I Became the Tyrant of a Defense Game [EN]: Chapter 425

The Demon King fixed his gaze on Aider, his dark eyes intense, and spoke, his voice resonating with a strange mix of weariness and challenge.

《Even this time, we haven’t reached a conclusion that satisfies us all.》

“……”

《Neither you nor I could save our respective ‘that person.’ When will we ever succeed…?》

Aider remained silent, his expression unreadable, as he listened to the Demon King’s words. The Demon King chuckled, a dry, humorless sound.

《I’m truly sick of repeating this charade endlessly, but oh well. I’m naturally good at enduring tedious tasks.》

The Demon King extended a hand made of shadows, pointing directly at Aider.

《But how much longer can you endure, Aider?》

“……”

《Your soul has long surpassed its limits, and you can no longer continue the game. You’ve even passed on your player status to another… that young child named Ash, just to repeat this game.》

The Demon King glanced down at Ash, who lay lifeless on the ramparts, and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

《This proxy player friend of yours is quite unreliable.》

“Ash will do well.”

Aider’s voice was firm, filled with conviction.

“Better than me. He will do better.”

《Heh heh. We shall see.》

Immediately after, the Demon King raised his gaze to the sky and bellowed, his voice echoing with dark power.

《Let the next game begin!》

Then, the very air around them began to ripple ominously, as if reality itself was distorting.

“……”

Fernandes, who had been listening to the incomprehensible conversation with a blank expression, suddenly noticed the strange shift in the atmosphere and looked up at the sky.

“……?!”

And then Fernandes saw it.

In the night sky, which had turned an unnatural pitch black, countless eyes were densely packed together, like a vast, malevolent constellation.

Flash!

A beam of light, sharp and intense, flashed between those eyes, descending from the sky and enveloping the Demon King’s body.

The beam of light began to break down the Demon King’s body into fine particles, dissolving him into nothingness.

Even as his entire being was being disassembled, the Demon King maintained a leisurely smile, his dark features twisted into a mocking grin.

《Then, let’s meet in the next round… ‘Hero’.》

Flash!

Another beam of light descended, this time striking Aider directly on the head. Aider muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

“……See you again, Demon King.”

The Demon King disappeared first, his laughter echoing eerily as he was reduced to nothingness.

Only then did Fernandes snap back to his senses, staggering forward, his mind reeling.

“P-Prophet!”

At the sound of his voice, Aider slowly turned around. Fernandes questioned him, his voice filled with bewilderment and confusion.

“What… what is all this? Ash’s words, your words, I don’t understand any of it!”

“……”

“The world is repeating? Rounds? A game? What nonsense is this!”

“……You don’t need to know, Fernandes.”

Aider sighed softly, his gaze distant.

“To be precise, knowing won’t change anything. This world is over, and you won’t remember it in the next round.”

“What does that……”

“Give up everything and embrace a peaceful end. That’s the best advice I can give you.”

As he began to turn into particles, Aider muttered, his voice filled with regret.

“……I’m sorry for failing again this time.”

“Wait, Prophet!”

“Someday, surely.”

“Prophet! Pro…….”

Fernandes’s desperate cries were in vain, as Aider also completely disappeared, leaving no trace, just like the Demon King.

“……”

Looking at the empty space where the Demon King and Aider had been, leaving no trace, Fernandes wondered if he had just experienced a hallucination.

But it wasn’t so.

Because countless eyes were still floating in the sky, their gaze unwavering.

Each and every one of those eyes, Fernandes could barely perceive, were divine beings possessing immense power and will, entities far beyond his comprehension.

Fernandes could barely grasp the scale of what he was witnessing.

“What… the hell…?”

What were these gods of this other world looking at?

Following the direction of their gaze, Fernandes finally realized what the eyes were watching.

– Kyaaaaah…….

– Aaaahhh……!

– Save me…….

– We have to run……!

The eyes were watching the destruction of this world, observing the chaos and despair with detached interest.

Like a child peering into an ant nest flooded with water, they were looking down at the end of this world, which was heading towards its inevitable demise, as if it were a fascinating spectacle.

Bang!

Crack…!

Crunch!

The monsters that had broken through the gates and entered the city began their massacre, and the screams of the people huddled in the imperial capital echoed through the streets.

A massacre was underway.

Some people were running away, desperately clutching their children.

Some were fighting back against the monsters with whatever weapons they could find.

Evacuating. Hiding. Crying. Protecting. Soothing. Holding their breath. Begging on their knees. Fighting-

Died.

Cut, torn, ripped, pierced, crushed…….

Without a single exception, everywhere in the city, people were being brutally killed by the monsters, their lives extinguished without mercy.

Everything Fernandes had tried to protect was collapsing like a sandcastle, crumbling into dust before his very eyes.

– Please, save… me…….

Fernandes covered his ears with both hands, but the screams and roars were still piercing his brain directly, a cacophony of terror that he couldn’t escape.

There was nowhere to run.

This was hell, a living nightmare unfolding before him.

