From the moment he was forged, he was a sole, complete sword.
[ Oh! It's done! ]
[ Finally forged! ]
Many people do not remember the first moment the world butchered them. It is only after time grows the body, and the body endures the mind, that meaningful cognition emerges, and from that cognition, memories are finally formed. However, for him, the length of his existence and memories were the same.
[ At last, it's made! ]
[ It has been tempered! ]
[ The great law is complete! ]
[ We have finally forged it! ]
From the beginning to completion, those around him called him this.
[ The Primordial Sword! ]
He looked around at the people.
[ Oh! ]
[ The Primordial Sword! ]
The gathered crowd looked hollow. Their gaunt fingers proved that everything they had grasped in their lives had slipped away like sand.
Those fingers, wavering like countless seaweeds in the depths of the sea, clutched at his sleeves.
[ Our ]
The impoverished spoke.
[ Sorrow ]
[ Pain ]
They said.
[ Disappointment ] [ Despair ]
They said.
[ Suffering ] [ Suffocation ] [ Starvation ] [ Thirst ]
They said.
[ Recognize us! ]
[ Take responsibility for us! ]
Thus, the impoverished collectively cried out.
[ Save us! ]
He stared at them and then turned away.
The people gathered behind him were frail. Their trembling legs revealed the hardships of the paths they had walked thus far and the fear of the paths ahead.
Those legs, stacked like logs, knelt at his feet.
[ Our ]
The weak spoke.
[ Future ]
[ Fear ]
They said.
[ Hope ] [ Desire ]
They said.
[ Waiting ] [ Regret ] [ Fear ] [ Wishes ] They said.
[ Feel for us! ]
[ Bear our burdens! ]
[ Take responsibility for us! ]
Thus, the weak collectively cried out.
[ Lead us! ]
There were many such people.
Since the Primordial Sword Strike, a place that had never seen light, filled only with rotting darkness. Everywhere he turned his head, such crowds existed. They begged him, implored him, pleaded, and entreated him.
From the moment he was forged, he was a sole, complete sword, and this meant he had a target and a reason to be swung.
In a way, he was the protagonist of this world.
[ This world exists solely for you. ]
The person presiding over the law stepped forward and said.
[ Every other human is just an illusion. A scarecrow. An empty can. ]
Yet, the presiding figure did not seem impoverished or weak. Nor did he resemble an illusion, a scarecrow, or an empty can.
Nevertheless, the presider continued unwaveringly.
[ If there's any reason for others to exist in this world, it is solely to be shattered by you. ]
[ To prove that you are right. ]
Pointing to the impoverished.
[ To be saved by you. ]
Pointing to the weak.
[ To be protected by you. ]
Pointing to himself and the outside.
[ To be surpassed by you. ]
Somehow, he could feel that there was no falsehood in those words.
'Is that so.'
He understood.
'In this vast world, am I the only special one?'
I am
alone.
4.
Dusk had settled.
The shadows left by the sun were gradually being consumed. This corrosion occurred sporadically, and the darkness, like constellations nailed to the sky, staked their claim everywhere. Eventually, everything would turn black, but for now, on the dim twilight that only spread its roots, a spider was dying. Next to the convulsing spider, there was a slender, trembling finger.
It was the finger of a pale and delicate woman. Following the green veins on the back of her hand upward led to a slender wrist and an equally long arm that stretched out like a tree branch in winter. The woman, breathing heavily with her face buried in the dirt, was the Grey Spider.
The Grey Spider was dying.
"...."
The enmity built up by the Magic Tower. The resentment she had gathered. The endless challenges had ultimately brought down her, who had once been the emperor of the 50th floor.
"We won..."
Someone beside the dying spider spoke.
"Finally, we've won."
The Grey Spider knew exactly who the owner of that voice was.
It didn't matter that it was dark. Even though she had almost lost her sight and hearing, she could tell.
Despite the many people gathered around the Grey Spider, despite the fact that so many were watching her die, the Grey Spider could precisely identify the owner of the voice.
Because she knew all of them.
"You monster!"
The man who had just shouted his words as if chewing them out was named Rodrick.
He was a werewolf from the White Wolf World, who had lost his parents and siblings to the Magic Tower she once led. The Moon Circle Stones, embedded deep in the hearts and brains of the werewolves, were favored by the magicians of the Magic Tower as material for decorations. The more the werewolves starved, the clearer the color of the Moon Circle Stone became, so the Magic Tower had made it standard procedure to starve werewolves in restraint to harvest these stones.
"Demon..."
The sobbing woman's name was Lín Yi-chen.
Lín Yi-chen came from the Dragon Flower World. Her race, also called Deliques, was close to trees rather than people. It was an extremely rare example among the genealogy that constituted intelligent life.
Power that expanded without limit and an inflated self-consciousness took others' shelters for their stepping stones. The magicians of the Magic Tower gladly replaced the rarity of the Deliques with uniqueness. Renowned magicians planted Deliques in their personal pots, grooming them, and trimmed their various appendages with knives and scissors to their liking. The fruit that bore once a year was recognized as a fine delicacy due to its good taste and the effect of enhancing the magic power of the consumer.
"I wanted to kill her."
