I'm an Infinite Regressor, But I've Got Stories to Tell-Chapter 331

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: LiteraryGirl

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I’m an Infinite Regressor, But I’ve Got Stories to Tell

Chapter 331

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The Skeptic 24:00

And finally, the third epilogue.

As you might guess, my 777th life turned out to be extremely important for me, the regressor. If Kant had his Copernican Revolution, I, the Undertaker, had a “psychopathic revolution,” so to speak.[1] Thus, I wanted to limit all epilogues to events that happened in this 777th cycle out of a purely personal desire.

But when does life ever go the way we want?

Newton probably wanted to be lauded as an SSS-rank stock genius more than a natural scientist, and back when civilization was intact, everyone probably wanted to buy Bitcoin at its rock-bottom price.

My “story” is, likewise, not from just a single cycle. It’s patched together from various lives, each contributing a dish to the final feast.

So it goes, as always.

“Ah-ryeon, you can paint, right?”

“Huh? I... N-not really...?”

“Not really?”

I blinked. That was unexpected.

All my companions have some glaring personal flaw in their personality. Ji-won lacks sympathy, Seo-rin lacks self-restraint, and Ah-ryeon supposedly lacks... humility. Needless to say, I was startled to see her squirm like a frightened rabbit, twiddling her fingers together nervously.

“Right. S-s-so I can’t just ‘kind of paint.’ I’m actually good enough to be top-five across all of humanity. I guess if humanity had f-four fingers per hand instead of five, I’d be in the top four, obviously...”

Ah, yes. There’s the Ah-ryeon I know.

“Anyway,” I continued pointedly, “this guild leader wants to commission some artwork from you.”

“E-eh? Comm... Commission? What’s that...?”

“Well...”

I delivered her the order sheet in oral form. The moment I began my rundown, Ah-ryeon’s face began twitching until, eventually, she squeaked in horror.

“Th-that’s insane! It’s too much!”

“They don’t all need to be exquisitely detailed. But they do need to be drawn with care. Sketches are enough, as long as they capture the unique traits of each subject.”

“Ah— Oh? Uhhhhh. If... If it’s just sketches...”

“You, dear Ah-ryeon, are a brilliant artistic prodigy who can spit in even an Outer God’s face, second to none! So you can finish them all in a week, right? Your guild leader believes in you.”

“Eeeeeeeeeek!”

Dozens of days later, I left behind Ah-ryeon, whose spirit and body had nearly both fled, and loaded over four hundred pictures onto a cart. Because there was so much art, I couldn’t handle it alone. Instead, I enlisted the best loaders and couriers of the apocalypse era.

Do-hwa frowned. “We might as well call this a National Road Management Corps caravan...”

“That’s basically what it is.” Specifically from Busan to Seoul. Fortunately, in this cycle, the Inunaki Tunnel had been cleared, so we didn’t spend too long traveling.

Eventually, we piled up Ah-ryeon’s works on the Han riverbank.

–G̶̟͐r̸͔͗ủ̵̞u̸̱͘u̸̖͝ű̶̞􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀h̶̢̒h̶̡̐ḧ̸̘́ỏ̴͍ô̷͕ö̶̘o̵͓̎ȓ̷̞h̸̬̏...!̶̲̉

The Road Management troops flinched and reflexively looked back, halting where they had been hauling crates off their carts. They couldn’t see it, but off in the distance, a monster roared, its countless tentacles lashing the air.

Ten Legs.

In the distant past, it had driven the Korean Peninsula into ruin multiple times. In this present, murmurs spread.

“I hear it just wiped out our military...”

“They’re all dead. Every last soldier.”

“Did you hear? Northern cities got annihilated by that thing. Small towns too, all of them.”

“Yeah. My uncle was a colonel. He died to that son of a bitch.”

Ordinarily, I’d have taught them my Aura-training method so they could combine their forces here and defeat Ten Legs. But “ordinarily” was in the past.

