Chapter 23 – The Algorithm of God
The sound of static rain greeted me again as I slipped back into the capsule.
It had been three days since my last experiment with the Shackles of Karmic Silence, and in those three days, I'd done little else besides plan.
Not in the real world, of course—there, plans didn't matter. The world outside my capsule ran on systems I couldn't touch.
But in Yggdrasil… strategy was the system. And now, I was about to rewrite a piece of it.
The capsule sealed shut with a soft hiss.
The lights dimmed. Neural sync engaged.
Welcome, Traveler_R.
The world of Yggdrasil bled into view: burning skies, molten earth, a world built from code and chaos.
Muspelheim again.
My home base for testing.
And as always, HIME was waiting.
"Ren-sama, connection stable," she reported, her voice soft but sharp, echoing faintly through the heat haze. "All systems functioning. Experiment protocols prepared."
"Good," I said. "Then let's begin."
---
I reached into my inventory, summoning the small crystal sphere that glowed faintly like a heartbeat in my hand.
The World-Class Catalyst.
The reward from the tournament.
It was beautiful in a strange way—fragile, yet dense, like the world's purest data condensed into something that could fit in my palm.
Its purpose was simple: one use only, and it would permanently enhance a single ability of my choice.
And after three days of calculations, simulations, and endless what-if scenarios, I knew exactly what I wanted.
"Target: Ultimate Skill—Data Collapse," I said.
HIME's eyes flickered. "Confirm. You wish to enhance your ultimate ability from the Data Manipulator class?"
"Exactly."
For a moment, she hesitated—as if analyzing the moral implication of what I was about to do.
> "This ability already allows you to interfere with an opponent's resource variables—HP, MP, and skill timers. Enhancement may destabilize balance."
I grinned. "Good. Balance is boring."
---
I placed the crystal against my chest.
The air around us rippled, heavy with static.
Lines of blue-white code surged upward, wrapping around my avatar like living streams of information. The crystal melted into light, sinking into my core.
Then came the pulse.
My vision split—data flooding every sense, rewriting, aligning, reshaping. The familiar structure of my ultimate ability unfolded before me, a lattice of logic and variables visible to the mind's eye.
DATA COLLAPSE – Base Function:
> Manipulates an enemy party's system data. Randomly selects a primary parameter (HP, MP, or skill cooldown). Reduces its maximum or increases recovery delay.
Simple, clean, limited by fairness.
But I was about to make it… unfair.
DATA COLLAPSE – Revision Protocol:
The catalyst shimmered, and new lines appeared.
> Adjustment Range: From 50% to 30%.
Secondary Effects: Optional illusionary overlay on target HUD.
Cooldown Extension Ratio: From 40% to 70%.
In other words, I could now erase almost an entire party's chance of fighting back—without them even realizing it.
Their displays would still show full HP or normal cooldown timers, while in reality, they were already half-dead and helpless.
The perfect lie.
The perfect weapon.
---
When the light faded, I exhaled slowly. The new power thrummed under my skin, electric and alive.
HIME's voice came softly.
> "Enhancement successful. System registry confirms new parameters for Data Collapse: Revised."
"Status report?" I asked.
> "Cooldown extended to twelve minutes per activation. Power cost increased by eighty percent. Area of effect remains at twenty meters."
I nodded thoughtfully. "Fair trade."
> "Do you intend to test it now?"
"Of course," I said, smiling faintly. "Bring up a simulated raid."
---
The air shimmered.
Nine projections materialized in front of me—an entire enemy party: knight, mage, cleric, rogue, archer, monk, druid, summoner, and one tank-class giant.
Each one based on real player data compiled by the guild over the past year.
I stretched my fingers, feeling the faint jingle of the chains at my hand.
"Let's see how the world breaks," I murmured.
Then I activated it.
Data Collapse – Revised.
The effect was instantaneous.
Blue code exploded outward from my body, sweeping across the battlefield like a digital storm. Every enemy shimmered for half a heartbeat—then froze.
No visible damage, no flashy animation.
But under the surface, their reality had shifted.
HP: 30%.
MP: 30%.
Cooldowns: +70%.
To them, though, everything still looked fine. Their HUDs still displayed full health. Their skill timers ticked normally. Their confidence would remain—until it was far too late.
