Too many of those “gods” up above were far too human for that title to suit them.
One hostile presence after another flickered through his mind.
This wasn’t a god who had strived for balance in the world from the beginning. He was human—someone who tormented Danil, who drove Etna to his death. At his core, he was a selfish and cruel man. A man who, after giving his body to Nigel, had vanished somewhere.
And now, that man ruled as this world’s god.
A sharper memory surfaced. At the same time, the number on the window ticked upward.
NOW LOADING…
90.0%
Time until completion: ???
Even back on Earth, Nigel had thought “Nigel Grau Montstein” was shameless.
In the game, the secrets “Nigel” held regarding Etna were fully exposed by Kay and the rest of the party. The supposedly generous and fair Duke of Magnus turned out to be someone who had resented and envied his own brother, deliberately placing him in danger.
But for once, Kay—normally so unflinching in matters of guilt—chose to look the other way. Because Etna said he forgave everything. If the one murdered could forgive, no one else had a right to interfere.
Besides, after Etna’s death, “Nigel” did seem to reflect and lead a proper life.
But in the game, Kay had never learned about what happened with Danil. Nigel hadn’t just made one mistake due to some inferiority complex toward his brother—he was a man built entirely out of malice toward others.
And Inas had known the true nature of his master well.
NOW LOADING…
92.3%
Time until completion: ???
Even so, Inas had stayed silent. He was the model knight, the kind who never questioned his master’s orders. The original Inas Idenbach had also possessed unwavering loyalty—righteous, but blindly obedient.
Would the Inas from the original game still have pledged his loyalty, even after seeing what Glarus had become? It was something they’d never be able to confirm.
Now, with nothing holding him back, Glarus smiled at Nigel with open arrogance.
“I hate you.”
“Because I took your body?”
If that was the reason for the hostility radiating from Glarus, it was unfair. Nigel had never wanted to take someone else’s body either.
“You abandoned it. You.”
“Even if I left it behind, it’s still mine. It’s not something trash like you should be using.”
“…”
“Every time you strutted around pretending to be ‘Nigel’ without a clue, I wanted to rip that pretty face to shreds.”
Yeah. That’s right. This was the kind of man he’d been all along. Nigel suddenly remembered Danil’s terrified yet furious face.
Sure, it made sense to dislike someone who had taken over your body. Who could easily forgive the one who’d replaced them?
But the hatred burning in Glarus’s eyes went far beyond that—it was like he was staring at the murderer of a loved one. Was it really that serious?
Glarus slowly approached Nigel. His hand, larger and rougher than Nigel’s, clamped hard onto his cheek.
He gripped it so tightly it seemed he might rip the skin off.
His nails dug in viciously, stinging sharply. Nigel winced but didn’t flinch.
If Glarus truly wanted him dead, he wouldn’t bother with theatrics like this. There was no reason to react to petty anger.
When Nigel didn’t move a muscle, Glarus clicked his tongue and let go.
“No reaction? How boring.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Try something. Anything.”
“No.”
“Fine. Then how about I give you a little story, just to force a reaction?”
“I don’t need to hear anything from you.”
“A long, long time ago… about 100,000 loops back.”
It seemed Glarus had been dying to tell this story. He started rambling without waiting for permission.
Nigel didn’t stop him. He was curious. He wanted to hear the past from another point of view.
“So, it was the loop where Inas Idenbach first became an anomaly. The very first one. It was hell. That time started in the year 272, and I was only twelve, but I kept having these weird memories. I couldn’t tell what was me and what wasn’t. It was confusing. But of course, those were your memories.”
“…”
“They faded with each passing loop. Little by little. But I still flinched every time I looked in the mirror. This face…”
As he mumbled, Glarus touched his face—and it morphed into Nigel’s.
The same face Glarus had worn all this time.
Seeing it again now, knowing the truth, made it all the more eerie.
When he saw Nigel grimace in disgust, Glarus smirked and reverted back.
“Yeah, that wasn’t my face. This is. The real one. Every time I looked in the mirror, I’d wonder—whose face is this? It kind of looked like my mother’s, but I thought I took more after my father. It didn’t feel like mine. Does that even make sense? I thought I’d gone insane. Then… I remembered.”
It was abrupt, like someone had chopped the story off mid-sentence.
He recovered his memories in just the 186th loop?
