Chapter 298

Chapter 298
## Awakening

Wilhelm’s mouth hung open as his features turned rigid.

‘······Nabelung Forest.’

The words had escaped him instinctively when Randolph pressed him for the specific time and location of their encounter. The name had surfaced like a deep-seated reflex. Nabelung Forest was the starting point of Wilhelm’s conscious history, yet a glaring contradiction gnawed at him: he possessed no recollection of meeting anyone during his time there.

‘I was simply a prisoner.’

He remembered a swamp of soul-crushing mental visions. Day after day, he had done nothing but battle for control. For more than a month, he had brandished his blade in a state of silent fury, resentful of the Dog-like God who had seized his physical form and piloted it as he pleased. However, it wasn’t just his own unbidden answer that unsettled him. A persistent, sharp ache throbbed in his head, as if needles were being driven into his skull.

《 Remaining manifestation time for ‘Intact Golden Rule’: 1h 1m 》

Time was a luxury he didn’t have. During his ascent of the Tower, the countdown had dwindled to roughly sixty minutes. If he failed to resolve this confrontation within that window, the trial would end in total disaster. Simultaneously, a cold, predatory light flickered in Randolph’s gaze.

“······It has become clear that leaving you among the living is no longer an option.”

Suaaaaaaaaaaa!

Spheres of concentrated mana ascended like droplets of water. Hundreds of them filled the air—sword-orbs forged from pure Force. Each one carried enough raw power to threaten a deity; a single touch would be enough to wipe Wilhelm from existence.

Yet, a simple erasure was not what Randolph had in mind.

Seueueueueueueue!

The drifting orbs began to gravitate toward one another, coalescing into a specific manifestation. Before long, the cluster of spheres had formed the shape of a titanic hand.

“‘Supreme Sword’.”

Jjeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeok!

The heavens themselves seemed to fracture, tearing a hole through the fabric of the void. From that dark, empty space, a truly “monstrous blade” emerged. This was the Supreme Sword. It represented the singular, peerless technique and the Hidden Skill belonging to the “Supreme Sword Saint” Hidden Class. It was a weapon reserved for the one who stood at the absolute zenith of all Sword Saints—a “God’s Blade” that required “Divine Status” just to be held.

Long ago, when the Demon of Envy, Sansha, reached completion, this very blade had descended to crush him with a mere flick of the wrist. Now, it had returned to the world once more.

“······.”

Wilhelm stared at the summoned relic in silence. It was incomparably more overwhelming than any weapon he had ever faced. Randolph intended to grind Wilhelm into dust using this blade, maneuvering the Supreme Sword with the gargantuan hand of sword-orbs.

“Is its form not exquisite? This is the ‘Sword of Fate,’ once the primary arm of the God of Death. It is a ‘Standard-defying’ masterpiece that transcends conventional grading.”

“A blade forged from the intersection of two destinies: Death and Life.”

“······You can perceive its nature? Truly, your ‘talent’ is as remarkable as suspected!”

Randolph let out a sharp breath of genuine wonder. Wilhelm had instantly decoded the legend woven into the Supreme Sword—the exact synthesis required to call forth this Sword of Fate.

The Abyss Labyrinth. The champion of the Old Empire’s Hexagon, Riley, had been manifested there as the “Boss.” He had existed as a duality. When his sanity failed, he became the “Supreme Dragon,” the embodiment of Death. When his mind remained clear, he was the radiant savior “Riley.” By embracing his draconic shadow, Riley had achieved the state of “Supreme Sword Saint.”

The weapon born from the union of those clashing fates was this very blade. Life and Death. A sword carrying the weight of two contradictory paths.

‘How am I able to see this?’

Wilhelm was deeply unsettled by his own insight. He didn’t understand why he was witnessing the memories of the trials Randolph had endured. Furthermore, he realized with certainty that the Randolph standing before him wasn’t the one who had conquered the Abyss Labyrinth. It was the Dog-like God. That Sword of Fate was a trophy of the God’s own personal journey.

Randolph offered a faint, chilling smile.

