can he pierce through... whatever this space is right now?"
Resting his hand on the armrest, propping his face on his open palm, Sawyer chuckled.
"Didn't I tell you? I'm from eight centuries ago."
Sebastian nodded.
Sawyer pinched his brows in exaggerated frustration.
"You're not getting it, man... I'm dead. Long dead. The person you see in front of you? Just a remnant—a piece of soul, or data, that the real Sawyer separated from himself during his lifetime to manage this space."
"I don't even have a tenth of his power. If that Scribe gets dissatisfied and decides to cause trouble, I can't stop him."
Sebastian froze.
Then he nearly spat in the guy's face.
His pulse kicked up, anxiety crawling up his spine.
"So why did you bring me here?! Isn't that guy always watching everything? At least watching me? You—or the real you—obviously have a problem with him, and I doubt that feeling isn't mutual. Why drag me into this mess—"
"Sebastian. Relax."
Sawyer held up a hand.
"The main body made adequate preparations to ensure that Scribe never noticed us—or your absence. Not even for a moment."
He leaned back, expression unreadable.
"Besides, heaven isn't as absolute as you think. They have their own problems. Their own troubles. Ones that force them, and even that Scribe, to occasionally divert their attention from this world."
Then, with a small smile, he added—
"Though of course... we have to be quick about it."
Sebastian hesitated, about to voice his curiosity—
But Sawyer shook his head and beat him to it.
"Don't ask what or how. I'm not telling you." His voice was firm. "It's far too early for you to know these things. That knowledge would only bring you unnecessary trouble... or outright death if you were made aware."
Sebastian stiffened.
Sawyer's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Now—let's get back to why I dragged you into this mess, as you so eloquently put it. Why did I even pull you into this space?"
"You said you have a way for me to take back control of my life and fate," Sebastian reminded him.
"I said I might." Sawyer corrected. Then he nodded. "But yes, I did. And now that it seems you're interested, let's talk about it, shall we—"
"No."
Sawyer blinked at the interruption, one brow raising.
"...No?"
"You heard me."
Sebastian leaned forward in his seat, locking eyes with him.
"I'm not interested." His voice was even, unwavering. "So just give me whatever rewards I've earned, whatever information you're allowed to share—then send me home. I'm done here."
Silence.
Sawyer exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair.
"I thought your opinion would change after our little chat about that riddle." He studied Sebastian for a long moment. "But it seems you're still of the same mind."
Sebastian didn't respond.
Sawyer tilted his head, eyes drifting up toward the celestial sky. He whispered just loud enough for Sebastian to hear—
"I understand why you're saying no. After all, I analyzed you. I thought those mind games would shift your thoughts, and for a while... it seemed like they were. Yet here you are—back where you started. Why?"
Sebastian clenched his hands in his lap.
Still silent.
Sawyer looked back down at him and parted his mouth once more.
"...Let's see if I understand you as thoroughly as I think I do."
His voice was softer now, but his words carried weight.
"You're no idiot, Sebastian. You know Heaven, those angels... and that Scribe especially—are not your friends. They're not on your side."
Sebastian's eyes flickered downward.
Sawyer didn't stop.
"Rather, they've pulled you onto theirs. As their pawn. Or rather—His pawn."
His gaze trailed over Sebastian's slightly hunched form as he continued, voice deepening.
"We are humans. And no matter how much we wish otherwise, humans will never be equals at the table with deities, divinities, or beings of supreme order. Our very existence is too different. Even if an individual human reaches their level—as I once did—humanity, as a race, will always be beneath them."
"Just convenient tools to further or protect their interests."
Sebastian's teeth ground together.
Sawyer's silver eyes turned distant, almost ethereal, as he pressed on.
"That was why He sent you and your sister to a fake world of His own design. A dream world, instead of a real one—so He could indoctrinate you with His little plot for Black Clover while you slowly awoke."
