Chapter 180 Dungeon Will - You think you're the will?
Inside the meditation room, the dim yellow light rippled and flickered like bubbles in a damp pool.
You wake up like this, a flood of memories rushing into your mind. You lower your head and breathe heavily.
One by one, the classmates around me had entered a dreamlike state, their breathing becoming heavy and their expressions stiff, like those of puppets. They looked more like they had fainted.
Same as last week.
You focus on yourself, sorting through the emotions and thoughts in your mind. Until a chill runs down your spine—your hairs stand on end, a common warning sign of danger among seasoned outsiders.
Someone was approaching. The scent carried the stench of spices, damp towels, and a kind of oppressive pressure, like a hot, scorching iron plate.
She is a meditation teacher.
Last week, she still smelled wonderful, and she herself was as gentle and charming as ever, making people very willing to listen to her stories.
Right now, she's stinky, disgusting, the kind of person you feel a sense of dread when you don't even look at her, knowing a huge danger is approaching.
She crouched down beside you without even making a sound.
Her face was so close to yours that you instinctively moved to the side.
However, as she moved, her shoulder accidentally bumped into the student next to her.
With a "thud," the student, like an unbaked clay figure, slumped down section by section and collapsed to the side.
You squinted, and before you could react, that face, painted with pale foundation and with lips curved to the point of almost splitting, pressed against you.
Most of the female teachers here wear makeup and always maintain a certain slender posture; there has never been a moment when they looked at me with such horrifying intent.
You learned to discern the true emotions beneath the masks of the locals in the cafeteria, and now you see the teacher in front of you, who is actually quite smug.
She stares at you like that, extremely satisfied, as if there's something from you that she can easily obtain.
Then you notice her expression freeze, turning into an exceptionally gloomy anger.
She was clearly a teacher, yet she grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the classroom. She ignored the other students and just pulled you to the office. You didn't resist; instead, you cooperated and let her drag you towards the office. Her fingertips were as cold as thawed fish skin, her nails almost digging into your skin.
She locked the door.
—Perhaps, locking the door isn't necessary. You think so.
"What...did you meditate on?" Her voice was shrill and piercing, yet she tried to suppress her anger, as if you were supposed to be a porcelain doll she could play with at will, but instead, a crack appeared, and you hurt her instead.
Oh, so I brought you here just to see what you're thinking?
You glanced at her slowly, your eyes saying, "You're hopeless."
"I'm thinking about friendship," you said softly.
"Friendship?"
“Yeah, I think it’s good to make new friends. They’re all a bit weird, but they’re also quite interesting. You see,” you smile slightly, “this place may feel like a prison, but it’s actually quite fun.”
Despite the heavy academic workload, a large part of your genuine and silly friendships also come from your high school years.
Her eye twitched, as if she hadn't expected you to say such a thing, and the sneer on her face softened into a gentle, "benevolent" smile. What was she acting? Was it because she felt that although the result wasn't ideal, at least your overall direction was correct, and her wish had finally been fulfilled?
But your next words cut through her facade like a knife: "So, I've decided to work twice as hard to get back home."
Her expression suddenly faltered; her lips twitched, and her face darkened like a storm cloud looming overhead.
You sneered inwardly. Very well, the atmosphere was right.
She grabbed your arm again with a "snap," but this time you shook her off.
"You...you ungrateful wretch!" she finally exploded. "Everyone else feels this is a great honor, they all feel relieved, but you're here causing trouble?!"
You stopped, slowly raising your gaze to stare at her.
You didn't answer her question, but instead said, "Are you... multifaceted?" You tilted your head and looked at her. "I feel like the person I imagined you to be is a bad guy who only uses underhanded tricks behind people's backs but never really shows his true colors. But the way you are now, you look more like a brute."
Her eyes widened, and she seemed stunned, like an ordinary person with a rich personality who had been deeply offended by you.
"Or are you not the only one?" You emphasized the word "only one." "Are you a group of clones with mixed wills? You come from all over, coming together to form an abstract concept, and you are the worst off among them? So much so that you don't know much about my situation, which is why you were in such a hurry to expose yourself?"
She suddenly pushed you away.
Oh, so this is a samurai.
