How to Replace Your Dad - Chapter 279

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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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How to Replace Father
Chapter 279
‘They’ arrived with the darkness.
Those entities, filling every inch of his vision, bore the pattern of the Observer of Depravity.
A great army of heretics!
Clad in horned helms, they advanced as smoke, as mist, as wind.
They became anxiety itself, strangling breath with fear, severing life itself.
“Aaaaahhh—!”
“Ugh… ugggghhh…!”
The Reconstruction Council’s soldiers reeled in panic.
Like driftwood swept before the tide, they collapsed one after another.
‘There’s a reason people call it the Observer Lottery in the game.’
Those entities faithfully carried out the orders of the pattern-bearer—the Sect Leader.
In an instant, they neutralized the Reconstruction Council’s soldiers and closed in on the Game Master.
Unit Members from Miliano’s Team, specialized in mental arts, tore through the entities and revealed themselves.
Kai, a Unit Member of the Mind Clan, hurled down her hood.
The mark on her forehead glinted.
“There will be no escape today.”
The Game Master swerved to avoid Kai’s gaze, his eyes darting frantically away.
But before him already stood the eldest of Miliano’s Team—a middle-aged woman with her arms spread wide.
“Come now, child. It’s time to sleep.”
From her skin wafted a soft, sweet fragrance.
The Game Master’s eyes grew heavy.
“…!”
He clapped the back of his hand over his nose in panic, but the hypnotic scent woven by the other Unit Members already surrounded him completely.
Wind swirled violently around the Game Master.
He was trying to scatter the mental-manipulation perfume away.
Crackle-crackle-crack…!
With a dull noise, stone barriers erupted around the Game Master.
A physical shield was erected.
It was useless.
“Grraaahhh—!”
“Grraaakkk….”
Abel’s heretics faithfully obeyed their master’s command.
Devoid of life, they knew no fear.
They swung iron hammers at the barrier and hurled themselves forward.
The stone was about to shatter.
The Game Master lowered his posture.
It was the preparation stance for a leap.
But then….
“‘You’ cannot move.”
Miliano’s voice pierced into the Game Master’s ears.
The Game Master’s body went rigid.
He tried to raise a barrier again, but threads of mana spun by Cesar blocked it.
“You’ve had your fun playing alone all this time. Now it’s our turn.”
“Here we go!”
Charlie from Antonio’s Unit burst forth from among the soldiers.
The iron hammers clasped in both hands blazed with fire as they descended toward the Game Master.
Clang—!
A thunderous metallic sound reverberated across the battlefield.
The impact sent the Game Master’s body reeling.
It was iron chains from Yustea’s Team that bound him.
The Unit Members of Yustea’s Team hurled the chains at the Game Master, then tightened them as they spun counterclockwise and clockwise around him.
“Foolish, Yustea. Do you truly believe such petty things can fully restrain me?”
The Game Master’s body began to crack.
Just like Abel, withered and desiccated.
“He’s fleeing!”
“Raise a barrier—!”
“Barriers won’t help.”
As the Game Master’s body completely disintegrated, a luminous sphere floated up into the void.
The Game Master is a mental entity.
He has abandoned his physical form and fled when cornered by Irregulars.
Right after what he endured at the hands of the Irregular Elite in the Family Tournament finals.
‘That won’t do.’
I realized in the Family Tournament finals that I couldn’t rely on being an Irregular.
‘That’s why I sent Oscar there.’
Come on, Oscar….
The moment I clenched my fists with a tense face.
“I’ve brought it—!”
Oscar’s voice rang out.
Oscar had arrived through the power of the Pattern granted by the Swift Messenger.
And that voice echoed through the darkness.
“There’s nowhere to run today. Rat.”
Everyone’s gaze fixed on a single point.
Abel immediately created a condensed mana platform in the air, a foothold from which to leap.
He burst upward from the condensate, hurling himself toward the Game Master.
I cried out.
“Luciano—!”
Luciano’s hair blazed against the night.
It rippled like moonlight as he lunged toward the mental entity of the orb.
Light poured forth.
The name of the Pattern I had given him.
It was….
‘Destroyer of Causality.’
A window materialized before my eyes.
[Narrative requirement satisfied.]
[‘Owner of the Hourglass’ responds.]
[Contradiction arises.]
.
.
[Avici Hell is generated.]
‘Avici Hell?’
I had never heard of it before.