‘I have to conserve Aura from now on.’

A sort of “Aura diet,” if you will. Just like in the apocalypse, when every bit of electricity was precious, now we had to limit the usage of Aura. Only a few people could wield it. In fact, aside from me, Ji-won, and maybe a handful of others, no one had it. I myself intended to avoid using Aura entirely unless absolutely necessary. We had no choice, in order to keep Leviathan dormant.

‘Instead...’

Ignoring the troops’ agitation, I carefully laid out Ah-ryeon’s art.

Ji-won walked up to me and said, “Mr. Matiz, the monster’s approaching.”

“Yeah, I sense it.”

“I’ll have the others fall back.”

Thud... THUD...

The ground shook with the heavy steps of Ten Legs, which grew fiercer as it neared. Eventually, the caravan pulled out entirely, leaving only three people: me, Yu Ji-won, Noh Do-hwa. Both were stubborn enough to outdo each other. I doubted any scolding from me would make them retreat to the Inunaki Tunnel.

‘Well,’ I mused with a glance behind me, ‘it is a funeral, after all. A funeral needs a few mourners.’

Ah-ryeon’s paintings—about four hundred portraits for the deceased—were lined up in neat rows. Between the portraits, white chrysanthemums had been placed.[2] Hard to find in these times, so we’d grown them at the farmland run by the Sword Marquess’s faction.

–G̶̤̏r̵̫͗ű̵̦ù̶̪ū̷͔u̵͖͑o̷̹̚ȍ̶͔􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀g̵̗̀r̵̹̀à̷̧u̵̠͘h̶̛̘h̶͙͐h̸̨͝􀀀􀀀􀀀!̷̳̎

Ten Legs finally appeared, crushing half-toppled buildings underfoot. It advanced—THUD—each step of dozens of thick tentacles tearing the ground. Every few steps or so, chunks of debris would fly past us. Still, neither Ji-won nor Do-hwa nor I moved from our stance.

Through hundreds of portraits, across the horizon, Ten Legs rushed forward.

I calmly brushed dust off my black suit. Then I bowed.

In the past, long ago, I used to think Ten Legs was just a standalone monster. But it wasn’t.

‘The Hollow.’

In this world, those who never receive a proper funeral are revived and linger forever. Ten Legs was one of them.

‘When the southern half of Seoul was erased by the White Night, countless people died. Among them were many who left behind no known family or ties, they simply vanished.’

That was the core of Ten Legs.

If I were to compare the White Night to an atomic bomb, then the corpses at the very center of that “blast zone” turned into Ten Legs.

Nobody mourned them or even acknowledged them. Thus, they inevitably merged, weaving themselves into one monstrous body.

–G̶͔̉ŕ̵͈u̷̲̓ú̶͖ù̶͔􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀k̵̥̂u̴̟͠u̷̗͝u̷͕̇ų̴̀􀀀􀀀!̵̧̓

But they weren’t totally alone. Just like me back before the 4th cycle, they weren’t utterly friendless. They lost their families, sure, but not every cousin’s friend and friend’s neighbor’s aunt’s nephew had died. The world hadn’t fully ended yet.

By traversing the dreams of fairies, I discovered the faces of these missing people. From dream to dream, chasing those lost connections, I was able to “restore” the missing faces of hundreds of victims whose names and appearances had once been forgotten.

The rest had bben straightforward enough.

“G-Guild Leader, does this look right?”

“No, the eyebrows are too thin. Make them a bit darker.”

“Eek! My hands are shaking. I’ve already been drawing memorial portraits for six hours today! Are you going to take responsibility if my joints wear out?!”

“What do you mean? You’re a healer, aren’t you? If your joints hurt, just heal them and keep drawing, Ah-ryeon. No rest for you.”

“D-Demon!”