And the eyes in the sky were intently watching this scene of hell, their gaze unwavering, their interest seemingly endless.

“……Don’t make me laugh.”

Grind.

Fernandes gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched tight with a mixture of rage and despair.

“Repeating, rounds, games. Don’t talk such nonsense.”

People are crying, people are suffering, people are dying.

How can they speak so easily, as if changing a chessboard, placing new pieces, and starting the next game, as if lives were mere pawns in their cosmic game?

Fernandes looked up at the sky, his eyes burning with tears of blood, his gaze fixed on the eyes that were observing the destruction of this world. He faced them head-on, his defiance a small spark in the face of overwhelming power.

And he thought.

If. As he had overheard.

The world is constantly repeating. Then-

‘I won’t be caught off guard either.’

He, too, could try one last struggle, one final act of defiance against the inevitable.

Fernandes immediately began to create a new magic, his mind racing, his focus absolute.

Assuming the premise that ‘the world repeats’ to be true, he devised a formula to match it, a way to break the cycle, or at least, to leave a mark on it.

To convey the truth of this world to himself in the next round, to plant a seed of awareness in his future self.

‘Even a very short message is fine.’

A fragment of memory, or a scene of an image, if that’s not possible, a single sentence – no. Even a single word is fine.

If he could convey a hint about the truth of this world, a clue to the nature of their endless cycle.

If he could pour out everything he had, to convey anything to himself in the ‘next round’, to give his future self a fighting chance.

Then someday, he would be able to awaken to this moment when the world is destroyed, to everyone’s death, and to the truth of the repeating world, to the reality of their endless loop.

His brilliant self would be able to awaken, to break free from the chains of ignorance.

On the ramparts of the collapsing world, looking down at his citizens dying, the last guardian created a new magic, a desperate attempt to defy fate.

And- he completed it.

A magic that could convey just one letter to himself in the next round, a single, crucial piece of information, instead of sacrificing his life in vain.

Fernandes did not hesitate. He willingly sacrificed his life to activate the magic, his resolve unwavering.

And-

***

Present.

“……”

Fernandes opened his eyes on the bed, his heart pounding in his chest.

He had a nightmare, a recurring nightmare he had had hundreds, thousands of times… the empire collapsing, the world ending. It was a vivid dream, as if he had actually seen it, even though he knew, logically, that he had never actually witnessed it.

“Hah.”

Fernandes sighed and slowly got out of bed, his body heavy with the weight of the dream. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat, a physical manifestation of the terror he had just experienced, a lingering echo of the nightmare.

He threw off his sweat-soaked clothes and went into the bathroom. He turned on the hot water and, without thinking, looked in the mirror, his gaze drawn to his reflection.

There were letters there, etched onto his skin.

On Fernandes’s lean body, reflected in the mirror, letters were densely inscribed, a chaotic tapestry of words covering his torso. Fernandes clicked his tongue in annoyance, a familiar sense of resignation washing over him.

“I don’t have a hobby like tattoos, though……”

This was a record sent by his past self, a message from the past, a testament to his previous struggles.

To be precise, it was the totality of records sent by his very past selves, a collection of fragmented memories and desperate pleas from countless iterations of himself.

The world had repeated countless times, and the words gathered as ‘final messages’ became sentences, and then a story, a chronicle of his endless cycle.

The letters densely inscribed on his body were the truth of this world, a painful reminder of their endless loop, and at the same time, the record of his struggles, a testament to his unwavering defiance.

“……”

Fernandes carefully examined the records sent by his past self, his eyes scanning the familiar words, the stories etched onto his skin.

He doesn’t remember the events directly, the memories are lost to the cycle. However.

The records do not lie, they are a tangible proof of the truth.

This world is repeating, trapped in an endless loop of destruction and rebirth.

No matter what he does, the world is destroyed by the monsters that come from the south, a relentless tide of chaos that he has been unable to stop.

What methods has he used so far to prevent this destruction? What strategies has he employed, what sacrifices has he made?

All the records remained on his body, a living testament to his failures and his unwavering resolve. As the number of failures accumulated, new sentences were inscribed on his body, adding to the ever-growing chronicle of his struggles.

And, this round.

Now that there was no more space to inscribe messages on his body, with letters covering every inch of his body below his neck, his skin a canvas of his past lives.

Fernandes suddenly realized, a chilling understanding washing over him.

That it was impossible to win against the Demon King, that their struggle was futile, a pointless dance with fate.

Defeat is inevitable, a certainty that he could no longer ignore. Destruction is certain, a grim reality that he had to accept.

Then, rather-

“I should surrender.”

Accept the destruction, embrace the inevitable, and stop fighting against the tide.

And surrender to the Demon King, to give up the fight and accept his fate.

That was what he had decided, a cold, calculated decision born from countless failures.

And to do that – he must become the Emperor, to seize control of the world and guide it towards its inevitable end.

A position where he can decide the fate of this world and the lives of the Empire’s citizens, a position of absolute power, where he holds the power of life and death over all people, he must ascend to the throne.

