I think I’ll have to give up the title of a veteran player.
[The Constellation of the Great Sword invites you to the Hall of Deities!]
I have poured 9,000 hours into S.O.D., so why are unprecedented situations happening one after another?
“What did I even do to get invited?”
I clearly remember touching the memorial of the Six Heroes because the sight of it was giving me a headache.
I vaguely recall hearing a voice that felt both unfamiliar and familiar right afterward… but I can’t remember anything beyond that.
Thinking about it more probably won’t solve anything, so I decided to move forward for now.
The Hall of Deities, huh…
Until just a moment ago, I was standing in the central plaza of , but now I’d been transported to what felt like paradise.
Golden clouds stretched endlessly on either side, and in the middle was a staircase that spiraled upward. At the top of the stairs, a structure resembling a temple from Greek mythology floated in the air.
Since the Hall of Deities is the city where constellations reside, calling it a paradise wouldn’t be inaccurate.
However…
Humans are absolutely forbidden from entering the Hall of Deities.
That was an unchanging rule with no exceptions.
Even if a game character achieved the great feat of defeating the Demon King, an event where they were invited to the Hall of Deities had never occurred.
That’s how extraordinary my current situation is—.
<Stop right there!>
It was then that a thunderous roar struck my ears.
The sheer volume made my eardrums ache, and I turned toward the source of the voice with a frown.
There I saw—
<How can someone reeking of mortality be in the Hall of Deities? Who are you?!>
A goblin with messy hair, clad in golden armor and gripping a crescent-bladed polearm, flew toward me through the clouds.
Despite his ferocious appearance, he had pure white wings on his back that seemed out of place.
With such a distinctive look, I recognized him at a glance.
“Damn it, it’s a Watcher.”
If the constellations are the residents of the Hall of Deities, then the Watchers are its guards.
They’re the ones who pass judgment without mercy on intruders.
In other words, I was in big trouble.
Thud!
When the Watcher landed, it felt like a massive mountain had dropped right in front of me.
<Answer me. How did a mortal dare to set foot in the sacred realm of the exalted? Explain yourself!>
“I…”
<No! It doesn’t matter how you got here. The mere fact that a lowly being like you entered the sacred Hall of Deities is a crime punishable by death!>
Can’t you at least let me speak, you son of a—?
As the Watcher’s face turned red with rage, he raised his polearm high, veins bulging.
“I was invited here by a great constellation of this Hall of Deities.”
<…!>
The Watcher, who had seemed ready to cut me down in an instant, suddenly hesitated.
Of course, he had to pause. If the homeowner invited me, what could this guy possibly do…?
<Hahaha! That’s the best excuse you could come up with?>
“…”
<As if someone as pitiful as you could ever be invited by the exalted one! Not even a passing beast would find that joke funny!>
“And what if it’s true? How will you handle it then?”
<It’s not true, so there’s no need to handle anything. Would you invite a mere insect into your house? The same principle applies here.>
An insect, huh? While it’s a bit extreme, it’s not entirely inaccurate.
The gap between humans and constellations in this world is exactly that vast.
<You’ve amused me, so I’ll show you mercy. If you tell me how you got here, I’ll make your death painless.>
“I already told you. I was invited.”
<So you’re going to stick to that lie? Now I’m even more intrigued.>
Rumble…
Golden energy surged around the Watcher’s shoulders like a stormy wave.
“…!”
A suffocating pressure bore down on me, as if gravity had increased by dozens of times.
This guy really wanted to mess with me, didn’t he?
Using divine power against a human? Seriously?
Even as Watchers, they’re transcendents who live in the Hall of Deities.
Their very existence operates on a different level.
The “divine power” they emit is said to crush the soul of a mere mortal like a piece of paper.
But—
[‘Iron-Blooded Heart’ resists the divine power of the Watcher, ‘Gakgui’!]
[The status effect ‘Fear’ is reduced by 90% due to the ‘Authority of Resistance’!]
That setting doesn’t apply to me right now.
Thanks to my powerful mental barriers and the overlapped authority of a constellation, the tragedy of my soul being crushed didn’t occur.
Apparently, the combination of ‘Iron-Blooded Heart’ and the ‘Authority of Resistance’ was even more overpowered than I’d imagined.
<Wh-what…?>
The Watcher faltered, wide-eyed, as I stood there nonchalantly, unfazed by his divine power.
Even as he tried to amplify its intensity, the result remained the same.
<Wh-who… Who the hell are you?! How can a mere mortal resist divine power?!>
“Enough with the ‘mortal this, mortal that.’ You’re really getting on my nerves. Why don’t you back off already?”
<Y-you…! You…?!>
Apparently, showing off an extraordinary ability was enough to shake even the steadfast Watcher.
The rapidly diminishing divine power indicated that he’d finally realized something was off.
<W-wait a minute. Okay, let’s talk—.>
Slash!
It was then.
A blue sword energy flew from somewhere, severing the Watcher’s right arm in a single stroke.
<Arghhh!!>
The Watcher screamed in agony, clutching the stump of his arm, while I stood there equally stunned.
