1 Second Invincibility in the Game-Chapter 240

There’s no such thing as ‘invincibility’ in Asares.

That’s how it’s supposed to be.

But for me, even if it lasted just one second, I definitely had an invincibility skill.

And apparently, there’s someone else who knows that fact besides me.

The woman who froze time and saved me from Bamal’s ambush at the museum.

Her actions made it feel as if the activation of ‘one-second invincibility’ was already a known truth.

"I don’t even know what to call you."

She’d probably be mad if I called her Aunt Dorosian.

"You can call me whatever you like."

"Aunt—"

"Except for ‘Aunt’."

Dorosian was smiling, but her voice carried a strange sharpness.

"Then I’ll just call you Dorosian. It’s not like we’ll be in the same place together much. So why did you suddenly appear out of nowhere?"

Dorosian fell silent for a moment.

She seemed to be deeply thinking over the straightforward question I had asked.

And the answer she gave skipped several steps in the conversation—it was both direct and shocking.

"How about living in Asares?"

Asares.

A word that reminded me that this place was a world designed based on a game, something I had forgotten for a while.

Of course, Asares is just the title of the game; it’s not a term the inhabitants here would ever use to refer to the world or a time period.

But the fact that she used it meant that the future Dorosian was aware this place was something like a game.

"What is this place, really? A world made of data fragments or something?"

"No. And even if it were, it’s a pointless question. Because even if it’s virtual, if you open your eyes and the next day begins, that’s reality."

It was a sound argument.

Still, my curiosity was purely personal.

Questions like whether the game Asares was based on this world, or this world was based on the game, sparked the same kind of interest as the origins of the universe.

At any rate, the woman before me was far beyond my level of knowledge.

Naturally, the perception I had formed of her as an in-game character was shattered.

It was unsettling—but because it offered answers to my questions, I began to feel a sense of anticipation.

After taking a deep breath, I asked a key question.

"Did you have anything to do with me becoming Hersel Ben Tenest?"

But she widened her eyes slightly and smirked, as if amused.

"It wasn’t involvement. I did it."

Even as she bluntly confessed to being the kidnapper who abandoned me here, I did my best to remain calm.

"I really want to smack you."

"Go ahead if you can."

"I’ll hear your reasons first. Did you make me Hersel Ben Tenest just for fun? Or was there a purpose?"

Dorosian turned her gaze toward the moon.

I blankly stared as the cool breeze blew through her hair.

When our eyes met again, Dorosian gave a half-answer.

"Of course it was for a reason, but I can’t tell you what it is. So don’t try to fish for answers with sly tricks. Who knows how long I’ll even be here?"

As if to emphasize her time limit, the annoying woman made ticking sounds with her tongue like a second hand.

Then she created an inventory in midair and took out a tea set.

It felt like she was saying she would leave once the tea was finished.

"The conversation lasts until the teacup is empty."

...Of course.

I had no choice but to prioritize my questions carefully.

First was the reason she triggered the whole ‘spirit’ incident.

Everything had been progressing normally in the storyline, yet she suddenly showed up and took the “Grimoire of Black Blood.” I still don’t understand why.

"Why did you snatch the grimoire from me and hand it to Ecok?"

This time, the answer gave me a sense of déjà vu.

"Because things needed to unfold differently."

"You know how many scenarios were embedded in that fortress, right?"

"I do. There were definitely helpful elements there."

I was about to argue but stopped.

Being helpful referred to the growth of the protagonists—nothing else.

But her words implied there were negative factors more serious than that.

Was there some basis to believe skipping those parts was the right decision?

"Do you remember Rimaal, the next boss who was supposed to appear?"

When she mentioned Rimaal, I suddenly realized I had forgotten all about him.

The one who hid quietly in the special ward and taught Ecok how to merge with Dordone during the spirit war.

A man who became one with a dungeon because his short lifespan didn’t allow him to explore vast knowledge.

His mentor, the Archmage Adrigal, had forbidden the research, but he reappeared before the protagonists while searching for the “Diary of a New Beginning.”

It seemed that the narrative had become so tangled his presence had faded from my mind.

"Originally, his fate was to fight the protagonists and fall asleep in the dungeon. Until you interfered."

"That’s right. Even so, I had no choice. Do you remember the ‘Diary of a New Beginning’ he was looking for?"

"You mean that absurd research log about recreating the world?"

Rimaal’s quest for knowledge had long since ended thanks to his extended lifespan.

But he had continued his research because he was intrigued by the idea that he could create new frontiers of knowledge again.

However, his biggest clue—the “Diary of a New Beginning”—was reduced to dust with the fortress.

Thanks to this woman, his dream had exploded and disintegrated at an atomic level.

"Yes, that’s right. I had to destroy it. Because only then could I be sure he’d take new actions."

"New actions?"

"Accelerating the destined destruction. Based on his personality, I knew he’d do that."

I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t speak.

And my mind only grew more tangled.

Accelerate it, when it’s already too soon?

Even if I knew he had some talent, was he really capable of that?

And how much did she know about that ‘destruction,’ which even I don’t fully understand?

Those are questions to shelve for later.