Using my Complete Memory, plus Ah-ryeon’s unparalleled artistry and healing, we completed more than four hundred memorial portraits over dozens of days. And it wasn’t just limited to pictures. Every time I bowed, I mentally replayed one full day in the life of each of those four hundred people, just as I’d glimpsed them in their dreams.

–K̴̺̓ṛ̵͐ū̴̝ǘ̷͈ų̴̅u̸̹̓􀀀􀀀􀀀 ̸͕͠K̵̫͐r̸̡͛à̵̹a̵̖͆a̶̗̐􀀀􀀀􀀀

I knelt.

–K̷̬̈r̷̺͝r̶̩͋r̸̝̀􀀀 ̸̺͆R̴̜̾r̶̞̄r̸͚͒ā̴͕􀀀􀀀 ̴͓̈́f̵̨̈a̷̩͂h̷̺́􀀀...

When I rose from my bow, Ten Legs was still charging with savage roars to slice us apart—and it was visibly shrinking.

Yes. Shrinking.

“The corpses are...” Do-hwa muttered behind me. “Are they falling off...?”

The giant body of Ten Legs began shedding bits, like petals falling from a flower. Each piece was an arm, a head, a leg—some part of a human corpse. Having received a proper funeral, a real name, a real face, a real memory, these missing people finally returned to the earth.

–G̶r̷r̶r̸􀀀􀀀u̴h̷h̴h̶􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀o̷o̸o̸􀀀􀀀...

Not all of Ten Legs’ corpses were casualties of the White Night. Some had died in other calamities.

However, now that the core had broken, the entire mass of Ten Legs collapsed from within.

–O̷o̶􀀀o̸o􀀀ooooo􀀀...

Thud. THUD!

Every time it tried to lash out with a tentacle, its outer layer crumbled. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of unburied corpses spilled out in all directions—lost souls turned back into wandering Lost, no longer anchored to Ten Legs.

–Oooo􀀀􀀀􀀀􀀀ooo􀀀...

At last, Ten Legs reached the edge of our funeral site by the Han River, but the monstrous might that once crushed buildings had utterly vanished. It stood barely tall enough to match a three-story building.

Then two.

Then one.

–O􀀀􀀀􀀀oo... oo...

And then there was one final person.

They were a patchwork figure made from scraps of other corpses’ flesh, maybe from animals rather than humans, just imitating arms and legs. Their white hair wasn’t human hair but broken piano strings, doll threads, that sort of thing.

Through and through, it was the core of Ten Legs. No one could say who she once was.

–O... oo... oo...

Thump. Thump.

Within that mismatched mass, two hearts beat. “Normally,” you’d slice away both hearts with Aura to defeat Ten Legs.

But not now.

“My condolences,” I said, kneeling once more, “Professor Adele.”

Emit Schopenhauer’s wife.

She’d come to give a lecture at a Korean university and died in the midst of the White Night.

“You lost your husband, again and again. I can only imagine how great your sorrow must be.”

I extended an urn toward the deformed figure with two hearts, a porcelain jar containing Old Man Schopenhauer’s remains.

“I was a longtime colleague of your husband and will remain in this world until he returns. I’m sure that someday, he’ll come back to you. I’ll be there too.”

I bowed my head.

“Once again, my deepest condolences.”

Thump. Thump.

This couple had lived sharing two hearts for centuries.

The wife’s arms, barely arms at all, reached out. They melted like candle wax, bits of stringy flesh falling off, as she pressed Old Man Scho’s ashes to her chest. There was no real skin to hold them, so the urn rested directly against those two hearts.

–E􀀀e... mi... t...

Thump.

Her heart beat once more, then stopped.

With that final beat, every scrap forming Ten Legs collapsed. Piano wire, doll string, guitar strings, buttons, bird bones, animal limbs, bits of unknown flesh—all of it spilled onto the urn and scattered around it.

A lone button rolled to my knee and toppled to the ground, spinning there until finally...

Stillness.

Then there was only the sound of the Han River’s flowing behind us while one warped tree overshadowed the waters, its identity twisted by the apocalypse’s Void Poison.

