Of Language, Division, and Resilience
Communication with the demons—whose very forms were drastically different from one another—was a challenge. There was no guarantee they would even understand me, let alone that they used a common language. Some might rely on gestures rather than spoken words.
But challenges are simply puzzles waiting for a sharp mind to solve.
“It seems their phonetic structure is similar to ours, with just slight alterations. That makes this too easy. Watch this, Abraham. ‘Nice to meet you, hello!’ in demon language: Kraaak Kaak Kaak Krurruk. ”
“...”
“Although, some of these sounds are physically impossible for human vocal cords. For that, let’s craft an instrument using demon vocal cords. If we blow into a straw-like contraption, it should work. Can you catch me three demons of varying types?”
“Indeed, you are the Creator.”
Abraham’s compliment had an odd tone to it.
From there, it became a meticulous process of trial and error. I carefully observed their subtle rivalries and stoked the flames of discord to sow division among them.
Sometimes, I staged the causes of death on demon corpses to implicate others. Other times, I manipulated the more intelligent demons into being ostracized by their peers. I even used a demon-vocal-cord vuvuzela to create ear-splitting noise pollution. Tossing in pre-recorded insults targeting their demonic ancestors added a fiery touch.
The result?
“Behold, the art of dividing the world into three. They’ve splintered into three factions, all squabbling amongst themselves. Let’s escape through the cracks.”
“But the children move slowly, and there are still demons who are immune to persuasion. What will you do about them?”
“We fight.”
Given more time, I could have manipulated the demons into full-blown civil war, annihilating themselves. But time was of the essence, and I had Abraham, an invaluable ally. It was time for a direct approach.
Of course, I didn’t plan to leave all the fighting to Abraham. Even without magic, I had a way to contribute: guns.
After all, firearms are straightforward tools of destruction. With them, even I could pack a punch.
From Abraham’s arsenal, I borrowed some firearms: two pistols and four magazines. Considering my reduced physical stats, I avoided anything too heavy.
As I pulled the slide back with a click-clack, Abraham asked, “Do you know how to use those?”
“Nope.”
I’d only used firearms during my military service, and I’d never handled pistols before. But that didn’t pose a problem.
Mentally, I replayed a few instructional YouTube videos I’d watched about firearms. Adjusting my grip and stance, I quickly got the hang of it.
“I do now. Just learned. Let’s head to the Golden Gate. I’ll guide the kids while you act as a mobile unit on your bike. Stick to the pre-planned Route A.”
“Understood, Creator. Leave the stray demons to me.”
“Don’t worry about small fry I can handle with pistol rounds. Up to six at once is manageable on this end.”
With preparations complete and our strategy set, it was time to move.
Brrrooooom—!
Abraham sped off on his bike. I secured spare magazines on my belt and led the doll-like children on our escape.
“Follow me.”
“...”
The children moved silently as a group.
Their faces were blank, their movements obedient. When I issued commands, they complied without hesitation. While it was only natural for NPCs, I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of submission emanating from them.
Our progress was smooth.
The density of demons had thinned due to infighting, and Abraham paved the way ahead. At most, we encountered one or two demons along the way.
And for those?
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Kyyaaaah!”
“Krk, krk...”
The first shot was to align my aim. The following two pierced straight through a demon’s forehead. I mean, I’m the guy who casually shoots falling leaves with paper planes for fun. With my bio-aim hacks, missing isn’t an option.
Walking through the cracked asphalt of the decayed and desolate city, I noticed horrifying sights. Severed demon heads dangled from windows, and ominous messages scrawled in blood adorned the walls.
It wasn’t Abraham who had set up these macabre decorations; the demons ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) had done it themselves, likely as part of their oppressive atmosphere.
“...Oppression and intimidation.”
It was clear what ‘the Lamb’ had intended. I could almost see the thought process behind these grotesque displays.
The experimental subjects had to be strictly controlled. They needed to suffer enough to fulfill the purpose of the project, but not so much that they attempted to escape. They had to be utterly convinced that there was no way out—that their suffering was inevitable.
A hopeless mindset. Like elephants chained from a young age, the children were conditioned to believe escape was impossible.
Perhaps these doll-like, obedient children were a reflection of that. I couldn’t know for sure since the specifics were lost to history, but it seemed plausible.
Still, human nature is to defy what you’re told not to do.
“Just watch. I’m going to lead every single one of them out of here.”
With renewed resolve, I marched onward for about 30 minutes until I saw Abraham waiting at the end of the road. His expression was grim, which could only mean one thing:
“There’s a problem, Creator. A goat-masked demon is guarding the Golden Gate.”
“Ah, of course.”
Even in illusions, that bastard causes problems.
As expected, trouble had found us. That goat demon was based on the lunatic who carried his own liquefied consciousness around in a syringe.
No matter the chaos or infighting around him, this guy would remain focused on his experiments to achieve his goals. Unfortunately, his representation here was eerily accurate.
It was clear: we’d have to fight our way through.
Reloading my pistol, I turned to the children and gave my command.
“Run to the Golden Gate. Don’t look back, just keep running. Escape.”
“Creator, what about you?”
“I’ll buy us some time, then follow. Abraham, you said you couldn’t take on commander-class demons one-on-one, right? Then I’ll make sure you can retreat too.”
“You’re even looking out for this old man?”
Of course.
No parent is indifferent to their children, and no creator neglects their creations. Especially not when it’s someone as badass as Abraham, with his mechanical arm and biker style.
Peeking around a corner, I spotted the hulking demon pacing in front of the Golden Gate. Its wings and long claws looked perfect for tearing through people.
Bang!
The first shot burst the demon’s left eye.
“KYAAAAHHH—!!”
