HACKED 133

The terminal’s interface was exactly as I knew it. However, the text had been entirely replaced by strange cyphertext.

This cyphertext was definitely the same status abnormality notification I had been looking at just moments ago. The size and shape of the window, the layout, and the “Confirm” button were all in the same positions. Though right now, instead of the word “Confirm,” it had been replaced by a meaningless string of characters: “7ZmV7J24”.

That was it. The only thing that had changed was the language. It was as if I had accidentally messed with the language settings while fiddling with a phone, causing all the text to turn into a foreign tongue. Characters that were recognizable had become unrecognizable.

‘Wait, if that’s the case.’

A possibility occurred to me.

I had looked at the terminal hundreds, thousands of times while searching for the logout function before, so I could operate it perfectly well even if the language changed. Just as it remained in my mind, just as my hands remembered it.

I pressed the button that used to be the confirm button to close the status abnormality notification for now. When I did, a window appeared showing the history of past notifications in chronological order.

‘This one at the very top must be the notification regarding the “Haunting” status abnormality. Before that would be the notification warning about San Gun’s contamination level.’

I scrolled down through the notification window. Strings of incomprehensible characters flashed before my eyes, but I didn’t care. Numerous notifications that I must have checked in the past—but could no longer read—were pushed upward and vanished in an instant.

Further back, and even further back. To the time I overrode <DriedAnchovyLowerEnds>’s Pantheon with my own authority. To the time I annihilated his Incarnations. To the time I overrode <IsItPresbyopiaCrap>’s Pantheon. To the time I fought the Irregular monster that suddenly appeared. To be precise…

‘To the time the terminal first displayed a notification mixed with this cyphertext.’

My finger, which had been scrolling incessantly until frictional heat built up on the screen, stopped abruptly at a certain point.

V2FybmluZyE=

4oCY7LCo7JuQ7J2YIOq3oOyXtOKAmeydtCDrsJzsg53tlojsirXri4jri6Qu

65Ox66Gd65CY7KeAIOyViuydgCDsnKDtmJXsnZgg7J207IOBIO2YhOyDgeyeheuLiOuLpC4=

V2FybmluZyE=

VW5rbm93biBhbm9tYWx5IGRldGVjdGVk

7KaJ7IucIOyEnOyCrO2OuOywrOyXsO2VqeyXkA== Please report to.

Removing the existence of ‘Yeo Myeong’ from the Pantheon of <User Name 808>. Removing. Removing. Removing.

‘…This is it.’

In my Pantheon—that is, in the original <No Lifer>—a world—this notification had looked like this:

[Warning!]

A ‘Dimensional Fissure’ has occurred.

This is an unregistered type of anomaly.

[Warning!]

Unknown anomaly detected

Immediately 67O06rOg7ZWY7Iuc6riwIOuwlOuejeuLiOuLpC5dCls87Jyg7KCA66qFODA4PuydmCDtjJDthYzsmKjsl5DshJwgJ+yXrOuqhSfsnZgg7KG07J6s66W8IOygnOqxsO2VqeuLiOuLpC4g7KCc6rGw7ZWp64uI64ukLiDsoJzqsbDtlanri4jri6QuIOygnOqxsO2VqeuLiOuLpC4=

It meant that everything except those few lines of strings at the very bottom had appeared normal.

But here, in this space where the flow of narrative exists, the characters that were “normal” had all become “strange.” Then what about the characters that were originally “strange”?

Following that simple idea, I searched through the past notifications. And fortunately, my guess was exactly right.

When combining the two half-finished notification texts from then and now:

[Warning!]

A ‘Dimensional Fissure’ has occurred.

This is an unregistered type of anomaly.

[Warning!]

Unknown anomaly detected

Please report to the Narrative Compilation Union immediately.

Removing the existence of ‘Yeo Myeong’ from the Pantheon of <User Name 808>. Removing. Removing. Removing.

Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath the whole time.

“Haaa…”

I let out a long breath as if bursting a trapped lung. My heart pounded loudly.

