“Athanas?”
“Please just... give me a moment. Let me stay like this.”
“What?”
Before I could react, Athanas pulled me into a tight embrace.
I... I can’t breathe.
His heart pounded wildly against my chest, like he’d sprinted all the way here. But then, slowly, it began to steady, each beat calming as if settling after a storm. His voice, barely a whisper, reached my ear.
“…What exactly are you planning to do with that?” I asked, trying to keep the apprehension out of my voice.
“Curious, are we?” He smirked, clearly enjoying this.
“Not really...” I muttered.
Actually, not at all. I really, really didn’t want to know.
...Is he an idiot?
The thought flashed through my mind the second he blurted out his threat to kill himself.
How is that supposed to be a threat, exactly?
Is there even a law against aiding and abetting suicide in the Dark Realm?
These questions spun around in my head. Not that I’d find any joy in watching someone die—obviously, it’s not a pleasant sight. But deep down, I knew Athanas wasn’t serious.
I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “...No?”
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing with a sharp, probing intensity, like he was trying to peel away my skin and read whatever secret lay underneath.
“Do you ever feel... detached from your body? Like it doesn’t quite belong to you?”
Athanas should be furious with me right now.
For a moment, I can still vividly see it—the sheer rage twisting his face into something unrecognizable.
I remember him, drenched in blood, turning toward me with a rage so intense it made me want to step back. His teeth were bared, his steps slow and deliberate, like he was driven by some terrifying purpose...
In elementary school, we had a lesson on planarian regeneration.
It wasn’t exactly fun or inspiring. We sliced up worms that looked like little eraser shavings and stared at the wriggling pieces. What were we supposed to learn?
Why did we have to do it? Planarian regeneration was already a well-known fact. Why repeat what had been done countless times before?
My heart pounded fiercely.
If I die, for whatever reason, I’ll wake up in Mother God’s faction... just like that?
How...
No, focus. Keep reading. Understand the full picture before jumping to conclusions.
I needed more information before letting my mind run wild with speculation. I had to read every word in this strange ‘Notebook’, every story my future self deemed important enough to share, regardless of the consequences. Only then could I truly understand the mess I was in.
I double-checked my status window, just to be sure, and there it was—a brand new trait. One I’d definitely never seen before.
Unique Traits: [Miracle of the Silver Tongue], [The Whole World Is Beneath One’s Self], [???], [System User], [I Record, Therefore I Exist.]
“…Since when did that get there?” I mumbled, my eyes drawn to the word ‘record’. It had to be linked to the God of Records somehow. Curiosity got the best of me, so I pulled up the trait’s description.
Thud!
The book slipped from my trembling hands, crashing to the stone floor with a dull thud.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I was completely stunned, my brain struggling to process what I’d just read.
Obliteration?
Wait, the System has dead zones?
I always figured it was this omniscient, ever-present entity that was hardwired into my very soul. But it turns out, it’s more like a satellite with spotty coverage.
Those words stopped me dead in my tracks.
…Not Fabio?
The thought raced through my mind, sending a jolt of panic through my body. I mean, sure, I wasn’t really Fabio. I was just some random transmigrator who’d possessed his body.
Like hell I’d accept a blessing from a traitor!
Who knows what kind of crazy shit might happen if I did?
Besides, if anyone’s record is a chaotic mess, it’s gotta be mine.
I’m the one who hijacked this body, after all. A typical record is probably a nice, linear timeline, but mine must be...different. Like someone took a pair of rusty scissors and just spliced in a whole new perspective right in the middle.