Chapter 231

In the distance, a small room rises, appearing as if it has materialized from thin air. The series of processes revealing its outline suggest that the space is being reassembled.

Observing, or perhaps directing this event, is the girl assumed to be the culprit, Anastasia.

The completed room had half of its walls missing. The ceiling and two sides that should have been at the front seemed to have been deliberately removed for the sake of convenience to the observing audience.

Inside, sitting on the floor and fiddling with a cheap doll, is the young Elektra in her tender years.

Unaware of what might soon befall her, she immerses herself in her playacting, a pitiable girl. Though it is the nature of things to resist and fight for one’s own, she knew only to comply, thinking that being a “good child” was a virtue.

The scene fast-forwards and the light fades.

As the sun sets and twilight descends, a gentle mother covers her with a blanket and leaves, while her father stealthily opens the door to enter.

Ah, father. A man full of wishes and many secrets.

A selfish beast who, while his wife has a relieved look on her face, prepares for his head to be smashed in.

“Ah… seriously! I really didn’t want to do this fearing I’d see something like this.”

“…….”

But I suppose I can’t help but have inherited half of your blood. It’s just that if I don’t act, I won’t find relief.

In a realm where the concept of distance may or may not exist, Elektra’s eyes narrow as she eavesdrops on Anastasia’s sorrowful monologue. The advanced fangs hidden in reality reveal themselves, and heated breath is exhaled.

If something is lacking, just fill it. If there’s trauma, choose something to project onto and overcome it.

The time of powerlessness has long extinguished, and now she possesses the ability to achieve whatever she desires, yet how dare you look upon me with such a sympathetic gaze, as if you understand anything?

Don’t nod along just because you saw a single scene from a decades-long one-act play. Don’t be sad.

What kind of hacker, who may not even know where they’ve crawled from, tramples over others’ wounds and prices them?

“Eek…!!”

But no matter how much she focused and tightened her consciousness, Anastasia’s tyranny did not cease.

Although she wished to erase illusions with the same clear malice that Anastasia had, or at least gain some control over the space she occupied, neither was a simple solution.

She couldn’t even confidently say what mechanisms the other side was using to enable such actions, nor could she pinpoint the exact moment she had entered a trance state.

The profound sense of powerlessness seemed to envelop her entire being, yet Elektra was no stranger to brain waves or electronics—she was a seasoned expert. A professional among professionals.

Even though she was in a situation where she could only rely on the components implanted in her body without any mixing device or specialized equipment, her skills did not simply vanish.

“……If you think you can just peek inside me at will, fine. You arrogant vixen.”

With a resolution filled with malice that promised to dig out her secrets, she abruptly turned and dashed towards the opposite side.

Quickly, away from Anastasia, away from the area she considered part of herself.

She wasn’t merely fleeing blindly or ignoring the observations taking place there. Rather, Elektra was more like a persistent stalker, closely following something in reverse.

The footprints left by the girl, as mighty as her control was, were proportionately significant given how deep they had ventured. Though she didn’t want to admit it, they could be described as giant’s footprints.

It was as desperate as believing in a fairy tale that treasures were buried beneath the ground where a rainbow had risen, and as reckless as racing near a precipice engulfed in darkness.

All she knew was that there was something related to her goal at the end of this journey, yet in a childish rebellion, she couldn’t even name the item she was searching for.

The act of running and the fierce goal she harbored were parts of a process of transmuting emotion into force.

What mattered here was a clear image and the corresponding will. Hence, it was inevitable that Elektra could finally reach the ‘crack’ and cross over, proving that her past experiences had not been in vain.

Splash!

From the very first touch against her skin, she had finally entered another space.

Now, the remaining task was rather simple. She needed to sneak a peek at the memory Anastasia most dreaded, the information she wished to hide from the world.

But how? There are techniques to it.

“When told not to think of an elephant,” one invokes the brain structures and habits of those who conjure elephants, repeatedly stirring the subconscious like dropping ink into a sleep’s surface to attract it unwittingly.