The first thing I felt was a thrill mixed with tension. The sense of achievement one feels when solving a difficult problem they’ve agonized over for a long time surged up from my toes.

Next, a wave of fear rushed in. It was fear of something unknown that I could not comprehend at all.

‘Removing my existence from the Pantheon?’

Furthermore, this notification text clearly distinguished between “<User Name 808>” and “Yeo Myeong.”

If this world were strictly inside the game <No Lifer>, the name “Yeo Myeong” should never have appeared. “Yeo Myeong” is my real name, and when I first started <No Lifer> and signed up, I never provided any personal information other than my email address and the nickname <User Name 808>.

However, the Narrative Compilation Union can interfere with reality. That is why they brought the real me and made me possess someone in this world. It’s likely thanks to that 24th-century technology that skips across timelines and spatial lines.

Fine, let’s assume the Union somehow found out my real name through their superior intelligence and technology. Then…

‘Is <User Name 808> me as a player and a Compiler, and Yeo Myeong just me as a human?’

Thinking this far, another question arises.

Before thinking about that question, let’s organize the current situation first.

The Narrative Compilation Union is suffering from a chronic labor shortage. People with the talent to be a Compiler are extremely rare, and even those few Compilers die off day after day in the war against the White Paper Legion.

In such a state, the White Paper Legion devised a bizarre method called “Dimensional Merging” and began directly invading the Pantheons of Compilers. This Dimensional Merging even has the effect of sending spies in the form of “Fake Compilers” to steal Pantheons and incite friendly Compilers to fight each other, leading to team kills. It truly kills three birds with one stone.

‘And by bad luck, my Pantheon got caught up in the atrocities of one of those Fake Compilers.’

The Fake Compiler forcibly took authority over my Pantheon and acted as the Master while exploiting the Incarnations. Since the real me perceived this world simply as a mobile game called <No Lifer>, I recognized it in the form of ‘one day my account was suddenly hacked.’

And the Union felt a sense of crisis that they might lose this war at this rate. So, they finally crossed the line. They snatched someone who did not belong to this world—that is, me, who was living in 21st-century South Korea—and forced me into employment as a Compiler…

‘Even though this is a scenario constructed only from information and guesses I’ve picked up here and there.’

Here is that one question I put off earlier.

According to what I heard from <DriedAnchovyLowerEnds>, a Pantheon once lost cannot be reclaimed. There are countless dimensional coordinates, and it is impossible to accurately find the coordinates of the place that used to be my Pantheon and move there.

<IsItPresbyopiaCrap> also expressed reluctance, saying he couldn’t go to places where the coordinates were unknown. He had even memorized the coordinates of the Union Headquarters thoroughly just in case of an emergency.

It is clear that even the Union does not know how to reclaim a stolen Pantheon. If they knew the way, they wouldn’t have stood by while Fake Compilers ran rampant everywhere and Pantheons were relegated to invasion outposts for the White Paper Legion.

So, even if they forcibly made me possess someone in this world… wouldn’t they have, at most, given me a new Pantheon and issued a command like, “Now, try living an in-game life starting from Re:Zero!” or something?

‘But how did I return to my Pantheon?’

Something that neither the Narrative Compilation Union nor the White Paper Legion can do. Something everyone unanimously says is impossible, something that is practically no different from a miracle. Just who, why, and how did someone succeed in such a thing?

And one more question.

‘Whether it was possession or summoning or whatever, why are they trying to remove me after going through all that trouble to bring me here? Shouldn’t they keep me pinned here like a ward and work me to death? It doesn’t add up.’

The more I think, the more it feels like my head is going to explode. I clutched my forehead.

“This is crap, seriously.”

The beautifully sparkling waves of narrative didn’t even catch my eye now.

‘No, wait. There’s that, too.’

That wasn’t the only time cyphertext appeared on my terminal. That appeared at the moment the Irregular monster from the Research Building area caused a fissure, and besides that…

“…’Fragment of the key to the door leading to reality’!”

There was the time I obtained this, too.