I turned toward the direction the sword energy had come from, furrowing my brows.
Whoosh!
The one who had launched the attack, the ‘Constellation of the Great Sword,’ was approaching with wings of light spread wide.
And yet…
「I hurried here in person, and it seems I arrived just in time.」
The moment I saw him, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The ‘Iron-Blooded Heart,’ which hadn’t even flinched against divine power, now felt as though it might waver.
「For a mere Watcher to dare threaten my father… Unforgivable. A hundred deaths wouldn’t be enough.」
Because the ‘Constellation of the Great Sword,’ who was now stomping on the fallen Watcher, was none other than…
The playable character I had raised, Damian Abel.
The reason I was convinced that this guy wasn’t the “Damian” from the Suoden’s settings but rather the playable character Damian I had personally nurtured was simple.
「Do you recognize me, Father?」
“…It’d be strange if I didn’t.”
He was dressed exactly the same as the equipment setup I had given him back then.
A helmet in the shape of a white lion that completely concealed his face.
A cloak constantly ablaze with blue flames.
A platinum armor that shimmered brilliantly when struck by sunlight.
<White Night Set>.
There was no chance for a mistake.
I was the only one who managed to assemble the entire <White Night Set>. , notorious for its extreme crafting difficulty in Stellar of Dungeon.
Other sane players quit the game midway, cursing the crafting material requirements and sending “well wishes” to the developers’ families.
「For you to recognize me at a glance…! Truly, the bond between father and son is remarkable! I am deeply moved, Father!」
Even through the helmet, Damian’s delight was evident, as if his face had blossomed into a radiant smile.
Not recognizing him would indeed be idiotic.
But more importantly, the situation was so absurd that I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“The Constellation of the Great Sword… was Damian Abel, the character I raised?”
…Why?
While my mind was reeling in confusion, Damian shifted his attention.
「Let’s continue our conversation after dealing with this one’s punishment.」
<Hi, hiiek…!>
Damian’s demeanor changed in an instant, his aura radiating hostility.
When he leaned in, the white lion helmet casting shadows of menace, the watcher’s face turned pale in an instant.
「You, who are meant to guard the sacred temple, dared to insult the father of a Constellation and even threatened him with divine power. Your life alone doesn’t seem enough to pay for such insolence. What do you think?」
<Please… please have mercy…!>
「If you seek mercy, beg it from this person, not me.」
As Damian spoke, the watcher turned to me, his expression the very picture of abject desperation—completely different from the arrogance he had shown earlier.
Before I could say anything—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The watcher dropped to his knees and began slamming his forehead against the ground repeatedly.
Even with one arm severed, the pain on his face was unmistakable.
<I am but a wretched being who failed to recognize the esteemed presence before me and committed a grave offense. Please, grant me mercy… I will never forget this grace for the rest of my life…!>
“Mercy requested with words alone can hardly be genuine.”
The same person who had tried to split my skull open just moments ago was now shamelessly begging for mercy?
“If you desire mercy, you’ll have to show sincerity equivalent to the value of your life.”
<S-si-sincerity? What kind…?>
“I don’t know. That’s for you to figure out.”
The meaning behind my words—that he should conduct himself wisely—left the sentinel stunned.
As he stood there trembling and thinking over his options, I silently observed.
If he offered something satisfactory, he’d live. If not…
Even if I told Damian not to do it, he’d probably lop off the watcher’s head anyway.
After a brief, heavy silence—
<I-I offer… my horn. In place of my life…>
The watcher’s voice was laced with shame and anguish as he grasped the single horn atop his head.
I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, though not for the reason one might think.
It wasn’t because the idea of trading his life for a mere horn seemed absurd.
Rather, it was the opposite.
“For goblin watchers, their horn is a symbol of their identity and existence as a species.”
Have you ever seen a human without eyes, nose, or a mouth?
To them, their “horn” held that level of significance.
Offering it as payment was akin to stripping away their very identity.
A hornless goblin watcher… What kind of looks would he get from his kin?
Living would be no better than dying.
Of course, that’s a problem only for goblins.
To humans like me, a goblin’s horn meant something entirely different.
“So this is how I acquire this item.”
It was a legendary-grade item, something so rare that getting even one required immense hardship and luck.
Then—
Crack!
<Arrghhh…!>
The sentinel let out an agonized groan as he wrenched his horn off with his own hands.
The pain must have been unbearable, judging by the tears streaming down his face—something he hadn’t even done when his arm was severed.
<P-please… take this and forgive me…>
When I accepted the trembling hand holding the severed horn, an item description appeared in front of me, just like in the game.
【Horn of the Goblin Sentinel】
Grade: Legendary
Effect: The horn of a revered goblin sentinel. Once, you can extract the energy within to unleash a miracle-level stroke of fortune.
As expected, the item’s effect matched exactly what I remembered.
A talisman of extraordinary luck. I’d surely find a moment where it’d come in handy.
I did feel a little sorry for the watcher, but survival demanded sacrifices.
