HACKED 93

“Why did the content of the status window change?”

His skill, ‘Regressor’s Intuition,’ is never wrong. Even if the S-Class Hunter himself suffers from an enemy attack or a debuff that clouds his judgment, his reason and this skill operate separately, so the status window always outputs correct instructions.

The power source, which should be on a higher floor, moved to the 5th floor in the meantime? That is impossible.

Even though the Pantheon is a space made of the Compiler’s will and beliefs, it is ultimately a type of structure. To change the location of a core structure like a power source, a massive construction project would be required to tear down and rebuild the entire Pantheon.

To accomplish that in this short amount of time? Even if there were a 5-star Incarnation with the ‘Architect’ attribute here, they couldn’t perform such a miracle.

If so… it means the ‘shortest path for clearing’ judged by the skill itself has changed.

‘In this situation, is there a simpler clear route than “destroying the power source of the Pantheon”? Even if there were, what kind of variable could make the route itself change so suddenly…’

One thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

‘Compiler.’

There is exactly one factor capable of causing a change so rapid and immediate that it would alter the shortest path to clearing. It is the owner of this Pantheon, the Compiler.

‘The Compiler is right here, on the 5th floor. That’s why it told me to go straight! If I just kill the Compiler, it’s an immediate clear!’

He didn’t know why the Compiler, who should be receiving the utmost protection in the safest place of the Pantheon, had moved to this place where battle was in full swing. He didn’t particularly want to know, either.

What mattered to him now was only the fact that the boss of this raid—a powerless and defenseless boss who couldn’t do anything alone—had appeared in close proximity.

‘If I can’t eat the meal when the table is already set, I’m an idiot.’

His firm conviction became a signpost pointing the way he had to go. Comrades who had activated their ultimate skills with a life-or-death resolve had already been wiped clean from his mind. Confidence and fighting spirit filled that space instead.

“You’re all deaaaad!”

The S-Class Hunter dashed fiercely through the wide hallway. With countless hunting dogs still trailing behind him.

˙✧˖°🎮 ⋆｡˚

<Sickly Model Student>

Rarity: ★☆☆☆☆

Level: 1

Contamination: 0/100

Health: (Deadly!)/100

Traits: Humanoid, Ghost, Urban Legend, Modern, School, Korean Origin, See More… [Tab]

I have seen Incarnations whose health hit Deadly many times before.

San Gun was in exactly that state when I first encountered him, and Hwarang was also at Deadly after undergoing the first merger. There was even a time I intentionally dropped the Gumiho’s health to Deadly to lock her in an empty room.

Back then, they looked as if they would die if struck once, but they didn’t die. In fact, haven’t all three of them currently recovered from Deadly?

So I thought the Model Student, this child, would be the same… I thought if I just recovered her in time, there would be no problem.

“Ah… Teacher. Teacher, you came…”

The girl was collapsed as if leaning against a corner of a dark hallway in the library sector. Her school uniform was so completely soaked in blood that the original color could no longer be recognized.

The blood that flowed from her formed a puddle. Every time her chest, where the crossbow bolt was lodged, rose and fell steeply, the blood pooled in the wound overflowed in surges, making the area of the puddle wider by the second.

I ran frantically through the desolate darkness. Neither the noise of the battle heard from afar, nor the presence of the Agent and Ja-myeong-go standing behind me as if to protect me, mattered right now.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t talk. Don’t talk and just stay still.”

The girl’s unfocused pupils slowly fumbled through the air.

“I can hear… your voice. But, I can’t see you.”

The Model Student couldn’t meet my eyes. Her eyes were open, but it seemed she couldn’t see me. Was it because the surroundings were too dark? Or else…

“I told you not to talk. I’m going to recover you now.”

I knelt down in front of her. My pants were soaked by the deep puddle of blood. However, now was not the time to worry about such things.

“Teacher, I… did well, right?”

“What do you mean, did well!”

A shout more hysterical than necessary came out. Even though I knew I shouldn’t yell at a critically ill person, I couldn’t help it.

“The attack coming toward Mister Dokkaebi, I took it instead.”

