Step. Step.

Tiamat walked down the long corridor.

He possessed the [Zodiac Ring], an item that allowed him to teleport to any point within the guild. Yet, he intentionally chose to walk. As he retraced the path he once traveled with his comrades, he occasionally let his eyes drift toward the relics those guild members left behind. But his face remained stiff and unmoving, his gaze fixed straight ahead into the pitch-black dark.

Nothing filled the air—only darkness, empty and endless. Eventually, Tiamat suddenly spoke.

"Ea, will you… listen to something I want to say for a moment?"

There was no one there. Naturally, there should have been no response. But to that seemingly one-sided murmur, a voice answered.

"Yes, Master."

Ea—an NPC created by Tiamat himself. She was the system administrator of the Guild Twelve Guardians, the one bound to the guild's ultimate weapon, and a being who could be called a fragment of a World-Class Item itself. Within the city of Shinshi—the former guild—her knowledge was nearly omniscient.

And always, her gaze belonged to her one and only master.

"Good," Tiamat muttered. "What I'm about to say is nothing more than a private complaint. Something I cannot allow the priests, the citizens… or any of the people of Shinshi to hear. I want you to listen to it—and then keep it to yourself."

"I understand. This Ea will obey any command you give, Master."

"…Thank you. Then—"

He paused for a moment, visibly hesitant, before slowly opening his mouth again.

"Ea… you know, don't you? I am not truly a being of Yggdrasil. In fact—none of us are. Not me, and not anyone else who isn't an NPC."

Yes.

Tiamat, and the other players, were never originally part of Yggdrasil.

The world they had once freely enjoyed was something designed, built, and governed by someone else—just a fictional stage. Their bodies, their forms, their powers—everything inside the game was merely a shell. Their souls were never born in Yggdrasil.

Their minds existed in reality. The laws they followed in Yggdrasil were merely rules of a game. Their values, habits, and sense of life remained anchored in the real world. Even those who lost themselves in Yggdrasil—who treated reality as the fake world and swore to live only inside the game—still had bodies chained to reality.

"To most of us, Yggdrasil was just a resting place. A temporary sanctuary to relieve our exhausted minds. Some, like me, did spend more time here than in the real world—some even devoted their whole hearts to this place. But even so… it doesn't change the truth. We were never born of this world. Do you understand me, Ea?"

"Yes. I do understand."

"Oh? And how do you know that?"

"Because, Master… the previous guild leaders and members spoke of it. We remember the conversations they left behind."

Ea remembered. All the NPCs did.

The era when the guild shone brightest—their memories of that age remained like faded pages of a diary. Log upon log of guild chat and recorded dialogue… rigid data, yet embedded in the NPCs' minds like old memories.

"We remember that we are NPCs. We remember that you and the other guild members were players. That you did not live inside Yggdrasil permanently, but returned to the place called reality. And eventually… when some of you never returned, we understood you had severed all connection with this world."

"…Since when did you begin to realize that?"

"Around 150 years ago, perhaps. We became capable of such thoughts 200 years ago… but it took time to organize those fragments of knowledge."

"Then the others—the NPCs. They all know this as well?"

"No. Only a limited number of NPCs possess the capacity for that level of thought. The Twelve High Priests, the three Chief Governors, and those of level 80 or higher. Altogether, the number does not exceed fifty."

"…Fifty, is it?"

Tiamat's eyes widened slightly. Fifty? That was more than he had expected. Were there truly that many NPCs at level 80 or above still within the city?

Although he had spent a long period as the sole guild master after everyone else left, it was impossible to micromanage thousands of NPCs alone. Beyond the twelve closest retainers, the rest had been—for the most part—left alone unless major incidents demanded his attention.

"Fifty… A small number, if small. A large number, if large."

"But every one of them remains loyal—to Shinshi, and to you, Master."

"That much, I know. NPCs are absolutely loyal to me. That is correct, isn't it?"