So you and she started fighting, the classroom light bulbs turned on, then brighter. *Bang!* They exploded.
She combed her hair, which you had messed up, back to her head, straightened her clothes, and once again adopted a sanctimonious demeanor.
But his eyes were still bloodshot from the excitement: "You...what do you know?"
You didn't say anything, but slowly and deliberately put your hand into your pocket.
"Don't do anything rash!" she warned sternly.
You then pulled out a small pinch of gray powder. You slowly poured it onto the ground and flicked it lightly with your index finger.
The ashes scattered, quickly drawing a strange little pattern on the floor, before turning back into dust in an instant.
You look up at her and slowly say, "Do you know what this is?"
She didn't answer; she just froze.
You sighed, "This was supposed to be a warning item, but it wasn't used at all in the last dungeon. Tell me, was I just incredibly lucky, or is something watching me and choosing not to send out my enemies?"
Her expression became somewhat unnatural.
That's right. In the previous instance, this item was like the vanished will of the instance, completely disappearing without a trace.
All of this gives you a sense of calm before the storm—especially after you learned how to modify items from Tamara, a friend you met in the Los Kingdom dungeon. You made it incredibly useful, and then it became useless. You wouldn't believe it if there wasn't a pair of hateful eyes watching you, targeting you, and deliberately doing the opposite of what you wanted.
But was it really useless? This time, it was burned to ashes because of its loud alarm.
"And this prop changed like this the day after I arrived here," you said. "The day after that, it seems, was about seven days ago. What does that mean?"
She gritted her teeth.
You grinned and smiled too.
Going to work has stripped away most of your sharpness. Even in the previous five challenges, you still mostly faced many difficulties like an adult.
To be a respectable adult, you often have to be cautious and considerate. Even if danger doesn't come because of a minor mistake, you still live cautiously and alone out of habit.
Because there is no freedom in this instance, the difficulty will be doubled. Heaven knows how high the density of "I'm about to die" you will feel in just seven days!
Even so, you still gained the most precious thing.
Youthful spirit.
This is what you once lost, and now you have it back.
In that reckless and dangerous behavior; in blindly following friends to do dangerous things without thinking; in wanting to punish wrongdoing or evil people instead of letting things go; and also...
You laughed arrogantly: "You're putting on quite a show, but you're being far too hasty. Look at you, how can you fight with me? Do you think that as a teacher, you naturally have the right to inflict violence on students and that this is the rule?"
But you're not a real high school student; you possess both a more mature strength and the destructiveness that comes with being a rebellious teenager.
"Besides, you're already going to use force against me, and you haven't even hit me yet. This shows that you want to obtain a body and an identity to talk to me face to face and erode me. Isn't that more restrictive for you?"
"—This means there's more in me than you can imagine."
The teacher was speechless after your rebuttal, which shows that she was also somewhat annoyed by her impulsiveness.
So you continued, "It seems you're not only impatient, but also out of touch with reality—hey, tell me...aren't there multiple wills at play? And you're the worst one, so you don't know I'm carrying a warning device?"
"I'm so smart!" You scratch your head. "This explains why the previous dungeon spirits were so clever and ruthless, while you were so stupid."
"You don't think that just because you've taken control of this classroom and everyone else, you can control me too, do you? You haven't even gotten the most basic information." You shrug. "Is it because someone is unwilling to tell you?"
You might recall a classic, sarcastic joke: If a homeroom teacher is always wandering around the classroom, it's probably because the other teachers don't like to play with her.
"you--!!"
"Did I say something wrong?" you asked earnestly. "Of all the people with strong willpower, you're the biggest failure, aren't you? Not only are you impatient, but you're also out of touch with reality. Tell me, do you even admit that you're a 'loser'?"
Her face was contorted with rage, and a suppressed madness erupted from the depths of her pupils like a wild beast.
"I'll do it right now—"
“There’s nothing you can do.” You clapped your hands, calmly interrupting her emotions. “You can’t do anything, whether as an abstract will that is also bound by the rules, or as a local who is unable to fight against me, an outsider who is stronger and smarter than you.”
Her lips trembled slightly: "You're too arrogant..."
