“You should have told me sooner!”

Frondier cried out in exasperation.

But in that instant, something even more astonishing caught his eye.

A massive hologram, large enough to fill his entire field of vision, flickered to life above the barrier wall. It was a live feed, displaying his own image as if reflected in a mirror.

“...What is that?”

Buzz!

Right on cue, his Sagephone vibrated in his pocket.

Frondier raised the phone to his ear, a familiar voice greeting him from the other side.

“Hey Frondier, I finally managed to fix it.”

“...Senior Quinie?”

“Yep, yep. Ah, it’s good to hear your voice. I’ve been wanting to see and hear you, and now half of that wish is fulfilled.”

Quinie’s voice held her usual cool and collected tone.

Frondier felt a surge of relief at hearing her voice, but right now, explanations took priority.

“So, what is that thing? My face is plastered across the sky, and it’s quite unsettling.”

“Ah, right. Let me show you.”

“Show me what?”

Quinie didn’t answer. Or rather, she didn’t need to.

The image on the hologram changed.

[What in the world are you?!]

Belphegor's enraged face suddenly filled the screen, his voice booming across the battlefield.

And then it dawned on Frondier.

He understood everything.

Overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment and despair, Frondier covered his face with his free hand.

The sky was dark, and the world felt just as bleak.

Was this truly the world that awaited him after achieving victory in war?

“Wow, that turned out great! How about it, Frondier? They say it was all thanks to this footage that Manggot lost their morale and the war ended. The angles, the timing, everything was perfect!”

“...”

Frondier couldn't even bring himself to respond.

Instead, his past self, still battling valiantly within the hologram, continued his impassioned speech, oblivious to the present situation.

[Don’t you understand yet?!]

His voice echoed unnecessarily loud, amplified by the surrounding magic.

[I am—]

Frondier de Roach!

De Roach!

Roach!

Roach…

***

Following the war's end, the demoralized Manggot Shepherds were apprehended and taken into custody. Some had perished in the conflict, while others had tragically taken their own lives.

However, the Empire had gone to great lengths to capture as many Shepherds as possible.

As a result, a long line of kneeling Shepherds now found themselves before the Emperor within the Imperial Palace.

Surrounded by nobles and the Emperor himself, the defeated Shepherds hung their heads, consumed by shame and resentment.

“...The audacity of these individuals to initiate a war without even a formal declaration is appalling—”

“Silence! Just kill them already!”

Notker’s voice cut through the Imperial official’s words.

“Why bother with such prattle? Has the Imperial Palace become so bored that it finds amusement in toying with condemned souls?”

His words ignited a spark of fury in the eyes of most nobles present.

Amusement? How dare he utter such a preposterous notion! How dare the very perpetrators who had set the Empire ablaze speak with such insolence!

“Notker.”

A heavy voice, laden with authority, silenced the murmurs of outrage. It was Emperor Bartello.

“What is it, Bartello?”

“You dare address His Majesty with such disrespect?!”

Finally, the nobles' patience wore thin at Notker’s blatant disregard for decorum. However, Bartello raised a hand, silencing their protests.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Bartello rose from his throne. He then proceeded to step down from the dais, approaching the line of kneeling Shepherds.

His actions sent a ripple of shock and unease throughthe room.

“Y-Your Majesty! This is dangerous!”

“What danger? They are all bound and powerless.”

Bartello dismissed their concerns with a hint of annoyance. Cowards, the lot of them. For some reason, the Emperor appeared to be in a foul mood.

He lowered himself slightly, meeting Notker’s gaze at eye level.

“Shepherd of Manggot.”

“…”

“Why did you wage war?”

It was a natural question, the most obvious one to ask under the circumstances.

However, from Manggot’s perspective, it wasn’t so straightforward.

For them, war was an inevitability, a consequence they themselves had set in motion.

But they had failed.

Notker’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding audibly.

“You abandoned us! Emperor!!”

His words were a defiant roar. Though his Aura was suppressed by the restraints, the raw, visceral pain in his voice was impossible to ignore.

“...You speak of the past.”

Emperor Bartello’s grandfather, Edesion.

He had been the ruler when the monsters first emerged, a time when the Empire was caught completely unprepared, ill-equipped to handle the sudden onslaught. Countless lives had been lost as the monsters advanced relentlessly, forcing the Empire into a desperate retreat.

Silchester, the current Imperial capital, was already the third city to hold that title. The previous two had fallen to the relentless tide of monsters.