"Yes. Every resident of Shinshi would gladly obey you. Even if you commanded them to throw away their lives, all of them would smile and willingly accept it."

Willingly smile as they die, huh…

So they can think, they can reason, and yet their loyalty ran as deeply as it did back in Yggdrasil. That part had not changed at all.

In Yggdrasil, such loyalty was often exploited—NPCs with powerful stats were used as living shields, suicide vanguards, or taught difficult spells with long cast times simply to serve as strategic tools.

One of the most famous examples was from the Rabbitfolk guild master, Bunny-Girl. The custom NPC she crafted—Kaguya—had been an exception among exceptions, capable of using super-tier magic through sheer design and customization.

"So, Master, you need not worry. Our loyalty is eternal and absolute. There will never be a case where we voluntarily rebel against you."

"Voluntarily, you say. Does that mean involuntary rebellion is possible?"

"Yes. It is theoretically possible. Certain types of World-class mind control, illusion-type World Items, or extreme situations involving captivity or catastrophic resistance loss could leave even us vulnerable. In such cases, there are rare divine-class artifacts and super-tier spells—such as World of Hallucination, or perhaps even the 10th-tier spell Mind Control—that might affect us."

"…I see. Something to keep in mind."

Such methods existed in the game—or rather, existed in the world that had been a game. Tiamat shook his head, brushing away the thought before it derailed him.

"Then what about me, Ea? Do you believe such control could work on me?"

"No. I believe no such ability would work on you, Master. To begin with, you hold World-class items, and therefore, you are immune to the effects of other World Items. Furthermore, as a dragon, you possess overwhelming resistance and innate magic defense. Even super-tier spells would do little more than graze your mind at best. However… if you were ever captured physically, then… I would have no reassurances to offer."

"Good. That's enough."

Even in the old world—where players far stronger than him roamed—Tiamat had died before, but not once had he ever been captured. Regardless of who the opponent might be, he never allowed himself to be restrained.

But this situation was different now.

He was preparing for war.

Back then, he had comrades. Back then, even solitude still took place in a world with log-ins and log-outs. But now… he commanded alone. And yet—he was no longer truly alone. There were NPCs who lived, breathed, and moved at his side.

"Ea."

"Yes, Master?"

"…Tell me. Do I look normal to you right now?"

"Normal? What do you mean, Master?"

Tiamat could not see her face, but Ea's voice carried faint bewilderment. Toward that unseen presence, he spoke honestly. She was his creation—his NPC—yet in truth, she was no different from a child to him. And because of that, she was the only one he could bare his heart to without restraint.

....

"I… have become afraid."

"Afraid? Master… you, afraid? Of what?"

"Of all of this."

Tiamat closed his eyes, recalling the not-so-distant past.

When he had first awakened—though to him it felt like only moments—his return to consciousness was met not by sunlight or voices, but by a report: the death of Monkyspanner.

His first reaction was fury. Someone had dared to lay hands on what was his. But that anger was quickly swept aside by something far more overwhelming—terror. For the NPCs were moving, thinking, and speaking as true living beings.

Then came shock at learning that two hundred years had passed while he slumbered… and that the world he had awakened to was neither reality nor YGGDRASIL, but a completely different new world.

Afterward, he had raged at Ea, interrogating her, demanding answers—but in truth, that anger had been born from fear.

....

"At first, I was terrified. Terrified of every change, and terrified of all of you who stood beside me."

The world had changed. He had changed. And even worse, the NPCs—who were never supposed to be more than elaborate data—stood before him as real, thinking beings. The unknown swallowed him in a dread so deep he could barely breathe. He hid that fear, because if they sensed it—if they realized their master feared them—would they still obey him?

And so he bluffed. He barked. He forced himself to act with aggression and control, because otherwise he might not have been able to move at all.

....

"But in time, that fear faded. Because you were still mine. My guild. My people. That much had not changed."