The Grey Spider knew the name of the one muttering this.
"I surely had the right to do so."
She also knew exactly where the one grinding his teeth had come from.
"I,"
"Only I,"
"I, of all people,"
They all had reasons to wish for her death.
The Grey Spider was the queen of the Magic Tower. She bore the responsibility for everything the Magic Tower had committed. The Grey Spider was not exactly innocent.
Her hands were very red. There had been far too many unnecessary bloodshed.
"I was first."
"Don't make me laugh! My right to challenge came before."
"Why didn't you wait until it was my turn…"
Growling voices surrounded the Grey Spider, a web woven of words and breath trembling with hostility toward each other.
Someone stepped forward.
"Stop it."
The Grey Spider knew who this someone also was.
She knew that this person wanted her death more than anyone else present here.
That someone was the very person who had defeated her—the challenger of the recent battle.
"What."
"Just because you won the challenge, do you think you have the right to preside over this place?"
"You're not trying to sympathize with this monster, are you?"
People bared their teeth. For those who had lost their skins to the Magic Tower and could only expose their flesh, everything happening in the world felt like a cold wind.
However, the challenger spoke calmly.
"We didn't come here to fight each other."
People closed their mouths. They could feel that his calmness was as precarious as a tower of cards set upon ice.
Suppressing and suppressing, the challenger looked down at the Grey Spider.
"You're dying, aren't you?"
The lips of the Grey Spider weakly parted. Instead of words, only blood foam trickled out before sealing again.
It didn't matter. He wasn't interested in her answer anyway.
No, it would be more accurate to say he was forcibly suppressing his intense interest.
"I hope you just die as you are."
The challenger crouched and whispered.
"Please, don't try to show will or spirit. Don't struggle, and don't try to leave any last words."
"Just, die like this."
The soft whispers continued.
"I won't give you a dramatic death."
The whispers carried a curse.
"There will be no coffin for you to enter. There will be no grave for you to be buried in. No one will know the date of your death, so no one will commemorate your anniversary. I hope that you,"
"die lonely and are simply forgotten."
Silence flowed.
No one spoke. It wasn't just due to the chilling hatred. They were silently agreeing with his words.
Just as the Grey Spider could not forgive her own gods, they too could not forgive the Grey Spider. That was all there was to it, and such were the things that simply ended in the world.
The Grey Spider knew this too. She knew it better than anyone.
"I,"
The Grey Spider coughed.
"I, I…"
The Grey Spider reached out a thin dry hand.
Those gathered tensed. The challenger, who had been casting curses, hesitated and reached for his weapon.
It was a misunderstanding. The Grey Spider had merely reached towards the night sky. Her fingers, spread like hooks, grasped the starry sky for a moment.
Then let go.
Thud, it dropped.
"...."
"...."
And that was the end.
The Grey Spider did not open her mouth again. She couldn't.
She was, quite literally, no longer alive.
"Is she gone?"
"She's gone."
People murmured. Some of them approached and poked the body of the Grey Spider with the butt of their weapons. Only when there was no response did a sigh of relief spread among the people.
It was brief. That relief soon turned into questions.
"What was she trying to say?"
Murmurs circulated again.
"She wanted to act haughty until the end."
"No, she must have been trying to beg for her life disgracefully."
"Maybe she wanted to say she was sorry."
"Or maybe..."
In the darkened field, those murmurs could have spread like wildfire.
The challenger shouted.
"Stop!"
People flinched and fell silent.
The challenger, gritting his teeth, said.
"Don't discuss it."
It was as if he was stomping out the embers of a wildfire.
"Don't try to interpret. Don't try to convey. Don't think about its meaning."
"...."
"Knowing hurts and understanding kills. Trying to understand the Grey Spider was enough for when we fought. There's no need now that she's dead."
The challenger stated firmly.
"Just forget it."
People silently nodded their heads. [That's right.] Someone chimed in, and [Oblivion is indeed the rightful hell for the soul of that monster.] someone else added.
As per the challenger's suggestion, they resolved to forget the very existence of the Grey Spider.
However.
"...."
"...."
Everyone knew that it was impossible.
The death of the Grey Spider, ultimately, left an indelible scar on those gathered here, as much as her life had.
"Damn it..."
Feeling too bitter and resentful, the challenger could only grit his teeth and turn away.
The body of the Grey Spider was left in the field, unclaimed by anyone.
But it was not left alone.
[ Key formation complete. ]
A quiet declaration echoed.
[ The one who faced the greatest turning point in their destiny because of you, even though they met death, does not resent you. ]
[ The 94th floor is cleared. ]
The one who heard the declaration silently looked down at the body of the Grey Spider.
No semblance of a soul rose from the husk left by the spider. That soul didn't recognize him, nor did it face the Bae Hu-ryeong, who was present beside him. Just as it had been in life, even in death, things like reconciliation and forgiveness between the gray spider and her victims did not occur.
Not yet, at least.
The one who heard the declaration knew that such events would eventually unfold. No matter how long it took, such events would occur, and he would assist in making them possible, knowing this had been his role for a long time.
[ Entering the 95th floor. ]
To do so, he would need to ascend the Tower.