† What The Hell †

Illuminating the long, gloomy corridor leading to the throne room with a prismatic glow, a long, diaphanous, translucent blade made of shards of solid light protruded from the finger of a teasingly grinning humanoid angel.

Looking at a sturdy-looking skeleton around a head taller than him, he caught him by the neck, pulling his skeletal corpse towards him to catch a glimpse of what he was doing with the Staff of Ains Ooal Gown, their guild pride—the weapon they built over the years through blood and tears.

The scepter had been tailor-made for Momonga, but now that the skeleton mage rewrote its settings after their discussion with Herohero, it became something else entirely. Something adaptable for every Supreme Being.

"What the heck are you doing with the NPCs setting, hm?"

"N-Nothing… Stop pulling my leg, [Mornin'★]… I was editing the staff itself for everyone to use it."

"What do you mean "editing it"? Are you retarded? We all worked hard to make this for you, Judas."

"Herohero told me it was okay to do it! I also want this staff to take the form most appropriate to any of my friend's hands... After all, we all worked so hard to put it together.

"Judas."

"...And don't use this name to tell me I'm a traitor of sorts, geez. I just want to make something we can both remember even if we part way."

"Come on now."

Heaving a sigh, Mornin gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and shook his head, smiling slightly. He wasn't really like his friends or his brother, meaning he wasn't much for showing sentimentality, be it anger or sorrow, even though he'd ended up alone due to his inadequate communication skills, that's how he was, even if he knew he somehow had to open up to people in whom he'll put his faith in at some point, he kept everything bottled up. His upbringing shaped him that way.

Yet, today was a special day, the fall of a decade's worth of memories. This game was a part of his life. So he couldn't help but let some of these feelings slip up.

"Eh, I won't say no, then." He breathed, scratching his head. "You're quite sentimental sometimes. That's almost cute."

"Whatever…"

"Am I that annoying?"

"Haha, no, I'm just in the mood for a last-minute role-play. As my arch-nemesis, I shall. I'm an Undead Necromancer, and you're an Angelic Banisher; that's only logical. I recall our bickering, and it just made me a bit nostalgic…"

"I feel a bit like that, too," Mornin admitted with a warm smile. "It sucks Herohero had to leave so soon."

"It can't be helped. We can't blame anyone for choosing real life over a virtual world… But yeah, I thought more people would return for the game closure."

"Wives, kids, and work often erode friendships. That's… how things are."

"Yeah…"

The mood turning melancholic, Mornin retracted the light blade into his finger, plunging the corridor back into a pleasant half-light, and soughed hushedly. He hadn't been back for 6 months, but each time he returned, he donated funds to the guild treasury after a short week of intensive farming and looked after each NPC on every floor before returning to work in his novel translation business.

Life has become full for everyone anyway... He wasn't the only one feeling like that. He was more than aware of that, but still...

"Alright, Pleiades, Sebas! Let's go. Get a move on."

"They only listen to the person holding the guild's staff…"

"Go ahead then, Mr. Chief. We busta no more time."

"Sebas, Battle Maids Pleiades, follow us to the Throne Room."

After a revered bow, the butler and the maids on their side followed suit without aplomb, walking in synchronicity.

It was always weird to have "someone" obeying your order like that, a strange feeling. They were all NPCs powered by AI, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel like they were real people. That was why he checked on them every time he returned to the game and why his little brother "Luci★Fer" called him a schizo.

—I might as well be one, huh… I still can't help but feel like that.

The route to the Throne Room was longer than he recalled, so much so that there was even a large room he and his brother had never completed waiting there, gathering dust, Legemeton, the large circular chamber, and the final room that predated the throne.

His eyes wandered to the many golems, each with a hollow in the wall to provide them with a resting place. The 72 golems of Lemegeton. Well, only 67 golems since the last 5 had never been made, as his brother had grown bored of making them.

He could have ended the work alone, but that was a pain in the ass.