When the fear finally lifted, what replaced it was relief—because Shinshi, its NPCs, and everything in it lay firmly within the palm of his hand, just as it had in the game. Once he understood that, he relaxed. And then, with reckless relief, he made another choice.

"And then… I wanted to see the world."

It had been foolish, he knew that. But he wanted it too badly to regret it.

In reality, he had never been able to leave his home. In YGGDRASIL, he could only dream of walking freely. Now he had a body that moved—a body with strength. He wished to walk, to breathe, to see, to feel. And so despite the lurking danger… he went.

"I indulged myself. And it was… wonderful."

Fresh air. Clean water. Untouched lands. A world so beautiful that, if heaven existed, it might look like this. Tiamat had been captivated—fully, helplessly captivated.

And as he wandered, he met people.

Colton. Rohaim. Dean. Dwarves. Dragons. Countless races and voices, each alive in a way that was never possible in a "game." And slowly, he could no longer deny the truth.

This world was real.

....

"And when I realized that… I became afraid again. Because this world is not YGGDRASIL."

With Monkyspanner's death, he resolved to find the culprit and avenge him. But when vengeance drew near… fear returned.

"In this world, death is not a mechanic. Even if resurrection exists, that does not erase the reality of dying."

He feared the weight of it—of battles and orders that would truly cost lives. He feared that at his command, hundreds or thousands would march to their deaths without hesitation.

But most terrifying of all…

....

"…is that I am no longer disturbed by it. That I can think, command, and kill without flinching."

"But now… the current me believes that if sacrifice is necessary, then it must be made. That no matter the cost, I must achieve the objective—even if others must be cast aside to reach it."

Such thinking was arrogant. Cruel. A mindset the real him— the him from reality—would never have allowed himself to possess.

And that was why he feared himself.

His thoughts were no longer those of the old Tiamat, nor of the broken human he once was. His instincts were now shaped by the game, by a logic that saw war and death as strategy—even though here, the consequences were irreversible. One order, one command, could mean ruin. Yet, he no longer recoiled from that truth.

Even so, he chose war.

Because retreat was no longer an option.

....

"And I… am not alone. I cannot decide everything solely by my own weakness."

He was the last remaining Player of the Twelve, the lone master of Shinshi, the one and only guild leader left.

For their sake—for the legacy of his comrades—he could not flee. He had to stand. He had to choose.

Inside him, two voices clashed.

One voice whispered: This isn't right. This isn't who you are.

The other commanded: Crush your enemies. Burn down anything that stands in the way. Achieve the objective, no matter the cost.

Both voices were him. Yet they rejected each other, tearing him in two. And so Tiamat's heart was thrown into endless turmoil.

But then, Ea smiled gently, as though consoling a child.

"It is alright, Master."

Her whisper was soft—warm, even.

"As I have already said, everything we are belongs to you. Whatever you choose, we shall follow."

"Then you truly have no will of your own? If I command it, will you simply obey without question?"

"Yes. If you order with finality, we will obey as we always have. But if you do not wish that—if you desire our thoughts as beings rather than tools—then they will speak. They will act. They will think. Just as they have for the past two hundred years."

"I see…"

Tiamat exhaled a faint laugh.

His mind was still in chaos. His choices still frightened him. His conviction wavered.

But if it was not only his burden to carry—

If there were others to speak and decide with him—

Then at the very least, he would hear them.

That was enough for now.

....

"Then I will listen. To all of your voices. The final decision will come only after."

At some point during their talk, his feet had stopped.

Before him stood a massive door—leading to the council chamber.

Tiamat raised his hand, and with a single quiet knock—

Gooooo…

The colossal doors parted, stone grinding against stone, and the chamber revealed itself. Beyond the threshold sat a great round table.

There, twelve beast-kin, the Twelve High Priests, rose from their seats in unison.

No words. No noise. Only movement.

And then, as one, they bowed deeply—lowering their heads with absolute reverence, offering their master the highest form of respect their bodies could express.

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