Chapter 111:
Atlantis Colony (9)
“…You want me to become a boss monster, right now?”
“In a way, yes.”
Brian shook his head in disbelief.
“That’s a ridiculous joke. Setting aside the fact that you’re asking me to do it, is it even possible? A human becoming a boss monster and creating a rift?”
“Theoretically, it’s possible.”
Rifts are formed when space is torn apart by stellar forces.
It didn’t necessarily have to be the stellar force of a “monster.”
—You know this, Sehyun. Players and monsters are essentially the same. That means, a player who reaches a certain level…
Each person has a star engraved in their mind, with landscapes and environments occupying that “imaginal world.”
A being with enough stellar power and technique to enforce that imagery onto the real world…
“Can create a rift.”
That’s what Hailhwan of my previous life said.
A player directly becoming a boss monster-level entity, distorting space to create an independent world filled with their own imaginal world—
The star’s space, the Sanctuary (Star Domain).
It was the ultimate skill only a player who reached stellar-class could cast.
“Sanctuary… never heard of it.”
“It’s fine. That’s not what matters.”
Of course, Brian couldn’t cast Sanctuary.
Because, naturally, Brian was not a stellar-class player.
“So, you’re asking me to do it?”
He briefly glanced at the soul stone of the stellar-class boss he was holding.
“If I eat this…”
He swallowed hard.
He knew that swallowing a soul stone could grant tremendous power—and also knew that the backlash wasn’t trivial.
Was the young man in front of him forcing that sacrifice on him?
But Sehyun shook his head.
“Get real. Becoming stellar-class isn’t that easy.”
If it were that simple, stellar-class players would be everywhere.
That’s why noble families spent decades accumulating stellar power and carefully creating heirloom stones.
“I’ll only be using the principle. The law of rifts is controlled by the boss monster—that’s the principle. I’m just setting you up as the master.”
The control a boss monster has over a rift—its ability to dominate and manipulate it—would be implemented with artifacts.
“Do you remember what the vanished rift provided to the city?”
“Well… the biggest thing was probably…”
Brian waved his hand in the air—or rather, underwater.
A special liquid unlike ordinary water.
Breathable, no water pressure, and it didn’t wet.
The so-called Stable Waters.
Atlantis cleverly exploited the distorted physics created by rifts.
“We’ll implement Stable Waters with this,” Sehyun said, tapping a coral.
At the same time, corals were being erected throughout the city like rows of trees.
The corals in this corridor and those in the city would synchronize, stabilizing the entire city’s waters.
“The question is, how do we supply stellar power?”
“Huh? Isn’t this for that?”
Brian shook the soul stone.
“That’s to distribute control across the city. Think of it as creating veins.”
Brian was the heart, and the corals were the veins.
But veins are useless without blood flowing through them.
“Well… ugh.”
Sehyun rummaged through a blanket.
“I’ll use this.”
Snap!
He unfolded it and perched on it.
“That is…?”
Brian’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief.
“…A fishing chair?”
“Looks like it, right?”
A foldable chair with a metal frame.
Sehyun leaned back comfortably, fingers interlocked behind his head.
“Come sit. It’s really comfortable.”
He placed another chair beside him and gestured for Brian to join.
“What’s with this carefree attitude…”
Brian hesitated but reluctantly sat down.
Then—
“…!!”
He felt something unexpected.
Like breathing in a dense forest of phytoncides.
Pure healing.
“That’s it. Healing.”
One of the prototype artifacts developed while researching mass-production was this [Resting Chair].
It gathered stellar power from the air and gradually restored the user’s stellar energy.
Some might scoff: “That’s an artifact?”
But there were almost no means to recover consumed stellar power quickly.
The potion used in the battle against Kuroda was based on a similar idea, but it carried significant risk for general use.
“But what if the area from which we harvest stellar power is expanded to city-level, or even sea-region-level?”
Brian suddenly jumped up, realization dawning.
“An endless power supply!”
“That’s the idea.”
Sehyun stood and began adjusting the Resting Chair.
Instead of air, the medium for gathering stellar power would be underwater liquid.
Instead of a person, corals would serve as the nodes.
And it would respond more optimally to Brian’s stellar power.
Bang─! Bang─!
After gathering the scattered spears and spending some effort,
“Now, doesn’t this look impressive?”
A throne of iron straight out of a movie.
Of course, this was just the shell; the real chair remained folded neatly underneath.
“And finally…”
Clang─!
The boss’s soul stone was embedded at the head of the throne’s backrest.
Stellar power spread through the corals like roots, synchronizing them.
“Go ahead, sit.”
“All right, let’s see…”
As Brian settled onto the throne,
“…?!”
He felt something strange and jumped up in shock.
“What! Just now!”
“Why? Did you see something odd?”
“It was blurry, but it was as if the entire city was unfolding in my mind…”
“Then the overall adjustments are working perfectly.”
The chair connected all corals in the city like a neural network.
It acted as heart and veins to distribute stellar power—and simultaneously as brain and nervous system.