"To think these are the guild's last line of defense accompanying the Pleiades…"

"Well, as the guild master, I guess I have to say this now, but we all relied on your creativity. Your golems and crafts were such an art that they represent 90% of the 10th-floor defense."

"Don't, you'll inflate my ego. You can't make angels feel too proud of themselves; it usually turns sour."

"I guess so, haha! In for a bit of role-playing in the end?" Momonga chuckled as he approached the Gate of Judgment, the large, carved double door leading to the Throne Room. "It's been quite a long time since I entered this room."

"Same."

Opening magically as they approached, the double doors led to a magnificent room—the former pride of the guild. Intricate gold drapes falling from the ceiling, chandeliers of pure gold, marble, floor, walls, and pillars, and a lot of other things, all these things had been done by him, his brother, and Amanomahitotsu, with whom he learned blacksmithing.

The only thing that wasn't handmade was the throne itself. It was a "loot."

—I can't remember what buff it gives when you sit on it… But more importantly…

All the floor guardians were there, something that wouldn't have happened without him asking Momonga to do so. At least he wanted to see everyone before departing. They were all a small part of the fun they had together.

"You really called them all, huh."

"That's the least I can do," Momonga muttered, looking at the ground before chortling as he looked at the staff. "We have a bit more than five minutes ahead of us. Wanna tinkers their bio like you wanted?"

"Haha! I'm sold!"

Lying down on the throne, Mornin stretched his whole body, causing it to emit a metallic sound, like two gears rubbing against each other. The character Tabula had created, the yellow-eyed succubus, looked at him and Momonga with a jaunty smile, closely followed by all the other NPCs behind her at the bottom of the throne room steps.

Momonga sat down on the throne's armrest after shoving Mornin's feet out of the way and looked around at the NPCs. Looking at the butler settings, the skeleton rubbed his chin, gazing back at him.

"Alright, why not start with Sebas?"

"Eh? Nah, Touch Me made him like that for a reason. That's his tribute. Plus, I like his character. He's a good pal, completely different from most people here. We need some good vibes around." Mornin voiced an eye closed and a grin after he saw Momonga use the spell [Dead Silent] so as not to be heard by the NPCs. "Let's think with our dicks, shall we?"

"Then… Huh… Albedo…?"

"Yeah! That's the stuff!"

Both exchanging a conniving gaze, they "smiled," and both shook their head upon reading her settings and stats. What the heck was that? An encyclopedia? Tabula was one of the best at creating NPCs, thanks to his sense of detail, but once you laid your eyes upon his commitment, it was kind of flabbergasting.

"So her true form is that of a Succubus, then an Imp to unlock other abilities," Mornin muttered as he raised one eyebrow. "Then as a trump card, this… racial class?"

"This racial class, yeah…"

"Not the same kind of sexy at all."

"Not the same at all, yeah, haha! You wanna change that?"

"Nah, this race goes well with her tank build. I have a better idea. See this? She's supposed to be a bitch on the inside; I'm thinking of changing that for bitch in heat."

"What are you? A horny dog?"

"My goal is beyond your understanding."

"Enlighten me, O Angel."

"She's already a succubus, so making her in a perpetual rut would render her virtually insatiable. A sexual killing machine even more fueled by the anger and frustration of never being able to fuck anyone-"

"See? That's why we allowed you to create only one NPC and why people called you a schizo. You should have taken your meds."

"The voices in my head have never been so calm." Mornin joked by shrugging his shoulder as Momonga started to write something. "So, what are we doin'? Beating around the bush much?"

"She, is, deeply, in love with Mo-"

"Not deeply! Madly! Madly in love, dare I say! Use strong wording, don't be a pussy! Argh-"

Pushing him aside, Momonga tried to shake him off, but Mornin quickly countered him since he was his arch-nemesis and tried his best to add what he wanted to Albedo's settings. The staff eventually "fell" from Momonga's hands before righting itself, ending their idiotic fight.