…And before that, Manggot had been within the Empire’s borders.

“To divert the monsters' attention, you used your own citizens as shields! The Empire abandoned us! We placed our trust in the Empire, believing that you would protect us! That knights would come, that soldiers would arrive to defend us! That’s what you promised!! Why did you not come?! If you never intended to help us, why did you leave us there?! Why did you lie to us, binding us with false hope, only to cast us aside as monster fodder?!”

Bartello’s eyes darkened at Notker’s words.

Notker was too young to have experienced those events firsthand. He hadn't lived through that era. His knowledge likely came from survivors who had escaped Manggot and passed down their stories.

This was Manggot’s truth.

The truth as they knew it, from their perspective.

“That scoundrel! The eastern and western fronts were already on the verge of collapse—!”

“Enough.”

Bartello cut off the outburst from another noble, his voice laced with weariness.

Knowing all the facts didn’t change people’s hearts.

Knowing all the facts didn’t determine right from wrong.

“...I wanted to embrace Manggot in the Empire’s arms. Regardless of the past, I knew that to soothe Manggot's anger, they needed forgiveness more than explanations. But I underestimated that task.”

Bartello’s gaze settled back on Notker.

“...?!”

At that moment, Notker sensed something peculiar in Bartello’s eyes. It wasn’t vitality or resolve. It was a profound fear, difficult to define but impossible to ignore.

There was something amiss in Bartello’s gaze. It wasn’t a figure of speech or an exaggeration; it was a tangible, unsettling abnormality.

“The past will haunt me. All your sins will burn me.”

Bartello said, his voice devoid of its usual commanding tone.

Momentarily stunned by the Emperor’s words, Notker could only sputter in disbelief.

“How dare you… spew such nonsense…”

“Is it nonsense?”

Bartello’s voice remained eerily calm, his gaze fixed on Notker.

“I know myself well. These are not mere words. This ‘eye’ tells me so.”

As he spoke, Bartello’s demeanor shifted, taking on an almost prophetic quality.

“Just as Manggot wished, the Emperor of the Empire will burn in sin.”

***

Manggot had fallen.

The Empire had emerged victorious.

The assault on Manggot had occurred far earlier than in the original game. Typically, it wouldn't have transpired until after the protagonist, Aster, had graduated.

As a result, numerous events that should have unfolded had been bypassed. Whether these events would resurface in the future remained uncertain.

…Indeed.

With the triumphant conclusion of the war against Manggot, I had successfully navigated a hurdle I had never encountered in the game before.

“I wish this had been the end.”

A sigh escaped my lips, heavy with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

I stood alone near the barrier, having politely excused myself from the celebratory atmosphere that permeated the air. The stench of blood lingered, a grim reminder of the recent conflict.

A part of me had hoped that completing this main quest would trigger the game's ending. I had dared to dream that it might pave the way for my return to my own world.

...However, I remained trapped here.

“This game is truly broken.”

When would this ordeal finally reach its conclusion?

Would finishing the game truly grant me my freedom?

In fact… was there even an ending to this game in the first place?

“...No, I’ve been asking the wrong questions all along.”

A stark realization washed over me, a truth I had been desperately trying to ignore.

It was an obvious fact, yet I had shied away from it, fearing that acknowledging it would shatter my resolve entirely.

“...This isn’t a game.”

The words felt heavy on my tongue, a truth I had been struggling to confront.

Countless times, faced with injustice, inconsistencies, and trials that defied logic, I had muttered those words under my breath.

This game is broken.

It was a lament born of frustration, a desperate attempt to rationalize the absurdity of my situation by clinging to the notion that it was all just a game.

But this was reality.

And reality was inherently unfair, ironic, and filled with contradictions.

The key to my return wasn't completing the game. It was unraveling the mystery of my arrival, identifying those responsible, and determining if their methods could be replicated.

Beep!

At that moment, after what felt like an eternity of silence, my smartwatch sprang to life.

I glanced at the screen, reading the incoming message.

“…”

A surge of frustration welled up inside me, lodging itself in my throat like a bitter pill.

“Scratch that. This game is definitely broken.”

With a resigned sigh, I turned away from the barrier, my steps heavy as I made my way back towards the others.

The war may have ended, but the stench of blood lingered.

And the winter here… it felt like it would last forever.

***

[World Quest Update]

[‘Etius’ completed.]