"If He had placed you in the real world, there was a chance you would never have woken up. And He couldn't take that risk."
His voice sharpened.
"And that's why your sister only got to live a mere fourteen years before dying again."
"If He had sent you to the real world, even if you woke up—Aurora would still be alive. But she's dead."
"All because of His insecurity."
Sebastian trembled.
His fingers dug into his scalp, clutching his head.
"S-Shut up...! H-He didn't have to help me—or her—in the first place! I-If not for Him, Lucius would still be torturing my family! Aurora would have never even gotten a chance to live—"
"DO NOT DEFEND HIM!"
Sawyer roared—fury crackling through his voice like a storm.
"He only 'helped' you for the sake of His plot!"
"He revived Loyce as a warning—to you. After testing Him multiple times. To remind you of your place. To make you understand that you are not irreplaceable. That as a pawn, you can be disposed of."
Sebastian bit down on his lip. Hard.
Sawyer's voice darkened with every passing second.
"Did you know—even if a dream isn't lucid, some deep, instinctive part of you knows it's not real? That's why there's always a pull. A subconscious desire to return to reality."
"That's why He chose a dream world for you."
"So you'd wake up—slowly, surely—with the knowledge He bestowed upon you."
"And that's also why He didn't send you to the real world."
Sebastian's breath hitched, his grip tightening against his sleeves.
"If that world had been real, you'd be far more opposed to leaving it behind. You'd be haunted by regret—because not just Aurora, but everything—the bonds, the memories, the life you built—would be real."
"But in a dream—with Aurora gone, the only real thing in that world besides yourself erased—"
"You don't really care about it, do you?"
Sebastian flinched.
Sawyer's voice pressed deeper, sharper.
"Even if He forced you back here, you'd never fully assimilate. You'd be conflicted. You'd ache to return to Earth. You'd never truly fight for the Primordial World. Not with everything you have."
"Not for His sake."
Sebastian's trembling worsened. His headache pounded. His vision blurred. Blood pooled between his teeth as he bit down harder.
"I said—shut up—"
"YOU SHUT UP!"
Sawyer exploded.
"Don't delude yourself! He's not your friend!"
"With His power, if He willed it—Lucius wouldn't have been able to control you for more than a second! Hell, Lucius wouldn't have been able to touch you!"
"And all that knowledge you gained from that fake world? That Black Clover plot? He could have gifted it to you in an instant."
"But He didn't."
"He let Lucius have you. He let him torment your family for sixteen years."
"While a piece of you lived a lie."
Sebastian's breath shuddered, his hands clenching his head.
"...W-Why?"
He already knew.
Yet, he asked anyway.
Sawyer's silver eyes burned.
"Because He needed you to hate Lucius."
"He needed you to foster an unbearable hatred for him."
"If He had saved you immediately, you would have been furious, yes. But you would have also been afraid. You would have been too scared for your family. You wouldn't have dared to confront Lucius."
"Not with everything you had."
"But after sixteen years of torment—after watching your wife suffer, your family's life turned into a living hell—"
"You want nothing more than to tear Lucius apart."
"He made you an irreconcilable enemy of that parasitic loser!"
"And now—you think the only way to get your revenge—"
"—is to follow His plans."
"AM I WRONG?!"
Sebastian screamed the words into Sawyer's face, panting, sweat dripping down his brow.
His face was flushed—his chest heaving.
"Tell me—how the hell can someone like me fight a monster who bound a Supreme Devil to his soul?! A man who can peer through time?!"
His fists clenched, nails digging deep into his palms.
"I wouldn't even be this strong if He hadn't changed me! If He hadn't increased my mana! If He hadn't turned me into an attack mage!"
Sawyer said nothing.
Sebastian kept going.
"Devils. Elves. Angels. Deities."
"I'm just a human. A regular, average human."
"I don't have the power to fight some false messiah with a god complex! And neither does my family!"
"As long as Lucius exists—my loved ones will never be safe."
