Chapter 32

“This is the one I have chosen.”

A sudden silence enveloped the room. The ancient wraith who had introduced himself as Phobos’s high priest appeared entirely unprepared for such a response.

“Chosen? Chosen…? What we summoned was not—”

“High Priest. You have fulfilled your task. Your destined role has ended here; return now to a peaceful slumber.”

Ortes spoke as if making a proclamation. Shadows twisted strangely, dancing like they were howling in agony.

“Has the fate we foresaw already vanished! The future now lies shrouded in darkness—but it stirs nonetheless!”

An indistinguishable sound, part laughter and part lament, swept through the marble chamber. After what felt like an eternity, the noise subsided.

Amidst the silence, the high priest’s voice struggled to whisper.

“The seers… have completed their task.”

As soon as the words faded, the light being drawn into the crystal sphere erupted, bathing the previously darkened marble room in brilliant white radiance once more.

In Ortes’s grasp, Phobos’s relic shimmered faintly.

***

What was that?

What just happened?

Curiosity flickered in Carisia’s gaze as she looked at me, but I had no answers to give her.

I mean, my entire life so far had been about surviving after waking up in some strange lab-like place.

Honestly, after regaining my senses somewhat, I thoroughly searched the area where I woke up, hoping to find clues about whether this was a reincarnation or world transfer scenario. But there was nothing—no research logs or anything like that.

All that remained was a fragment of a signboard with the name of the facility partially legible. I tore off the readable part and decided to use it as my current name.

Could this body or that facility really have been connected to the old gods?

Choosing silence over speaking, I maintained quiet. Carisia seemed merely curious rather than suspicious.

She’ll probably let it slide, thinking I have my reasons for staying silent.

***

‘The one I have chosen… Is that what he meant?’

Carisia mulled over those words internally.

Even to her, who had spent the longest time alongside Ortes, his inner thoughts remained a mystery.

While his outward expressions gave some insight into his emotions, the deeper layers of his true self were as unyielding as steel.

Today, though, she felt she’d glimpsed beyond that barrier.

The exact meaning behind Ortes’s word “chosen” remained unclear, leaving her slightly unsatisfied.

Still, this was enough.

‘Not bad.’

Smiling, Carisia stretched. Unbeknownst to her, Ortes walking behind her wore a subtle smile.

***

Upon returning to Etna City, the first thing Carisia and Ortes did was hear a report on the status of the mission assigned to Demedes.

To be precise, Ortes had sent Carisia ahead while he discussed business with the board members.

“What did you say?”

However, the content of the discussion was far from what Ortes had expected.

“Demedes hasn’t returned yet, right? That’s correct.”

This was Neuro, the head of the Etna City Hunters’ Guild, whose face was obscured by a gas mask even indoors, carrying an ultra-lightweight foldable bow at his waist.

“That guy used to send detailed reports regularly, picking apart every detail, but all communication stopped a few days ago.”

“Hmm.”

Neuro observed Ortes through the lenses of his gas mask. The emotion conveyed in Ortes’s earlier reaction provided a rare opportunity to gauge his character.

The sentiment behind “What did you say?” wasn’t mere surprise. It carried traces of anger, likely directed at some incompetent subordinate.

‘So, despite treating the board members with some respect, he still fundamentally believes himself superior in capability…’

If only Neuro could analyze that fleeting expression again, his conclusions would be even more accurate. But Ortes’s facial muscles had already reset into their usual neutral state.

“So, Neuro Director, if I understand correctly…”

Ortes massaged his temples.

“You’re suggesting Director Demedes most likely perished during the operation?”

“Exactly. He may be reckless and selfish, but he knows when to submit to brute force. He diligently filed reports during the early stages of his deployment. If those suddenly stopped, there’s only one explanation.”

For Ortes, who had anticipated Demedes’s triumphant return for post-mission accolades, this news came as a bolt from the blue.

‘Really? These eight directors…’

Weren’t they supposed to be mid-boss level operatives capable of holding their ground against other protagonists, even if they couldn’t compete directly with the main hero or Baegmun?

How could someone like Demedes vanish along with his entire team?

‘How could this happen?’

Ortes wanted to sigh. Reflecting on it, even in the original story, their fates weren’t much better.

When Baegmun obliterated the Hydra Corp headquarters and most of Etna City using the Artificial Tenth Rank, didn’t the directors evaporate along with everything else?

‘Still, the dignity of being a villain’s henchman…’

Shaking his head, Ortes resolved to view the situation positively.

‘Right. Let’s consider this as a result of not being part of an evil organization. Our goal was always to diverge from the original storyline’s future, after all.’

If Demedes was indeed dead, then the original storyline’s future might as well no longer exist. Though perhaps the new direction wasn’t favorable for Ortes’s company.

“I guess there’s nothing we can do.”

“Are you planning to go alone again?”

“Ah…”

Ortes recalled the peculiar rivalry between Neuro and Demedes. Both excelled in hunting but approached it differently.

This tension influenced how they handled the Bacchus Cult hunting assignment, with each director trying to outdo the other. Ortes was fully aware of this dynamic.

‘So, with Demedes’s fall almost certain, Neuro sees this as an opportunity to impress Carisia? Not ambition for power—he never schemed to become guildmaster—but rather a desire for recognition.’

Perhaps Neuro viewed this as his moment to shine, finally achieving the prestige of completing the first mission assigned by the department directly linked to Hydra Corp’s founding purpose.

“Alright then. Neuro Director, let’s go together.”

But reputation aside, sending another director alone into a potentially dangerous area where Demedes and his team might have perished wasn’t wise.

Neuro nodded, though his expression behind the gas mask appeared somewhat discontent.

‘Does he think I’m going to handle this alone again? Why does he want me to accompany him?’

‘Hmm. Now that I think about it, Demedes received this assignment after challenging the authority of the Holy Investigation Division. Ah, so this is about demonstrating the clear skill gap between directors and myself. True to form, Ortes is sensitive to hierarchy like a wolf, as evidenced by his unwavering loyalty to the president.’

While Neuro prepared his gear for the Holy Investigation Division’s request, Ortes mentally prepared to inform Carisia about his upcoming trip.

Ironically, he had forgotten that his first thought upon being appointed as the head of the division was to delegate all practical work to the other directors.

***

Twelve lights flickered atop the altar. It had been a long time since electric lamps powered by converted mana were invented.

Anyone observing might comment that it was either quaintly anachronistic or admirably traditional to still use candles.

A keen observer might realize these weren’t actual flames at all but pure radiance.

And someone knowledgeable about ancient history might be shocked to discover that devotees of outdated superstitions still existed. The intricate murals of the old gods carved into the candelabra and altar showed no signs of wear despite the passage of time.

One of the lights began to flicker.

There was no wind in this place. Even if there had been, these weren’t real candle flames—they wouldn’t waver.

The glow slowly dimmed.

“…”

The person praying below looked up at the fading light and smiled.

So, the god has finally answered now, late in the game? Or have even the prophets who guarded the prophecy given up and decided to embrace eternal extinction?

Either way, there is no hope.

Even if the deity responded now, there would be no one left to hear the call. And if the last bastion of faith has chosen to sleep forever, then all the efforts of the past were meaningless.

Nevertheless…

From now on, the cult will no longer place its hopes solely in the hands of the gods.

It is time to reclaim the hope once entrusted to the gods and gather it within our own grasp.

The sole sect that venerates all twelve Great Gods interpreted the extinguishing of Phobos’s light as an omen.

It was time to step forth into the world.