They added a few lines to her settings. Like her being madly in love with Mornin, being overly self-conscious of her horns, and intensely hating bald men who don't shave the little hair they still have on their heads.

"Eeh… These are some dumb settings."

"Absolutely, but that's why it's fun, ain't it?" Mornin grinned, taking the staff in his hand, the weapon starting to shift from a staff to something else entirely more akin to all his class. "How much time do we have?"

"—Huh…! Huh, well, just about 3 minutes."

"Alright! NEXT IN LINE IS MISSY BLOODFALLEN!"

"Stop yelling!"

"Nah."

"Shut up."

"No you."

"Shush, and let me read her settings with you instead of acting like a crazed lunatic-" Upon laying his eyes upon Shalltear character sheets, Momonga's skeletal jaw dropped. "W-What are these…?"

"I, huh, I think this is a list of her fetishes."

"Why is there necrophi-"

"Don't ask me; I don't wanna know what Peroroncino was thinking. A few lines above, I've seen she was also into shit… and y'all told me I was the schizo of the guild, huh."

"—Shit?"

"Yeah, shit, real shit. The thing that comes outta your ass, but you know, the worst thing is, the poor girl needs to cushion her breast not to feel ashamed. Truly saddening. She's fine as she is if you ask me."

"W-Whatever."

Without warning, Momonga took the staff from his hand and started rewriting and deleting some stuff, mainly gross fetishes, but also adding a few more normal things that she actually liked, such as red flowers and dancing, but he quickly switched to another NPC, seeing they were really short on time.

"Yes! That's it! Demiurge!"

"What do you wanna do with him?"

"Ulbert made him overly evil for no reason except scaring players, so now it's not necessary anymo-"

"Give me the staff, you sickening sack of bones! Don't change his nature, he was made to be like this, goddamn."

"You were willing to change Albedo and Shalltear's setting, though!?"

"Of course! We can't do that in real life; that's why I told you to think with our dicks for once!"

"You're incorrigible…"

"The staff, dude. Plus, what are you talking about? Your character has the same -500 karma as him. Nobody's breaking your balls about it."

"I'm gonna do it anyw-"

"Hey!"

Struggling for control over the staff, they both typed on the keypad, writing random, sometimes nonsensical, sometimes meaningful stuff. They both lost track of time, reminiscing about the good old days as they punched each other.

Suddenly, as their little tussle continued, an icon of a disconnected power socket appeared above the Necromancer's head before a warning sound of a friend disconnecting echoed through the room.

The tall skeleton remained there before sending the classic "goodbye" icon after someone turned the game off and poofed off of existence.

"Did… He became too agitated during his forced REM sleep because of… Well… That's my fault." Mornin muttered, looking at the staff, the only thing remaining where Momonga stood before. "He won't have the opportunity to see the game closure, but I can always text him tomorrow if anything happens."

Now alone, the eerie silence of the crowded throne room rubbed him the wrong way. Demiurge was here, Cocytus was here, the twin dark elves were here, everyone was here, but it felt so empty, or maybe that was his heart, his mind. Looking around, a tinge of nostalgia and wrath passed through his heart. To shut down this game was…

This is how things are. Some things can't be bargained for.

He knew it, but it still felt hard on the heart, like when his grandpa spoke his mind about Minecraft's termination and Flash Games' death.

—It fucking sucks…

Looking at the top right of his vision, the last few seconds before YGGDRASIL's shutdown flashed before his eyes. It was a long, insidious trickle of time.

[23 : 59 : 53]

[23 : 59 : 59]

[00 : 00 : 03]

A time of silence. The black screen disappeared after he opened his eyes. Wanting to gaze at the virtual clock, he raised an eyebrow, seeing nothing was there anymore. Wondering if it was a server glitch as the servers shut down, he peeked at his mini-map to see if the NCPs were still indicated on it, but nothing.

No more HP or MP indication, no more mini-map, no more menu, no more message box, no anything.