"To get rid of him, I need power."
"And to get that power—I need to pick a side."
His breath came out ragged.
"And we both know which side makes sense."
Sawyer opened his mouth—
But Sebastian wasn't finished.
"All the things you've told me? They're things I already knew. Or things I had already guessed."
"You ask me if I want to be free? Of course, I do!"
"You tell me you have a way? So what?!"
"What does it matter?!"
His eyes burned.
"I'm already an enemy of that parasite." His voice cracked. "I can't afford to be an enemy of Heaven as well."
"You don't have the power to protect me—not anymore."
"And even if you did—"
His voice dropped, hoarse and quiet.
"I don't even know if you would."
"So I'll just keep being Heaven's pawn."
Sawyer closed his eyes, inhaling deeply before opening them again. His voice was softer now, almost gentle.
"I understand. You're scared. If you had no family, no friends, no loved ones, and that Scribe tried to control you, you'd fight back. With nothing to lose but your life and everything to gain, you'd rebel against Heaven for your freedom."
Sebastian swallowed as Sawyer reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder for the first time.
"I understand you, Sebastian. Your family—your everything—is being used against you. The Scribe keeps you in line by holding them hostage. If you rebel, you might lose them in an instant. I get it. That's why, even when I became unbearably strong, no matter how much I wanted to fly up and bang on Heaven's doors, I didn't dare."
"I had people I cherished just as much. I had a home I loved just as much. And I couldn't bear to implicate them. So I swallowed my vengeance like a dry lump in my throat... and took it with me to my grave."
Sebastian's expression softened, but he chewed his lip again. "If you understand, just drop this topic—"
"I also understand that you think the Black Clover manga you saw in your dreams was an unspoken promise. That if you guide this world to a similar ending, your loved ones will be safe. That the so-called 'named characters' in your family will meet the same fates as in that story."
"The only exception was Acier, who was saved. And the others—you believed you'd be allowed to save them, as long as you kept opposing Lucius."
"It was a relatively happy ending, so you could bear it. If you were the only one being manipulated, toyed with by higher forces, you could tolerate it... as long as your loved ones were safe."
Sawyer exhaled. "But I'm sorry to say, Sebastian—He lied to you. Things won't unfold like that manga. And you know it."
"The Primordial World is far more dangerous than Black Clover. That's why He didn't leave the task of fighting Lucius solely to the Singularity and the Flaw. There are existences out there that can shake Heaven and Earth. Existences that aren't on His side."
"The legacies, destinies, and influences of many gods—righteous and evil—taint this world. He is not as in control as you think."
"Heaven is not absolute. Even 'That One' is not omnipotent. The unrivaled, the almighty—they don't exist. There are many enemies out there, many factions, many powers fighting over this world."
"And your children, your wife, your loved ones—they will be targeted. As vessels for descent. As mediums for greater beings to exert their power. And He will use that against them."
"Vanessa and Dorothy, with their nonsensical potential. Your youngest, Noelle, as Leviathan's chosen. The spirit contractors. And many more. None of them will meet a good end."
Sawyer's grip on Sebastian's shoulder tightened. "Take it from someone who lived in ancient times—when divine intervention was common. Humans, or humanoid races in general, can't sit equally at the table of devils, gods, angels, and other superior beings."
"Our only path to freedom, to dignity, to survival, is to divest from all of them. To stand on our own. To unite. To use our intellect, our strategies, our means to oppose them. To carve out a place in this world that is truly ours."
"Yes, it will be painful. Yes, you may lose some—or all—of your loved ones. But if you let yourself be pulled along by His strings, you will definitely lose everything you hold dear."
Sebastian trembled, clutching his head as he whispered hoarsely, "Why? Why is all of this happening? I just want to live... with my family... in peace."
