Chapter 137

Leandros couldn't tell how many times this had happened.

Though he could quickly return by going backward, going forward only resulted in houses and walls alternating endlessly.

As if it refused to allow him to take a different path.

Leandros stopped briefly to look around.

'Perhaps it would be better to leave the village as it is.'

But His Grace wouldn't want that.

Leandros coolly began to consider the possibilities one by one.

Had his senses gone awry?

That was impossible.

Then perhaps he was under the influence of some hallucinogenic herb or drug?

But since arriving in Gallo, he hadn't put anything in his mouth except the meals at the inn.

However, since the inn's food was all boiled together in a large pot, other people who had eaten the same food, such as the villagers, should have been experiencing the same symptoms.

Clearly, there was only one major possibility left.

Leandros retraced his steps.

The return journey was quick.

* * *

"It's probably an artifact. Nothing else comes to mind."

"My thoughts are similar."

Let's say something was guiding them to get lost.

The well-known Master Zhuge Kongming from their country devised the Eight Formations strategy,

And in Korea, one of the similar military tactics was also array formations.

This was a result achieved purely by human power, not magic.

But to climb onto a rooftop and see endless buildings stretching infinitely?

This had to be magic.

Beyond just confusing one's sense of direction, it was creating visual disturbances,

Which exceeded what humans could achieve.

"But I have no idea what kind of artifact it is. To begin with, I'm not even sure what an artifact actually is."

"G-generally, it's an object e-embedded with such power, but in s-some places, the s-space itself has s-such power."

"It's difficult to say the entire village is an artifact."

"We can't just eliminate the entire village."

"Th-then rather..."

The conversation about how to reach the outskirts continued, but there was no particular progress.

After arguing for a while, something suddenly came to mind.

About magic in this world, about artifacts, and about a book detailing how to implement magic.

"Wait a moment."

"Your Grace?"

The cover of the grimoire was a vivid red.

Since books were not common in this place, he had thought it wouldn't be easy to find.

But no matter how he thought about it, there was only one such book.

When he rummaged through the luggage box in the corner, its contents spilled out.

Clothes and fabric, medicine for emergencies, mats for camping, blankets.

After clearing away such miscellaneous items, a glimpse of red appeared at the very bottom.

A book with heavy decorations was finally pulled out.

The Hartmann prophecy book.

A book recording a world without him, the regressions that might have repeated countless times.

He didn't know who had written these records.

But it was certain that it was related to the deity that the Hartmanns revered.

With trembling hands, he opened the hard cover, and passages he had read before appeared.

[The foreigner from another world who has taken Arenheit's body will bear Arenheit's karma in his stead.]

Originally, this would have been the last page.

But on the yellowish paper that continued afterward, there were diagrams, illustrations, and neatly aligned text that he had no memory of reading.

Demonic beasts, deities, objects and buildings with strange structures, maps explaining planetary movements and stellar orbits.

The meticulously drawn illustrations and pictures were so vivid that they seemed about to come alive.

Every time his gaze moved over the text, it felt as if each letter was being sucked into his eyes.

As if his mind was about to be completely captured.

"Y-Your Grace!"

"Huh, what?"

"Y-you're just s-staring blankly at an e-empty book. Are y-you all right?"

Empty book?

He looked at the book again, but there wasn't a single blank page.

"No, it's not empty..."

"Wh-what?"

[Amelia thought for a moment that Arenheit had gone strange.

First, he suddenly jumped up in the middle of their conversation and rummaged through all his luggage,

Then he stared blankly at a book with nothing written in it.

Had what happened in Glico become a trauma for Arenheit?

Or perhaps even before that? From when his life as a fugitive began?

Amelia was genuinely worried about Arenheit.]

The narrative flowed behind Amelia.

Damn it. He was just one step away from looking like a madman.

"It's nothing. I was just feeling dizzy and sat down."

"Th-then wouldn't it be b-better for you to r-rest now...? T-talking just among o-ourselves like this p-probably won't l-lead to a solution."

"Please rest first. I'll think more about what to do tomorrow morning."

The two answered immediately, as if they had been waiting, and even helped him sit on the bed.

They must be worried since he had just risen from a sickbed.

The moment he thought this, similar narratives floated behind Leandros and Amelia.

[Amelia was worried about Arenheit.

Had he hit his head hard recently, or was this a side effect from coming back after being frozen?

It was definitely a matter she needed to consult with Leandros.]

[Leandros was focusing all his attention on His Grace's condition.

However, since he wasn't good with delicate aspects like the mind or spirit, he felt he should consult with Amelia.]

...What was this? The two looked very close.