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The ground shook as the demon charged.
I’d drawn its aggro. Now, I just needed to hold its attention long enough for the kids to escape, then help Abraham retreat before making my way to the finish line.
The battle would begin in about 30 seconds. Taking a deep breath, I said one last thing before the fight started.
“Abraham, don’t overdo it. You matter to me too.”
“...Creator, may I ask just one thing?”
His voice carried a weight I hadn’t heard before. I turned to meet his gaze.
“...”
Abraham’s eyes held fear and trembling, as if he were standing before a deity he worshipped.
There’s an old saying: if you could ask a god one question, what would it be?
Abraham seemed to have his question ready.
“Of course. Ask away.”
I promised to answer. It felt like my duty.
After a moment of silence, he asked:
“Did my daughter, Isaac, have a chance?”
The question pierced through me. I thought back to Isaac, the sub-villain who went mad with obsession over a sinister star and ultimately sacrificed her father as an offering.
What he was really asking was: Could she have been saved?
I answered honestly.
“She did.”
“She had a chance,” I said firmly.
“...”
There was a path to salvation. It hadn’t been made specifically for Abraham—it was designed for players seeking the perfect ending. Even though the intervention of ‘that entity’ had shaken the story’s direction, the path to redemption had not been entirely erased.
If the players had brought the mindless Isaac to her father’s grave, the conditions would have been fulfilled. She would have been given the chance to atone for her sins. While it wouldn’t have been possible to resurrect her father’s soul from the clutches of the evil god, she would have been able to set him free.
I didn’t know how Abraham would take this answer, but I hoped it would offer him some measure of peace. Hastily, I added:
“Don’t blame the players. It wasn’t their fault. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me, for not being more... forgiving.”
“No, no, Creator. That’s not it,” he interrupted me.
Tears and Faith
Have you ever seen a light drizzle? Abraham’s tears reminded me of one. He stood there, hands clasped in prayer, laughing and crying at the same time. I couldn’t tell exactly what he was feeling, but...
“This is enough, Creator. More than enough.”
When rain passes, rainbows follow. And in Abraham’s sunken eyes, which now shone with the light of stars, a new resolve was born. It shone so brightly that even the blind could see its brilliance.
Abraham’s Resolve
The wise old man, who had held fast to his faith even in the darkest of times, had finally found his peace. He had received the answer to the question he had been too afraid to ask until now. The answer was clear: there had been a chance, and that meant the Creator’s love for His creations was genuine.
“You gave your creations a chance, Creator,” Abraham said, gripping his massive shotgun. “But who will give you a chance?”
“Abraham?”
“Take the children and go first.”
But didn’t he admit that defeat was inevitable?
The young Creator’s eyes filled with concern. It was true—Abraham had never told a lie. If he fought a commander-class demon, he would lose.
Then again, who said he had to remain Abraham?
The old man recalled the words of Dr. Woo Chaerin.
—“Thanks to your unique nature, you can carry an arm like this... and even transform your data. But there’s a limit. If your transformation rate exceeds 50%, you’ll lose your sense of self as Abraham. Do you understand what that means?”
In other words, don’t abandon the form of the old, frail man. Don’t stray too far from your human form, or you might lose yourself entirely.
No.
The sound of clicking and shifting echoed as the old man’s body began to change. His iron arm grew larger, gradually consuming more of his body. The transformation rate climbed rapidly...
But even if his data changed, even if he became a mass of metal, even if only 1% of his original self remained, as long as he remembered his love for his daughter and the beauty of humanity...
He would always be Abraham.
“Abraham! What are you doing?!”
“I’ll be your chance, Creator. Go and do what you must. And... since I may not see you for a while, allow me to say this.”
Click.
Abraham’s right arm fully transformed into a massive machine gun, complete with stabilizing supports that planted themselves firmly in the ground. Adjusting his sunglasses, the old man left the young Creator with a heartfelt blessing before facing the climb to save his beloved.
“From this old man, Abraham: rescue her in style. And give the goddess my regards.”
“Yes, Abraham, my creation. But seriously—don’t die! If you do, Yuna’s going to kill me like a cornered rat!”
And what did he mean by that?
“Before I reunite with my daughter... I cannot, will not, fall here!”
Ratatatatatatatatatatatata—!!
The machine gun roared, spraying bullets as demon flesh and blood exploded in every direction. Amidst the chaos, the screams, and the acrid smell of gunpowder, the old man’s heart shone brightly, unwavering and resolute.
The Creator headed for the next floor.
Thus, the wise mage used his wits and courage to escape the demons and ascend.
But the young girl who wasn’t wise enough couldn’t do the same.
She had no cunning words to manipulate the mages into fighting each other. She had no cherished bonds to save her in moments of crisis. She had nothing.
All the girl could do was steel herself and hold onto hope.
“Everyone, don’t give up. We can’t fall apart. Don’t tear each other down. Let’s do our best together. We can... we can get out of here...!”
But no matter how much she begged the others...
“Shut up! We’re stuck here like cattle in a pen, crawling in the dirt. How the hell are we supposed to escape this damned tower?!”
“Mom... I want my mom... I’m sorry, I won’t eat anymore, so please... please send me home...”
“If I behave nicely, maybe the mages won’t hurt me anymore, right? Right...?”
All those voices, all those desperate feelings, were scattered to the wind.
And so, the children were split into three groups: those who tried to escape, those who bided their time and complied with the mages, and those who fully submitted to them.
Thus, the experiment moved to its next stage.
“Extra! Extra! Big fight at the Celestial Demon Summit—orthodox, unorthodox, and demonic factions clash!”
“...What the hell?”
The next floor... was a wuxia world.