They had no distinct form.
Something bizarre, breaking free from the mold of defined traits—neither truly alive nor dead unless mimicking, like a parasite seeking a host.
In the words of the creators, "foreign intruder."
From the black, overflowing pool, slender tendrils sprouted from a branching stream. At their tips, sharp protrusions began to swell like boils.
Fruit was ripening. Changing in colour, shifting in shape, preparing to scatter its seeds. Eyes, like worm-eaten holes, erupted across the boil's surface, and as the weight of the fluid within became too much to bear, the skin split open with a pop. A mouth, curved into a crescent smile, sang.
"Ahhh!"
Countless tiny faces, numbering in the dozens or even hundreds, trembled like reeds blooming in the swamp.
Take 1. Midway Up the Vernis Mountains (Day/Outside).
The Cataclysm Returns.
Screams echo from all directions.
This isn't a scenario.
There are no clear lines, no defined characters. Just a fragmented series of descriptions—too incomplete even to be called a rough script.
"Cover them! Don't get separated!"
Scattered screams punctuate the air as people instinctively huddle together.
Was it like this during the Cataclysm ten years ago? Did they press their backs together, trying to keep the monsters at bay? And at some point, did the lines blur—who was human, who was the monster?
The knights of the Ertinez family move with disciplined precision under Leonardo's command.
The grotesquely grown human-like faces, once mere malformed sprouts, now feed on flesh and refine their mimicry. Those who find themselves staring into their own distorted reflections recoil in disgust.
But Leonardo and Raul sharpen their resolve instead—this battlefield has always belonged to them.
'What the hell was Godric thinking?'
The intent behind this re-creation of the Cataclysm is impossible to grasp.
As I turn my gaze toward the platform where the king once stood, I spot Godric, surrounded by his royal guards. They shield him, their formation tight, their presence unwavering.
The moment our eyes meet, he smiles. A serene, almost knowing curve of his lips.
[Sub-writer 1: Don't worry. You'll be safe.]
A firm confidence, as if he's in complete control of the situation.
Which means…
[Accessing Information.]
Rank – None (Scenario weight: ■.■■%)
Role – None
Script – [Great Empire's Subject]
Dialogue – None
! Status Effect – This entity is under the influence of the special ability
The first fully-formed mimic bares its yellowed teeth and lunges forward.
A knight, identical to the creature, lets out a guttural scream and swings his sword wildly. But the monster simply stretches its torn flesh like a gaping maw and swallows him whole.
[Accessing Information.]
Rank – None (Scenario weight: 0.02%)
The entity, having absorbed its victim's relevance, seamlessly assimilates. Its gaping wounds knit together, its movements smooth and human-like—as if it had finally become a rightful part of the stage. And it rejoices in that fact.
"Die, you monster!"
A noble, having just lost his retainer before his eyes, thrusts his weapon at the assimilated figure. The blade sinks deep into its shoulder.
Ordinarily, such wounds should mean little. Unless its head were severed entirely or its heart destroyed, its unnatural regeneration would restore it with ease.
Yet the creature stumbles. It shudders, as if the single strike had inflicted severe damage. Then, its skin begins to boil—air bubbles rising beneath the surface, frothing, before bursting apart like foam.
"I-It's working!"
The weapon that struck it was a dragonbone sword.
"This, more than any weapon—"
'No.'
The one struck was one of Godric's creatures. And the noble wielding the dragonbone sword? Another remnant of those devoured long ago.
A meticulously crafted stage.
Godric never intended to use them as a direct attack. They were merely tools of chaos.
The true intent lies in the flow he's shaping.
'He's goading humans into turning their dragonbone swords against each other.'
As more nobles unsheathe their dragonbone weapons and begin swinging them wildly, Leonardo frowns, as if struck by a sudden headache.
To fight these creatures, they must stay together. But with dragonbone energy saturating every gathering point, the battlefield becomes increasingly hostile—to Leonardo.
Blades graze past him, missing by mere inches, each one a lethal threat. As more mimics emerge, the distinction between human and monster blurs further.
And among them, the dead who have sworn fealty to Godric could be hiding—wielding dragonbone swords like mindless soldiers, feigning blind, indiscriminate strikes.
If one of them lunges, if they claim "I thought it was one of the mimics", their attack would gain an undeniable sense of justification.
If this continues—
The dragonbone sword may reclaim its true purpose.
A fragment of the very concept opposing the protagonist—
A weapon meant to be wielded against him.
What was forgotten alongside the
'He has to get out!'
Leonardo cannot remain here. He must escape beyond Godric's stage, beyond the confines of this situation.
But how?
'Can he just leave?'
The circumstances are one thing, but more importantly, the scenario itself has to allow it.
'Will it work?'
Back in El Dante, the Main Author and Sub-writer 1 had shown it was possible— altering the script in real-time.
Of course, they both ended up losing their writing privileges in the ensuing struggle, but still, the scenario in progress is not immutable.
Hiding in the anonymity of the chaotic battlefield, I shouted:
"Something foul is spilling forth in numbers—there must be a rift somewhere!"
The moment the words leave my mouth, the scenario note, once sparsely written, begins to shift.
Take 1. Midway Up the Vernis Mountains (Day/Outside).
The Cataclysm Returns.
Screams echo from all directions. The extermination force gradually retreats as they struggle against the creatures.
Noble 1: "Something foul is spilling forth in numbers—there must be a rift somewhere!"
Noble 2: "He's right! We need to split our forces! If we don't seal that rift first, this will never end!"
It worked.
"Leo!"
I call out Leonardo's name in the chaos, and he turns to look at me.
'Change of plans. Don't wait for the victory ceremony—we're moving now.'
We're leaving immediately to carry out the rescue operation.
'Pretend you're going to stop the creatures. Use that as an excuse to get out of here.'
And then, we rescue the First Field Army.
'The core of the plan stays the same. Duke Marchez and Vittorio will remain here. You take the others and go. We'll regroup later.'
As I whisper rapidly, Leonardo listens in silence, absorbing every word.
「I want to stay too.」
But someone needs to stay behind.
Godric can't be allowed to replace the nobles with his creatures.
So, no matter what other objectives we have, it makes the most sense for me to stay.
'Godric won't kill me. But you? That's different.'
Leonardo meets my gaze, and in that silent exchange, I understand his answer.
'It's okay.'
A brief pause—then, his reply.
「I promise.」
As far as I can remember, this is only the second promise he's ever made to me.
「I'll come back.」
And Leonardo has never broken a promise.
He was the kind of person who could dig up even lost memories—who would go as far as to give me a name when I had none.
He's right! We need to split our forces! If we don't seal that rift first, this will never end!"**
A voice rises from the crowd.
"We'll hold them off and retreat toward the central outpost!"
With that, the ranks begin to split.
As the Ertinez subjugation force peels away from the main line, some of the other units instinctively follow, while the rest continue their steady retreat.
The transition is seamless—Leonardo breaks away, and before the split can turn chaotic, Duke Marchez swiftly maneuvers his troops into position, closing the gap. The regrouping happens quickly.
From the moment Leonardo disappeared into the distance, the battlefield's intensity gradually waned.
It could be that many of the mimics had already been eliminated in the skirmish, but more likely, Godric had decided it was time to start easing his grip.
'The two families following you—they all serve Godric. Stay sharp, got it?'
「I will. You be careful too, Isaac.」
Even separated, we still have
No matter the circumstances, we have a way to confirm each other's safety. That reassurance made parting easier—for both of us.
Beyond the ridgeline, the soldiers wielding dragonbone swords drove their weapons into the staggering creatures, pressing forward until they reached the central outpost.
The creatures, sensing the shift in battle, withdrew to a calculated distance, settling into the surrounding area.
I could see their shadows pooling beneath the trees, lingering in the shade. Watching. Waiting. But they did not approach recklessly.
Unlike before, the scenario note — no longer a rigidly finalized script but a real-time work in progress — began to shift again, recording a new storyline.
Take 2. Midway Up the Vernis Mountains (Night/Outside).
Leonardo's subjugation unit, now in retreat.
In the chaos, the noble who had spoken earlier — Noble 2 — follows and pulls back his cloak.
Leonardo: "You are…"
Archbishop Butier: "I've come to help."
Spearman Raul: "Why are you here? You weren't among the priests who joined this expedition."
Archbishop Butier: "I arrived late, after the first expedition had already ended. I departed from El Dante after you had left. It didn't seem wise to make my presence known to the king, so I slipped in along the way."
The text stops here, unfinished.
Though it is still daylight now, Take 2 is set at night — meaning this won't unfold for several more hours.
At the very least, it confirms that the Main Author intends to step in and respond to the crisis.
He didn't appear in Act 3, so I thought he might have lost the ability to interfere directly this time. Then again, he did make an appearance as a messenger after the first expedition ended.
He must have been making his way toward the mountains ever since.
It's a relief. It seems that Butier will definitely handle things on Leonardo's side.
'Then, does that mean Orlie is staying on our side?'
With a sense of relief, I firmly grasped Vittorio's hand. The child, who had been cautiously watching my back during the retreat, looked up at me.
"Are you okay…?"
"Yeah. It's fine now."
***
That evening.
Leovald frowned as he listened to Archbishop Butier explain why he couldn't stay longer in El Dante and had to move to the Vernis Mountains.
He needed to inform Isaac about this.
So he brings the other person to his mind as if he were familiar with them, the image of the man as he quietly sleeps. When the morning sunlight made Isaac's eyelashes flutter, Leovald leaned in and whispered softly in his ear to wake him.
'Isaac, Orlie…'
Being able to connect with him at any time helped calm his own anxiety and impulses. Without this ability, he would have been much more unsettled.
He was anxiously looking around, afraid of losing sight of his target.
'…Isaac?'
But no matter how much he called, there was no response.
It was as if the connection that had always existed suddenly disappeared.
***
[The area outside the currently active scenario zone is closed.][You have exited the scenario zone. Immediate return is advised.][You have exited the scenario zone. Please return to the previous area.][You have exited the scenario zone. Quickly leave the area.]
…I never expected to see this message again.
[Currently exiting the scenario… ]
[Approaching scenario zo■■: Entering
[This area is unstable, so extra caution is required.]
Godric places a hand on my shoulder and whispers closely.
"Now, it's just the two of us left."