The Tales of an Infinite Regressor - Chapter 157

[Translator – Jjescus]

[Proofreader – Gun]

Chapter 157

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The Strategist IX

The [The Admin of All-Play] has changed its appearance.

From the form of a cute, lovable blue butterfly that anyone would adore, to a figure engulfed in television static noise.

It’s likely to transform into something terrifying.

Although this moment was equivalent to when the Alien god declared, “Yes, I am Kira,” revealing itself as the final boss, I wasn’t scared at all.

After all, in Death Note, the final villain also transitioned from being a god to becoming a Vocaloid after making that declaration. It would be strange to be afraid.

I calmly pulled out a gun.

A Walther PPK pistol. A god-slaying weapon. A special tool I procured from Namsan solely for this battle.

As I felt the cold touch of the gun, I recalled a conversation I had with the Saintess 33 days ago, just the two of us.

Yes.

Entering a flashback before delivering the final blow. This, too, is an age-old cliché, isn’t it?

The significant correlation between a character’s flashback and their power has been proven in tens of millions of stories.

Therefore, the flashback begins.

10

“Doctor Jang.”

The Saintess whispered.

“Come to think of it, why did you choose the format of a ‘speedrun broadcast’? Couldn’t it just be a regular broadcast?”

It was a dark night.

The timing coincided with the night when Oh Dokseo declared, “I’ll save you, mister!” That very night, Oh Dokseo was sound asleep, having confidently piled up embarrassing memories, oblivious to the world.

On the other hand, the Saintess and I hardly needed any sleep.

The Saintess could just press the [Time Stop] button, and sleep would be irrelevant for her. As for me, my state of being was so elevated that a brief rest was sufficient.

Even when the end times forced all humanity to live a life of early to bed, early to rise, the two of us alone reveled in the late-night life of bad adults.

“Ah, that’s simply a matter of time.”

“A matter of time?”

“Yes. The Alien god known as the [The Admin of All-Play] is waiting for humans to worship it as a god.”

Snoring—

From the bed, Oh Dokseo was broadcasting noise to the world.

“People imagine gods in their own ways. A benevolent god, a fearsome god, an omnipotent god… The more diverse these images become, the more the [The Admin of All-Play] can transform into countless forms.”

“Transform.”

“Yes. The image of a god as depicted in human creations is vast. The [The Admin of All-Play] can simply choose one of those forms at will.”

The [The Admin of All-Play] can transform into anything.

It could become Cthulhu and produce a horror story, or it could change into a loving god, drawing people into voluntary submission.

“I suspect that determining the genre of this world is the [The Admin of All-Play]’s power.”

“……”

“If, by any chance, the world’s genre gets fixed as something like a tragedy, we’re in big trouble. We need to force a specific genre on the Alien god before it chooses one.”

“And what genre would that be?”

“Comedy.”

I took a sip of café au lait.

“You probably noticed when we crossed the sea in Hamel’s Drift, but… I’ve been deliberately live-streaming the situation in a comedic manner. Not too seriously. To avoid slipping into tragedy.”

“Ah.”

“If we can define this episode’s genre as ‘comedy,’ at least in the early stages, the [The Admin of All-Play] will never be able to descend as a terrifying god.”

“…I see. So that’s why you keep joking.”

I nodded.

Stories have atmospheres.

Even if the [The Admin of All-Play] attempts to introduce a tragic development, if the tone of the story is light and comedic from the beginning?

Forcing the tone into tragedy would only lead to criticism.

That wouldn’t be a planned cliché but rather a failed story.

If that happened, the [The Admin of All-Play] would be admitting that it couldn’t handle clichés.

The bizarre could never deny its essence.

This was the loophole we needed to exploit.

“Saintess, since we took the Hate Pill, all sorts of misfortunes will soon come our way.”

“……”

“When we return to Korea, we will immediately head to Baekhwa High School. The [The Admin of All-Play] distorts human perception of time infinitely, so we will likely spend over five years there in real time. I warn you in advance; it will be a hellish five years.”

Therefore.

“We will intentionally ‘skip’ these unfortunate days.”

“Skip…?”

“Yes, skip and move on. We won’t mention the misfortunes we will endure in the distorted time of the [The Admin of All-Play]. That way, we can maintain the comedic atmosphere.”

“Ah… indeed.”

By the way, ‘unfortunate scenes’ were also deliberately skipped for you all.

Of course, some of you with specific tastes might have wanted to see me sobbing over my comrades’ bodies.

But all of this was part of a grand strategy to defeat the Alien god. Please understand.

“And that’s why the Saintess shouldn’t appear directly. After all, you don’t have any connection to comedy.”

“……”

“Before the [The Admin of All-Play] starts turning the world into a serious and heavy genre, we need to take the lead and set the tone. But maintaining ‘comedy’ in this end times is impossible for long.”

“…Because people are dying.”

“Yes. At most, we have 50 days. Honestly, I want to wrap this up in 30 days.”

Thus, the speedrun.

Before the world truly became serious and heavy, we needed to stage something ‘absurdly funny,’ ‘hilarious,’ ‘chaotic,’ and ‘wild.’

In doing so, we would reduce the range of genres the Alien god could choose.

The Saintess showed a look of complete understanding. To her, I said,

“Remember this conversation, Saintess.”

“Huh?”

“We can only speculate about the exact powers of the [The Admin of All-Play]. But if my guess is correct, and it’s related to the genre of stories――.”

I put down my coffee cup.

“Then, tonight’s conversation will undoubtedly come in handy.”

