D-Rank Constellation Hunter… Stuck Without Internet! - Chapter 143

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 143
I had never seen the High Priest speak in such a manner—not in life, and certainly not in death.
Even they seemed to find the concept of being a god anew when dealing with clients.
“Excuse me.”
“Ah, yes! Constellation! I should mention upfront that it’s difficult for us to provide personal conveniences for individual clients or tips that might aid in judgment. This event is being held by other Constellations under the Constellation System’s permission, so there’s really nothing we can do about it…”
The High Priest was speaking at motor-speed, defending themselves before I could lodge any complaint.
I hadn’t even been thinking of complaining, but somehow my fighting spirit had been dampened.
“No, I just wanted to meet the High Priest who prepared my client’s team. I wanted to thank you…”
“Ah, in that case, I’ll convey my gratitude separately! If you don’t mind, I’ll send you the High Priest’s information later.”
“Yes, I’ll give you a good evaluation.”
“Thank you so much!”
The High Priest, whose horns jutted out like tree branches, bowed to me several more times before returning among the clients.
That’s what a true instructor looks like.
An angel among Constellations, a demon among clients.
For the clients’ wellbeing, the Constellations observed from quite a distance away.
But looking down from up here like this, they must feel like spectacles in the Colosseum.
Isn’t that more frightening?
As the High Priest hurried away, Franson opened his mouth with a smile.
“You liked them that much? Then create a body from that and transfer your client’s soul into it.”
“Don’t you know I need to conserve karma these days?”
“Oh, right. You need to double it.”
He wore an expression of regret.
I knew he was looking out for me, but why did it irritate me so?
“Well then, let us begin the 3,064 millionth Client Affection Verification Competition.”
“How long does this competition usually take? If it goes over ten years, that’s a bit much.”
“In human time, maybe a day or two.”
It didn’t take as long as I thought.
The competition rules were like this.
Various situations are presented to each client through simulation.
Then, by observing how they respond to those situations, their love for the Constellation is evaluated.
The simulation could be a disaster or a simple question-and-answer session.
It depends on the organizers.
“Those people certainly have enough karma to do this over thirty million times.”
“They’re Constellations from the layer who’ve enjoyed everything the Constellation System has to offer. They could blow their nose with karma.”
“I’m envious.”
What fortune did they accumulate in life, what kind of clients did they create to make this possible?
Those who freely give everything they possess and wish to witness the narrative of love.
“Constellations are fundamentally creatures that love stories, but I still tremble every time I spend karma.”
“Me too. Even watching the grand narratives of this magnificent world, it’s hard every time my karma leaves.”
That’s why we can’t come to this layer.
Even if I were to rot away in Sungdo for another ten million years, I doubt I would ever become like them.
My gaze remained fixed on Ha Gyuhyuk, who stood among the clients and glanced nervously around.
“He seems nervous, doesn’t he?”
“Naturally. The other clients probably aren’t the same species either, and even with avatars, this is still a Constellation’s domain.”
In a sense, species that I’d only ever seen as dungeon monsters were now gods observing me.
And those who once crushed them as dungeon bosses were now standing beside me as fellow clients, weighed down by their overwhelming presence.
“Those kids have all been transcendents for quite some time now. I’m worried our boy might lose his nerve.”
“Are you just looking at this as a learning experience, Se-um?”
“No. One born with roots in Korea must win.”
Franson, wearing an expression of utter bewilderment, simply nodded along in agreement anyway.
His remarkable ability to empathize and understand without explanation made conversation remarkably comfortable.
There was no need for further clarification.
“For efficiency, we’ll proceed with twenty clients at a time. Called clients will enter that room. Constellations, please watch the screens.”
On the screens provided at each table, twenty video feeds were displayed in split view.
An ordinary human would struggle to watch even one, but this was a familiar sight for us.
“Ha Gyuhyuk isn’t here.”
“They say in Korea that it’s better to get struck quickly.”
“What are you talking about? It’s better to watch everyone else get hit first, lose their strength, and then slip through.”
“Is that so? Even proverbs change with the times.”
Having lost interest immediately, we began chattering while watching the screens with indifference.