I leaned in, trying to understand her way of thinking even a little.

"Why would you make such a dangerous choice?"

Dorosian didn’t back down.

Instead, she pressed her forehead against mine and looked me square in the eye.

"If you expect different results from repeating the same process, that’s insanity. Haven’t you already gone through that countless times? Through game overs?"

"Of course I intended to change the flow at some point. But not yet. The scenario isn’t even halfway through."

Even if I gave her the benefit of the doubt and said accelerating the end was right, it’s still far too early—that was my conclusion.

Dragging in the ending during a time when the protagonists still needed to grow was irrational.

But as if rejecting any further discussion, she pulled her forehead away and spoke sharply.

"More importantly, would you stop your little tricks? If you interrupt my tea time one more time, I’ll down two sips at once."

...I’ve been found out.

"Then let’s continue. What is this ‘one-second invincibility’? And why must it be kept secret from Bamal?"

"It’s hard to explain the invincibility part. And as for the second question—it’s because Bamal already knows what it is."

"That’s a roundabout way of saying you won’t answer."

“You’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

The teacup was nearly empty.

That last sip signaled that I had only one more chance to ask a question.

But there was no time to think it through carefully.

Dorosian had already lifted the teacup.

What I ended up blurting out was something tied to my emotions that I had only held back until now.

“It’s unpleasant being used like a pawn on a chessboard.”

Dorosian, coldly, downed the final sip.

The pleasant feeling from the breezy weather ended there.

I gave up and rose from my seat first.

Just as I turned my back and left the garden path, acting like I didn’t care whether she stayed or left—

“You’re no mere chess piece. Maybe you didn’t have a choice until now, but you will, someday. So believe in that much, at least.”

There was a faint bitterness in her firm tone.

I didn’t bother looking back.

Because the system window reflected in my vision told me she had used time-stop and vanished.

Not a pleasant feeling, but I tried to think positively.

It’s better to know someone knows something than to be completely in the dark.

Besides, a few of my questions had been answered—it wasn’t a fruitless meeting.

With a complicated heart, I headed back to my lodging.

Along the way, Donatan spoke up.

‘You two always talk about weird crap.’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘How could I possibly understand? That’s madness talk from lunatics.’

…So to his eyes, we just looked like a pair of crazy people.

***

Morning broke.

One week remained until the Aizen Arena finals, and today, the annoyances were noisy again.

The reason was a single piece of paper posted outside the Frost Heart waiting room.

“That’s way too cocky.”

“I agree with Silla.”

Following Leana’s comment came Bellman’s complaint.

“I get that it’s a tradition to show off confidence, but experiencing it firsthand is pretty irritating.”

“…I heard there was an option, but this is clearly aimed at us, right? This?”

The paper Ricks was poking at with his finger was Valient’s match roster.

It was practically permission to ignore match order and form strategies based on opponent compatibility.

It also implied their arrogance—that they weren’t afraid of losing no matter what we tried.

They all turned from the paper to me, gauging my reaction.

“So, what will you do?”

“There’s someone I’d personally like to fight, but I’ll follow your lead. You’re the president.”

At Silla’s words, I glanced around at the others.

Some looked indifferent, as if it didn’t matter, but most had gleaming eyes.

Among them, Mircel looked especially anxious to hear what I would say, even swallowing nervously.

To them, I replied in a detached tone.

“Do as you like.”

We’ve come this far—now even I don’t know anymore.

Things are already off course, and making a well-matched bracket would probably just make things worse.

But if I wrote an outright disadvantageous bracket, it’d be too obvious, and it’d only suppress their desire to let out their emotions.

Then I suddenly realized—my judgment had been tinged with personal feelings.

Honestly, I could’ve just used my president authority and pushed through a bracket that meant guaranteed defeat, so why didn’t I?

Despite my hardened mentality, toughened by living like a thug, strong enough to shrug off their resentment.

Even though I’d already experienced a wildly unexpected victory through Wisdom, I still don’t quite know why I made this choice.

Maybe their madness has seeped all the way into my bones.

“Wait—on second thought, maybe I should just write up a proper bracket…”

I tried to take it back and stop them, but the hallway was already empty.

All I could see were their excited backs running off into the distance.

…I think I’m so far gone I might need a psychiatrist or something.

***

Meanwhile, in Valient’s lobby, Saila wore a satisfied smile.

“As expected, Silla. I knew that woman would accept.”

“Looking at how many matchups seem emotionally driven, it seems more like a grudge bracket than a strategic one.”

On the other hand, Selberton looked miserable.

“Wait—what? Are you saying my brother picked me? Why? Did I do something to upset him? No, seriously—what do I do? If I so much as scratch him, Mom’s going to kill me…”

Though Selberton genuinely looked troubled, everyone else’s attention was focused on one person.

Ares, always the calm one, was now frowning as he stared intently at the bracket.

“Mircel Ben Tenest… not Hersel Ben Tenest.”

Selberton, now serious from the heavy mood, asked,

“Then what about Hersel?”

Ares turned his head and looked at one man with visible displeasure.

“Roan. You’re matched with Hersel Ben Tenest.”