A skill?
Or an item?
In that moment, another window manifested before me.
Avici Hell
Forcibly binds the designated target regardless of whether it possesses a physical form.
The binding state cannot be released by any magical or physical means.
[Binding Duration Remaining] D-99
‘Incredible. I’ve created an entirely new skill.’
Strange characters swirled in Luciano’s hands.
Luciano seemed to instinctively grasp how to use Avici Hell.
Luciano’s hands enveloped the Game Master’s mental entity.
Then the characters meshed together like gears.
Whirrrrring—.
A peculiar vibration resonated through the air.
[Yustea—!]
With the Game Master’s final furious cry, a small box formed from characters was completed.
It fell at Luciano’s feet.
And what followed was silence.
Neither Irregular nor I, nor even the fallen soldiers of the Reconstruction Council, could speak.
Luciano, holding the Avici Hell Box, turned to face me.
“I’ve caught it.”
I stared at him with trembling eyes.
The thing that had held my life in its grip—it was now inside that box.
I gazed at him, gasping for breath.
“….”
If I cast him in that state into one of the ‘worldlines where mana does not exist,’ the Game Master could never return.
Luciano approached, still holding the box.
He wrapped his arms around my back and pulled me close.
“That’s it. We’ve done it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
A electric surge of victory crashed through my mind like it might shatter my skull.
I screamed.
“We’ve won! Victory is ours!”
“Waaaa—”
“Waa, waaaaaaah—!”
The roar of the Irregulars erupted around us.
* * *
Dia paced the room, her expression tight with anxiety.
“Still no word?”
Aslan, who had been waiting for a communication with the Clan Leader, turned to face her.
“It’s not an easy battle. If news came quickly, that would be the truly dangerous sign.”
Dia ran her fingers through her hair with a low sound of distress.
Even this woman of iron felt her hands trembling—seized by the terror that she might lose her daughter.
“Dia.”
The Clan Leader approached with a tea cup, but Dia only pressed both hands to her mouth.
Dia—she was a woman who had lived once before.
Yustea, that foolish child, always threw herself into danger when it mattered most.
Even if she bled. Even if death took her.
She had lost her daughter once already.
To the Game Master’s hands.
Aslan took hold of Dia’s wrist.
“Steady yourself. Have you forgotten what Yusi said?”
“…I haven’t forgotten.”
[Mother, please protect my sister from here.]
It was a plea, a desperate cry—and yet Yustea had said something else.
[Am I a daughter you can be proud of?]
“That’s…”
[Then watch me. I grew up looking at your back. Give me the chance to prove how strong I’ve become.]
Dia bit down hard on her lip.
Then it came.
The communication stone hummed.
Aslan, Dia, and the Clan Leader’s eyes snapped toward it in unison.
[Containment successful.
The Game Master is restrained.
We have won.]
“…?!”
“…!!!”
Aslan and the Clan Leader’s eyes went wide.
Dia’s knees buckled. She crumpled.
“Dia!”
The Clan Leader rushed to steady her.
Aslan caught her gaze as well.
“Are you well?”
“…More than well.”
“……”
Tears began to fall, one after another, from beneath Dia’s bowed head.
She wept and laughed at once.
In this moment, if her daughter stood before her, she could answer:
[Am I a daughter you can be proud of?]
“So very proud.”
Proud of you, steady even in failure.
So that you fall only once, never twice…!
Aslan wrapped his arms around her back and let out a soft laugh.
“Whose daughter did you think she was?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“What gives you the right to claim her when you didn’t even carry her in pain?”
“Your mouth’s already healed.”
Aslan and Dia laughed, looking at each other.
It wasn’t just Yustea who relished the sharp taste of victory.
* * *
The next afternoon.
I grinned down at the table.
Or more precisely, at the Avici Hell Box sitting on top of it.
“Look at it glowing.”
I smacked the box as though driving a nail home.
The Irregular Elite snickered.
“Getting cocky, are we.”
“If you break the seal doing that, we’re not covering it.”
Yustea and Cesar spoke in turn.
Cesar’s tone was gruff, but even he couldn’t hide the upward curl at the corner of his mouth.
I tossed the Avici Hell Box up and caught it again, answering between throws.
“No physical attack or spell can unlock this thing anyway.”
Cesar shook his head.
“Either way, Patterns are broken. Especially Prince Luciano’s Destroyer of Causality.”
