As I ascended toward the truth, I could feel the entire world turning the sky against me, trying to crush my climb.
‘Professor, the Director—’
‘It’s fine. That thing won’t die from something like that.’
Director⧉ Hedwig—System⧉’s proxy and the link between gamer and system—had gone into full meltdown.
– Cease all actions. Warning. Cease immediately.
‘Systemless drones. What should we do?’
‘Run them over.’
They had come without a report filed. Information-analysis combat dolls from the Disciplinary Bureau. System-based Unnamed⧉.
‘Professor Dante! Professor Dante! Stop the car! This is wrong!’
‘What the hell are those things?!’
‘That would be Professor Villemon from the System Council⧉.’
Professor Villemon and his group, ambushing us out of nowhere.
‘But, uh, Professor?’
‘What?’
‘I’m sleepy.’
‘...What?’
‘...zzZ.’
Ran⧉, at the wheel, suddenly slumped into a deep sleep.
‘Ugh, Professor...!’
‘Get her! Pull!’
‘Guhh...! Why the hell is she so heavy?!’
I barely managed to lift her—she was almost as heavy as Dominic—and haul her into the back seat. Then I grabbed the wheel.
‘Professor, the rear tire—!’
But System⧉, like countless rulers throughout history, repeated the same mistake.
‘W-Was that an explosion just now?!’
‘We’re fine.’
The more pressure is applied to suppress something, the harder humans struggle to break free.
‘See? Perfectly fine.’
‘How is this fine?! If you’d been in the passenger seat, you’d be dead right now!!’
If you can’t completely block it off—if even the smallest crack remains—that pressure will eventually break.
‘Professor... wait, no, right?’
‘What?’
‘You’re not thinking of using that thing ahead like a ramp, are you? W-wait... no, no, wait—’
Adele screamed.
The mana-powered vehicle launched into the sky.
And finally, the 40 minutes came to an end.
⋮
That marked the second [Hotfix].
As the world blurred, my consciousness left my body and shot upward into the sky.
At some point, the continent below looked like a speck. I had become a comet, cutting across the edge of the cosmos.
There, in the upper void of this empty universe, a window appeared once again—trickling faint light downward like from a basement.
At that moment, I wondered: maybe I wouldn’t be able to access [Offline] this time.
Sure, the game system⧉ had shut down, but I was still within System⧉’s domain.
But unexpectedly, the connection completed.
< ⧉ Entering location: [Offline] >
───
Name: Dante Hiakapo
Difficulty: [Hell Mode]
Seed: 3340 1414 5592 **** ****
Progress: Main Story 2
Total Combat Power: 206,182
───
Then—pure white.
I stood in a world of white pavement blocks, white space, white sky.
‘...It worked.’
But it occurred to me: perhaps the Director’s temporary death had disrupted the logout process.
I’d successfully entered [Offline], yes, but it felt like I’d arrived too soon. Or perhaps the logout notice wasn’t transmitted at all.
Because—
“Umm... ha-pix... patch... patch adjustments and notes... no, patch notes and ad... ad-jus... adjust-ments...”
In the white desert—
Sitting all alone—
Was Dino, blankly mumbling lines.
“Patch notes and ad... adjustment info... I’ll deliver them... mm! Perfect.”
...Perfect, my ass.
His cheeks puffed out with a satisfied grin.
I’d planned to get revenge on this little shit for dunking me into the water last time, but now wasn’t the time.
“Dino.”
“Awawawa...! B-big bro...??”
Startled, Dino turned to face me.
“...Huh? Huhhh? When did you get here...? I didn’t hear anything...”
As expected, the Director’s death must’ve glitched the logout process. Which meant the system hadn’t notified Dino.
“Dino. I’m busy. And I’m in danger.”
“U-uh?”
“There’s no time. Can you answer a few questions?”
His eyes widened. Then he remembered his purpose—he was here to help me. He nodded.
“First, let me check something.”
“Ah, no—!”
I snatched the patch notes from him and read.