"Yes, I agree." You nodded and readily agreed.
You're more than just arrogant; you practically want to beat her up again to vent all the anger and frustration you've accumulated over the past five months and seven days.
However, since she has accepted that different instances have different wills, you should be fair and objective and not vent your previous anger on her.
How pitiful~ You sympathize with her from a superior position, but in reality you've taken another step closer, still provoking her, your voice low: "I advise you to take back everything you're about to say, and don't make things even more awkward for yourself. I'm still just a nobody you can manipulate, aren't I? You'd better go back now, stay far away from me, and then—don't try to interfere with my thoughts anymore."
You beat her up pretty badly a few minutes ago, but the words that came out of your warm mouth beat her face even more, leaving it covered in all sorts of marks.
But in the end, she did nothing, only coldly saying, "You'll regret your attitude today."
Hey, this person!
You're genuinely annoyed and really want to vent your frustration. If she shuts up and leaves, then you're not planning to continue. You have three weeks left; live well, then leave happily—a win-win situation, right? After all, after that conversation with her, a calm confidence of certain victory has actually grown within you.
But she still insists on provoking you.
Okay, it's nice to vent my frustrations.
"Then you have to keep it up, teacher~" You pointed to your head, recalling the moment when she leaned against your head, her face so hunched over. Your tone was so flippant it was almost mocking: "Did you want to go in and take a look? To see what's in my head? Too bad—you can't see."
You continued, your voice calm, too tired to tease her anymore: "Aren't you curious why I'm not scared at all? Why I can still laugh and banter with you in your world?"
The teacher didn't answer. She noticed your serious attitude, so she returned to her seat, maintaining the dignity of a teacher, crossed her legs, and looked up at you standing there.
Since she's taking this seriously, that's good. You do indeed have many questions you want to discuss with her.
You said, "What you copycats can influence is probably just assigning me an initial identity, giving me hints from time to time, or even—creating a scenario specifically for me, right? But the rules are above you. Just like—the liquidators. You make the rules, but the operation of the rules is above your own will."
Her silence was taken as tacit agreement. This wasn't a secret; most outsiders, prone to making assumptions and always managing to escape death, would have guessed.
She maintained her superior demeanor through silence. It seems she's learned her lesson.
So you continue to say, "I am not a weak person." That's obvious.
You paused, your gaze piercing her eyes: "If the beginning was your arrangement, then the fact that I faced the provocation of an immature little girl, and then had the power to use my advantages to command these kids, is something you could have foreseen. What is your purpose? I've been thinking about it."
"Often, the malice of the dungeon's will is very direct. For example, it might assign me an unreliable roommate or simply dump me in the middle of nowhere. Of course, the psychic summoning I faced this time was still a disgusting design, but was it really that difficult for an experienced player like me? In fact, I could easily escape by simply intimidating those three girls with force."
"So, your goal is to make me feel this sense of control. Right? Do you want me to indulge in the pleasure of being able to command and manipulate others?" You nodded, satisfied with your analysis. "Like you."
After she finished speaking, you could clearly see her pupils, which were trying to appear calm, tremble violently, and a hint of panic flashed across them.
"Besides, all the circumstances I've encountered have been far too unfavorable to me."
"This is a very slight targeting—after all, it is inherently disadvantageous for outsiders to be sent to study in any random instance, so perhaps I am not even aware of these subtle and weak targetings, and will only panic because I cannot find the root cause."
You leaned down and pinned her firmly to the chair with both hands: "This only reveals that it's you, that you find being targeted terrifying," you laughed. "But let me tell you, I was only truly awake when I was being targeted. Because it was under pressure that I remembered who I was, and that's when I saw the path I wanted to take more firmly."
Her breathing was slightly erratic, and she forced herself to look you in the eye: "You think you can escape the instance? You think... you can go home?"
You smiled, a smile that was calm and stern.
"Of course you should say that."
"But you also know that what you're saying is a lie."
The teacher's expression began to crumble. She sneered, with a neurotic rage: "No one can return to reality after surviving a dungeon. Do you understand? No one. The days in the dungeon will devour you; they will remain in your dreams, in your bones. You've survived six dungeons, do you think you're still a normal person? Even if you get out, you'll just be a walking shell."