Even Kay, the Protagonist, took nearly 100,000.
“How did you remember so fast?”
“Because I was chosen.”
“What kind of bullshit is that…”
“It’s true. I was chosen by this world. Chosen to be the brain that eliminates anomalies disrupting the system.”
Glarus smiled with smug arrogance.
“This world runs on laws dictated by the system, but the system itself isn’t autonomous. It only reacts to certain situations. And when time started looping, the system saw it as a crisis. It decided it needed someone to wield its power, someone to erase the harmful anomalies. Naturally, I was the ideal choice. But Glarus was already long dead, leaving only power behind. So the system chose a rational mind that could wield it—me.”
Despite his grandiose speech, there was no real conviction behind his words.
Standing there in the pure white void, Nigel quietly studied Glarus, who looked almost sickly pale.
“Was that your choice too?”
“Of course. One day, the system spoke to me. It told me the truth—that I was stuck in an endless loop, and it would keep going. But it also offered a way out. A way to escape a life of being chewed up and spat out like a cog. So I accepted. I became a god.”
“And now? Can you step down from that seat?”
“Why would I step down?”
“Right. You don’t have a choice.”
Just like how Inas couldn’t stop the 100,000 Loops no matter what he tried, Glarus, too, likely couldn’t stop anything now.
Glarus noticed the faint shift in Nigel’s tone—and scowled.
“Are you pitying me?”
“I’d rather not.”
He didn’t want to feel pity. But it came anyway.
That didn’t mean he’d suddenly come to like Glarus.
But to suffer infinite time loops from a single, possibly impulsive choice… it was too cruel.
NOW LOADING…
94.5%
That thought alone made the number tick up again.
Nigel frowned.
Why now? What had triggered that jump?
He tried to focus, but his memories were still shrouded in dense fog.
<Forget.>
That message exploded in front of his eyes, filling his vision.
The entire space was overwhelmed by the command—it looked like the system was making one last desperate stand.
And then, the pain came.
A blinding headache slammed into Nigel’s skull.
Like an ice pick gouging out his brain, or a hammer smashing through his thoughts—no, not even that described the agony.
He clutched his head and screamed.
Even through blurred vision, he could clearly see the numbers climbing.
94.6, 94.7, 94.8… 95.9, 96…
They kept rising, as if there was no turning back now. And the more they climbed, the worse the pain became.
He wanted to die. The pain wasn’t just in his head anymore—it had wrapped around his entire body.
Blood poured from his nose, and the blood he vomited dirtied his face.
His hands, clutching his head, were sticky—he must’ve started bleeding from his ears too.
And then, the words he’d once whispered long ago came back.
<I want to forget.>
He still hadn’t remembered everything. He didn’t even know what was buried deep inside his memories. But if this was the price of remembering, maybe it was better not to.
“…”
As if granting that desperate wish, the pain slowly faded.
And the numbers on the loading bar stopped rising.
99.2.
Barely skimming the edge, it halted.
Nigel finally came to and looked around.
Blood dotted the floor beneath him, remnants of the nightmare.
His body trembled from the lingering trauma. And Glarus—who’d been silently observing—stood there, face twisted in a terrifying sneer.
When their eyes met, Glarus stomped over and grabbed Nigel by the collar.
“Selfish bastard. I hate you more than I hate Inas Idenbach.”
“What…?”
“What makes you think you’re any different from me? What makes you think you’re clean?”
Nigel didn’t understand—and honestly, didn’t want to.
He was too exhausted. He just wanted to shut his eyes and rest.
His body went limp, but Glarus yanked him upright again.
Blood had stained his pristine white clothes, but Glarus didn’t care.
He slapped Nigel’s cheek, forcing him to open his eyes.
Then, gripping Nigel’s jaw tightly, he spat out a name.
“Lee Ji-woon.”
Nigel’s eyes flew open.
A name that felt foreign—but also deeply familiar.
“You don’t care that you forgot Lee Ji-yeon, the one who died to save you?”
He gasped.
Lee Ji-woon. Lee Ji-yeon. His sister.
The name he should never have forgotten.
In that instant, Nigel remembered—how she’d instinctively turned the wheel to protect her little brother. How she died for it.
He’d never been able to recall that name until now.
Glarus was right.
Some things should never be forgotten.
Even if it meant enduring unbearable pain.
