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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Chaos
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‘This is unbelievable.’
Su-ah, traveling with Tae-jin, found herself increasingly astonished as time went on.
For 51 regressions, he had been a villain.
A powerful villain, a mid-boss level threat.
He had appeared on the way to Gaikan and pushed Choi Do-han’s party to their limits.
After being expelled from the academy, his whereabouts had become unknown, leaving his actions shrouded in mystery.
But the current Tae-jin was clearly demonstrating why he had become a mid-boss level villain in those 51 regressions.
With a clear goal in mind, his growth had been explosive.
He had already surpassed Choi Do-han, and his progress was so overwhelming that even Su-ah, a 52-time regressor, was astounded.
Even though she was witnessing it firsthand, it was hard to believe.
With all due respect, it felt like witnessing the descent of a god.
‘Could Cadet Han Tae-jin be the key to our salvation?’
That was why she felt a glimmer of hope for success in this 52nd regression.
However, knowing better than anyone that premature expectations could lead to crushing disappointment, she also acknowledged the possibility of failure.
There had been several regressions where Choi Do-han had seemed like the key to salvation, filling her with similar hopes.
But how had those ended?
She had become an expert at managing disappointment, a veteran of countless failures.
Setbacks no longer gnawed at her; her heart, worn and calloused, had become indifferent to failure.
While indifference to failure could be a good thing,
Taken too far, it became a dangerous form of complacency.
It turned her into a cynical optimist, thinking, “If I fail, I can just regress again.”
It trapped her in a debilitating cycle of apathy, where failure and success held equal weight, diminishing the sense of accomplishment from success and the sting of defeat from failure.
That was Su-ah’s current state.
As a living being with human emotions, enduring 52 regressions was no easy feat.
That’s why,
Su-ah had been approaching this regression with a “whatever happens, happens” attitude.
For 51 regressions, she had researched, strategized, and racked her brain.
Now, she was in a state of exhaustion, unsure of which path to take.
She was simply drifting through this 52nd regression, making choices based on gut feeling and hazy memories.
It was Tae-jin’s dramatic transformation that had breathed new life into her.
He had deviated from the established script, creating an unprecedented change.
To understand the reason behind this change, she had tried to get closer to him, to stay by his side.
But,
‘I don’t understand.’
She couldn’t figure out what had caused this change.
She had even asked him directly.
Why, how had he changed his mind?
But each time, Tae-jin would simply reply,
“Hmm… I don’t know. I just… felt like it?”
And brush off the question.
It was a valid answer, in a way.
Choices always stemmed from a primal desire to do something.
He wanted to change, so he changed.
What clearer answer could there be?
‘Could it be that during this regression, a dimensional rift opened, and another soul entered his body?’
Eternity, the cosmic entity, taught many things.
Among them, the Multiverse Theory was widely accepted.
It posited that within the same universe, planets with identical gravitational forces and rotational speeds, down to the smallest fraction, shared the same timeline.
The evidence supporting this theory was:
[Unexpected events occurring during multiple regressions.]
Tae-jin’s case was a phenomenon that supported the Multiverse Theory.
A minute dimensional rift, opening between planets sharing the same timeline, could have caused a soul exchange.
But it was just a hypothesis, impossible to prove.
‘And there’s no guarantee that a soul exchange would be noticeable.’
In any case,
Su-ah considered Tae-jin to be living proof of this theory.
A person might not even be aware of a soul exchange.
‘Well, I’ll find out eventually. Besides…’
Su-ah also believed that Renia, who hadn’t appeared in any of the previous 51 regressions, was a crucial element in this one.
Renia had appeared by Tae-jin’s side in the 52nd regression.
While it was possible that she had simply gone unnoticed in previous regressions, Su-ah didn’t think so.
There was one reason.
‘She lied.’
Su-ah had visited Tae-jin’s house once.
And she had asked about how he and Renia had met.
He had clearly stated,
‘We met while she was working at Red Express, a transport and escort company.’
To an ordinary person, it would have sounded like a perfectly normal explanation.
But Su-ah was a 52-time regressor.
Having lived through countless years, she didn’t take things at face value.
So,
‘Renia…? Hmm, I can’t find any record of her working at Red Express.’
Su-ah had visited the former location of Red Express.
But even after searching records going back ten years, there was no employee named Renia, or anyone with a similar name or profile.
As Renia had said, Red Express had gone bankrupt.
It was possible that their records hadn’t been properly preserved.