Sawyer sighed. "You were simply born at the wrong time, in the wrong era. I didn't fully understand it when I calculated it in my lifetime, but after reading your memories, I do now. This is the era of the 'canon'—the time when all things, all struggles, will come to a head. There's no running from it, Sebastian."
Sebastian sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Dammit... why am I feeling so emotional?"
Sawyer coughed awkwardly. "Uh... well... to make my point more impactful, I may have temporarily cranked your emotional reception and instability up to 300% during those mind games... and forgot to turn it off."
Sebastian froze. His dark, livid gaze bore holes into Sawyer.
Sawyer raised his hands in a placating manner. "J-just calm down! I've turned it off now, I swear!"
A wave of calmness washed over Sebastian's mind. He exhaled, slowly sitting up in his seat before giving a small nod. "What do I have to do?"
Sawyer's eyes lit up. "So, you've come to your senses?"
Sebastian snorted. "I'll hear you out. I'm not ready to defy or wage war against Heaven... yet."
Sawyer grinned. "You said yet. That means you will fight."
Sebastian's expression darkened instantly.
Sawyer coughed and quickly snapped his fingers. Something dropped into his palm.
Sebastian's eyes widened. A square-shaped pink gem rested in Sawyer's hand—its design mimicked a torn page, a crescent moon with hanging stars arched at its center.
A magic stone.
Sawyer smiled. "These stones are far more significant than just the Elves or that Zagred fellow... but that's a story for another time."
"I told you I was close with the Elf leader eight centuries ago. Naturally, he let me 'play' with the stones from time to time. I figured that you—or the next transmigrator—would eventually search for them, only to hit a wall regarding the six that were unaccounted for."
"So, during his lifetime, the main body marked those six stones with his mana and assigned each of them a corresponding space."
Sebastian blinked. "Huh? Each...? Corresponding space?"
Sawyer nodded. "This isn't the only game space in existence—just one of six spread across the land. The main body split a piece of his soul to manage each one. And one of the rewards for clearing these... let's call them dungeons... is one of the six missing stones."
"Well, five now."
He tossed the stone to Sebastian, who caught it absentmindedly.
"At any time we choose, we can summon our corresponding stone here from the real world. This is your first reward."
Sebastian stared at the stone, dazed. "Why would you do something so... annoying? And where are the other dungeons?"
Sawyer shrugged. "Don't ask me. The main body didn't clue me in on that information."
Sebastian's expression darkened.
Sawyer clicked his tongue. "Don't look at me like that. If I say I don't know, I don't know. All I can tell you is that gathering all the stones—or even several in one place for too long—will attract unwanted attention. The main body had no choice."
Before Sebastian could retort, Sawyer held up a finger. "And don't ask me why the Elves were unaffected—I also don't know. That knowledge was wiped from my memory."
Just as Sebastian's features slowly softened, Sawyer added, "Of course... the main body might have just wanted to mess with you. After all, we're petty people. And the transmigrator before us, though helpful, caused us a lot of trouble."
"So maybe... just maybe... he wanted you to feel that same pain."
Half furious, half exasperated, Sebastian blinked. "There was a transmigrator before you?"
"Not important!" Sawyer waved a hand dismissively before refocusing. "Anyway, according to the main body, you'll understand what to do once all the stones are gathered."
Sebastian's brows shot up. "That's it?"
Sawyer nodded. "According to the main body." Then he pointed at Sebastian. "Now enough about that—time for your second reward."
Once again, square pixels surrounded Sebastian, seeping into his body before fading into motes of light. He ran his hands over himself, checking for changes, but found nothing. Confused, he looked at Sawyer.
"That scribe made a lot of enemies in his lifetime," Sawyer explained. "So much so that anything related to Him is enough to send those old monsters into a frenzy. By forcing you to become His chosen, He imprinted on you—left a trace on your mana and soul that they could likely sense at a glance."
"Naturally, that scribe could hide the aura himself. But He wanted to force you into becoming their enemy."
Sebastian's expression darkened.