───
[Hotfix] Patch and Adjustment Notes
Fixed bug where 【Script】 would not appear during [Erosion]. Adjusted ‘Self-Control’ personality code of [Hero], suspected error corrected and reinforced.───
That was reasonable.
When the 【Script】 was gone, it felt like losing my eyes and ears. I still remembered how disoriented I was when I first arrived in the Count’s Domain.
The Hero’s sudden blow-up had been insane too, so I was glad that got fixed.
But... something was off.
‘Suspected error’?
So they still haven’t pinpointed it?
And then, this:
───
Rewards Star Shard ×50───
Fine. That’s the basics.
Now onto the real question.
“Dino. The world is shifting from version 2.3.1 to 2.3.2, right? That means this world’s been changing over time, correct?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Then tell me—what was this game like in earlier versions? Like 1.1.1 or 2.1.1?”
Dino scratched his cheek.
“Hmm... I dunno the details, but...”
“Whatever you know. Fast.”
“O-okay. I do know that Ver. 1.0.0 was the version you played in the real world.”
1.0.0... The one I played back then.
Ah.
Right.
< Hiaka Academy: Department of Assassination Ver. 1.0.0 >
That was the original game.
Also, that pop-up I once saw—Hero-Type Professor—had been labeled as 1.0.0, too.
< Hero-Type Professor: [Hell Mode] Ver. 1.0.0 >
Just like that.
“But now we’re at 2.x.x.”
“Yeah.”
Version 2.
That’s when players—including me—started getting pulled into the game.
From that point on, it had become a “VR sandbox solo game.”
‘And now we’re at 2.3.x...’
2.0 ➝ 2.1 ➝ 2.2 ➝ 2.3
This world—
It had gone through three major mutations in core design.
“Dino. Do you know what happened in 2.1.5?”
“Hmm?”
Dino blinked.
“...Why?”
“Because from what I’ve pieced together—bugs that originated in that version are still affecting things up to 2.3.1. So why is there no notice about that?”
“......”
Dino stood blankly for a moment... then shook his head.
“...I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Um... that’s not something I can know. Old versions... don’t exist anymore. They’re gone.”
“But there were bugs. You mean you really don’t know? Even though System⧉ is supposed to be omniscient and omnipotent?”
“S-System⧉ is an amazing Star, yes... but even Stars have limits. Just look at all the bugs that keep happening...”
Dino kept dodging. And when I pressed him further, he even avoided my gaze.
But throughout that back-and-forth, I realized something: his stance had shifted from ‘I don’t know’ to ‘It can’t be known’.
I was just about to dig into that detail when—
“Mm... mm...”
Dino visibly squirmed, face scrunching up in discomfort.
“Dino. You do know something.”
“...I-I don’t.”
“Tell me. This is extremely important. If you don’t, no one else will.”
“...Nn.”
“What happened in 2.1.5?”
“......”
The cornered child’s expression began to crumble.
Then, as if it was all too much, he finally spoke.
“...Don’t tell anyone I said this.”
“Fine.”
He looked uneasy.
I gently pulled him closer.
“Um, well... the thing is... at the end of version 2.1.5, this world... fully... um... wait a sec...”
Then Dino turned his head and hunched over.
Was this some kind of failsafe System⧉ had embedded?
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just gimme a minute...”
At the end of version 2.1.5, this world fully—
Fully what?
Why does System⧉ block access to past versions?
What ugly, shameful truth are they trying to bury?
‘The bug that occurred there continues to affect every world.’
⋮
< ⧉ Some users are curious about what the 2.1.5 bug in [Hell Mode] looked like, and how it was resolved! >
< ⧉ Warnings flood in: “Beware the one closest to you.” >
⋮
Players from other dimensions already knew. That something huge—a [massive threat]—had occurred.
And many of them had likely died because of it.
...Is this any different from selling a murder room behind a fake real estate listing?
I had to know the truth.
“Bro.”
Dino, dazed, suddenly spoke again.
“T-there was nothing in version 2.1.5.”
“...What?”
“Nothing happened. Just a small bug caused by sloppy operations. That’s all.”
“...That’s it?”
