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Chapter 20: Irregular Record (R-18)
Chaos is a fickle mistress. It is the raw, unrefined state of the universe, a force of pure entropy that even the omniscient gods find themselves powerless to fully command. In this city of Orario—a place built atop a literal hole in the world—chaos is the only true constant. It is perhaps fitting, then, that the individual currently generating the most literary chaos in the capital would be swept up in its currents. In this twisted chronology, Bell Cranel isn't the one standing at the center of the storm.
No, in this story, I am the one the universe has decided to torment.
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"Nnh... wait. Is this... a back alley?"
I woke up with the grit of cobblestones pressing into my cheek and the smell of damp mildew filling my lungs. My last coherent memory was the familiar, comforting clutter of my workshop, falling into a dreamless sleep over a pile of half-finished manuscripts.
I sat up, checking my clothes with frantic hands. No blood. No tears in the fabric. I didn't feel like I'd been assaulted. Maybe my Goddess got drunk and decided to air out the 'Familia assets' in the street?. It was a plausible theory, given her track record, but even I wouldn't sleep through being dragged down three flights of stairs.
A darker thought flickered in my mind. What if the Freya Familia had finally run out of patience? If Hedin or Allen had breached my sanctuary to "delete" the source of their public humiliation, it was possible I'd been drugged and moved to a more private execution site.
"If my Goddess did this, I'll just go home and give her a piece of my mind," I muttered, dusting off my robes. "But if it's the latter... I need to move before the silver spear finds me".
Checking my pockets, I found a small pouch of emergency Valis. Step one: food. I've learned through a dozen near-captures that you can't outrun a First-Tier adventurer on an empty stomach.
I crept toward the mouth of the alley, scanning for the glint of steel, but the sight that met me on the main thoroughfare brought me to a dead halt. This wasn't the Orario I knew. The buildings were familiar in that uncanny, "I've seen this in a dream" kind of way, but the soul of the city was missing. There was no vibrant hum of commerce, no laughter from the central plaza. Instead, a heavy, suffocating gloom hung over the streets like a funeral shroud.
"What is this? Where am I?"
A sudden, thunderous explosion rocked the district, sending a plume of black smoke billowing into the gray sky. Panic ignited instantly. People began screaming, their voices raw with a kind of terror that hadn't been felt in Orario for years.
"The Evilus are attacking again!" "Arachnia! The Murder Emperor is here!" "The Deese sisters are slaughtering everyone at the fountain!"
My internal CPU processed the data at lightning speed. Evilus attacking in broad daylight? Figures like Arachnia and the Deese sisters on a rampage? There was only one conclusion. I hadn't just moved locations; I had moved time. I was in the Orario of seven years ago—the height of the Dark Era.
"A time-traveling jester... or maybe just an 'Irregular Record'?"
If the 'Trunks Theory' from Dragon Ball held up, anything I did here wouldn't actually change my original timeline. Not that it mattered; I was a writer, not a hero. I couldn't save anyone even if I tried.
Oddly enough, I felt a strange sense of relief. Sure, the Dark Era was a nightmare, but at least I didn't have Allen Fromel or a vengeful Hedin hunting me down for my latest 'Master and Apprentice' fanfiction. Compared to a high-speed catman who wanted my head on a platter, the average Evilus thug seemed almost manageable.
"First, I need to eat," I decided, trying to ground myself. "I just hope inflation hasn't ruined the price of a decent sandwich in this timeline".
I navigated the chaotic streets with an almost offensive level of calm, figuring that if this was a dream, I'd wake up soon. Eventually, I found a familiar landmark: The Hostess of Fertility. It figured that Mama Mia's place would be the only sanctuary still standing in a war zone.
"Welcome!"
A young girl in a town-maid outfit greeted me with a bright, curious smile. It was Syr Flover—or rather, the Goddess Freya in her most convincing disguise. Having just faced her in the future's Great War Game, I felt a spike of adrenaline.
"I haven't seen you before," she said, her eyes twinkling with a divine curiosity. "Are you new to the city?"
"Not exactly," I replied, taking a seat. "I've lived in Orario for a long time. It's just... this is likely the first time you've seen my face".
She gave me a puzzled look, sensing the double-meaning but unable to place it. I didn't care. Future knowledge was a pile of worthless rocks to me. I wasn't going to play the "Prophet" and get myself executed by the Guild.
The meal was exactly as I remembered—delicious enough to make me forget the apocalypse outside for a few minutes. I paid my tab and ducked back into the shadows of the alleyways, a habit ingrained in me after weeks of being hunted by the Loki Familia.
I was weighing my options when another blast tore through a nearby tenement. The Evilus were ramping up their assault. I knew most of them were low-level fodder, but their numbers were overwhelming.