Mild anxiety crept over him as he tried to reach Momonga and the administrators, but nothing worked again. Helpless against the flow of events, he slumped back on the throne and rubbed his chin, closing his eyelids and leaning back.

"Fuck… It always goes from good, from bad to worse, for fuck sake... What's the meaning of this...?"

"What's wrong, Mornin-sama?"

"—Huh?"

"Mornin-sama?" The lady insisted until her Lord's eyes stuck to her face, a worried frown on her face. "If there is anything that is upsetting you, I'll gladly oblige myself to help you no matter what, so please tell me what the problem is."

"Did… Did you just talk right now?"

"M-My sincerest apologies! I never meant to offend you! I am willing to accept any kind of punishment for misbehaving!"

"Now… What are you on about?"

"I am deeply sorry, please accept my apologies…"

Straightening up on the throne and contemplating the beautiful woman bending her knees before him after moving up to approach him out of concern, he raised his eyebrows, apprehensive.

"You didn't do anything wrong, though?"

"T-Then why are you looking at me so intensely? Far be it from me to upset you, so-"

"I just thought Tabubro had good taste in women, that's all."

"I-IS THAT A COMPLIMENT?"

"Well... Of course?"

"Oh, Mornin-sama... If you wish so... Please take it..."

"Take what?"

"M-My first-"

"Albedo, I'm sorry to cut you off," Intervened a tall man with glasses he pushed back on his nose. "But I don't think this is the right time to discuss the matter."

At a loss, Mornin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands, staring at the ground.

The GM call didn't work either, and now the NPCs managed to talk to him and each other. This was something that YGGDRASIL never allowed. To avoid having NPC coded by people who could somehow end up racist, hating, encouraging suicide, etc., NPC interactions were kept minimal, almost non-existent.

Plus, when he talked, he felt his lips moving, and he could even smell the air and the perfume Albedo used from this distance.

"What should I do..."

"...Mornin-sama, do you feel well? Shall I ask the maids to bring you something to eat or drink? I'm sure you must be quite disoriented and fatigued after your victory over Momonga-sama and the other Supreme Beings."

"Oooh! Precisely, Albedo!" Interjected Demiurge as he readjusted his glasses on his nose again with a proud smile. "To think the reason none of the Supreme Beings are around with us anymore is due to the fact of a battle to the death between each of them for outright successorship to the throne… And right here, Lord Mornin sits before us after his final triumph, wearied! Exhausted! But still showing us the extent of his brilliance, resolve, and efforts to us all, despite being trivial compared to him! How prodigious. Yes! Prodigious!"

In awe, the other floor guardians and maids raised their heads to gaze admiringly at an incredulous Mornin while smiling widely and firmly believing every word from Demiurge's mouth.

—What in the fuck is he talking about…?

One after another, they managed to muster the courage to speak up and form more than a few praises. Something that Mornin seldom heard in his life, like most men.

"So that was it!"

"For someone to defeat my dear creator, Mornin-sama… You are bloody impressive!"

"Indeed. As excepted from the one who defeated my master with his bare hands."

—Shouldn't they be mad about it!? …Now, if I deny what Demiurge said, they will all be dispirited... Nah... What the hell is happening…? Is this even real? This is happening too fast…

However, before he could think further, something caught his eye: a small boy in girl clothes had his eyes swelled up with tears as his sister patted his back with a sorry expression.

"B-Bukubukuchagama-sama… Uuhh… Kh—"

Seeing the creations of his old friend in an emotionally tattered state struck somewhat of a chord. Demiurge was just like his creator, brash. The same tactlessness.

Standing up from the throne and approaching the boy, he looked at him carefully, paying attention to the boy's jerky breathing. Focusing on his own sensations, his own feelings, he could tell it was all very real.

How so?

He had no idea, but after putting his hand on Mare's shoulder and bending a knee to be at his height, he felt the warmth of his body, the sobs and tremors that agitated him. Now, he was even more sure this was real. How?