“Sit again. Fine-tuning needs feedback.”
“Ha… this is…”
Brian ran his hand over his face, overwhelmed.
But he sat again.
“Ugh…!”
Brian groaned and shut his eyes tightly.
From a bird’s-eye view, the cityscape must have been fully visible.
Sehyun adjusted the angle of the sword in the throne to sharpen the image.
“How’s the view now?”
“Clearer, but… my mind is incredibly overloaded.”
Like jumping from a first-person game into a complex strategy game like Civilization.
The amount of information and control required skyrocketed.
“Do you know what it feels like? Drawing circles with my right hand while drawing triangles with my left…”
Not just that—he’d feel like drawing squares with his left foot and stars with his right.
A being used to managing only their own body now had to oversee an entire city.
A level of control most people couldn’t handle.
But Sehyun smirked and patted his shoulder.
“Stop whining.”
“No, this is real…”
“You can do it. That’s why I entrusted it to you.”
He was a veteran director.
Cameras, lights, sound, actors, staff—he controlled everything at once.
Directing a city wouldn’t be much different.
Brian soon adapted to controlling the artifact.
It would take time to master fully, but he managed.
“Phew… fun, though challenging.”
Brian rubbed his throbbing head, standing.
“See? Manageable, right?”
“Yes, though not for hours at a time…”
“Eh? That’s a problem.”
Sehyun raised an eyebrow.
“When have rifts ever rested? You’re talking nine-to-five, man.”
“Huh?”
“It’s supposed to run 24/7.”
Not a joke.
Short breaks were fine, but you basically had to constantly monitor the city.
“But at least you’re in the city you’ve always dreamed of. Fun, right?”
“Ah… ha… maybe we could rotate? Others could take turns…”
“Anyone? Who else would be willing?”
“…No one.”
Brian nodded, agreeing.
He knew he was the only suitable candidate.
“Phew… you really leave no choice, huh?”
“There’s always the option to abandon the city.”
“But you wouldn’t do that.”
“That’s right.”
Pat—
Sehyun patted Brian’s shoulder.
“To sit on a throne, you have to bear its weight.”
Then he turned and left.
“Good luck!”
“…Seeing you so cheerful just makes me annoyed.”
Brian shook his head and sat again.
“I’ll let this slide on the way there.”
“Yes, and thank you.”
Sehyun walked through the corridor without even turning, waving casually.
Well, it’s temporary. I can’t have someone working 24 hours straight. This chair is an improvised solution, too.
Having to manually do what the rifts used to handle automatically wasn’t easy.
This chair was an upgraded version of a foldable resting chair—temporary at best.
A proper chair would improve efficiency and automation.
I already sent Ji-ah and Inha ahead.
I hope Inha is okay.
The city had calmed down, and I attached myself to Brian, but the worry remained.
“Time to head home.”
Sehyun stepped into the elevator toward the dorm, waving lightly at Brian, who was overseeing the city.
“…So we reclaimed the supply area and destroyed the central rift. But it seems it was restored, sir.”
“…”
“If we had destroyed it secretly, it would have collapsed on its own. Instead, we fought and failed miserably. A completed mission wasted.”
“…”
“Hey, say something, Kuroda.”
Anna poked him in the side.
“Hey, talk!”
“Damn, shut up already.”
Kuroda raised his fist, but lowered it without swinging.
He had no rebuttal.
His confident face was now stone.
“Lift your head, Kuroda.”
“…”
“The warning was the point. You also got to test your abilities, I hope.”
“…”
“That’s enough. Let’s go.”
“…Thank you.”
Kuroda unusually bowed his head.
Thunk!
When the office door closed, Anna spoke.
“…Sir, honestly, the mission would have succeeded without Kuroda. Even the key target Inha was easily subdued. But that guy got beaten by that weakling… you have to be careful.”
“That’s enough, Anna.”
“I don’t understand why you protect someone like him!”
“It’s not protection. It’s testing limits. If you discard someone just because they fall once, who would remain?”
Hailhwan placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder.
She bent her knees, proud to receive his attention.
“No, sir. It’s just me being foolish…”
“It’s fine, really.”
Hailhwan patted her back.
“So, how about you accompany me on this outing, Anna?”
She looked surprised, then excited.
“R-Really? Just the two of us? No secretary?”
Hailhwan smiled and nodded.
“I’ll do my best! I’ll prepare and come right away!”
Anna ran off quickly.
A secretary approached with papers.
“As you said, the meeting with the community ‘Halla’ has been arranged.”
“Good work.”
“Are you sure it’s okay to bring Anna?”
She was unpredictable, unlike Kuroda.
Sehyun smirked.
“No worries. We’re just finalizing matters. She won’t have to intervene.”
And if necessary, she could subtly influence their minds.
“By the way, the movement is increasing, sir.”
“Yes, faster than planned.”
There was no need to watch further.
“It’s time to turn the tables.”
The time of the hidden dragon was over.