I smiled.
---
"Now," I said, "let's add the chains."
The Shackles of Karmic Silence burst forth from my hands, ten luminous tendrils slicing through the air.
They struck each target with surgical precision. The moment they made contact, the battlefield went still.
No one could move.
No one could cast.
For thirteen seconds, the entire world belonged to me.
I raised one hand and whispered, "Collapse."
The illusionary HP bars vanished. The truth bled through.
All nine targets fell in unison, their data dissolving into dust.
The simulation ended.
---
Silence filled the cavern. Only the faint hum of my Divine Item's cooldown remained, glowing faintly like cooling embers.
Even HIME seemed momentarily speechless.
Finally, she said quietly, "Ren-sama… the efficiency of that strategy borders on absolute control."
"Not control," I said softly. "Clarity."
She tilted her head. "Clarify, please."
"It's not about domination," I explained, staring at the flickering data remains. "It's about understanding how fragile power really is. People think battles are about health bars, cooldowns, or damage output. But those are just illusions. The real war is fought in information."
HIME was silent for a moment. "You sound almost like a developer."
I smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm just a better player."
---
We ran more tests.
Solo targets. Raid scenarios. Variable-level enemies.
Each time, Data Collapse performed perfectly.
The illusion overlay worked exactly as intended—the targets never noticed their disadvantage until defeat.
It wasn't brute force. It wasn't raw strength.
It was precision. Subtlety.
The artistry of deception made into numbers.
By the end of the testing session, even HIME seemed impressed.
> "Ren-sama, with this skill combination, the probability of defeat in equal-level encounters has dropped below one percent."
I chuckled softly. "One percent? I like those odds. Keeps things interesting."
> "Would you like me to record this as Phase Two – Integration Test?"
"Yeah," I said. "And flag it for guild application later. I'll share it with the tactical division once we're ready."
> "Understood."
---
When the simulation chamber dimmed, I sat down, resting my elbows on my knees.
For the first time in a long while, I felt… content.
Not happy, exactly, but aligned.
Everything in Yggdrasil ran on patterns—data flows, feedback loops, self-contained logic. But players like me? We thrived in the space between logic.
The cracks.
The overlooked edges of code where creativity outplayed power.
I stared at my hand again—the silver chains still faintly glowing.
To most players, they were tools. Weapons. Symbols of strength.
To me, they were reminders.
Reminders that everything—even power—was only as real as the system allowed it to be.
And yet… even within that lie, I'd found something true.
Freedom.
---
"Ren-sama," HIME said softly. "You seem… satisfied."
"Maybe," I said. "Or maybe I'm just starting to see the game for what it really is."
"And what is that?"
"A mirror," I said. "Everything here—every dungeon, every item, every mechanic—it's all a reflection of how we think. How we build worlds. How we hide from them."
She floated beside me in silence. Then, softly:
> "Do you believe that hiding is wrong?"
I smiled faintly beneath my crimson hat. "Not if you hide beautifully."
---
I stood, brushing off the dust.
"Alright, HIME," I said. "Let's clean up. Tomorrow we start phase three."
"Phase three?"
"Yeah. Application testing. I need to see how this works against real opponents."
Her eyes flickered. "You intend to use it against other players?"
"Only the ones who think numbers make them invincible."
She nodded slowly. "Understood. Shall I prepare the simulation data from the top-ranked guilds?"
"Do that," I said. "And one more thing—run a projection on guild response rates if we start selling partial data on cooldown manipulation."
Her tone sharpened. "You intend to monetize your technique?"
"Not the technique," I said with a grin. "The rumor of it."
---
HIME paused, then emitted a soft chime of laughter—a rare sound.
"Truly diabolical, Ren-sama."
"I prefer 'economically creative.'"
She smiled faintly. "Understood."
---
That night, when I finally logged out, I found myself lying in the same sterile room, surrounded by the quiet hum of machines.
The contrast hit me harder than usual.
In one world, I could rewrite reality with thought.
In this one, I could barely reach the glass of water by my bed.
But as I stared at my hands—weak, thin, human—I still imagined the faint shimmer of chains between my fingers.
Because even here, in this broken world, I had something most people didn't.
Choice.
And that, I decided, was power enough.
---
End of Chapter 23 – The Algorithm of God