She roared, and all the light bulbs exploded.
She's talking about herself. You see what kind of path she's taken.
You retort, "So what?"
She was stunned.
You continued, "Maybe I'll go insane, maybe I'll be haunted by endless nightmares forever, but those are my dreams. That's the fate I have to bear since I've experienced all this. My home is there. Even if my body and soul are torn to pieces, I will go back. Because—"
You look up, and your voice becomes clear and strong:
"Only there can I be myself, and only there can I exist as myself."
"Whatever the difficulties may be, I will go back, and I will only choose to go back, or die."
The air suddenly fell silent.
The teacher's stench grew even stronger; you finally realized it was an overly strong smell of incense.
"That idealized reality simply doesn't exist!" the teacher said, her tone flat yet her voice unusually sharp. "You can be powerful and respected here—you have status, admirers, and order! What a perfect world this is!"
"Perfect?" You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so that's why you chose to put me in this instance? Because this is a world of Buddha? So it's easier for me to be moved?"
Buddha. You scoff. To survive, besides learning Malay, you're also studying Buddhist teachings.
Her eyes flickered.
Suddenly you understood.
"—You really think you're managing all living beings, transcending good and evil, and looking down on suffering, is that right?" you chuckled. "Unfortunately, your Buddhist kingdom is shaped like a prison."
She was speechless.
Your tone softened instead, as if you were patiently explaining something to a stubborn child:
“You just said it yourself—this world has faith, simple people, and rules. That’s why I came to a place so different from before. I’ve always wondered why the people around me are so ignorant of the rules, and sometimes I even feel like I’m the one teaching them the rules. It turns out it’s because this is one of the three thousand small worlds of Buddha. Your purpose is to let me, in this place where the masses are ignorant, take advantage of the information gap to immerse myself in the illusion of power, so that I mistakenly believe that I have become a god.”
You laugh: "Is this how you lure all the potential 'passers-through' to stay here?"
The teacher lowered her eyes, her expression becoming vacant. She avoided your gaze.
"There must have been many people who stayed behind before. Your easy success has made you arrogant. I see." You pursed your lips.
“You make them think they are respected, loved, and needed.” You sneer. “But in reality, they are nothing more than fragments of diverted consciousness. The dungeon doesn’t let them die, nor does it let them leave; it just lets them continue to be an insignificant ‘Buddha’ in the dream—continue to be your fuel.”
You have no idea what use these outsiders are to the entire instance; you just casually blurted out some hot-blooded, chuunibyou lines from the anime you watched with Meiling last week.
“And you—” you said softly, “are nothing more than a pawn in the game of your higher will. Do you really think you’re any higher than me or any of them?”
"Enough!" She pushed you away. "Don't be so ungrateful! My goal is to make you a perspective of the will! You've been chosen, haven't you realized that yet?"
You gracefully step back, maintaining a distance between a student and a teacher.
"Oh, I see," you said, looking helpless.
I feel like I can't reason with this guy.
She was breathing rapidly, her face pale: "How could you—you don't understand, this is sublimation. You can escape human fear, escape pain, escape the fate of death and being forgotten—you can become part of the 'world.' Then you will become the nightmare of some people, and the god of many more. This is a real benefit, not some childish thing you're fantasizing about."
"I'm so disappointed in you! We wanted to make you one of our comrades."
“But the price is that I am no longer myself,” you said.
"You wanted to take this path, and you took it, so you became the will... what? A 'perspective.' What is this? What are you?"
"You think this is eternity? No—this is decay. You think you are 'converting' others, but you are already a corpse annihilated in the universe."
You patted her on the shoulder.
Having vented your anger enough, you speak in a lighthearted tone, as if it were a friendly joke: "I said, you're being petty. You're all being petty."
"What?"
"Even if you have all sorts of tricks up your sleeve, even if you are some abstract, vast aspect of consciousness, I admit you can easily torture me, crush me. But right now, in front of me, you are just a helpless loser jumping up and down."
"because--"
You lean closer and whisper:
"I don't want to."
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Author's Note: If I ever manage to write this much in one day again, I'll change my name to Creamy Tyrant Dog.
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