“It’s my monster, the Fairy Dragon!” I shouted swiftly to prevent Chatterbox from interfering. Gyeol landed on my shoulder and curled around my neck. Thankfully, Chatterbox showed no reaction to the sudden monster. As if sure nothing I did could change things, I drew out Euny and strapped it to my wrist. “How did you get here?” The Harmless King bent close and peered at Gyeol. Gyeol’s wings trembled. “That teleport just now... it didn’t seem like a Transcendent’s power.” Gyeol only looked up at me instead of answering. It worried me that it wasn’t Transcendent magic—but there was no time to dwell on that. His golden eyes flickered. He looked concerned I might strain myself, but stayed silent—he understood the stakes. All the more reason I had to survive this. Fairy Dragon’s mana enveloped me, sharpening my numbed mana senses. I reached into the residue of the Harmless King’s power within me and traced it swiftly. Endless swirling mist—each droplet a memory. People’s recollections flowed into and connected within the haze. And those memories— Ruga Peya’s voice echoed in my mind. “A memory feast is our nourishment: we absorb memories to gain strength. Do you remember Choi Seokwon—the S-Rank Hunter who contracted with the Harmless King? He spread mist, swallowed memories, became an SS-Rank monster—sacrificed half his lifespan, grew to SSS, and died by my trap under the Puppet Knight’s hand.” Then he had only swallowed a single town. Now the mist was worldwide. If I consumed all those memories— “A word of advice: don’t get greedy.” Ruga Peya chided gently. “You can only devour memories born from you in this place. You can’t replay Chatterbox’s own power to attack him.” Effectiveness depended on my familiarity, the Harmless King explained. “I can conjure simple objects without trouble. But you and the little moon seem close—quite handy, aren’t you?” “Not exactly close, just a bit.” Even though Ruga Peya’s words shouldn’t be audible, Gyeol heard. I improvised: “Some neighbor.” “That stung a little—but born of humble origins, you hold the mist and yet this is your best.” Instead of replying, I pulled lower-grade Mana Stones from my inventory and tossed them. Chatterbox caught them and eyed me. “No need for me. It was your gift. And as a bonus—” I hurled a mid-grade Mana Stone. It soared and he caught it on his chin. “Use this for your funeral expenses. You likely haven’t arranged services, have no offspring, no friends, no siblings—so here’s some help. They ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) serve boiled pork around here?” I had no parents or lover either. Then I drew out a contract. “You seem wealthy. How about entrusting your rites to a temple, and heirs visit only once a century?” [“What? You’ll do the rites too?”] Haepali tapped my head playfully. I’d given, so I couldn’t refuse entirely. Chatterbox dropped the Mana Stones to the ground. “Come to think of it...” “You too were a party participant, Han Yujin.” “A newborn with dementia already.” Having slain Gios Sanus and been reborn, I was technically zero years old—a superbaby. My hand flew to my neck. I yanked it away, but my body wouldn’t obey. I felt strings controlling me, my legs buckling. I struggled to move away, but was frozen in place. Chatterbox loomed before me. I activated the earring’s barrier. Stacking B-rank shields upon shields, boosting grade and number. Thud! He spun and kicked them apart. Crack, crack, crack! The barriers shattered like glass. Euny only nullified damage, leaving me vulnerable—and likely to lose it. “Look at yourself now!” I twisted my stiff limbs to dart backward and fired the Harmless King’s staff strands. Dozens vanished and then slammed down on Chatterbox. A crimson curtain of mist swept aside the lines. “How many things have gone your way? Enough with puppets—I’m still Han Yujin!” The Harmless King never formed. Chatterbox belonged to this world—and nothing more. I strained against the invisible binds and dredged memories around me—and felt— “Were all these places the same?” Every arena Chatterbox had drawn us into was the same Dungeon—or stage. Only the background changed, from wasteland to valley to city. “Probably those bastards provided a faux dungeon. Chatterbox’s dungeon control power might’ve co-created it,” Ruga Peya guessed. Chatterbox drew a slender fencing blade. He swirled it and crimson strands bound him instead of teleporting. He hurled the entangled sword at me and approached, thick mist coiling his legs. He froze. Willow leaves drifted around me. I stepped atop them and reached out. “Thank you... for showing me the highlight firsthand.” Though I’d never seen it, it lingered in this space—and I’d glimpsed it indirectly. Azure flames sparked in my palm. The ravaged terrain shifted to a gas station. Flames layered, then layered again. They should have deepened, but the fire in my hand lightened to a clear blue. Power built—overwhelming even to me. I gasped. “The host shapes the stage.” Chatterbox flicked his fingertip. The fuel pumps and barrels turned