Otherworld TRPG Game Master-Chapter 339: Illusionary Realm (2)

The power gathered at the tips of Mirror Yuna's fingers condensed into a single point. All the information under her control was compressed, forming a bright red orb.

It was as though all the elements that constituted the "Tower of Illusions" had been scraped together, making it no exaggeration to say it contained an entire world.

They say one must destroy a world to give birth to another, but there’s no need to throw everything away like that. A space left pure white by discarding memories and pain—what meaning could it possibly hold?

Certainly, it wouldn’t be entertaining.

The image I want to paint, the one I long to bring to life, is the exact opposite of that.

If I can't accept it, then I have no choice but to confront it. I picked up my brush in my mind.

By seeing, hearing, and feeling Yuna's past, I invoked Illusionary Realm: Opening the Gate based on my understanding of her.

The effect is the same: blurring the boundary between illusion and reality and granting the power to summon what does not exist in this world. But what matters is that this time, I was the one casting it.

Until now, she had been the Game Master, and I, the player.

But now, I too stood as a Game Master, bearing the lively obligation to weave a flow that brings joy, to tell stories, and to breathe life into the world together.

It’s time to fulfill that obligation.

"Don’t you think it’s a bit too barren? Yuna, hold still for a moment. I’ll fill it up in no time."

Now, it was time to clean up the aftermath.

"What about the Tower of Illusions? It needs to be dismantled. Maybe if we wrap Yuna up tightly in the binding chains of the Oblivion Construct, it might work."

"By the way, my love, just asking—can you cancel this spell?"

"I-It’s... um... eek! I mean, I’m having trouble controlling it. It absorbed way more information than I usually handle, and now the door won’t close."

"Thank you, dear."

SCREECH!

Yuna let out strange noises and shuddered every time I called her by an affectionate term. She seemed utterly mortified, but since she didn’t tell me to stop—despite occasionally throwing Yuna Punches—she must have liked it.

In summary, dismantling the Tower of Illusions would require finding a way to expend the excess energy. Luckily, I had a plan for that.

"What do we do with this one?" Yuri asked, holding up the limp Mirror Yuna like a cat, her expression sour as she dangled the unresisting figure. With her sulking face and lack of claws, she looked very much like a declawed feline.

"As for dealing with her, separating her isn’t an option. They’re nearly fused. Honestly, she’s basically the same as Yuna, just... with a nastier personality."

There wasn’t any trace of Yuna’s friend embedded in Mirror Yuna. What the mirror reflected was Yuna herself, albeit infused with her friend’s wish.

So, with the hierarchy already established, I decided to leave her be. She wasn’t harmful to Yuna. The real problem was that bastard Goat, who had orchestrated this mess.

I manipulated the Tower of Illusions, shifting the space around.

Eventually, a twelfth door, hidden deep within Yuna’s mental defenses, revealed itself. From beyond it seeped dark and sorrowful energies, still oozing out even now.

When I lightly probed it, painful memories of the Violet Magic Tower flashed by.

This was the backdoor that had caused all the trouble—a door linked to Yuna’s friend.

"...Alice," Yuna murmured gloomily.

I gently stroked her hair and said, "Didn’t I promise to make you happy? Stay put."

Something was off here.

"I’m glad. That I died. Truly..."

This memory of Yuna’s friend dying—its narrator was unmistakably her friend. But isn’t that odd? This was Yuna’s mind.

It couldn’t have simply been mixed in when Mirror Yuna formed; there was too much information. And this memory—the one flowing out of the backdoor—was narrated by her friend, too.

Here’s what I think happened: when Mirror Yuna emerged and began cleansing the Magic Tower, Goat must have escaped with her friend’s body and the Evil Deity Idol. He likely kept her alive, stored her carefully, and then...

...used her soul, bound to the Evil Deity Idol, to reanimate her body and fuel Yuna’s rampage.

Even if I’m wrong, it doesn’t matter. As long as her soul exists, I can save her.

"Yuna, transfer all control over the Tower of Illusions to me. I’ll make it regurgitate everything it absorbed and fully expend the remaining energy."

"O-Okay."

Sssssss...

Control transferred to me, bringing with it a faint sense of omnipotence. This was the power unleashed by a transcendent mage at the peak of their abilities. With this, I could use things I hadn’t dared to before.

If there’s a connection, I can move through it.

I dove beyond the twelfth door, swam ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) against the backward currents, and reached into the mind of Yuna’s friend. Then, using a succubus’s knack for traversing dreams, I materialized myself.

And voilà.

"...Mad Wizard?"

There I stood, face-to-face with Goat, who had been toying with Yuna’s friend.

CRACK.

The space shattered, and from beyond emerged a massive, crimson eye, staring outward. The event occurred without warning or magical fluctuations.

"...Mad Wizard?"

Wasn’t he supposed to be trapped?

One of Goat’s clones froze in place. There were too many inexplicable factors—how he had tracked this location, the overwhelming power surging from the eye. It was incomprehensible.

This pressure—it was different. Could his plan have succeeded? Had the one he revered awakened through the Mad Wizard and come to see him?

No. The gaze wasn’t playful—it brimmed with violent intent.

"I’m taking Yuna’s friend with me."

The white, gelatinous mass of a giant arm extended outward, engulfing Alice’s body, which lay on the magic circle. Then...

"As for you, you won’t die easily. I’d love to carve you apart right now, but I’m a bit short on power for that. So today, I’ll leave you with a small parting gift as a promise for our next meeting."

Crimson light.

Goat remembered. The light that devoured all information—a flash that erased everything. It looked like the Subtraction, the signature move of the current Tower Lord.

But it wasn’t.

The light grew brighter and deeper, shifting into colors beyond human perception. Instinctive terror gripped Goat, forcing him to shrink back.

He was immortal. Even if this body died, his clones would persist. There was no reason to fear any attack. Or so he told himself.

"I’ll take half of your name, Little Lamb. Every time you ponder the blank space it leaves, may you suffer."

Flash.

Light followed.

When Little Lamb regained consciousness three hours later, Alice was gone. He patted himself down. Everything seemed intact—arms, legs, everything.

Was it all just a bluff?

The Mad Wizard’s actions—were they merely theatrics and intimidation?

Little Lamb felt an uneasy sense of loss. It was as though something important had been forgotten. Frantically, he overturned everything in the room, investigating what damage might have been done.

And then, he found it.

"H-Haha..."

All his spare Little Lamb clones, the personality-duplication ampules—half of them were gone.

The information they contained had been halved.

He contacted his other clones. They had all experienced the same phenomenon. Across the world, every instance of Little Lamb had been reduced by half. Fifty percent had vanished.

The ampules and Little Lamb were one and the same. If the ampules were gone, so was half of himself.

Fifty percent. A person losing half their body would typically die. Information was no different. Losing half of what constituted him would inevitably result in severe side effects.

Throb.

A sharp pain erupted in his head, like worms writhing through his brain. Yet no matter how deeply he probed, he couldn’t find any trace of illusion magic.

It wasn’t an illusion. His very essence had been carved away and altered. Clutching his head, Little Lamb desperately tried to recall what he had lost. Why was he in such pain?

Even setting aside the pain—

If parts of the magical formulas he remembered were gone, they might malfunction when used.

If pieces of his schemes were missing, they might fail upon execution.

If the goals he pursued had disappeared... Damn it.

He had to remember. Quickly. What had he forgotten?

"..."

But Little Lamb would never recall what had been taken from him.

Perhaps not ever.