"Now, fully erasing that mark could alert Him," Sawyer continued. "So all I've done is hidden it. Very few will be able to see through it at a glance, and by the time they do—or come across you—you'll hopefully be strong enough to handle them."
"More importantly, this prevents Him from prying into your thoughts or controlling you as absolutely as before. Of course, He won't know that. He'll think you're still under His direct influence."
Sebastian had a hundred questions, but sensing Sawyer's urgency, he simply nodded. "Anything else?"
Sawyer mirrored his nod and snapped his fingers.
A familiar puppet materialized in his palm—a Baymax knockoff, just now pocket-sized.
Sawyer tossed it to Sebastian. "This isn't a spell or magical construct, but an actual puppet—a proper magical tool that the main body crafted through hard work. It's stronger than the one you fought before, and unlike that one, its abilities won't be forcefully limited."
"It works by pouring mana into it. You can use it as a bodyguard for your family... or maybe just a toy for that little one to play with when life isn't going to hell."
A smile tugged at Sebastian's lips as an image flickered in his mind—Noelle bouncing on the puppet's marshmallow-like belly, giggling.
Still smiling, he placed the puppet alongside the magic stone into his grimoire satchel.
Sebastian exhaled sharply, shaking his head before looking back up. "Alright, I suppose we're done here. Now let me out—"
"Two more things!" Sawyer interrupted, holding up two fingers.
Sebastian tensed.
Sawyer then folded one finger down. "First, about that Samyaza guy causing trouble—remember this: either trust in nothing, or have absolute confidence in everything."
Sebastian froze. A strange weight settled in his chest. "W-what does that even mean—?"
Sawyer didn't answer. Instead, he folded the second finger and dropped his hands. "Second—never forget, grimoires are heavenly scams."
Sebastian's entire body went rigid. A sharp, unnatural chill spread through him, curling up his spine like frost creeping over glass. His breath hitched.
"S-Scam? What are you talking about—?"
Crack!
The space trembled.
Sebastian's head snapped up as the sky itself—the supposed celestial realm—began to splinter, fractures spreading like shattered glass. The heavens groaned as jagged lines ripped through the golden expanse, reality peeling away like a corrupted file being forcefully deleted.
Sebastian's pupils shrank to pinpricks. "W-what's happening—?"
"WE'RE OUT OF TIME! YOU NEED TO LEAVE—NOW!" Sawyer's voice boomed, far louder than before, laced with an urgency Sebastian had never heard from him.
The very space they stood in was collapsing.
Wind howled in a void that should've had none. Pieces of the celestial sky disintegrated into glowing, fragmented code, dissolving into nothingness.
Sawyer's voice cut through the chaos once more. "LASTLY, NEVER MENTION ME TO ANYONE!"
"W-wait—!"
Sebastian lurched forward, arm outstretched—but before he could protest, a blinding spatial rift tore open behind him.
A force, unseen yet undeniable, yanked him backwards.
His body lurched as if hooked by some cosmic thread, the world around him stretching and warping. The celestial space blurred, his vision twisting—
Damn it! I wanted to know! Just why are you helping me?!
But the question never left his lips.
The last thing he saw—before the void consumed him—was the sky completely shattering.
Then, through the broken heavens, something descended.
A massive, glowing hand—wrapped in an ethereal white aura and gauze—reached down from beyond the fractured realm, gripping what seemed to be nothing more than a simple feathered pen.
Sawyer shot upwards to meet it.
His presence—his aura—wasn't the least bit weaker than Acier's.
Then—everything vanished.
—
Author's Notes:
[1] Sniff. Sniff. The LOTM trailer, it's just so beautiful man. It was able to redeem my immeasurable disappointment that is the TBATE adaptation.
[2] A Regressor's Tales of Cultivation is so peak. Leave it to the Koreans to do Xianxia better than the Chinese. Y'all should give it a read.
[3] As always, feel free to join the Discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar