The Apostle’s Fate

My avatar in that event scene must have just finished all preparations, having passed the mantle of Apostle to Bebe. At my feet lay a veritable mountain of gold, silver, jewels, and meticulously forged armaments.

“It’s finished! No longer will you age or fall ill like the other NPCs, nor will your life end when your destined time is up!”

“Father? If I… if I stay here… what about you, Father?”

My on-screen avatar wore a bright, innocent smile. What thoughts occupied my mind then? I believe I was simply content. I was filled with profound satisfaction at the sheer joy of knowing I could now endlessly observe the character I had so meticulously nurtured.

“I’m off to work on my attributes and hunt some demons now.”

But wait, was that truly Bebe’s expression? The child gazed up at me, her face contorted as if on the verge of tears.

“Father, I want to come too. I don’t want to be alone here. I can do well, really!”

“Huh? No, you can’t. I forced your growth, so you only have the stats; you’re useless in a real fight. Leader-class enemies are truly dangerous. Even I could die facing them, how could you possibly cope?”

My on-screen self chuckled with genuine excitement. Spreading my arms wide, I spoke with an exuberant voice. Yet, observing this scene now, it appears Bebe wasn’t particularly pleased. I can’t discern the reason.

“Everyone will adore you! You’ll amass countless friends, and as an Apostle, you’ll want for nothing! You’re an adult now, aren’t you? Feast on delectable dishes, acquire every trinket your heart desires! As the Apostle of Fortune, everything is within your grasp. Isn’t that simply wonderful?”

“No. I need none of it. Immortality, wealth—they hold no appeal for me.”

“Why? Do you dislike the capital? Should we relocate our base? Ah, yes, I remember now—you adored the sea. Perhaps we could move to Portren? Or would you prefer a magnificent castle?”

“No, it’s not that at all… I simply… I truly cherished the cabin in Harbon…”

“That particular place presents some difficulties. It’s utterly barren, populated only by bandits and brigands. You would surely feel quite lonely there.”

“I truly loved that cabin where I lived with you, Father…”

‘I admit, I was quite moved at that moment. She rarely expressed any dislikes.’

Bebe clung to me, her body shaking with sobs. Bebe, now a head taller than me, clutched at me desperately. Bebe’s smile was always so beautiful, yet now she simply wept, and I couldn’t comprehend why.

“Must you truly hunt demons? Can we not simply live together, just the two of us?”

At the time, I must have found even that plea endearing. My on-screen avatar embraced Bebe tightly, then hoisted her into the air and spun her in a joyful circle.

“Our Bebe is so cute! So pretty! So lovable!”

Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, I gently set her down and began rummaging through my inventory. What I retrieved was the 「Twilight Mist」.

“Ah, I nearly forgot! Should you ever require anything, seek out Rabi. You know her, yes? The Archmage. Alternatively, you could speak with Bodangbo in the underground waterways. Bodangbo can be a touch pricey, but… well, if you mention I sent you, he’ll surely assist. If things grow truly dire, I’ll give you the 「Twilight Mist」; that should resolve any predicament. Just in case Debora’s divine protection ever wanes, you might perish. With this, even Debora herself won’t be able to feign ignorance.”

“I have no need for any of this! Please, I beg you, don’t leave me. Please?”

‘Why is this child acting so stubbornly? She’s never behaved this way before…’

I pulled the wailing Bebe into a tight embrace and whispered softly. Above Bebe’s head, a shimmering magic circle began to materialize.

“Everyone will find happiness. It will be a magnificent world, and you, my child, shall live within it.”

“I don’t need such a world! What magnificence could possibly exist in a world where I am left utterly alone?!”

“You won’t be alone. Everyone will come to love you.”

I peppered Bebe’s forehead, nose, and cheeks with a flurry of kisses. Then, I gently patted her back and whispered.

“You will find happiness. For fortune itself will be your constant companion.”

No sooner had my on-screen self finished speaking than the magic circle completed its intricate design, and Bebe slumped limply in my embrace.

Nocturne, who had been staring blankly, glanced at me, then inquired.

“What… what just happened to her?”

‘Did I put her to sleep? Or did I simply incapacitate her? I believe I induced sleep. I wished to avoid the pained animation that accompanied unconsciousness.’

Revisiting this scene now, a peculiar sadness settles upon me. At the time, I genuinely believed Bebe would find happiness, yet upon reflection, it seems she was far from pleased. Was my preparation truly so inadequate?

She isn’t smiling in this memory. I had so desperately wanted to show them how truly beautiful our Bebe was when she smiled.

Overcome by a sudden, inexplicable melancholy, I deliberately adopted a more cheerful tone, searching for other memories to display. The very first time we met; the moment Bebe, smiling brightly, ran to me at my call; her sheer delight upon tasting a giant cotton candy for the first time; our outings after I dressed her in splendid new clothes—together, always together, endlessly together…

The videos, slowly scrolling upwards, eventually reached the final one at the very top. It was the memory of Bebe weeping, begging me not to leave. There were no more after that.

“Even after this, I visited a few more times, but an event kept triggering, asking if I wished to reclaim the Apostle’s position, so eventually, I stopped coming.”

“Initially, I visited quite frequently myself, but every time I appeared, that persistent quest event would pop up, inquiring if I wanted the position back. After a while, my visits grew sporadic, then ceased entirely. Ah, I had completely forgotten even this detail.”

“Are the Apostles of God truly immortal?” Jack’s query prompted a brief moment of contemplation before I offered my reply.

“Not universally, I believe. Specific conditions apply, you see. As a priest, you must have encountered an Apostle at some point, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve certainly seen them, but… the vast majority eventually succumbed to their designated lifespan…”

I tapped the screen, pausing the video on Bebe’s smiling face. Bebe had harbored so many affections: cotton candy, melted marshmallows, fish preferred over meat, a fondness for flowers, and a deep appreciation for the sky itself.

