Agartha transforming into Afta seemed like a shocking revelation for the Hunter, but to me, it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Looking back, there had been plenty of clues hinting at Agartha's true identity.

For instance, how she had casually read the words inscribed on the paper found in my possession—a task that should have been daunting for a common thief like her.

Or how, instead of showing disgust at my false accusations of attempted assault, she had only teased me playfully.

And then there was her inexplicable closeness to mystics, which always seemed a bit too convenient.

Now, even the alignment of her prosthetic arm matched Afta’s—something I realized only in hindsight.

Of course, all these signs were clear only with the benefit of knowing the truth. At the time, I couldn’t have connected the dots.

"So, it was you who nudged me to play that game from the start?" I asked.

Afta nodded silently, her gaze calm and unwavering.

I see. That explained everything.

Why Agartha always died at the beginning of the game.

Why my grandfather, who revered the Observer, was a minor figure in the narrative.

Why the "happy ending" required the deaths of all the divine beings.

It all stemmed from my absence. Without me, everything connected to me had simply been omitted.

"Then, Afta… how many worlds have you repeated this process in?"

Parallel universe theory, was it?

So many people had played that game, repeating it endlessly.

How many times had this cycle started over?

Afta tilted her eyes upward, as if glancing back at countless iterations, her expression devoid of emotion.

"Too many to count," she finally replied.

That’s it?

That’s all she had to say about what must have been an eternity of hardship?

I frowned at her, disheartened by her nonchalant response. She only tilted her head quizzically, as though confused by my reaction.

"You’ve been through so much," I said.

"Then hug me," she replied, her tone as straightforward as ever.

It seemed she hadn’t changed.

Even now, after revealing her true self, she still sought physical affection without hesitation. Perhaps she had restrained herself until now, and this was her way of finally letting it out.

But with the Hunter watching, it felt a little… awkward.

"Uh, maybe later?" I suggested, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Tch," she clicked her tongue, clearly disappointed.

She lowered her arms and resumed her usual impassive demeanor, her blank expression so unyielding it could fend off any situation.

"By the way, why did you name it Super Coward Mode?" I asked, changing the subject. "There are far cooler names you could’ve chosen."

Afta’s lips curled into a stiff, faint smile.

"It’s a reflection of the protagonist’s self-loathing," she explained. "Despite enduring countless losses, he feared losing one life with a unique significance. So, he sacrificed himself instead, mocking his own weakness."

Ah.

Hearing that, I understood.

What an oddly fitting name.

Both Oko, who had orchestrated this entire process, and I, who ignored her feelings until the very end…

We were the true "super cowards."

 

On the train ride back, a singular thought occupied my mind.

Having uncovered the truth, all that remained was to extract Oko from my body.

According to Afta, Oko had fused with me to preserve my life force. However, with a replacement soul available, her continued presence in my body was no longer necessary.

Perhaps Afta was referring to the Inquisitor we had captured earlier.

It made sense now why the Inquisitor’s ability seemed to invigorate me with each instance of pain absorbed. That very process must have been replenishing my life force directly.

Having collected a significant amount so far, I should have enough to sustain myself.

Not to mention the Inquisitor’s original vitality, which was already formidable.

"So, can’t we remove Oko now?" I asked.

"…It’s not that simple," Afta replied, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Even though she didn’t erase her concept entirely while merging with you, extracting her would still cause a backlash. Her influence might spread as she re-enters this world, and that could trigger unintended consequences."

Afta’s gaze shifted toward the distance, where the towering silhouette of the Giant of the Snowy Mountain loomed.

"So, pulling Oko out prematurely would also empower the Giant," I surmised. "That’d only give it time to prepare."

"Exactly," she said with a nod.

Her reasoning was sound.

My own impatience had nearly led me to make a foolish decision, driven by my desire to see Oko again.

For now, our reunion would have to wait.

Wait for me, Oko, I thought. We’ll meet again soon.