“Then you surely understand that this strike is impossible to parry.”

Wilhelm’s jaw tightened. Randolph had opted for “Death.” In a literal sense, he was manifesting the end of his opponent. The decree of mortality issued by the Sword of Fate was absolute. It could not be dodged, and it could not be blocked. Wilhelm had just been handed a final, irrevocable execution order.

“This has been quite an entertaining diversion, Wilhelm.”

Goooooooooooooooooo.

The Supreme Sword began its crushing descent toward the earth. Wilhelm lifted his own blade in a desperate gesture. A moment later, the Supreme Sword engulfed him entirely.

Kwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang—!!

—

“Stay hidden here, Prince. I will attempt to lead the pursuit away.”

“N-No, don’t leave me. How can I stay in this darkness all by myself?”

“You must hold out for a few days. I promise I will return. I promise!”

The scene was a pitch-black cavern within the Nabelung Forest—a nameless hole tucked away in the wilderness. An aging knight gave the young boy a reassuring pat before vanishing into the trees. However, for a child who hadn’t even reached his full height, surviving for days in a monster-infested forest while nearly naked was an impossible demand.

“H-Hungry, so thirsty······ it’s so cold······.”

The boy began to break before the first day had even concluded. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why he was being subjected to such misery. He was a scion of the Arhon Empire, the mightiest and most expansive realm in all of Pangenia, and yet—

“I am the true prince······ the real one······.”

He had been discarded. Replaced by a pretender. The boy gnawed on his lip. An impostor, crafted perfectly in his likeness, was living his life. No one would listen to him; instead, they branded him the fraud and sought his head. If not for the old knight’s loyalty, he would have been executed on the spot. But was this hollow survival truly “living”?

“I can’t do this. Why is this happening to me?”

The boy slumped against the damp stone wall, surrendering to hopelessness. He was royalty, born to receive things without effort, a person who commanded light simply by existing. This filthy, wet cave was no place for a prince. His feet were covered in sores, and his skin was caked in grime. He looked like a common slave.

‘This is a nightmare. Just a horrible dream.’

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying that when he opened them, the nightmare would be over. He longed for the comforts and prestige of the Empire.

······But the world remained indifferent. When his eyes opened, the cave walls were still there.

“When is he coming back?”

The knight who had sworn to return never appeared. Hours turned into days of fruitless waiting. The man had likely fallen to the soldiers he had tried to distract.

Brrrr!

The boy shivered violently. The pain and cold were agonizing, but the terrors outside the cave kept him frozen. He was a coward, lacking the basic nerve to step into the light. He had no inner fire, no drive to reclaim what was his. In that moment, he realized he was utterly helpless on his own.

Yet, realization alone isn’t enough to change a person.

“······.”

The boy was fading. He was quietly inviting the end. A profound sense of impotence—the conviction that his life was already over—settled into his bones.

‘I’ll just die.’

He would let go. He had no reason to fight. Maybe he really was the fake. Perhaps his entire identity had been a fabrication. Even if he managed to walk out, he expected only more suffering. The forest was just the beginning; the Empire’s hunters would never stop. Death was inevitable.

Tweet.
Tweet tweet!

A small bluebird flitted into the cavern. At the threshold of death, the boy managed to flutter his eyelids. He watched the bird, confused by its presence. When he weakly extended a trembling finger, the bird hopped onto it.

“Do you have the will to live?”

“······?”

He wondered if his mind was finally snapping. He thought he heard the bird speak. But as it continued to chirp, the words became clear.

“If there was a chance to grant a single wish, even at the cost of your memories and your very self, would you take up the challenge?”

A wish? Could he become the Emperor again? He scoffed internally; death was making him hallucinate.

“You possess a magnificent quality: the ‘Holy Blood.’ To let it fade away here would be a tragedy.”

The bird was persistent. The boy forced his cracked lips apart to whisper.

“What······ are··· you.”

The bluebird replied:

“I am the Operator of this reality.”

“Ope··· ra··· tor······?”

An Operator. One who runs a system. He couldn’t fathom what a bird could possibly operate.