As I picked up the button, Do-hwa murmured, “Huh. So that monster could normally have been cut down in a single slash with that Aura-power or whatever...”

“Yes.”

“Then there’d be no need to pick through illusions or nightmares to find all those missing people, no need to force Ah-ryeon to paint memorial portraits for days, no need to install a funeral site by the river...”

“Correct.”

“I see. That’s a ridiculous waste of resources...” She lit an incense stick as she continued, saying, “Which is presumably why you placed me at the top of the National Road Management Corps, so we could shoulder these burdens...”

I didn’t answer.

“I’m fine with it, Guild Leader Undertaker.” She looked back at me. “I like this way better...”

It was indeed a difficult path, even for me in my 777th life. Yet it was also a path that only I, who had experienced this world 777 times, could walk. A hidden route that wouldn’t open if I’d lived fewer lives.

I’d have loved to choose the easy way, but when does life ever follow our desires?

Sometimes, the road that looks longest is the real solution. This world demanded that solution of me. I needed wide strides, a precise map, and legs strong enough not to fail despite the blisters stinging my feet. Luckily, as a regressor, I had all three.

“Mr. Matiz.”

That night, I was lying in a tent pitched near the funeral site when Ji-won suddenly appeared, knocking me out of sleep.

She put a finger to her lips, shushing me. “You awake?”

“...Yeah. I wake up the moment there’s any hint of movement. What’s up?”

She leaned in to whisper, “There’s something I want to show you. Just between us.”

A faint smell of damp grass wafted over me. In earlier cycles, Ji-won liked faintly strawberry-scented perfumes, thinking that was the Undertaker’s preference. But not in the 777th cycle. Now, she no longer wore perfume.

“You see it?”

Stepping out of the tent, I found a small table on the riverbank, probably salvaged from a ruined convenience store. On the table lay several maps.

“Maps and chess pieces... Your Mini-Map skill. But what’s left to show at this point?”

She scoffed, a light smile tugging at her lips—unnatural, as though trying to sneer but not quite managing it. “Mock me all you want. This is the end of me just being some ‘one-trick navigation tool.’”

When I only stared at her in confusion, she pulled out a small device from her pocket. It was an electronic watch, useless in the apocalypse. Electronics typically lost to Anomalies.

“Yes, I see your point. Why an electronic watch? You know they’re basically worthless or even hazardous these days.”

“Well, by placing this antique on my Mini-Map...” Then she placed it over the Korean Peninsula area on the world map.

[■■:■■:■■:■■:■■]

Blink, blink, blink.

Even though the clock had definitely been powered off, it suddenly started flashing. What was more, the numbers it displayed were eye-catchingly odd. A normal digital clock would display something like [■■:■■], indicating hours and minutes. Even a clock that counted seconds precisely would, at most, show [■■:■■:■■]. However, the one set down on the Mini-Map flashed its digits in a random red pattern.

Blink, blink, blink, blink.

After blinking a few times with random red numbers, it suddenly stopped. The final numbers it displayed were these:

[00:03:41:56:79]

No movement, like a display that wasn’t counting time but simply stuck on those digits.

“Any idea what the numbers mean?” Ji-won asked.

“No. I’m clueless. What is it?”

“It’s simple, Mr. Matiz,” she said. “It shows the population of that place, the number of ‘survivors.’”

My eyes shot wide. “So, in that part of the Korean Peninsula—”

“Yes. Three hundred forty-one thousand five hundred seventy-nine... Oh, sorry, seventy-eight people.”

[00:03:41:56:78]

“That’s how many remain alive in Korea. And it’s not limited to Korea.”

She pulled out more watches, placing them over Japan, then Siberia, then Central and South America...

[00:04:91:01:12]

[00:00:93:87:94]

[00:27:54:48:31]

As she shifted the devices around the map, the digits changed on the fly.