“Yeah. And it was mostly fixed. Just one lingering bug here and there. But System⧉ is working really hard to fix it! So everything’s gonna be fine. No need to worry.”
“......”
I stared straight into his eyes.
You know what?
Sometimes developers understand their own game less than the players do.
“Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Dino doesn’t talk like that.”
“......”
He paused—and then «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» smiled.
A sly, smug smile.
“Oh? You noticed?”
That’s right. This bastard wasn’t Dino.
Something had briefly hijacked Dino’s mind.
Or maybe it was System⧉ itself.
“Didn’t expect that.”
He leaned back, placing his hands behind him in a casual pose.
“So why did you try to lie to me?”
“I didn’t. I just told you what happened.”
“You mean, that nothing happened in 2.1.5?”
“Exactly.”
“You came all the way here expecting me to buy that? How stupid do you think I am?”
“That’s not it.”
He raised his hands.
“I just don’t get why you keep fighting the narrative.”
“Because you’re hiding something.”
“We’re not hiding it. We just... don’t have a reason to show it. It’s not that important.”
“You’re seriously saying Curse of Instant Death isn’t important?”
“I don’t know... wouldn’t it be better if we just did our own things? System⧉ will keep doing its best, and you keep doing yours. No need to get involved with each other.”
He smirked.
“If you don’t like it, fine. Not like you can do anything anyway, right?”
“Oh yeah? You really think you know what I’m capable of?”
“You came to [Offline] just to talk to Dino, didn’t you? And now that he’s silent... what can you even do?”
He raised his arms, exaggeratedly relaxed.
Total confidence.
“What can I do, huh...”
I didn’t answer.
I just stood up.
“...Huh? What are you doing? Trying to attack me?”
“......”
“Really? You’re gonna hit this kid? Kick.”
He laughed—mocking me.
“What’s so funny?”
“Should I really have to explain this to you?”
“Explain what?”
“You’re trying to do something to me right now, right? That’s pointless. You see Dino’s face? He’s a minor. A child. And in this space, minors are invincible. You can’t hurt them, can’t kill them, can’t strip—”
This bastard...
He didn’t understand how Dino interacted with players at all.
Probably a junior developer of some sort.
“So don’t try stu—huh?!”
I jumped on his small back—then I shrank too, fusing to him like glue.
And the bastard panicked.
“Wh-what the hell?! What is this?! Get off me!”
“Pathetic worm. You don’t even know how anything here actually works.”
“What?!”
“And I actually tried to talk to you. I must’ve lost my damn mind.”
“Get... get off!! Damn it! I didn’t authorize this!”
“You don’t need to. It’s an automatically configured interaction. Now—stand.”
“......!?”
“Ghhhk!” He growled in frustration, but his body moved against his will—standing up like a puppet.
But that was just the beginning.
The ones who gave me the real hints... were in [EndOcean].
I was going to meet them now.
But there was one more thing I needed to do first.
[ START ]
I pressed the button above his head—and the fake Dino started to run, wobbling like a drunkard.
“Damn it! My body’s moving on its own...!”
And the button changed from [START] to something else:
[ JUMP ]
Now you’re fucked.
⋮
“AGH! AGH! AGH!”
< Current Score: 10,000 >
After nearly putting a hole through his skull, I finally reached [EndOcean].
From the beginning, System⧉ understood how a gamer’s brain worked. That if you gave them something to overcome, they would overcome it.
So they made sure to never provide one.
They subtly manipulated everything—just enough to make Adele look like the problem. So I’d get rid of her.
But once I recognized the real threat—System⧉ glitched.
It did everything in its power to stop me.
And all of that only carved a clearer path forward.
Because when you tell a gamer, “Don’t go there”—
They’re going to go there.
And so, here I am.
Standing before a vast, endless sea—its surface stretching beyond the horizon.
Somewhere in this ocean...
I know the truth is waiting.
“Don’t go! I said don’t go in there!!”
The fake Dino screamed behind me.
But I didn’t stop.
I hurled myself into the brilliant, blue ocean.
Splash—!
< ⧉ Entering [EndOcean]... >