“It was a destiny I had meticulously crafted, solely to ensure Bebe’s prolonged and joyful existence. Though, ultimately, it proved futile. Who could have ever imagined she would choose to descend of her own volition?”

Why did Bebe choose to end her own life?

“Was it because I had forcibly twisted something non-existent into being? I still cannot comprehend it.”

“Was it truly necessary to go to such lengths? It seems Bebe, that person, didn’t wish to become an Apostle…”

“Had I not bestowed the Apostle’s position upon her, she would have perished shortly thereafter. Her base stats were truly abysmal. Even with forcibly increased attributes extending her lifespan, it would have amounted to merely two or three years at best. One’s innate disposition, it seemed, was immutable.”

“That was the sole method available to preserve her life, at least as a human being.”

To preserve her mere existence, other methods certainly existed. I could have transplanted her soul into a finely crafted automaton, like a golem, or combined it with other robust life forms to forge a chimera. Alternatively, I could have extinguished her life entirely, transforming her into a spectral entity such as a lich or a zombie.

If a physical form were truly unnecessary, I could have even subjugated her soul, binding it as a summoned entity. Yet, I harbored no desire for such a path. At that time, I believe I had developed a deeper affection for her than my memories now suggest.

“You mentioned this projects memories. Can we not view Bebe’s memories, then?”

“Yes. Likely not. Bebe’s soul quality itself is inherently inferior. It probably possesses less capacity than even a chicken’s.”

“Capacity?”

“The inherent value of the soul.”

My hand, which had been idly tracing the screen, finally deactivated the projection. The screen reverted to a wall of inky blackness. The polished surface of the wall now reflected four figures, myself among them.

“Could Bebe… could she see you?”

“Perhaps. Theoretically, it’s possible. Though whether it truly occurred, I cannot say.”

“An… uncertain matter, then?”

“While Bebe’s statistics were numerically near perfection, as I mentioned, the inherent value of her soul was tragically shallow.”

Fortune was her companion; I believed everything to be perfect… Was I mistaken? Even now, I fail to understand.

I feel a certain joy in finally showcasing our beloved Bebe, but it seems the others don’t share my sentiment. Why do they appear so utterly gloomy?

“Why are you all so quiet?”

“Uh… aren’t you… aren’t you sad about it?”

“About what?”

“About Bebe, that person… you seemed to get along so wonderfully.”

“I am sad. Of course, I am.”

If only a few days had passed since her demise, I would attempt a revival. But one hundred years in game time translates to eight or nine months in the real world. There’s no conceivable way any data would remain. The window for performing a resurrection ritual in-game is also barely a week. No matter what I do now, I can never see Bebe again.

“But what can be done?”

It was my fault for not considering the in-game validity period. I should have visited more often. Despite all the effort I put into preparing everything, the recurring transfer event disheartened me, causing me to stop visiting and eventually forget altogether…

“My preparations were simply insufficient. It’s my fault for not paying enough attention.”

Originally, this room was merely a place where I’d installed ‘Echoes of Time.’ I used to just have a single sofa in the center, turning it into a makeshift cinema where I’d hold Bebe and watch old videos like movies. Or I’d return from an adventure and boast about my impressive exploits.

When Bebe asked if she could use it, I agreed. She then decorated it to feel like a home. But it was decorated so shabbily. I once lived in an empty house when I had no home in the early days, and Bebe decorated it just like that.

Even when I urged her to use better things, Bebe would just smile and say she liked it this way.

‘Well, if Bebe liked it, then that’s all that mattered,’ I’d thought, dismissing it as a simple output of her basic settings, regardless of how good the items were.

“Instead of these gloomy stories, how about we grab something to eat?”

“How could anyone eat after seeing something like that?”

“I don’t understand what the problem is. I just watched our Bebe being beautiful, cute, and lovable to her heart’s content. Shouldn’t that make everyone feel good?”

Perhaps this is why they say NPCs are useless, no matter how advanced their AI becomes. They can improve performance, but they can’t truly empathize.

Suddenly, the wall began to glow faintly and vibrate.

“What… what is that?”

“Someone must have arrived.”

If a guild member arrives, it glows yellow; if an enemy, red; and if a visitor, blue. I had set that up and then forgotten about it. Visitors are rare, unless it’s a special quest. After all, by its very design, this is the hidden stronghold of the strongest. Occasionally, there are events where minor bandits storm in, but those are different.

“It’s fine. It’s not an enemy. Blue means I’ve granted permission for them to enter.”

“Perhaps other comrades have arrived. But how did they get in when even I couldn’t?”

“Guild members are yellow. Remember that. This is just a guest.”

At my words, Nocturne looked utterly bewildered.

“Such a function exists?”

“Of course. It’s tedious to go out and check every time. Well, it’s partly my fault for building such an unnecessarily large base. Oh, and red signifies an intruder. If it’s a named monster level 50 or higher, I’ve set it to trigger an emergency alarm.”

Typically, NPCs or monsters intending to attack enter in a combat stance. I designed the system to change the wall’s status if an incoming entity is in a combat stance upon entry. The alarm hasn’t rung yet, though.

Upon leaving the room, I found a lone figure peering around with wide, searching eyes.

It was a goblin with dark green skin, a prominent aquiline nose, and ears long enough to flap. The short-statured goblin, dressed in stylish clothes, spotted me and, beaming with delight, scurried forward.

“Human! You’ve come!”

“Good heavens! Bodangbo!”

The others, who had followed me out, gasped and drew their swords, but I paid them no mind, scooping up the rushing goblin into my arms.