However, mercenaries, who were paid to handle sensitive information, were generally trustworthy.
Moreover,
‘As an added service, I can tell you that there are no registered Awakened individuals named Renia whose appearance matches the photo you provided.’
The name “Renia” itself was an alias.
She was a complete mystery.
Why had she lied?
Had Tae-jin, knowing that Su-ah was a regressor, been complicit in the lie?
Especially since,
‘It always happened.’
Whenever they approached a city with checkpoints during their journey, Renia would leave a day in advance.
Her stated reason was to scout ahead, but it was a flimsy excuse.
Even though inter-city communication had become limited after the appearance of dungeons and mana,
‘This isn’t the Middle Ages.’
Was it because Su-ah was already suspicious?
Or was she simply being paranoid?
The more she investigated, the more questions arose.
Even the black dragon, which Renia had brought along, claiming its name was Roque, seemed suspicious to Su-ah.
There had been no mention of a black dragon in any of her previous 51 regressions, and Renia’s claim that she had found its egg in a dungeon was also dubious.
Could it be that…
‘After repeated failures, Eternity had chosen Han Tae-jin as the new agent of salvation and sent her to assist him?’
It was a plausible theory.
Renia, a new apostle sent to compensate for the incompetence of the previous agent.
That’s why she had appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost, with no records.
But it was just speculation.
‘I just don’t understand.’
If Renia had been lying alone, it could be assumed she had ulterior motives for approaching Tae-jin.
However, Tae-jin had corroborated her lie about meeting at Red Express, which seemed to rule out that possibility.
If they were both lying, it would be because revealing Renia’s true identity would be disadvantageous.
But Su-ah couldn’t figure out their motives, and it was too late to directly ask about Renia’s identity.
It wasn’t the right time to call Renia aside for a private conversation.
Han Tae-jin and Renia.
They were the most important pieces of the puzzle in this 52nd regression, but shamefully, Su-ah knew nothing about them.
This realization filled her with shame and, for the first time in 52 regressions, a sense of self-doubt.
Was she truly necessary for Earth’s salvation?
Had her 51 failed regressions been due to her incompetence?
Had she been a hindrance, not a help?
Had her involvement actually been counterproductive?
Even now, she was just cheering Tae-jin on from the sidelines, not contributing anything substantial.
She had been hiding her abilities.
She had been agonizing over choices.
She had been holding back because of past experiences.
She had been making excuses, justifying her inaction with reasons stemming from her 51 regressions.
As these negative thoughts spiraled, Su-ah felt increasingly exhausted.
Then, one day,
“Are you tired?”
Renia approached her as she trailed behind the group.
Su-ah, startled, quickly composed herself and forced a smile.
“Hoho, are you tired, Sister?”
“No.”
“That’s good.”
“I was worried about you.”
“…Me?”
Su-ah looked at her, confused.
Had Tae-jin told Renia about her being a 52-time regressor?
“I heard that healers, unlike those with physical enhancements, are vulnerable on long-range raids.”
“Oh…”
Fortunately, it seemed he hadn’t told her yet.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming all this way to help Tae-jin. We were short a healer, so it was a bit tricky. You have no idea how reassuring your presence is.”
Had Renia seen through her?
Renia’s words of comfort and encouragement, acknowledging her inner struggles, brought a lump to Su-ah’s throat.
She had never confided in anyone about her struggles.
She had thought she shouldn’t.
She saw herself as an apostle carrying out a divine mission, someone who wasn’t allowed to be tired or vulnerable.
But,
‘I’m tired.’
She wasn’t a god, but a human, and even with her enhanced emotions, she still felt pain.
“You seem lost in thought now that we’re almost at the cave. You can talk to me. I’ll listen.”
“…I just… I wonder if I’m really being helpful…”
A self-deprecating question about her role in Earth’s salvation.
But then,
Bonk!
“Ouch!”
“I just told you how much your presence reassures me!”
Su-ah rubbed her head, her eyes welling up as she looked at Renia.
“How can you say you’re not helpful?! Without you, we’d have longer guard duty shifts, no healing when we’re injured, and no hymns to comfort us when we’re scared!”
“W-what…?”
“And! Remember that time we were trapped in the labyrinth and almost couldn’t get out? You saved us because you could read Ancient Monster Tongue!”
“But it was Sister Kim Hye-seo who ultimately found the escape lever…”
“Doesn’t matter! Did the Ancient Monster Tongue help Hye-seo find the lever or not?!”