“……”

Truly, Fernandes loved his family, his heart ached with the thought of their suffering.

His father, his older brother, his younger brother, he loved them deeply, their bonds forged in blood and shared experiences.

But the greater cause of preserving the human race, of ensuring the survival of humanity, was more important than that, a burden he had to bear, a sacrifice he had to make.

So.

He decided to sacrifice them willingly, to use them as pawns in his grand plan, a necessary evil for the greater good.

“Please understand, brother.”

After finishing his shower, Fernandes changed into new pajamas, his movements deliberate, his expression cold and detached, and muttered quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s all… to protect this empire.”

“……”

He wasn’t speaking to the empty air, his words were directed at a silent observer.

In one corner of the wide room, a mobile prison was installed, a cage of reinforced steel and magic, and Larc was imprisoned there, his body broken and his spirit crushed.

Both of his arms were cut off, his limbs stumps of flesh and bone. His mana core inside his body was completely destroyed, rendering him unable to use magic, his powers extinguished.

Although it was widely rumored that he had been executed, a lie carefully crafted to maintain order and prevent unrest.

He was definitely alive, a prisoner in his own home, a constant reminder of Fernandes’s betrayal.

“……Fernandes.”

Larc looked at his younger brother with a dull gaze, his eyes devoid of hope, his spirit broken by his imprisonment.

His parched lips opened, and his dry voice barely escaped, a raspy whisper that carried the weight of his suffering.

“What… what are you planning to do?”

Fernandes smiled at his older brother, a cold, unsettling smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and then slowly walked out of the room, his movements fluid and graceful.

“I will end the repeating destruction, and… I will survive with the people.”

“……”

“In any form.”

As Fernandes stepped out of the room, the corridors of the imperial palace unfolded before him, a labyrinth of stone and shadows, a familiar path that he had walked countless times.

The place where he had rested was none other than the Emperor’s bedchamber, a room steeped in history and power, a symbol of his ambition.

Fernandes, still in his pajamas, walked leisurely towards the audience chamber, his steps measured and confident, his purpose clear.

Standing in front of the locked door of the audience chamber, he opened the door with the key necklace around his neck, a symbol of his authority, and stepped inside, his presence filling the vast space.

Inside the wide audience chamber, along with the frozen thorn tree – Everblack, a silent witness to countless events, a frozen golden throne was left alone, its grandeur a stark contrast to the emptiness of the room.

The original owner had vanished, leaving the throne empty, a symbol of the power vacuum that Fernandes was about to fill.

Thud. Thud.

Fernandes approached and slowly sat down on the throne, his body settling into the cold, unyielding surface.

A chilling cold emanated from the throne, a tangible manifestation of its power, a reminder of the burden he was about to assume. But without giving in, Fernandes leaned his back completely against the throne and closed his eyes tightly, his mind focused on the task ahead.

He had finally made it this far, his journey fraught with peril and sacrifice, his path paved with the blood of his loved ones.

His father was trapped in the spirit realm, a prisoner of his own ambition, and his brother was captured, his body broken and his spirit crushed. Now, there was no one in this imperial capital to stop him from becoming the Emperor, no one to challenge his claim to the throne.

And if he became the Emperor, if he seized control of the empire, if he held the reins of power.

If he became the leader of humanity, the shepherd of his people.

He could evacuate humanity, the empire, from the inevitable destruction, to lead them to safety, to give them a chance to survive.

Through his final plan – ‘The Last Ark’, a desperate gamble to defy fate, a last-ditch effort to save his people.

“……”

Fernandes suddenly rubbed his tired eyes with his hands, his body weary from the endless cycle, his mind burdened by the weight of his decisions.

The road ahead was still long, a treacherous path filled with uncertainty and danger. And that road was a true path of carnage, requiring several times more blood than he had shed so far, a journey into the heart of darkness.

But Fernandes had willingly decided to walk that path, his resolve unwavering, his purpose clear.

In the end, it was a simple either-or choice, a binary decision with no room for compromise.

To be defeated and let the world be destroyed by the monsters, to succumb to the inevitable, or to win and move the world as he desired, to seize control of their destiny.

Fernandes had chosen, his decision made, his path set.

Even if he had to submit, to sacrifice his own morality, to compromise his own values.

Even if he had to be miserable, to bear the weight of his actions, to live with the consequences of his choices.

Even if no one in this world understood him, to be alone in his burden, to be the villain in his own story.

He would protect his people by any means necessary, to be their shield against the storm, to be their savior, even if it meant sacrificing his own soul.

“……So, Ash.”

Turning his head towards the distant south, his gaze fixed on the horizon, Fernandes whispered, his voice filled with a strange mix of anticipation and challenge.

“This is the ‘first’ time you’ve seen me move like this.”

A long smile stretched across his thin lips, a chilling, unsettling smile that promised pain and suffering, a smile that spoke of his dark ambition.

“How are you going to stop me?”