On the screens, the clients found themselves in a space where their world was collapsing.
Even knowing it was artificial, I could see their minds wavering.
“Is it an apocalypse? It doesn’t seem like a particularly original worldview, honestly.”
Apocalypse was a common theme, even if not quite at the level of hunter stories.
The Constellations enjoyed guessing who would survive longest among them, or they accelerated the catastrophe for entertainment.
“Zombies, maybe?”
“There’s probably a zombie client, so they wouldn’t do that.”
“Then it must be disease.”
“Ugh, disease.”
Franson made a face, claiming he had trauma from the word disease.
Though for someone making such a disgusted expression, he seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.
And soon after, I understood what the host Constellations were aiming for.
The situation grew increasingly dire, eventually revealing a story where the clients themselves had brought about this catastrophe through their own Constellation.
“At this point, you can’t tell the difference anymore.”
“Right.”
Initially, they recognize it as virtual, enjoying it like a VR experience.
But as time passes, they become crushed under the weight of Sungdo’s power, until reality and illusion become indistinguishable.
They trembled at their Constellation’s betrayal, and eventually raged at the reality that those they loved sought to kill them.
Some despaired, while others screamed in fury.
“My goodness.”
“Push someone to their limit and demand they prove their love? That wasn’t the test last time.”
Yet there were rare individuals who would accept death if it came from you.
Some of the Constellations were so moved they pressed their hands to their chests.
“What was the test last time?”
“Preparing a feast for the Constellation.”
“Isn’t the difficulty jumping all over the place with each round?”
How could the content vary this wildly?
The clients waiting outside had no idea what was happening inside.
After a few teams had gone through, Ha Gyuhyuk was called.
“Our kid’s going in.”
“Hang in there, Ha Gyuhyuk. They said if your Constellation doesn’t win, you’re dead.”
“I won’t die.”
Ha Gyuhyuk slowly disappeared into the room.
I was worried he might die.
* * *
The smell of burning filled the air. Ha Gyuhyuk looked around.
Corpses were scattered everywhere, and the buildings lay in ruins.
Monsters prowling the streets shrieked with an eerie cry, as if intent on slaughtering everything alive.
Everything before his eyes crumbled, and he walked quickly to avoid seeing familiar faces there.
Perhaps because it was a virtual space, the monsters passed by without noticing him.
‘If this were real, it would’ve damaged my mental state quite a bit….’
And before his eyes lay the devastatingly destroyed Touch One building.
The place Se-um’s divine power was supposed to protect. It had collapsed.
What exactly were they trying to show?
Ha Gyuhyuk looked around uneasily. Se-um must be watching from somewhere.
He pressed his lips together and continued walking.
Then a familiar voice came from right behind him.
“Ha Gyuhyuk.”
“Se-um?”
He reflexively turned around.
Se-um stood before him, her blood-soaked robe fluttering in the void, her clothes torn in places.
Seeing that the skin visible through the gaps was entirely unmarked, it seemed Se-um hadn’t been injured.
Then I saw it.
The blood pouring endlessly from the sword Se-um held.
“I’m sick of this world now.”
My reason wavered.
“Se-um, what do you….”
“I’m just going to erase everything and start over. You’re included in what I’ll erase. I’ve already cut down everything else.”
Se-um scraped the ground with her blade as she slowly approached Ha Gyuhyuk.
Those golden eyes that once held such tender affection had now returned to the cold gaze of an omnipotent being.
With each step, vivid bloodstains were etched into the ground as if I had trampled upon the corpses of all those around me.
My consciousness was dominated by the space itself.
He had now accepted this as reality.
Se-um was attempting to destroy This Land.
And he had been unaware of this fact until now.
Se-um, who had drawn close enough to touch, pressed the blade against Ha Gyuhyuk’s nape.
“Any last words?”
That gentle voice resembled so perfectly the one he loved….
Ha Gyuhyuk fell silent for a moment, then turned his body.
“Are you running away?”
“Yes.”
“How cowardly.”
Ha Gyuhyuk did not answer and began to run.
And he spoke.
“Se-um, please spare me.”
‘The Se-um who would try to kill me cannot exist, so that must be a fake.’

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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