Su-ah shyly nodded.
It was undeniable.
But she hadn’t considered that it could contribute to Earth’s salvation.
“See~? If it weren’t for you, we would have wasted days in the labyrinth and arrived much later than scheduled! So don’t overthink it. If you keep looking back, you’ll miss what’s ahead.”
“S-Sister…”
“Overthinking leads to indecision. And indecision leads to stagnation.”
Su-ah looked at Renia and a realization dawned on her face.
Renia smiled warmly and patted her shoulder.
“And there’s no such thing as big or small help. Often, it’s the small acts of kindness that lead to the greatest outcomes. So straighten your shoulders! Lift your chin! And walk with confidence!”
After 51 regressions and repeated failures, Su-ah’s self-recrimination had led her to assign monumental significance to even the simplest act of help.
She had believed that everything had to be perfect and grand to fulfill her mission.
Trapped in this mindset, she had forgotten Eternity’s teachings – that salvation wasn’t achieved through grand gestures, but through the accumulation of small acts of fate.
She had foolishly forgotten the creed that small choices, when combined, could change destiny.
Su-ah’s heart began to beat faster.
She had forgotten.
Her original purpose.
The one who was supposed to change fate had ironically become a prisoner of fate.
“Thank you… for helping me see the light.”
“Pfft. Your way of speaking is a little cringe, you know? Kind of damp.”
“Oh, I’m sorry…”
“Forget it. Call me ‘Unnie.’ Say it. Unnie.”
“W-what? But being whiny won’t change anything…”
“Hmph! You’re being unhelpful!”
“What?! But you just said I was helpful!”
“Not now!”
“W-What?! B-But as a mature and intelligent person, going back on your word is a grave sin…!”
“I’m not going to heaven!”
“What!? Even if heaven doesn’t exist, still, such a thing…!”
Su-ah’s eyes widened.
Despite the sudden shift in the conversation, Renia’s playful banter had revitalized her.
Fortunately,
“Renia! I found some excellent ingredients!”
Tae-jin called out from up ahead, and Renia, shouting, “Ingredients?!” dashed off, bringing their conversation to an end.
Su-ah watched Renia as she ran away.
And she smiled.
Regardless of Renia’s true identity, she seemed to be exactly what Tae-jin needed.
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“If only high-ranking executives know Gaikan’s location, we’ll have to capture the remaining executive, Gallidum.”
At Na-yeon’s question, Tae-jin’s gaze shifted to Su-ah.
It wasn’t a demanding look, but one that respected her choice.
Su-ah, meeting his gaze, nodded resolutely and stood up.
She would no longer be bound by the shackles of the past, obsessing over help and choices.
There were only choices made in the present, and the consequences that followed.
Nothing more.
Su-ah addressed the group.
“I know where Gaikan is.”
“What? Su-ah? You do?”
“What?! How does Su-ah know?!”
The group reacted with shock and disbelief.
The weight of her words was undeniable.
“But before that… there’s something I need to show you.”
Su-ah took a few steps back.
Tae-jin looked at her with concern.
“…Will you be alright?”
Su-ah smiled gently.
“Someone once told me, ‘If you keep looking back, you’ll miss what’s ahead.’”
Su-ah’s smile reached Renia.
“And that overthinking leads to indecision, and indecision leads to stagnation.”
“S-Su-ah…?”
“I finally understand. Just as there’s no such thing as big or small help, there’s no such thing as a big or small choice. There are only choices made in the present.”
Su-ah’s gaze returned to Tae-jin.
“Trying to learn from my failures only poisoned me. I neglected small acts of help and became obsessed with making the perfect choice.”
Finally, her gaze encompassed the entire group.
“So I decided to let go.”
A brilliant white light began to emanate from her, blossoming like a flower.
A holy light, more than just pure.
The light grew, blindingly bright, pushing everything else into the periphery.
The group bowed their heads and closed their eyes.
The light was too brilliant to look at directly.
Flash—!
A moment later, darkness returned behind their closed eyelids.
One by one, they raised their heads and opened their eyes.
And,
“I am Ercia, Apostle of Eternity.”
Standing in the center of their vision, bathed in radiant light, wings spread wide, was a woman resembling an archangel.
Ercia’s gaze fell upon Renia.
“Don’t be too surprised.”
And she spoke the words Renia had longed to hear.
To the kind sister who had helped her break free from the cycle of self-recrimination.
“Unnie.”
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