“Ha, what kind of illustrious memory would necessitate such a sealing in a device that must surely be over a hundred years old? What’s with this thing?”

So without any doubt.

From the perspective of a 23rd-century civilization, it seemed that what lay behind that old computer filled with data wouldn’t offer secrets or even real help.

Elektra was brutally ejected.

“…………Huh?”

“Wha!?”

Moreover, before Anastasia could implant the explosive she desired in her body, her connection was also forcibly severed.

Why did that happen?

Well… the consciousness of a person that had been intact until just moments ago no longer existed in this world.

Drip…

“Ugh!? Commander, are you alright? If you’ve bumped into something, let’s do a brief first aid and move!”

The director, flustered after seeing black blood flowing from her superior’s nose without warning, fussed about, but Elektra responded calmly.

If she had returned to reality, it meant that her opponent was startled by her intentions and had taken a step back.

“…Right, if you have healing items or status recovery potions, hurry up and give them to me. I feel strangely fatigued all over. It’s as if I’m receiving dot damage from somewhere.”

“Yes, ma’am? What’s that about…?”

The status recovery potion was one thing, but ‘healing items’ and ‘dot damage’? While the research director was irritated by the strange terminology, was there ever a time she spoke like this?

“Didn’t you hear what I said? If you have something like a healing item, hand it over. How long will it take to respawn those who went down from above? …Ah, Megacorp mobs won’t have respawn conditions while we’re emptying the map, right?”

Throbbing.

As the people around her either fell silent at the bizarre feeling or otherwise, she felt her headache escalating exponentially with each passing moment and continued to mutter in frustration.

Given that these so-called elites from Neo Haven had decades of experience, they should have understood and responded properly without needing to spell it out.

Even if the other party was exploiting characteristics to a bug-like degree, wasn’t it absurd to be so cautious when they weren’t a mere puppet?

Shouldn’t they have suppressed them long ago, even using violent means?

“……?”

NPC (Non-Player Character; a character that players cannot directly control)? What could that possibly mean? Was it about the droids? No, droids were operated by operators, owners, or AI, so that wouldn’t apply.

…Drip.

This time, blackened blood flowed from her ears.

Only then did she realize something had gone terribly wrong.

Even amidst bad experiences and harsh times, her source—the very essence that allowed her to be wholly herself—had become tainted.

But when? Where?? To fix this, how far back must she revert to save?

Would it mean losing years of progress all for nothing? No, when was the last time she even saved?

“Ugh…!?”

Suddenly, she heaved, covering her mouth as she fell to her knees on the tiled floor.

What is important, what is trivial. Reality and the unreal. Even through the depths of horrific substance addiction, the boundary that should have remained intact distorted.

It felt as though all the files she had carefully labeled and sorted until now had merged into an indistinguishable mass, inextricably tangled, leaving her unsure if the fragments she picked up were truly part of herself.

Why does such a truth even exist? And why did it have to reveal itself at this very moment?

Knowing all of this, in becoming a part of this world, what kind of gaze did that little player, trapped like a demon in a model garden, cast upon the lowly others?

“Gah!!”

Gritting her teeth, Elektra forced herself to rise, ignoring the nausea and headache, as well as the internal bleeding and potential vascular ruptures.

Staying calm does not mean spilled water is magically put back.

But she had her anchor… No, at the very least, she had a desperate escape route that she had mistaken for substantial.

Click…

“!?”

Elektra’s hand shot out like lightning to snatch a handgun from the director’s waist.

Right, if everything is broken and nothing goes as planned, then she could always start over from the ‘save point’.

Until the very end, she did not question it. She simply wondered why that girl had fought so hard to survive if dying could correct everything wrong.

And why she, too, seized the gun as if running away from being caught, while her finger on the trigger trembled so uncontrollably.

“……See you next time. My love.”

Thump!!

As if to bid farewell to Elektra, who departed on a honeymoon from which she would never return.

Red, black, and white fireworks burst into the air. As if following her own sermon that claimed every human wishes to believe convenient stories.