11

Flashback ends.

With my [Perfect Memory], I could recall the past flawlessly, anywhere, anytime.

Even now, as I placed my finger on the trigger of the Walther PPK pistol, I quickly finished my ‘flashback.’

And then,

“O Monkey’s Paw.”

I muttered.

“It’s time to fulfill your promise.”

-Screech, clank, screech, screech!

The invisible Monkey’s Paw cried out.

All the misfortunes we had accumulated until now. Although they were never broadcasted, we had undoubtedly been unhappy ‘off-screen.’

The total amount of misfortune and luck must balance out.

Even when the speedrun broadcast wasn’t active, [The Monkey’s Paw] still lingered by our side.

“The luck I wish for is only one thing.”

-Screech, screech, screech!

“Infuse all the luck into the bullet I’m about to fire.”

Crack!

[Translator – Jjescus]

[Proofreader – Gun]

The right sleeve of my white dress shirt tore open. In an instant, monkey fur sprouted and covered my entire right arm.

The Walther PPK pistol, my Noble Phantasm, began to receive an overwhelming number of buffs.

The first buff, [Fortune Quota System], was the result of stacking [The Monkey’s Paw] and [Hate Pill] and using them in reverse.

This meant that the single bullet I was about to fire would be imbued with extraordinary luck.

The second buff, [Chekhov’s Gun], a quirk that ensures any gun that appears must be used in a decisive moment.

Moreover, the gun I wielded wasn’t just any ordinary firearm but a monstrosity branded with the image of a ‘Godslayer.’

This ensured that the bullet I was about to fire would mark the battle’s finale.

The third buff was.

[Doctor Jang, now.]

The Saintess sent me a telepathic message.

It was indeed perfect timing. That line was the third buff, the cliché of a ‘flashback.’

Not only I but even the Saintess recalled the conversation we had that night and gave me the signal.

Thus, the cliché that ‘we knew this situation would arise and prepared for it in advance’ was established.

And with that, the fourth and final buff was complete.

“I’ve won――.”

I smiled and whispered.

“――Just as planned.”

Yes.

One of the greatest clichés in all of creation.

The cliché that ‘everything happened according to the protagonist’s plan.’

I had accumulated enough causality to claim this cliché without shame.

From the 135th to the 593rd turn, I died countless times to stack these buffs even while strangled to death by Noh Doha.

And now, into this one single bullet.

[Fortune Quota System].

[Hate Pill].

[Chekhov’s Gun].

[Flashback].

[Just as Planned].

I imbued all of these quirks and clichés.

Click.

I pulled the trigger, aiming at the god.

-BANG!

The gunshot rang out loudly.

Perhaps it was too loud.

[The Admin of All-Play] noticed my attack too late and attempted to evade. However, the creature was in the middle of transforming, having just declared itself the final boss.

Attacking someone during a transformation scene might go against the rules of morality in creation, but across all series, there’s always that one time when such an ambush is allowed.

Crackle-!

My bullet flew, cutting through the noise-ridden domain of the Alien god, leaving a ‘scratch.’

The areas closer to the god, initially depicted in 16-bit, 8-bit, and then 4-bit noise, were sequentially pierced by the bullet.

The bullet whirled, shattering the low-resolution world like glass.

The Alien god unleashed a flurry of messages, trying to defend against the incoming bullet. So frantic was it that the messages flooded my vision without any proper format.

[‘The Admin of All-Play’ invokes the ‘Twist within a Twist’ cliché.] [‘The Admin of All-Play’ invokes the ‘Attacks during Transformation Fails’ cliché.] [Revival] [Regeneration] [Invokes] [Demands] [The disciples and priestesses to invoke the ‘Did We Get Him?’ cliché.] [Cliché] [Requests] [‘The Admin of All-Play’] [is] [is] [is] [■] [is] [is]

That was the scream of a monstrosity.

The bullet pierced the god’s wings.

[‘The Admi■strator ■f Al■ Pl■y’] [Ah] [is] [Ah] [Ah] [Ah] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■]

Crackle.

The 16-bit space, once stretching to the horizon, rapidly shrunk. The point where the bullet pierced was the epicenter of this contraction.

Black, gray, and white flashed in a frenzied dance as the noise spiraled inward like a black hole. Thousands of NPCs screamed bizarrely as they were sucked into the black hole.

Then, holes began to appear throughout the world.

Crash! The sound of shattering glass echoed as bullet holes formed in the sky, on the ground, and in the hotel building.

[■] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■] [■]

Splash, splash. The holes vomited forth black liquid like waterfalls.

The black vomit reeked of oil.

As the liquid poured out, it emitted an eerie noise. It was similar to the static of a broken radio.

The repulsive smell and unpleasant sound quickly spread, turning the world pitch black.

Oh Dokseo and I were submerged in the god’s vomit.

Even though the black liquid rose above our heads, thankfully, there was no problem breathing. It must not have been a physical liquid.

I closed my eyes once, and when I opened them again.

I found myself surrounded by an infinitely vast ‘white space.’ It was so devoid of anything that it was hard to tell which way was up and which way was down.

This was the divine realm.

Not the man-made comedic shrine I had crafted, but the true realm where [The Admin of All-Play] resided.

“Hey, old man? Where are we?”

“……”

Only three of us were invited to this divine realm: me, Oh Dokseo, and the Saintess.

Perhaps we were the only ones recognized as the main characters of this story.

-……. …….

And in front of us.

The owner of this space was lying down.

[Translator – Jjescus]

[Proofreader – Gun]