TBR CH113

Recently, our agency interviewed actor Ohm Siss, who had just been discharged from the hospital. His face was still wrapped in thick bandages. Speaking of the recent acid disfigurement incident, he said that although they had been rivals within the same company, he had never held any grudge against him. In order to continue receiving the support of his friends and fans, he would do his best to pull himself together.

— Daily News Front Page, Second Edition, lines 3–6
“Disgraced Actor Hill Lambert’s Shocking Crimes Rock the World”

Asta’s communicator lit up at the perfect moment.

No longer paying attention to Hill, who was still clutching the book in a daze, it casually brushed the green gemstone. A voice came from the other end, accompanied by the deafening roar of crashing waves. The sound was unusual, as though all the seawater in the world was rushing in one direction.

“I saw it,” Asta said calmly into the communicator.

At the same time, the people inside α’s chamber—who had just reconnected with the outside—narrowed their eyes in shock. Like water plants lying in wait, swimmers could only catch faint glimpses of shadows before they wound around their ankles. They saw the things hidden beneath the surface.

Tentacles surged beneath the water, and with Asta’s words, countless black eyes opened.

Even though they had long known the truth… the overwhelming sensation of being watched swept over every person present.

But Asta wasn’t looking at them—it was looking at something else. A massive breach had finally opened in the chamber, and with preparation, they had quickly forged a path from inside to the outside world.

The deafening roar of the sea was the sound of the ocean rushing inward. White foam was flung up in circles upon the surface. Beyond the damaged metal walls was the real world. The monsters could almost smell the salty tang of sunlight on the cliffs—so different from the artificial sea. That was the direction of escape.

Whether it was its main body or the mass of tentacles, it could finally leave without restraint.

But what had caught its attention was something else. Although the surface structure of the research facility appeared massive, it was only about 1% of the whole—compared to what lay underground. α’s chamber was at the very bottom. As seawater infiltrated through the breach, it would gradually flood the underground levels, from the bottom upward.

“Please follow us this way,”

The grotesque tentacles were beyond belief, but the cultists regarded them as divine miracles that brought peace of mind.

“The seawater will soon flood several underground levels of the facility. This is a sacrificial ritual from the faithful to their god. The humans who once hurt you will drown in punishment, hopelessly begging for your forgiveness.”

The sea had already started to overflow, and the water continued to pour in. The main power supply had been cut. The backup power couldn’t connect to the network. All the mechanical defenses were unusable, and the facility was in chaos due to the monster attacks. Of course, in their minds, this all made perfect sense.

But the truth was different. They hadn’t anticipated that the special forces had already regained control.

They also didn’t expect that, at this very moment, Isidor was calmly taking the communicator from a bewildered John’s hand and quickly typing in a string of codes. This sequence would reconnect to the facility’s central network and, at the right moment, bring the lights back on.

Asta nearly sighed.

These so-called “faithful” were very good at causing trouble.

“I’ll be there soon.”

Asta replied coldly, keeping a polite distance, and didn’t respond further. But that only matched the expectations of the fanatical cultists, who were now practically boiling with excitement. They reveled in the chaos they had caused, their souls constantly crying out for both destruction and salvation, indulging in their end-of-days fantasies.

Asta ended the call, already picturing their eyes.

Their obsession with gods and salvation was so deep that they had forgotten they were still living, breathing creatures in the real world.

Though this wasn’t really Asta’s responsibility, it had already played the roles of monster leader, deceiver of fanatics, and deliverer of world consciousness to the system. The only thing left now was to elope.

But, being a good-hearted monster, Asta helplessly decided to give it one last try.

It was hard to describe the system’s panic when the black book suddenly appeared before Hill.

Run. That was its only thought.

But the world consciousness was too close—so close that it was difficult to even gather power. The system gritted its teeth and poured all the fate energy it had collected in this world into its own reserves. But it was like shaking out barely a cupful of water from a bottle. Too little. Far less than it had expected.

How could this happen?

At that moment, using Hill’s eyes, it finally saw the pages of the black book. A massive smiley face appeared before it—filled with irony. And the final boss of this world stood before Hill, expression chilling, as it handed the black book directly into the hands of the “fate’s chosen.”

Heaven’s will had arrived—and once again, just like before, it stood in its way.

The system forced itself to calm down. It retracted the “universal heartthrob” halo, transforming it into its own energy. Finally, it escaped from Hill, rushing at inhuman speed in an attempt to flee this small world.