“The Game Master. I am the hidden hand that exists behind the veil of the world.”

The bird’s eyes suddenly flared with a brilliant, jewel-like blue light.

“Will you stand with me to bring down the ‘Heavens’?”

—

In the heartbeat before the Supreme Sword consumed him.

‘Ah.’

The memory broke through. The fog that had obscured his past was finally burned away.

‘I remember.’

In that cave. In the Nabelung Forest. He had encountered the “Bluebird”—the nameless entity who identified as the world’s Operator. The one the world forgot.

But the revelation didn’t stop there. By all logic, Wilhelm’s past self should have been completely erased. His soul and consciousness should have stayed buried, devoured by the intruder. Yet, he had clung to a fragment of himself. A spark of will. He hadn’t been wiped clean; he had simply been forced to restart from nothing.

‘I remember now······.’

The pathetic boy in that cave was Wilhelm. But that version of him was the polar opposite of the man he was now. It was almost impossible to reconcile the two. He had been a spineless child who folded at the first sign of trouble. That was his true nature.

‘Are you trying to claim that you wanted to be “him,” and not “me”?’

Chul-lung!

The world tilted on its axis. Wilhelm was pulled back down into the depths of his subconscious.

—

What is this intruder doing with my body? He’s dragging himself across the dirt just to leave the cave and lick dew from the grass. He’s eating insects and getting sick from chewing on raw weeds. For three days, he does these humiliating, bizarre things, and then he suddenly begins to practice with a sword.

‘He’s wasting his strength.’

It was maddening to watch. Even though it was his own flesh and bone, he was a spectator. Every morning, the intruder dodges danger, flees, and obsessively hunts for scraps of food. The rest of the day is spent in a relentless, repetitive sword drill. What is the point of it all?

‘I could swing it with more precision.’

In the arena of his mind, Wilhelm mirrored the movements. He could see the flaws—the wasted energy and the technical gaps. He knew intuitively that the intruder’s current path would eventually hit a wall. Wilhelm began to refine the motions in his head, mentally editing the swordsmanship to fix its weaknesses.

It might have been simple ego. The mental swamp felt like a bottomless pit of apathy, and he had originally wanted to do nothing at all.

‘I won’t be outdone.’

If this stranger was going to fight, so would he. He would do it better. He refused to let someone so clearly inferior to him hold the reins forever.

‘···He’s an incredibly stubborn one.’

As the days turned into weeks, Wilhelm found himself grudgingly impressed. Even he had to admit the intruder possessed terrifying resolve. Who else could pilot a stolen body with such ferocious grit? He was turning a mundane, miserable existence into a disciplined campaign.

Still, Wilhelm doubted him. Could anyone truly survive this place? Nabelung Forest was a slaughterhouse for the unwary, home to hundreds of lethal species. Knowledge of the terrain wasn’t enough when you were reduced to crawling on your belly. It took the intruder hours just to move a few yards from the cave. Escaping the entire forest seemed like a madman’s dream.

‘······Hah.’

But eventually, the “madman” began to move. He packed what little food and water he had gathered and started crawling away from the cave for good. Wilhelm expected him to break. The journey was a gauntlet of near-death experiences. Within three days, his meager supplies were gone.

Yet, Wilhelm watched in awe. The intruder’s ability to read the environment, wait for the perfect moment, and seize tiny windows of opportunity was chilling.

‘Is this where it ends?’

He had reached his limit. He was miles from his starting point and completely out of resources. No matter how strong his spirit was, Wilhelm believed the body had reached its breaking point.

The “intruder” didn’t stop. For ten days, he existed without sleep. And by the end of it, he had crawled his way out of the forest.

‘This is insanity.’

For the first time, Wilhelm felt a sense of reverence for the one inhabiting him. If it had been the “real” Wilhelm, would he have survived? He knew the answer was no. He didn’t have the intruder’s intimate knowledge of the wild. If he had tried, he would have been killed a hundred times over.

If that was the case… this person in his body…

‘······Is this man a God?’

······He really was nothing less than a “Dog-like God.”