Jiwon's body finally gave out when the match ended, her face planting straight into the cracked stone as she laughed deliriously.
"WE DID IT—! WE ACTUALLY DID IT, MINJAE-HYUNG!"
The shout echoed through the cathedral before her body flickered violently. Her HP, which was already deep in the red, had hit zero.
"Ah."
She dissolved into blue light, the last of it scattering into the air.
Minjae couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he watched the entire scene unfold.
Not bad…everything went to plan. It's all because of those kids.
Though…only one member can be chosen, right? Shit…I'll try to talk Manager Seongjin, maybe they can be part of the training team?
Wait, why am I talking like I'm already on the team? Well whatever…guess I'll find out.
He closed his eyes briefly, waiting for the familiar pull, the sensation of being dragged out of the simulation.
The next time he would open his eyes, he'd see the inside of the capsule, and the kids waiting outside with excitement.
Anyyy second now—
…
That's weird.
His eyes opened again. Contrary to what he thought, he was still in the ruined cathedral.
The dust still hadn't settled, almost like something hadn't ended quite just yet.
"…What?"
Slowly, his gaze shifted back toward where Amon had fallen. The ashes were still there, yet…there was also something else.
Something crouched beside the pile, moving slowly, carefully…gathering the remnants and scooping them into a small glass jar.
It was a spirit, yet it was different.
It wasn't like the blackened spirits that lingered in the Crypts, no. This one was whole…in the visage of a woman.
Her form shone faintly against the dim cathedral, outlining her figure as if she didn't belong in the same world as everything else here.
What the hell is going on? Isn't this supposed to be a simulation? Is Manager Seongjin playing a prank on me?
Regardless of the circumstances, he stepped toward the spirit.
Up close, the details became clearer. The woman was wearing full combat armor, the kind that had seen real combat instead of being purely ceremonial.
Yet layers upon layers of grime and dried blood could still be seen upon it. She was a paladin, or at least he thought she was.
Minjae's eyes narrowed slightly. "Uhm…hello?"
He tried waving in her direction, yet she never turned toward him, still scooping up whatever remains still on the floor.
Right, she can't see me…
Is this some kind of memory? Wait…could it be—?
Minjae had studied up on how Dungeon Simulation works and how Battle Arena was able to take place in dungeons of old.
Mana was collected from the dungeon once it was cleared. This mana contained its information, almost like the genetic information of said dungeon.
So technically speaking, this is less like a simulation and more of a…recording that Players can interact with.
Which means…this is some kind of hidden scenario that no one… not even the ones that cleared the original Dungeon, have found out about.
Am I…really the first?
The faint scrape of ash against the broken stone broke through his thoughts. The woman's hands stopped, just for a moment, before she lamented.
"...Why did you do it, Amon?"
Minjae didn't move from his spot and simply watched. The woman's hands slowed before picking up the last of the ashes. As they slipped from her fingers and blew away to the wind, she desperately tried to grab onto it.
In doing so, she'd accidentally kicked over the pot she had been painstakingly putting the ashes in.
Everything she had so carefully gathered scattered across the stone, only to be taken by the same quiet wind, lifting the ashes into the air and carrying them away beyond her reach.
For a moment, she just stared.
"…So this is what it feels like…"
"Hiraeth."
"Amon…we said we'd be each other's home," her hand tightened against the empty floor. "We said we'd leave it all behind."
"So why?"
The last of the ashes slipped from her fingers, scattering into the air.
For a moment, it seemed like it would simply disappear. But instead of fading, the particles were suspended in the air as if something invisible had caught them.
One by one, they began to glow faintly, before gathering into strands of light that weaved together until they created something…a scene.
The woman stood there again, her armor unbroken this time. She bent at the knee, pressing a quiet kiss onto the Archbishop's hand.
Amon, who was still human at the time, met her gaze as a fragile thread of fate had bound them together, beyond duty nor reason.
The scene unraveled and weaved itself anew.
Time flew by as they spent it within each other's presence, growing closer and closer by the day. Filled with laughter and hope, he kept going despite the heretical tendencies he desperately tried to hide.
They sat in a plain patch of grass, looking up to the skies as they whispered something that was meant only for their ears before they shared a most tender kiss beneath the stars.
That's…the same stretch of Grass in the Crypt…
The light moved again, this time showing a darkness.
A thunderstorm had hit the Cathedral, drowning out the sounds of endless bloodlust. Amon, who looked frail and skinny, was driven to his wit's end. Hunger clung to him, stripping away what little remained of the man he once was.
Driven only by instinct alone, he stood in the same main nave of the Cathedral, greedily devouring the body of someone unknown. His own sounds of satisfaction were all he could hear from beyond the rain.
Except…it wasn't the only one there. A loud gasp echoed throughout the Cathedral as a priest had dropped their lantern, hands flying up to cover the pure terror on their face.
Caught between exposure and a crime, he lashed out, plunging his claws into the priest and dropping them lifeless on the ground. And without holding back, he'd devoured his own order all the same.
When the deed was done, the whispers spread through the cathedral like a sickness, unseen yet impossible to contain. When those higher up began to look, the truth could no longer remain buried beneath ritual and prayer.
And a declaration would be made.
His own lover…had become his executioner.
With nothing left in his heart, Amon tried to empty out hers as well. He turned into the thing he'd been hiding all along, causing havoc throughout the cathedral and claiming the lives of innocent—
All in the hopes that his executioner may not waver…when the time came.
She pushed herself off the ceiling, diving straight down onto the demon with monstrous speeds, finally ending it once and for all—both the tragedy…and their love story.
The light started to falter, strands unraveling before they became none but ash.
"So…someone stayed…"
Minjae flinched at the mention, taking a step back but otherwise continued to watch.
The woman knelt where she had been, her hand resting lightly against the cold stone beside the jar. But this time…her voice didn't quite belong to the past anymore.
"…I wasn't sure if anyone would."
…
"…These things tend to disappear."
She paused for a bit, searching for the right words…or perhaps deciding how much to say.
"…But if you're hearing this…" her hands shifted slightly, fingers brushing against the cracked stone.
"Then it means you saw it through…"
"And that's enough…"
The words were simple, yet Minjae couldn't help the faint tug at his heart. He never thought a dungeon could have such a story. One so tragic that nobody ever saw…except himself.
"…Take it as a lesson—"
"Or a warning."
Minjae could see it clearly now. Even as she said the words, her visage started to disappear. It started with her legs before it ate up to her torso.
And before he knew it, only her head remained.
He reached out, without any rhyme or reason. Just something inside his brain told him that he should, that he couldn't let her go like that.
But it was of no use.
Yet before she withered away, only a small breath could be heard, followed by a soft tear.
"Thank you…for remembering."
The light itself consumed her, turning into a thin thread that hovered in the air. And before he could move, it dove straight back into the small ring he forgot was even present.
The small pearl that had been broken had mended itself once more, almost like a parting gift for a successor.
Though he couldn't remain any longer, as his own body started dissolving into blue pixels.
"No…no—!"
Minjae's eyes widened as he tried to hold onto the moment again, the urge to not let the story end the way it had, to just freeze the moment in time.
But before he knew it…
[Player Kang Minjae: Logged Out.]
A/N: Hiraeth (a Welsh word) - a deep and bittersweet longing for a home, place, or time that no longer exists or never was.