No, it hadn’t been here long. Even if the world consciousness had caught up, such a hastily laid trap should still be escapable.

But the world consciousness was too close. It hadn’t gone far before it was completely suppressed.

“This time is different.”

As if reading its thoughts, Heaven’s will finally spoke. Like a golden eye turning toward it, the system heard its cheerful voice:

“Though preparation time was short, I’ve got a team.”

The boy left behind was stunned.

He instinctively felt something was wrong but didn’t understand what. He called for the system in his mind—but the worst had happened: it had failed him at the critical moment. That had never happened before. Hill didn’t want to think any further.

He kept his frozen smile and decided to deliver his compliments, with a touch of grievance.

“This book is really beautiful… but I don’t really understand…”

But Asta’s expression interrupted him. The child of fate stared in disbelief, listening to the monster converse with a voice coming from nowhere, thoughts racing to piece together what had just happened.

So everything strange that had occurred… had been orchestrated by α? It had decided to destroy the facility and take revenge on the humans who had imprisoned it?

Surely, it would protect him, right?

Everyone else outside might be dead. That realization finally stirred some nostalgia in Hill for the now-deceased Black Hawk—because he was afraid that the worst would happen to him. But Asta should still love him deeply. Even in the outside world, his heartthrob aura would bring him endless privileges and admiration.

Asta finally finished its last words to the communicator with indifference.

Standing here now, the monster was more dangerous and powerful than ever. It was perfection itself—and in this moment of divine judgment, its aura was even sharper. It turned to Hill.

“α…” Hill said, “Are you going to take me with you? I’m more than willing to leave with you. I’ve always felt that humans have treated monsters too cruelly, but I didn’t know how to fight back. I’m looking forward to your new world. I… I really do like you.”

At some point, the pillar of his confidence had quietly crumbled. Hill didn’t know why he felt so anxious—only that his heartbeat was growing louder and louder, enough to drown him.

He prayed it wasn’t too late to make things right. He had to show where he stood.

Asta looked at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled gently and said:

“The one who’s taking you away isn’t me. Someone else is waiting for you, Child of Fate.”

W-what?

Hill’s mind blanked for a moment at that final title. He swayed, losing balance, and fell onto the bed. In his mind, he once again began frantically calling out the system’s name, like sounding alarm after alarm.

There was no response.

The tentacles on the ground began slowly retreating, making soft sounds. Behind Asta, the corridor that had been hidden was gradually revealed. Aside from the chaotic surroundings, reflected in the blue eyes of the blond-haired boy was someone who was supposed to be dead.

John looked back at him in shock—as though seeing a stranger.

Hill screamed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the only object in the room that still mattered to him: a mirror on the nightstand. It faintly reflected half his face. Even a hasty glance was enough to make him feel utterly foreign.

He grabbed the mirror in a panic—and upon seeing the face reflected back at him, he smashed it onto the floor. The mirror shattered, scattering pieces that glittered brightly, reflecting a thousand versions of him.

No. No. This isn’t me.

Hill felt as if his heart had been pierced by a shard of glass, beginning to convulse, raw and bleeding. Compared to the version of himself shaped by the universal heartthrob system, this face had countless flaws—his eyebrows were off, the eyes were the wrong size, even the curve of his lips was wrong. He picked up one of the shards from the floor, and it sliced his hand open.

John approached with a complicated expression.

He didn’t understand what Hill had just said, nor could he comprehend the sudden change in the boy’s appearance. The powerful attraction had vanished in an instant. It was only at that moment that he became horrified by how much of a puppet he had been in front of Hill.

The sweet words of the puppeteer now sounded thoroughly hollow.

But as one of the heads of the research facility, he did have a responsibility toward Hill.

Hill’s eyes were unnaturally wide. He clutched the shard, then averted his gaze as though he couldn’t bear to look. John approached cautiously, trying to calm him down and prevent him from doing anything drastic. For a moment, Hill seemed about to slash his own face—but the reflection in the shard stopped him.

He stood up, staring straight ahead.

John’s attempt to console him wasn’t a lie. After regaining clarity, he realized just how much the boy had valued his beauty. And now, even though the aura was gone, Hill wasn’t truly ugly.

He still had golden hair and blue eyes—a face above average, objectively speaking.

Asta’s footsteps gradually faded into the distance. Knowing that everything was about to end, John undeniably felt a wave of relief. Even though Asta would leave with Isidor, that terrifying situation no longer seemed unbearable. They had done enough; it made sense for him to clean up what was left.