"I need to get out of here before I get caught in a crossfire—"
The wall next to me disintegrated. I froze as a cloud of pulverized limestone and dust settled, revealing a figure that made my heart stop. She was a vision of cold elegance, her long grey hair flowing like smoke, her heterochromatic eyes piercing through the gloom.
Oh, come on. Did I just manifest her by thinking about her!?.
Alfia. The "Silence" of the Hera Familia. The woman whose legendary talent I had effectively "stolen" as a cheat-code for my own survival.
"A survivor? No... just a stray caught in the debris," she said, her voice like ice.
"U-Um... I'm not an adventurer! Just a regular person passing through!" I shouted, waving my hands. "I'll just... go this way..."
"Noisy. [Gospel]."
She didn't even blink. A concentrated blast of sound and magic tore toward my head.
"LOOK OUT!"
My survival instinct, honed by a dozen near-death encounters with Allen, kicked in before my brain could scream. My body performed an emergency roll that cleared the blast by a hair's breadth. I glared back at her, more offended than terrified.
Alfia narrowed her eyes just a fraction. "A 'regular person' dodged my magic?"
"I'm... I'm just really good at running away!"
"I see. You remind me of a man I despise," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibrato. "Aside from the noise, you share that same irritating quality. For the sake of my peace... die here".
Great. I stepped on a legendary landmine..
I didn't wait for a second blast. I bolted like a rabbit with a wolf on its heels. I sprinted through the labyrinthine backstreets, my feet finding purchase on crumbling ledges as I channeled the very talent I'd modeled after her. When I finally burst out onto a main thoroughfare, I found myself in the middle of a literal war zone: adventurers and Evilus thugs were locked in a desperate, bloody melee.
"Front door tiger, back door Broly... I'm choosing the tiger!".
I took exactly one second to analyze the carnage. My "talent"—my intuition—highlighted a path through the flying blades and fireballs. I dove into the thick of the fight, weaving through the chaos like a ghost.
Behind me, the screams of both adventurers and Evilus thugs filled the air. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw Alfia walking through the slaughter with an elegant, rhythmic pace—like she was taking a stroll in a park while harvesting souls.
"What is this, a Hunter Exam!? Are you Satotz or something!?" I shrieked.
She responded with another [Gospel]. I dove, but she had predicted my arc. A second blast was already waiting for me. I braced for impact, but my body moved on its own, executing a mid-air twist that felt entirely subconscious.
"I... I actually dodged that?" I gasped.
"Why are you the one surprised?" Alfia muttered, her irritation growing. "Even that idiotic look on your face is exactly like his. It's infuriating".
The "cheat" I'd built from her legend was more powerful than I'd realized. It felt like a waste to have this kind of power in the hands of an adult fanfiction author, but right now, it was the only thing keeping my head attached to my neck.
I knew I couldn't win a battle of attrition. My only hope was to wait for her chronic illness to flare up—to win by "timeout".
"Listen! Killing people just because they're annoying is a really bad habit!" I shouted. "How about we just call it a day!?"
"Die already. [Gospel]."
"I figured you'd say that!!"
I pushed my legs to their absolute limit, sprinting past a pile of rubble. "Hup! Hup! Hup! If I don't run, I'm dead meat!"
Alfia's killing intent was a physical weight, heavier than anything I'd felt back in the future. I used the crumbling scenery for parkour, occasionally using an Evilus thug as a human shield against her magic. We were in a stalemate, but she was a Level 7 monster. I was running out of steam.
But fortune favors the protagonist.
"My, my. I heard the Evilus were making a mess, but this is quite the spectacle..."
"To think you'd show up at a time like this..."
Two familiar shadows appeared ahead: Riveria and Gareth, the legends of the Loki Familia. In my own time, I'd be terrified of them, but here, they were my salvation.
"ADVENTURERS! HELP MEEEE!" I screamed.
I blew past them like a gale-force wind, effectively dumping Alfia's aggro directly onto them. They both looked completely stunned as I sprinted away—I probably looked like a blur of sheer panic.
I stopped once I was at a safe distance and turned back to glare at the pursuing grey-haired woman.
"Take that, you high-strung, selfish woman!" I screamed, shaking my fist. "I'm going to pay you back for this with interest! Just you wait!!"
Alfia's killing intent flared with enough intensity to level a building, but I was already gone. Behind me, the sound of massive magical explosions filled the air.
"Seriously, Hera Familia members are just barbarians," I grumbled, checking my Valis. "Fine. If you want to play dirty, I'll show you the true power of a 'civilized' author".
I still had enough money for paper, ink, and a good pen.
Just you watch, Alfia. You have no idea who you just messed with. I'm known as a "Destruction God" of relationships for a reason. I'm going to write a book about you that will make the "Seven Days of Death" look like a pleasant Sunday brunch.
And that was how the "Seven Days of Death" earned its secret, alternative title in the underworld: The Week the Death-Defying Erotica Author Ran Wild.
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