Under the Land of Demons, Where Neither Sunlight Nor Moonlight Reaches
A land untouched by the sweetness and joy of the world, where no promised salvation from the gods descends. A land of demons.
In this forsaken place, twelve children had fallen.
They were invited to this bizarre world as living sacrifices. When the children first appeared, the demons danced with glee for an entire day. Why? Because their dream was drawing closer.
The demons longed for a god of their own.
A wicked and absolute deity who would mock everything in the human world yet share sweet honey with them alone—a biased and benevolent god. The demons were ready to make their wish come true.
With burning fire, chilling hunger, sharp spikes, and damp insomnia... the demons brought out twelve different instruments of torture and sang.
“Let us give them pain. Let us give them unrelenting pain.”
They envisioned a beautiful symphony composed of children’s screams as musical notes, one that would reach their god in the distant heavens and draw a response.
And so began a game of cat-and-mouse between the children and the demons.
Hope Amid Fear
The children who fell into this strange world trembled with fear. Yet, deep in their hearts, a sliver of hope lingered. Perhaps they could escape this world. Perhaps they could return to the sunlit, joyful "outside."
There was an exit.
From the village hill, they could see a radiant golden gate glowing on the boundary. Passing through it would allow them to escape this strange and dreadful world.
However, the entire world was filled with demons. Traps and spells guarded every alley, ensuring that no one could leave.
The children had no magic, no physical abilities, nothing at all.
Yet, despite everything, they desperately wanted to leave.
A Roaring Engine
Brrroooom—!
I clung tightly to Abraham’s waist, or else I’d likely fall off the bike and snap my spine in two.
Screech—! Bang! Bang-bang!
The reckless driving felt as if my insides were being thrown to one side. Yet, with acrobatic ease, Abraham skillfully maneuvered the bike while firing his shotgun with one hand, blowing off the demons’ heads.
At least twenty heads had flown off already.
Despite all this chaos, Abraham had the audacity to casually strike up a conversation with me. His words were hard to catch over the wind, but his relaxed tone was clear.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
“I feel like throwing up, I’m dizzy, and my arm hurts, but I’m fine!”
“Haha, you’re young. A little rest, and you’ll recover in no time.”
He even had time to joke.
Unable to suppress my curiosity, I blurted out a question. What exactly had happened to this old man?
“That prosthetic arm—what’s the story behind it? How did you become Mecha-Abraham?”
“Well, you see, I’m a bit different by nature. Unlike others who gained self-awareness from someone’s faith, I was directly created by the Creator, and the Goddess supplied my energy. So—”
Click, whirr—!
Abraham’s metallic prosthetic transformed with a sound that stirred a man’s soul. From the back of his hand, a gun barrel emerged, morphing into a machine gun in the blink of an eye.
Ratatatatatata—!
The demons were shredded to bits, reduced to rags.
“Since I’m not defined by faith, I can freely change my form without any issue. That’s why I asked Dr. Woo Chaerin to modify me.”
“...Fascinating!”
Unlike other NPCs, who are defined by belief, Centra couldn’t suddenly transform into an old man. But Abraham seemed to be an exception.
The newly upgraded Mecha-Abraham continued his explanation.
“Because I’m recorded as an NPC, even in this world created by the Goddess, I’m treated as one.”
“Ah, I see.”
“And so, I also know the story’s setting and ‘clear conditions.’ It’s embedded in my mind. Since it seems the Creator doesn’t know, I’ll explain. Did you see the ‘Golden Gate’ on the way here?”
I had.
When the bike soared between rooftops, I had spotted a suspiciously radiant and gleaming gate. It seemed that was the straightforward escape route.
Good thing Abraham was here—without him, I wouldn’t have known the ‘clear conditions,’ and I’d have had to blindly wander, trying everything.
Brushing away the hair that kept slapping my face in the strong wind, I shouted to make myself heard over the bike’s roar.
“What’s the backstory, Abraham?!”
“Creator, the backstory isn’t related to the ‘clear conditions.’ Yet you’re interested. May I ask why?”
“You should always pay attention to backstory! In TRPGs, the Game Master’s intentions are heavily tied to it! Analyzing it might even give insight into Yuna’s thoughts!”
“The will of the god...”
Abraham muttered bitterly.
And then, a chilling realization struck me like a late-arriving thought.
Every other NPC had found a happy ending. Centra was united with her lover, Pero achieved a safe life, Oh Hyein reunited with her friend, and Woo Chaerin saved the world.
They endured hardships but ultimately overcame them to find happiness.
But what about Abraham?
Though the Abraham within the session and the machine-bound Abraham were different, they had merged by his own desire. Thus, he must know.
His daughter, Isaac, had gone mad with starlight, becoming a fanatic, and she had beheaded him. And at the end of that torment...
He gained nothing. Isaac had never developed self-awareness. Abraham was left to carry the lonely truth that his daughter was merely a bundle of data.
At the time, I hadn’t known NPCs could come to life. How could anyone predict that characters they created would gain self-awareness and think for themselves? Rationally speaking, it wasn’t my fault.
But I couldn’t help feeling guilty. He had suffered because of the backstory I wrote. I realized that now.
While I silently writhed in guilt, Abraham began explaining with his usual composure.
“Creator, this world begins with twelve pure children being kidnapped by vile demons...”
A Church of Refuge
Rumble, rumble...
The engine gradually quieted and stopped. The bike came to a halt in front of a church, its windows tightly boarded up, making it impossible to see inside.
Dragging the bike behind him, Abraham entered and introduced the place.
“This is my base. To welcome the Creator into a place of worship... I can’t tell if this is blasphemy or reverence.”