“John… John,” Hill suddenly spoke, his voice like a dream, “I must look awful to you now. The way I’ve become—it’s all your fault. Yours and theirs. You all made me like this—”

His mind was clearly in a disturbed state. Black Hawk feared he might cut his own face at any moment.

The soldier approached silently, sighing inwardly. Isidor had just told him what Hill’s true intentions had been and left the judgment to him. But seeing the boy in such pain stirred a flicker of sympathy.

That emotion wouldn’t sway a special ops captain.

His gray eyes reflected the cold gleam of steel. He was ready to act, prepared to snatch the shard and stop Hill from hurting himself.

But then the boy moved.

A flash of madness glinted in Hill’s eyes. John had misjudged him. Hill lunged—not to scar his own failed face, but to carve a deep, brutal wound into John’s.

In the end, Hill’s last thought wasn’t to hurt himself, but to hurt others.

But untrained attacks were no match for a special ops captain. John disarmed him in an instant and restrained him completely.

In the boy’s blue eyes, there was no doubt: he was burning with madness born of jealousy.

“I was successful once… yes,” he murmured. “So why can’t I be… forever—?”

John knocked him out. The young special ops captain stood there in silence and closed his eyes.

In the world of humans, Hill’s crimes weren’t enough to warrant a formal conviction—especially since the facility had used him as much as he had used it.

His fate could have still changed, depending on the choices he made. But with a mental state like his, he’d probably never be able to make the right ones. His path would only spiral downward.

But Black Hawk quickly refocused.

Just as Isidor had told him, the facility and special forces still had room for change—and this incident was the catalyst. One day, he would rise to a higher position. Since his mentor believed in him that much, he would do his best to live up to it.

And perhaps by then, he could invite Asta and Isidor to come back for a visit.

Even though John clearly knew… once they were gone, no one would ever be able to find them again.

“What did you talk to him about?”

In the dark facility, the only light came from the flashlight in Isidor’s hand, flickering dimly like the last row of seats after a movie ends. Asta walked beside him, speaking casually, without much consistency.

Any normal person would have been terrified in this environment.

“Not much. I just told him he’d actually done pretty well,” said Isidor. “No need to be so hard on himself. He always felt guilty about the past when he looked at me. But—how should I put it—after meeting you, I don’t care about that anymore.”

“Ah,” Asta chuckled. “You know, he actually talked to me about you a few times. In his eyes, you were terrifying. Though John really is a good person.”

“You think most humans are good,” Isidor muttered in minor protest.

“Probably ever since I met you,” the monster replied.

From up ahead came the sound of water. The scent of salt and dampness drifted from behind a distant door. “Anyway, this is a pretty good ending for him too,” Asta said. “We stood on opposite sides because of circumstance, but yeah—he’s got a mess to deal with now.”

—The unconscious monster stuffed into a room, the shut-down facility, the escaped α, the post-incident repairs and upgrades, and of course, the cultists who would soon invade from outside.

This corridor was etched into Isidor’s bones. For seven years, he had walked it every morning. There were nine reinforced doors. Now, all the massive electronic panels were dark, left in the chaos and destruction. From a distance, they looked like gaping maws.

In the distance, shadows of people moved. And behind them, the ocean slowly surged closer to the door.

This was the last time he would walk this path. Isidor didn’t have his ID card, but he knew he’d be able to enter the final door. From here onward, seven years ago, he thought he’d walk into death. Over the past seven years, he had taken this road over and over—eager, guilty, excited—to see the stars. It was through this process that he gradually became who he was now.

“What is it?”

Seeing the flicker in his green eyes, Asta slowed his pace, giving him the time he needed.

“Star,” he called it again. “From here to where I see you, it’s exactly forty-seven steps. I used to count every time.”

This was the final door. Through the half-open doorway, they could see the waiting cultists—and beyond them, an ocean as deep and dark as the night sky. The water continued to rise, the crashing of waves thundering from afar.

Forty-seven steps—enough to reach the beach and see it.

“Not anymore,” Asta said, eyes bright with a smile. It gave his hand a gentle shake.

“That’s right,” Isidor smiled back. “Now it’s zero.”

The cultists in the distance had already sensed its arrival. Asta openly held the human’s hand, showing no attempt to hide anything. At this point, there was nothing left to worry about. Eloping was secretive and silent—and also bold, a mad dash until you were truly free.

Was the ocean reflecting the sunlight now?

No matter how many steps he used to count, or how many times he walked this road—at the end of the sea, there was a bright, new life.