"Mare…?"

"Y-Yes, Mornin-s-shama…?"

"What Demiurge said isn't entirely true."

"Oooh! May I have misinterpreted something?"

"I fear, yes." Mornin falsely admitted, trying to salvage what he could from the situation. "First off, some of my friends didn't want the throne, just list Tabubro, Nishit' and a few others; Bukubu retired to live happily and asked me and the others to take care of you both, Mare and Aura. So fear not, I shall be the arms in which you can take shelter when you need to. Secondly, even if we fought, we stopped before killing each other… The loser stepped away. As friends, we weren't ready to kill each other for something so trivial, but it still needed to be done for the better good of Nazarick and all of you…"

Finding the appropriate wording to defuse the situation and avoid any problems wasn't easy. The proper words, a narrative that made sense, and this as quickly as possible while keeping a straight face. Still, what he'd said was genuine; those who'd left before him had asked him to watch over what they'd created, and from the various reactions, it was clear that nobody believed that what he had said was a lie.

Clinging to the bottom of his open golden jacket, tugging lightly on it, Mare's small hands tried to get Mornin's attention, even though he didn't dare look him in the eye.

"Ghh… M-Mornin-sama, is, is this w-why you always came to s-see everyone and talk with us all during all this time…?"

"Eh… Yeah. I can be a bit of a passionate fool sometimes. You all are more important to me than I wanted to believe." He sighed with a smile, a bit embarrassed, while closing his right eyelid because of the aching pain in his eye. "I hope I haven't bothered any of you by doing so."

His words echoed in the ears of every person present like divine chants. Words so sweet that none of them ever imagined they'd hear them. A creator, the winner of the contest for the throne of the 41 Supreme Beings, had cared for them all this time out of pure passion, pure emotion… How could they be bothered by that?

"Mornin-sama!! Waaah!" The little dark elf yelped as he hugged Mornin, as she tried to hide her own feelings; seeing this, Mornin patted her head before she could react. "S-Someone thought about u-us all this time… Waaaaah!~"

"H-Hey! Stop crying; I didn't say anything bad, did I…?"

"No, you didn't, Mornin-sama," A giant insect-humanoid floor guardian explained before puffing out glacial air from both sides of his mouth. "These were magnificent words, which, as your servants, I think none of us deserved. We still haven't done anything to obtain such praise, but I shall, on my part, do my best to be worthy of them."

"We, the Pleiades, will do our utmost best to serve you, Mornin-sama!"

"I… I, Shalltear Bloodfallen, shall put my everything to service my Lord…" The vampire breathed out, trying to hold back the tears. "Please allow me to be by your side!"

"Huh…"

—This is overwhelming…

"Lord Mornin, this is…" Demiurge expressed, trying to find the correct words with a pleased smile. "I have faith in your words and feelings; therefore, I pledge to do my utmost to ensure your wishes are honored. Please, also allow me to apologize for misunderstanding the scope of the supreme beings' actions."

"A-Alright…"

"That said, Lord Mornin, may I ask you a question out of curiosity?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"I assume you fought my creator, Ulbert, am I right?"

"...Yes?"

"May I know how your fight against him ended? You are both incredible magic users in your own rights, but you had the advantage of using it in close combat while Ulbert-sama was a full-on mage with pure destructive power, so I can't help but wonder."

"Well, once he fired a few destructive spells, his mana depleted fast, so it was more a battle of attrition. That wasn't our first fight, so he also knew how to counter me, so-"

Before Mornin could add another word, the hoarse noise he'd heard for some time grew even louder. Breathing heavily behind him, Albedo hid her face with one of her hands, the other holding Ginnungagap, the World Item, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Albedo…?"

"Mornin-sama, would you, in your extreme kindness, hug me like you did with Mare…? My humble self desires just this one thing, once you are done, you can dispose of me... but please, I..."

—What the hell...