into a shimmering lake. He hurled a spear of fire—water’s opposite. Fire colliding with water weakens—yet pure flame layered upon layer— It swallowed the water and blazed. Its essence devours all, even itself. It consumed the lake. The mist and I watched. The lake flickered into deep sapphire flame. Chatterbox’s brow furrowed—briefly. Everything cleared: only a space of pure sword-energy remained. Even the non-elemental water-flame vanished. Then— Swamp. Again! This time up to my waist. Before I could escape, the bog turned to steel plating, pinning me. I ignited flames to melt the metal and yanked free— My arm twisted. Only one limb bore Chatterbox’s puppet strings. One arm left. Chatterbox too had struggled with that earlier stage shift. Erasing everything at once was no trivial feat. I revived Yerim’s mist to hinder him. A blast of heat surged up from the ground, melting the floor. I leapt back, drew the blaze upward—and a wave of cold crashed in. I yelled, trying to cast Yerim’s skill again—then warmth rushed back. Annoying. “You’re quite the handful.” Toxic spores rose as the ground became white-furred grass—an S-Rank dungeon plant that absorbs poisons. When uprooted it loses potency, but standing it devours all toxins. The glistening, poison-eating field looked incongruously beautiful. Sticky tendril-plants wrapped my legs. I incinerated them instantly, but it stung. “It’s my stage—how about this?” Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭·𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮·𝙣𝙚𝙩 A Chatterbox clone appeared. Into Yuhyun in his Police Chief uniform. That bastard! Fake Yuhyun leveled a sword at me—same stats, same skill, even voice. “Think I can’t face you?” He was just a replica—and far weaker than me. I drew my blade and swung—but before the edge reached him I squeezed my eyes shut. A sensation of flesh and bone severing. When I reopened them, he was gone. Yerim stood before me, beaming. I hesitated at her smile. “Can’t I show him a mirage too?” I struggled to look away and summoned lightning. Crash! The flash obscured my vision. Thankfully no screams. Even a fake like that was too distressing! “You lack the skill to rummage Chatterbox’s memories—too little power, too little finesse!” True—Haepali had required conditions. Hard to use such a power on a stronger foe. This time Seonghyunjae appeared, bound in chains alongside the Fairy Dragon. Same attire as before— [“As a psychic, you’ll be more sensitive to copies.”] I slashed; Hyun-ah, Evelyn, and Director Song materialized. Noah smiled at me. Enough! I forced my anger down and swung again— Noah caught the blade, thrusting a gilded claw at my chest. Long talons scored a line across me. Breaking through Euny’s SSS barrier, the blade tore my shirt and cut my skin. Still, most damage was nullified. I backed away as Noah and Chatterbox watched, amused. “Minus ten for misunderstanding your opponent!” I caught my breath and glared at Chatterbox reverting to his true form. “...Neither you nor I—our powers suit support, not direct combat.” Both of us offered special assistance. I’d managed by layering memories into fatal strikes—beyond that was tough. Chatterbox had no outright offensive skills. [“I never suited you—so I lost. You were just a kid! Bit unfair.”] Ruga Peya admitted. He had been clumsy with his body even as a Transcendent. I gathered the mist—countless memories, particularly party ones. Especially that final part. Chatterbox looked puzzled. “Let’s truly end this party.” If memories vanished, so might he. I discarded the full cache. I renounced that power built from memories of the party—of the host, Chatterbox. The thick mist thinned, slipping through my fingers. The memory-power filling me drained away. I reverted to F-Rank Han Yujin. Chatterbox stared down at his own hands and form. His face showed confusion—and I smiled. “The party’s over. So the host is unnecessary too.” Chatterbox, the human vessel once housing Gios Sanus, faced me. His lips twisted into a grin. “Temporary memory removal, yes? When the past erases, the present must change too.” Oh—was that it? I’d thought removing only Chatterbox’s memories would make him vanish. Same result—so it worked. [“You have talent—severing the part that gave Chatterbox his power! You hold all the people’s memories—of course you can! Sure will last about an hour!”] “But now you too are F-Rank.” I drew the Conquering Sword from my inventory, its hilt warm in my hand. “I’ve always been F-Rank.” Always. This time, help me out, please. Just once. If I die here, you die too. Let’s live together—okay? Trust the Black Dragon within me. I gripped the hilt. The blade slid free, pricking my palm—but without the strong pushback of before. “That body—S-Rank, was it?” I leveled the black blade at him. A faint crimson flame stirred. “F-Rank. The F-Rank who’s slain many S-Ranks. And you know what?” “The Harmless King is gone—and so is the mist. You end with Han Yujin, unrelated to mist or power.” Just Han Yujin. Chatterbox’s eyes bulged in shock.