Somehow, it felt like the caregivers had become friends with each other.

Had he made them get close?

After the two politely bowed and left the room, he was completely alone.

To properly examine the book, he lay down and began turning the pages.

The Pnakotic was neither in Korean nor in the language of this world.

The language of this book resembled crude scribbles that lacked a system.

But the problem was that it was as sweet and perfect as the doodles of a genius drawn at whim.

The text, which completely captivated the reader's heart, was horrifying.

This was definitely not written from a human perspective.

To begin with, it was almost impossible for a human species to author such a vast grimoire.

A story about the universe, deities, and something beyond them, seen through the eyes of a transcendent being incomprehensible to the human species.

And the enormous structures and objects these beings created simply 'for fun.'

He could comfortably read the book indoors while an unknown, massive horror lurked and writhed just beyond a single glass window.

That was the advantage of the book, but also its disadvantage at the same time.

A being was peering at him from just beyond the thin wall, ready to invade at any moment.

Yet he was led to believe that this wall was a perfect fortress protecting him from danger.

A bizarre state where safety and fear, terror and peace coexisted.

Like kneeling with his neck on the guillotine while listening to a beautiful song.

He turned the pages, engulfed in sensations he couldn't put into words.

The book was filled with power that could easily destroy a village like this.

He focused his eyes, restraining his mind that seemed about to be captivated.

Because there was something else that was most important right now.

An artifact, or a deity or demonic beast with the power to create artifacts, must certainly be here.

If he searched, he might find out how to deal with it, and then Leandros would also...

His hand turning the pages stopped.

No, that wasn't right.

Did he really have to do that?

Even with the pig-humans, it had been the same.

He had tried to find out, tried to resolve it somehow, but nothing had come of it.

At most, it had only caused Amelia and Leandros to hurriedly bring him all the way to Gallo.

What if he had had this grimoire then?

Could he have responded immediately upon sensing something suspicious in Glico?

Might Sleipnir have lived in that case?

Leandros and Amelia wouldn't have had to find him in that pit.

No, if he had had the grimoire Pnakotic from early on, Yurik wouldn't have been able to...

He consciously tried not to think about it.

Because he had understood the moment he first regressed.

The longer he remembered past events, the faster he would go mad.

He knew that he, Arenheit, had to live the life of a supporting character.

He also knew that the roles given to supporting characters and protagonists were different.

In the previous iteration, he had experienced how the story changed when he became the protagonist.

He had to realize that supporting characters were always in this state.

When supporting characters die, the protagonist becomes stronger, and the more supporting characters get hurt, the more the protagonist gains strength to move forward.

But what about him?

What about what he, who didn't even have the will to enter here, had to endure just for his determination to end the story?

Sleipnir, Erich, the merpeople, the star walker, the Northern Margrave, the black mud, the cold snow.

What about Jonas and Max who had died before him?

Now everything had returned to its original state.

But that didn't mean that what had happened within him disappeared.

Characters who had died in previous stories, places that had been destroyed, all would exist somewhere.

He had a vivid image of them being discarded like unfinished dolls, with someone saying, "This is how it turned out in this iteration."

Just as Arndt was not a supporting character but a living human, he too was not a complete observer in this world.

Why,

Did only he,

Feel this pain.

It might be because he was weak.

How many 'people' could endure the life of endlessly turning on a hamster wheel after falling into a strange world?

The illustration drawn next to his finger seemed to mock him, wavering.

If only he had some means to protect himself.

What happened next was purely an impulsive, spontaneous action.

* * *

The next day, before sunrise, Leandros knocked on the door of the room where Arenheit was staying.

It was because His Grace had seemed unwell last night, which had kept him concerned.

He had thought about asking Amelia, but that might look strange to others.

"Your Grace. Are you awake? I'm coming in for a moment."

"..."

"Your Grace?"

Risking impoliteness, he slowly opened the door, and found Arenheit sitting in the middle of the room, staring into space.

He had taken charcoal and ash from the small brazier provided to prevent cold, smeared them on the floor turning it black, and scattered papers with drawings on them.

Moreover, the room was filled with a strangely fishy, unpleasant, acrid smell.

Leandros couldn't step into the room carelessly.

Arenheit slowly, deeply inhaled and exhaled, then opened his closed eyes.

"-So this is why."

What do you mean?

Leandros wanted to ask abruptly, but he kept his mouth shut and blankly watched until Arenheit stood up.

Arenheit staggered to his feet and turned his head toward Leandros, who was frozen at the doorway.

"The village, I mean. I've thought of a strategy for how to handle it. Want to hear it?"