He had a point.
Creating magic that didn’t exist in the world.
That’s the work of a god.
“Can’t you grant any more Patterns?”
Cesar asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Antonio too perked up, hand shooting into the air before I could respond.
“Me! Me too!”
Not many of the Irregular Elite possessed Patterns.
Miliano had one from the start.
And I’d granted Patterns to Abel and Oscar.
I let out a long breath.
‘Sure, Patterns would be nice to have.’
A Pattern was a tier above a Characteristic in power.
Characteristics were gifts gods gave to anyone, but a Pattern let you tap directly into a god’s channel.
More than that, a Pattern let you draw on a god’s power far more potently than a Characteristic ever could.
“I’d love to hand out Patterns left and right, but they require Narrative to manifest. The Reconstruction Council doesn’t drive soldiers to their deaths for nothing.”
Death born of conviction.
That was powerful Narrative indeed.
Cesar and Antonio’s faces fell.
Yustea shrugged.
“Forget about the fruit you can’t eat now—the Reconstruction Council Headquarters comes first. Stay focused.”
The Elite settled back into their seats, attention fixed on Yustea.
Luciano was resting to recover from the aftereffects of using his Pattern.
He could have restored his stamina with Rewind, but we’d decided to let him recover naturally just in case it interfered with the Avici Hell Box.
Yustea opened her mouth.
“We’ve taken the GM and captured plenty of Reconstruction Council soldiers, which is good—but it’s made them tighten security.”
“So?”
Antonio asked.
Yustea traced her finger across the map as she continued.
“Originally, the Chapel at the Lake was supposed to be the entrance to the Reconstruction Council Headquarters. But when the vanguard arrived, the entrance was sealed.”
“They barred the doors? Are they planning a siege? Tsk, that’s just attrition warfare.”
Cesar shrugged.
“Not that it matters to us. We’ve already captured a fair number of their soldiers anyway.”
Miliano nodded with a smile.
“If Prince Gaspard’s side can’t breach the Headquarters, our victory will be assured.”
Yustea shook her head.
“I wish it were that simple, but unfortunately Gaspard’s unit has already captured around a hundred Reconstruction Council soldiers.”
“What?!”
“They entered faster than we did. There was a battle before the entrance was sealed, and they achieved a decisive victory.”
Antonio cursed and slumped across the table.
“How in hell is that a decisive victory? If the battle happened at the Headquarters itself, the Reconstruction Council would’ve had reinforcements pouring in.”
Yustea answered.
“They abandoned them. The guards, I mean. They focused on shutting the door instead.”
I exhaled slowly.
“Then we can’t give up on capturing the Reconstruction Council. If entering the chapel is difficult, what about other passages?”
That was when it happened.
“There are no other passages. But there is another way.”
The barracks door swung open, and Oscar stepped inside.
The Elite members froze at the sight of him.
Cesar in particular twisted his mouth into a smirk.
“Well, don’t you look a sight.”
It was worth mocking.
Oscar was wearing an Irregular uniform.
The Elite members snickered, but Oscar merely shrugged.
Some of that easy confidence from our first meeting had returned.
I rested my chin on my fist and asked.
“Another way? What do you mean?”
“They didn’t lock the door for a siege. They’re moving their headquarters through somewhere else.”
“Moving their headquarters? That’s no simple task—relocating that many people all at once. They’d have to move weapons, supplies, everything.”
“The Reconstruction Council has maintained security by moving their headquarters periodically.”
“How?”
“Through dungeons.”
“…!”
My eyes widened.
Now that I thought about it, when we raided the first Reconstruction Council headquarters, we had entered a phantom dungeon.
Cesar spoke up.
“They’ll try to cross through a dungeon to reach another location. We’ll have to enter it too.”
“Do you know how to enter the dungeon?”
“Yes. The dungeon’s name is the World of Twisted Time. You can only escape by moving to a point in the future or past and completing a quest.”
The future or the past?
An Irregular’s eyes widened.
Oscar nodded.
“If it’s the past, it could be an era when the Old Empire existed.”
“Then… if it’s the future?”
Antonio asked urgently.
“It might be a world where Yustea’s a married woman with a couple of kids. Who do you think her husband would be?”
“Well, obviously…”
As I mumbled, Oscar settled beside me and propped his chin on his hand.
“Don’t be so sure. I’m thinking of giving it a serious shot.”
I stiffened.

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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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