“What?”

“Because Mister Dokkaebi is a 4-star, and I’m a 1-star… if someone is going to die, it’s much more… of a gain if I die.”

The Model Student smiled faintly with lips that were so pale they had turned blue.

At those words, my breath hitched. It felt as if a heavy, hot lump was surging up from deep within my stomach to block my throat.

“Why does that crap matter! It’s the same life! Being a 4-star or a 1-star… what use is all that?”

I lifted the Model Student’s hand, which was sprawled carelessly in the middle of the blood puddle. I didn’t care that blood got on my hands as well.

Usually, when I came into contact with Incarnations, even if it was the smallest touch, I felt my energy being faintly sucked out toward them. I suppose you could say it felt similar to when donating blood. But now.

‘The recovery…’

It isn’t working.

Since the Model Student is a 1-star Incarnation, the energy consumption should be much lower and the recovery speed much faster than when recovering other 4-star or 5-star Incarnations. But recovery itself isn’t taking at all.

“It won’t work…”

The Model Student slowly shook her head.

“The damage was, too… great. It’s lucky enough that I didn’t die instantly.”

But I did not let go of her hand. I lowered my head while tightly clutching the small, damp, cold hand with both of mine. As if praying to some unknown god.

‘…Fuck.’

Checking the status of Incarnations through the panels or terminals in the central command room is easy. It is also easy to look only at the word “Deadly” and judge, ‘Well, this character is on the verge of death.’

But to see a person dying like this before my eyes… shedding an unbelievable amount of blood, suffering from terrible pain, truly…

Yes. I think of these Incarnations as people.

Even if they have physical abilities that far exceed the human range and use all sorts of supernatural skills, they are essentially people. They cannot not be people.

And here, a dilemma arises. Me as a ‘gamer’ who must strategically place characters to win, and me as a ‘person’ just like them. Me in the virtual space who immerses himself more than necessary in the game to forget reality, and me in reality who dislikes and fears interacting with others.

‘What am I… what am I doing here? What do I want to do?’

Do I want to return to reality as soon as possible while leaving the Incarnations behind in this world? Or do I want to feel like the protagonist of a fantasy novel here and play the part of some pathetic savior?

“Tea, cher… you know.”

“Yes, okay. I’ll listen. I’ll listen to everything later. So for now, please stop talking. Okay?”

In accordance with that child’s movement of struggling to breathe in and out, blood wells up from her chest in handfuls. It was a sight difficult to look at with open eyes.

“Tell me a bit about yourself, Teacher.”

“No. Right now, your class is the slowest in progress.”

At my joke that wasn’t even a joke, the Model Student laughed slightly despite her pale face. On the other hand, I couldn’t even form something similar to a smile.

“No… it has to be now or never.”

You say you’re a model student, so why are you doing whatever you want at a time like this? Please, just listen to the teacher.

“What was your younger sibling’s name?”

“…What?”

“The, the younger sibling who you said died before.”

Why that story all of a sudden.

I didn’t understand. But I felt like I had to say something. If I could say anything at all to hold onto that child’s fading consciousness.

“Jaeyoung. Lee Jaeyoung.”

“Ah… Jaeyoung. That child… how old was he when he died?”

“He was exactly your age…”

“Teacher, please remember. As for me.”

The slender voice flickered out. Wheeze, wheeze. The breath being forced out grew more and more irregular. To hear her words, I had to lower my head as much as possible and listen intently.

“My name is Hyojeong.”

The small hand held within mine moved weakly. That hand, which was about a knuckle smaller and thinner than mine, twitched its fingertips as if trying to hold my hand in return, and then…

It dropped limply.

Ding!

A goddamn notification sounded from the terminal I had put in my pocket. It was a sound I had heard so much by now that it was engraved in my ears.

But I did not budge. In that exact posture of kneeling and tightly clutching her hand, until her entire body turned into fragments of light and scattered away… I stayed like that for a long time.

I felt like I knew the sentence that would be floating on the terminal screen without even looking at it.

[<Sickly Model Student> has died and returned to a fragment of the narrative.]