979 Episode 58 Myth-grade Constellation (11)

The Mythical Circle.

When I first reached the status of 'Mythical', I briefly glimpsed its impossible landscape. But back then, I didn't truly feel like a part of that world. I was a mere visitor—an observer who could witness its scenery but lacked the authority to interfere with its events.

A die of iridescent hues ascended from Mitra's right hand, radiating a brilliance that pierced through the gloom.

The die traced a line of light through the air and settled firmly into my palm. The sensation was unsettlingly familiar, as if it had belonged to me from the very beginning. I knew exactly what it represented.

This 'die' was my invitation—my ticket into the Round Table of Mythology.

I belatedly realized the true identity of the die spinning in my hand. It was a fragment of a legend, forged at the very moment Mitra first ascended to the status of a Myth.

A low rumble of thunder rolled through the artificial sky as Mitra made his declaration.

Mitra looked up at the firmament. Immediately, the heavens fell into a terrified silence.

He was a being capable of enforcing his own will, even in defiance of a Great Nebula.

What I had now received was the concentrated essence of such a mythical entity, carved from the core of his own story.

Mitra, having surrendered the die, wore a complex expression of deep regret and profound relief. I realized that now was the time to seek an honest answer from him.

"Mitra, what exactly is the 'Round Table'? And what purpose do these dice serve?"

Even in 'Ways of Survival', the 'Round Table' was never specifically described. It was only mentioned as a secret banquet hall where the 'mythical constellations' gathered. Since even the original Kim Dokja had never been invited, I was woefully lacking in information.

Mitra gazed silently at the sky, as if reading the constellations written across the void, and added:

"Is it really alright for you to give me something so significant?"

Mitra smiled weakly and began to help his fallen subordinates to their feet. One by one, the constellations of the Golden Dice Hall regained their strength, bolstered by Mitra’s grace.

He spoke with a weariness so heavy that the entire scene felt like a retirement ceremony.

"Are you no longer curious about your own ■■?"

"Then why give me the dice?"

Every star exists only to reach the final conclusion of all stories. Born for that purpose, they cannot help but exist for it.

Yet Mitra had just laid down the only tool that would allow him to participate in that final gamble.

The harsh radiance emanating from his form had dimmed. He was no longer using coercion; he was simply speaking the truth.

"And now?"

Through the die, I could vaguely sense the weight of Mitra's history.

Mitra, who had lost his duel with 'Snowfield Kim Dokja' and was relegated to the master of 'Valhalla Hall'. I saw the history of a god who managed the lesser stars and witnessed countless desperate competitions.

After a brief pause, Mitra continued.

To complete a world is to close the door to it and become a prisoner. To complete a myth is to imprison oneself within that legend.

In that sense, all the 'myth-grade constellations' at the pinnacle of this world were captives of their own stories.

Amidst that stagnation, an unexpected opportunity had presented itself to him.

There, Mitra had watched countless incarnations and stars perish in the arena.

"Which Transcendent was it?"

It was a team led by a Transcendent, yet his attention had been drawn not to the powerhouse, but to a different incarnation.

"He must have been exceptionally strong then."

It was a peculiar admission. An incarnation, neither as strong as a Transcendent nor possessing special genius, had captivated a Myth. Why?

The picture was forming in my mind. If a Transcendent of that caliber had lost, their opponent must have been a 'Giant Nebula'.

And even that Transcendent had died in the end.

Even though it was just a retelling of a past match, I felt a pang of regret, wondering if the Transcendent was someone I had once known.

"He didn't?"

"I assume he was searching for the prophecy."

With a prophecy in hand, there is always a chance to turn the tables, no matter how unfavorable the odds. But Mitra shook his head.

Just the description was enough to convey the horrific reality that incarnation had faced. His determination to survive seemed as iron-clad as Yoo Joonghyuk’s.

"Was his tenacity what impressed you?"

That was true. Everyone values their own existence. Some are overwhelmed by despair and surrender, while others cling to a fraying hope.

But the incarnation in the story wasn't trying to protect his own life.

I forgot to breathe for a moment, my focus entirely consumed by the narrative.

No matter how noble your start, those who reach Scenario #85 usually have their psyche worn down to nothing. Their emotions are frayed, and they lose the ability to care for anything but themselves.

"I take it the child was his own?"

It was a strange story—a truly bizarre tale, yet one that didn't sound entirely foreign to me.

Because in that moment...

"What happened to that incarnation?"

I already knew who that man was.

My heart hammered against my ribs. "He succeeded." That was how Mitra had phrased it. It was a strange way to describe the outcome of a skirmish, which usually ended in 'victory' or 'defeat'. But Mitra said he 'succeeded'.

A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. Finally, unable to contain it, I asked.

"By any chance... was that incarnation's name 'Lee Dansu'?"

Mitra paused, considering the name for a long moment.

I nodded with great difficulty. Suppressing the storm in my chest, I forced out the next question.

"Yes. What happened to him after his escape?"

I tried my best to steady my breathing. Still, I couldn't mask the raw emotion welling up within me.

He had fought the constellations, fled, and eventually—with a child in his arms—found the 'Missing Bush' and escaped the skirmish.

For a heartbeat, I could almost hear the vivid, gravelly voice of Dansu ahjussi.

I felt breathless. It was unmistakable. It was Dansu ahjussi. Even after eight years, he was still the same man I remembered.

A line of text manifested in the air, pulsing with a faint light.

I thought about Dansu ahjussi. A man who had been searching for his daughter, Jiyoon.

His daughter was trapped in Asmodeus's theater. So, if he was protecting a child now... who was it?

"Changed?"

Mitra continued, speaking as if he knew I wouldn't believe him.

He was right. This wasn't just true for constellations, but for humans as well. Very few beings have their lives altered by a single narrative.

I already knew of several constellations that had read a story, loved it, and changed the course of their existence because of it.

And Mitra, too, was looking at the stars following him with a gaze similar to the ones I knew. They were the stars gathered in 'Valhalla Hall'.

The stars of the 'Hall of Golden Dice'—stars from countless different nebulae—had decided to abandon their affiliations to follow him.

Mitra looked at them and spoke softly.

The dice in my hand vibrated with warmth.

Dansu ahjussi wasn't Kim Dokja. Yet, perhaps, he had accomplished something even more incredible. He had lived his life to the fullest and protected what was precious.

Ahjussi had succeeded in changing the starlight of a Great Myth.

Mitra, with a faint, knowing smile, spoke as if he already knew my next move.