 

The Hunter left to make preparations, leaving only Afta and me.

The solitude brought back memories of the peaceful moments we’d shared in Lintpia.

Had I known things would end up like this, how would I have acted back then?

Reflecting on the past could be melancholic, but sometimes, it helped reveal new insights.

Still, the answer was always the same.

Even if I had acted differently, the most I could’ve done was stop the Knight Commander earlier. And even that would have been a temporary fix.

Fate, after all, was an unyielding force that pushed forward regardless of our resistance.

But like those who endure the swings of a pendulum, I chose to think lightly of it.

If one could weather the storm, fate often returned opportunities proportional to the misfortunes endured.

Though sometimes, fate’s "system" malfunctioned and piled misfortune upon misfortune, rendering one powerless.

But for those who persevered, balance would eventually be restored, bringing peace.

That was the solace I wanted to give myself now.

"Afta," I said.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

At those simple words, Afta silently leaned into me, wrapping her arms around me.

With no one around near the outskirts of Lontan, I looked down at her and gently stroked her hair, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

「…So now we’re completely ignored?」

「I knew this would happen. That’s why I didn’t want to tell him…」

「Huh?」

Hearing the gods' voices in my head left me feeling awkwardly self-conscious.

Raydan Tantan.

Even without your memories, you’ve managed to stir up so much trouble.

Instead of blaming me, you should’ve blamed yourself, you wretched "attempted foreign assault" suspect.

Zumya’s voice was noticeably absent.

Instead, I could hear the sounds of something breaking violently in the distance—her way of venting, no doubt.

When this war is over, I realized, restoring balance must be my priority.

Otherwise, I feared a new kind of apocalypse might descend upon this world.

 

I went straight to the Princess’s chamber.

Now that I knew the truth, there was nothing left to fear.

The Princess, after all, was just a half-divine being I had saved.

The Knight Commander and Vice Commander? They could indulge in their sweet love story to their hearts' content.

Before coming here, I’d swung open the door to the Knight Commander’s room, only to find…

The Vice Commander pinned against the wall, while the Knight Commander sat on the floor gripping her legs, as if to keep her from escaping.

Well, barging into someone else’s room uninvited was my fault.

As I shut the door to give them their privacy, I heard the Vice Commander’s muffled voice protesting indignantly.

A person who usually spoke with a low, authoritative tone sounded downright pitiful.

Still, it was nice to see people expressing their affection in their own ways.

Like the Emperor, who loved the Empress until his last breath.

I knocked on the door to the Princess’s chamber.

Meeting her now, with my memories restored, stirred a mix of emotions.

A hint of nostalgia, but also a bit of nervousness.

What should I say to her?

Should I act the same way "I" did before?

That might make it easier to broach the subject naturally.

But this time, I wanted something different.

No more hiding behind feigned casualness.

The door opened.

Inside, the Princess sat by the hearth, staring at her arm as flames danced over it.

Her body seemed completely healed, the fire leaving no visible wounds.

I approached her, and as always, she greeted me with a bright smile.

"Raydan, you’ve returned?"

Her cheeks flushed slightly as she shyly looked away.

"I-I mean, I did ask you to visit once a week, but I didn’t mean you had to come the moment you got back."

Ah.

I must’ve been gone for a long time.

Long enough for her to grow this much.

I smiled warmly, making sure she could no longer feign ignorance.

"You’ve grown a lot."

"…?"

Her eyes widened in an instant, trembling as she slowly looked up at me.

Hah, what a satisfying reaction.

"It’s good to see how much you’ve matured. Makes kicking the Knight Commander back then worth it."

I grinned at her teasingly.

"Thank you for looking out for me all this time, little lady… Princess."

It might have seemed a bit irreverent, but my concerns proved unfounded.

The Princess, with tears welling up in her eyes, leapt into my arms.

Her small frame trembling as she clung to me felt like a silent acknowledgment of everything we had been through.