After that minor commotion was resolved, I finally sat down for a proper conversation with Damian.
The temple’s interior was vast and desolate, with nothing but a massive round table in the center of the marble-finished hall.
“Six chairs.”
I noticed this while sitting opposite Damian.
The number wasn’t a coincidence.
Clearly, the other five playable characters I had raised had also become Constellations.
「I’m truly sorry I can’t offer you a more fitting welcome, Father.」
“I’m… fine.”
I couldn’t figure out how to react in this situation where a character I had raised in a game now stood before me, calling me “Father.”
So, I decided to keep my emotions hidden and my tone neutral.
“You keep calling me ‘Father.’ Damian, do you actually recognize who I am?”
「How could I not? You’re the one who created and raised me.」
“…Do you know what an ‘RPG game’ is?”
「RPG…? That’s a rather peculiar term. What does it mean?」
“….”
I had assumed he understood he was a game character, but it seemed he didn’t.
Was there some bizarre twist where the body I inhabited, Ruth Freed, happened to be Damian’s blood relative? No way… right?
Damian broke the silence as I sat there, visibly puzzled.
「I’m aware that you come from the ‘outside world.’ This ‘RPG game’ you mentioned must pertain to the boundary separating us, yes?」
“Wait, the ‘outside world’? Are you talking about Earth?”
「Ah, so your world is called ‘Earth.’」
I fell silent, dumbfounded, realizing something.
Damian Abel was clearly aware that, while he might not understand the concept of an RPG game, he was a being customized and raised by me in another world.
“…It’s true. I made and raised you on a world called Earth. But I didn’t expect you to realize that.”
「I’ve known since I first awakened with a sense of self in Hester Village.」
Hester Village—the starting point of Damian Abel’s journey.
So, from the moment he was created, he was aware he was a character in a game.
But if that’s the case, why is he now a Constellation? And why has the lore about the six heroes from 500 years ago been rewritten?
Some details matched the game, but others differentiated entirely.
Maybe I’d find a clue if I kept talking.
「It was impossible not to notice you. A vast, unshakable will—a gaze watching over me from the outside world.」
“You’re making it sound like I was your Constellation or something.”
「To me, you are a Constellation, Father. You gave me the ultimate sword and taught me secret swordsmanship, didn’t you?」
So, the gear grinding and skill points I invested meant that much to him, huh?
This simplified things.
I asked Damian a question with a glimmer of hope.
“Then, Damian, do you know why I ended up in this world?”
「Of course. How could I waste your time if I didn’t?」
Damian’s confident expression was like a beacon of light in the darkness.
Could it be? Did he really know why I was brought here?
Just as I began to trust my main character—
Damian clenched his fists and lowered his head.
「Forgive me, Father…!」
“…?”
「It’s because we, the Constellations, failed to solve the shadow looming over this continent… leaving you no choice but to intervene…!」
What is he talking about now?
“I have come to a realization. When I felt that the great soul who once completed me had descended upon this continent, I understood your will.”
“What… exactly did you understand…?”
“You, Father, have descended to this land to save a world in crisis, haven’t you?”
“…”
“You foresaw a dark future that even we, the constellations, could not see and decided to bear this heavy burden alone, even possessing a mortal body to do so!”
I have no idea what kind of delusions he’s entertaining by himself, but I wish he’d just stop talking.
The drops falling from under his helmet… Are those tears, by any chance?
“I, Damian, have served as a vessel for your will all my life. Even if I do not know what future you have foreseen, I will not fail to recognize your great purpose.”
Damian, barely managing to collect himself, placed a hand over his chest and bowed respectfully to me.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth.
Forget salvation—I’m just a miserable victim who was unfairly dragged into a trash game…
I can’t foresee any dark future, much less the next five minutes of my own life.
If I tell him the truth here… even someone like him would be disappointed, right?
The atmosphere had already gone this way, damn it.
“…”
Regardless of Damian’s wild misunderstanding, which was spiraling into a grand fiasco.
The fact that a constellation from the Great Temple was showing me infinite favour was an opportunity I absolutely could not let slip.
Having such a powerful backer—one that even the emperor or the nobility of the empire couldn’t compare to—was too advantageous.
There was no other choice.
Fully aware of my shamelessness, I closed my eyes and solemnly nodded.
“You truly are my first son, Damian.”
“Ah!”
…I don’t even know anymore.
“The one who was once at the highest place now descends to the lowest, enduring this dangerous journey.”
“For the sake of the continent.”
“May I accompany you on this thorny path?”
Accompany? Is he planning to directly descend onto the continent? There must be restrictions on that.
While I stared at Damian with a puzzled look.
Swoosh.
Damian slowly raised his hand and removed the helmet that concealed his face.
Silky black hair swayed like shadows reflected on water. If it weren’t in front of me, the cold violet eyes and pale skin would have been frigid and distant. But there was no mistaking it—it was Damian Abel as I knew him.
“Father.”
Bathed in the twilight glow of the Great Temple like a halo, Damian looked at me with unwavering eyes.
“This time, I wish to become your constellation.”