My jaw dropped. “Impossible. Your Mini-Map never had an added function like that in any cycle.”

“Aha, as I suspected.”

While I was shocked, she looked unsurprised, prompting me to ask, “Got any theories as to why?”

“Sure. It’s an obvious metaphor, right?”

“A metaphor?”

“Yes.” Blue-purple eyes locked on me. “A metaphor that since I met you, my ‘time’ has started moving.”

“...”

“Walter Benjamin said that beauty arises from something unspoken and hidden, from whatever simply exists as it is. He called that Aura. But I disagree.”

She kept staring at me, though her hands moved. The smallest watch slid across the edge of the world to reach Seoul.

“I’m not interested in whatever ‘beauty’ hides beneath the surface. As you know, I don’t understand concepts that someone won’t take the time to explain directly. I’ve been that way my whole life.”

The watch moved from Dobongsan to Bukhansan, crossing the Han River.

“To me, beauty means something that remains, even if we peel away the skin and expose the flesh.”

The watch froze at the southern end of Jamsu Bridge...

[00:00:00:00:02]

...the exact spot where we stood.

She quietly took my hand. I flinched as a murky, bluish Aura emerged from her hand to cover mine, but she wasn’t trying to hurt or threaten me.

It was comfort.

Her Aura rose higher and higher. Ceaselessly, as if it were reversing gravity. Streaming upward like rain falling in reverse from the ground. Soaring to the pitch-black night sky.

Until finally, her Aura touched the sky, then silently branched into millions, tens of millions of strands, coloring the night overhead.

“You once told me,” she said, “that an Awakener’s power stems from their misfortune.”

The night sky lit up in a cosmic rainbow of colors: blues, yellows, reds, purples, greens... and hues beyond words.

“But it seems there’s at least one counterexample that your theory can’t explain, Mr. Matiz.”

The aurora snaked in bright, leisurely ripples, a stark contrast to the plain transparency of Leviathan’s watery rain.

Where once, this girl had sculpted a chessboard of players relegated to a vision of black and white, the array of her rain now painted the sky with every color the world had to offer.

“When I was 14, meeting you was basically a wrong answer for me.”

Does the Undertaker exist?

Does Mr. Matiz, who wandered with a 14-year-old girl through a rainy summer night, truly exist?

■■■—is he real?

Or was everything just an illusion? A void?

“I figure the human heart is split in two: half for someone’s correct answer, half for their wrong answer.”

Yu Ji-won had crossed from her 14th summer to her 21st, existing just as Cheon Yo-hwa, the elder “twin” sister in some sense, once had.

All of that merged here, under the glow of these colors in the night sky.

“I get that you might see discarding Aura as your worst defeat.”

Her silver hair, devoid of any particular hue, now refracted all the night sky’s colors.

“But meeting you, Mr. Matiz, was my greatest fortune. Because even back when I had no power, you were my hero. So.”

Beneath these paints, we could all be equally real or equally false. Which one was true depended on my choice. It wasn’t possible to say only I existed or everyone else existed except me. Either none existed or all existed.

Void or coexistence. The ultimate choice.

“Mr. Matiz.”

Ji-won had made hers.

“This time, I’d like to be your error.”

I decided in that moment.

Anomaly: Leviathan

Aliases: Grand Monsoon, the Water Bug, Thales’s World, the First Promise, Infrastructure, the Nation, the State, Hobbes’s Monster, Aura, Aurora

Threat Level: Lv.5 Outer-God Class (Alienation)

Subjugation: IN PROGRESS

Footnotes:

[1] Copernicus was the scientist to posit that the planets revolve around the sun, but also that all things in our solar system—including the sun itself—move relative to other objects in the system. Likewise, the philosopher Kant was the first to theorize that it is not just that the world imposes its environment on us, but that we ourselves actively shape and define the world around us by the very act of being within it and that we are indeed the focal point of that interaction.

[2] White chrysanthemums can symbolize mourning and grief.