“You’ve got quite a spacious building here. Isn’t it hard to defend such a large space?”
“It’s big for one, but cramped for eleven.”
“You mean...?”
Abraham nodded and opened the door.
“Yes, the children from the story—I’m protecting them.”
Creak.
Beyond the door, a group of children huddled together, trembling in fear and clinging to one another. There were eleven in total.
A sense of unease washed over me. I noticed that their movements and eyes didn’t align naturally.
“...This is...”
“Yes, these children lack self-awareness. They have no intelligence. Strictly speaking, they’re closer to machines.”
In literal terms, they were programmed NPCs, far less advanced than the AI I had developed. Their reactions were mere pre-programmed responses, replayed according to the situation.
Puppets pretending to tremble in fear.
“Still, wouldn’t you say there’s life within them? I couldn’t simply leave them behind, so I’ve been protecting them.”
“......”
Abraham gazed at the children with hollow eyes, yet there was a faint glimmer of affection within them—a look of someone reminiscing about his daughter.
I committed his expression to memory. Though I couldn’t do anything for him right now due to pressing matters, I resolved to do something for him someday.
Shifting my focus, I aimed for the ‘clear conditions.’
This world was teeming with demons. Ridiculously many. Every block seemed to have three lurking demons. I had to break through this density to reach the Golden Gate —all without magic.
“...Abraham, how strong are you?”
“I can handle ordinary demons with ease, but there are powerful commander-class demons scattered across the world. I believe I’d lose to them in a fight.”
“Commander-class demons? Have you identified how many?”
“I’ve encountered two so far. One wore a goat mask, and the other was a hunched-over old figure.”
The descriptions sounded familiar. A goat mask likely hinted at that damned ‘Lamb.’ I’d also heard of twelve children before.
This story was clearly a parallel to Yuna’s past, presented as a session. I had suspected as much, but now I was certain.
The twelve experimental subjects trapped in the Purple Tower, guarded by magicians and led by the Lamb and the previous Tower Lord.
And... Yuna herself, who neither had magic nor was particularly strong.
And now, me.
I understood why I was affected by ‘Magic Suppression.’ In this retelling of the past, I had taken on Yuna’s role.
“......”
I was determined to break through.
Borrowing Abraham’s strength, I planned to rush straight through to the Golden Gate and move on to the next floor. But my plans changed.
“Abraham, we’ll escape with these children.”
“Creator, that’s unrelated to the ‘clear conditions’ and will make escape significantly harder. These children have no sense of self. They’re mere puppets.”
He was right. Logically, his approach was more practical.
But I didn’t care.
“Meaning and value aren’t assigned at birth—they’re created through the heart. If this story represents Yuna’s regrets, I can’t leave it as is.”
“An unattainable desire without a clear path is called whining or faith. Are you praying, Creator?”
“A futile effort to reach distant, untouchable stars—that’s what we call a delusion or belief. But this time, it’s neither. A full escape is within reach.”
I had a plan. A brilliant way to save these children while breaking through the demons.
Abraham saw the resolve in my expression and silently nodded.
“What must I do?”
“Take a good rest today. I’ll rest for a day, too. Prepare paper and pens, check the bike’s components for tomorrow’s long journey, and if possible, find a loudspeaker.”
“...Quite a lot for someone advising me to rest, Creator.”
“Finish it quickly, and you’ll have free time to rest. Let’s move—every moment counts for extra sleep.”
Abraham’s complaint wasn’t genuine—it was just a little joke.
While I waited for the materials to be ready, I approached the window and gazed out at the sky. It was murky, dark, and damp.
A faint moon cast a somber light over the land. The celestial body, tracing its orbit, resembled an eye. If so, then perhaps this moon was crying starlight tears.
Yuna... was she watching me?
“If you are, watch carefully. As always, I’ll overcome this challenge, tread paths no one else dares, and eventually arrive before you. Yuna.”
And at that moment.
I felt as though the moon glimmered ever so slightly.
‘S2: A Star’s Resentment’ Revisited
This world was like an enhanced version of ‘S2: A Star’s Resentment.’
Hostile demons roamed everywhere, there was no spell to banish them back to their realm, no NPCs to help me, and I was penalized with ‘Magic Suppression.’
The city seemed to have already fallen, with only the children left as survivors. And in this situation, the objective was to cross the ruined city to reach the escape point—a harsh requirement.
Without Abraham, I’d have been completely helpless.
Alright, time to think carefully.
Excluding the irregularity that is Abraham, the characters in this story correspond one-to-one with Yuna’s past. I was Yuna, and these children were akin to the sacrificial offerings like her.
The commander-class demons? Obviously, they represented ‘the Lamb’ and the former Tower Lord.
And the low-tier demons? No doubt. These creatures symbolized the illusion mages who once studied at the tower.
And illusion mages... they were twisted creatures by nature. The Purple Tower had always had a high proportion of the insane, and before I reformed it, it was saturated with malevolence.
Given the circumstances, there was one trick I could use.
“Hey, don’t you think that ‘Lamb’ guy is seriously off? He acts all high and mighty just because he’s on the right side of the line, leading the project like he’s better than everyone. That pompous ass, with his stupid mask and all.”
“Kerrek?”
“I heard from Charlie the other day—he’s been gaslighting «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» our... demon king or whatever. Anytime a demon comes up with a brilliant spell to earn recognition, that guy steals the credit and pretends it’s his.”
“Ker-ek, Kerlekk...”
Sowing discord.
Draped in the skin of a dead demon, I crouched and stoked the fire, planting seeds of dissent among the demons. Let them splinter and quarrel—let cracks form in their unity.
Magic Suppression? Who needs it?
If I lacked strength, I’d just make the strong ones fight each other!