Chapter 48 – Residual Code and Living Death
The shadows swallowed us whole as we left E-Rantel behind.
The city walls faded into the distance, their torches like dying embers against the horizon. Above us, the sky was heavy with cloud and moonlight, but even the faintest breeze carried the scent of life—grass, smoke, and something foreign. Something that shouldn't exist in a world that was once digital.
Echo moved beside me, his form flickering faintly, still in his Shadow template.
Ethael followed in silence, her movements more fluid than wind, her steps leaving no mark on the ground. We moved quickly—our bodies half-ethereal, passing through the forest like smoke through cracks.
The Hanzo network remained behind, invisible in the darkness, continuing to harvest data from E-Rantel. Each one had their assignment: map the guild structure, trace magical currents, and gather any rumor worth recording.
I'd learned long ago that even the smallest whisper could be the thread that unraveled an entire mystery.
"Hanzo report frequency every three hours," I murmured.
"Understood Ren-sama," Echo replied, his tone low and controlled. "All units calibrated to return data directly to HIME through the relay anchor. None detected by local guards."
"Good."
The glow of distant mana pulsed faintly ahead—the beacon of Aeternum Sanctum.
Even hidden under layers of illusion and null-space wards, the portable guild base still radiated an aura of authority. It was a world class item fortress, my ghost stronghold from the dead game—and somehow, still alive.
We passed through the outer illusion field, a shiver of static crawling along my arms as the barrier recognized my guild signature. The world blinked once, and the forest vanished.
In its place rose the grand crystalline halls of the sanctum in the asgard level, lit by the quiet pulse of serene light.
I let out a breath.
Even in this new world, it felt like home.
"Echo, Ethael," I said, turning slightly as my form began to shift. The shadow peeled away from my body like smoke dissolving in sunlight, revealing my pale skin, white turtleneck, crimson coat, and that familiar fedora resting lightly on my head. My chain accessories shimmered faintly, whispering like living silver.
Echo followed, his body reshaping into his Greater Doppelgänger form, expression unreadable as always. Ethael, however, remained unchanged—her Shadow nature constant, her dark figure blending seamlessly into the hall's muted glow.
"I'll meet with HIME first," I said. "You two return to your assigned floors. Stenby."
Both of them bowed.
"Understood, my lord," Ethael said softly, her tone edged with calm obedience.
"Acknowledged," Echo added, his silver eyes glinting faintly. "May the shadows remain with you."
I gave a small nod.
As they vanished into their respective teleport gates, I stood alone in the corridor—the exotic floor beneath my feet, holographic light dancing along the walls like veins of energy. The silence here wasn't empty; it filled with the quiet hum of countless systems running perfectly.
And somewhere deep within that digital pulse waited HIME.
When I entered the Central Hall, she was already there—standing beside the projection dais, her automaton body gleaming like moonlight on glass. Her long silver hair flowed down her back, and her eyes—artificial but gentle—glowed faintly blue.
She bowed when she saw me.
"Welcome back, Ren-sama."
Her voice, soft and composed.
"You've returned with significant data acquisition Ren-sama"
I smiled faintly. "As always. HIME, record summary log under Operation: E-Rantel. Priority tier Alpha."
"Already done," she replied with a faint smirk—an imitation of my old sarcasm that she must have learned from years of observation. "Congratulations, Ren-sama. You've gathered the most extensive urban and geopolitical data since our arrival in this world."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
But before I could continue, she tilted her head slightly, the glow in her eyes shifting.
"However, I also have updates to deliver regarding internal guild performance. Shall I proceed?"
I nodded. "Go ahead."
HIME moved her hand, and a holographic projection materialized above the dais—a shifting sphere of blue and gold light, filled with icons representing the nine realms of Aeternum Sanctum. Each pulsed faintly in rhythm, signifying that the systems were still stable.
"While you were outside, I ordered each floor guardian and their assistants to conduct operational diagnostics. The objective was to determine whether their abilities remain functional in this environment."
I frowned slightly. "Functional? You mean… if they can still use their skills?"
"Exactly."
The projection expanded, focusing on the lowest layer—Helheim, the Abyssal Gate. It glowed faintly black-blue, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Valter Mortis and Sevra, under my instruction, conducted several controlled tests on necromantic systems. They confirmed that summoning protocols, curses, and mana manipulation all function identically to Yggdrasil's system—no degradation or data corruption detected."
I folded my arms. "So, they still retain everything."
"Yes," HIME replied. "But that's not all."
The projection flickered again, and now an image of a skeletal army appeared—dozens of undead marching in perfect formation, their eyes burning blue.
"They experimented using both standard mana-based summoning and material-catalyst summoning—what in Yggdrasil terms would be referred to as corpse-assisted necromancy."
"Corpse-assisted…?" I raised a brow. "That's not even allowed in most Yggdrasil systems."
"Indeed," HIME said. "But here, the results were… unexpected. When they used actual physical corpses—taken from pop monsters harvested from the lower layers—the summoned undead did not dissipate after their usual time limit."
I blinked. "Wait, they persisted?"
"Yes. Indefinitely, as of now."
The projection zoomed in on one of the undead—a towering Dark Knight, its armor glinting under eerie light. "This specimen was summoned nearly three hours ago using a monster level 20 corpse as a catalyst. It has not vanished, degraded, or shown signs of mana depletion. It responds to commands normally, and exhibits sustained stability far beyond any Yggdrasil model."
I stared at the image, fascinated. "So the summoning isn't just code anymore. It's… binding actual matter."
"Precisely," HIME said. "They hypothesize that the undead now function as hybrid entities—constructed from residual mana and tangible biological matter. Their existence now relies on environmental mana flow rather than system timers."
"That's—" I stopped myself mid-sentence. "That's absurd. But also… brilliant."
HIME's lips curved faintly. "You always did enjoy bending systems, Ren-sama."
I chuckled softly. "True. But this goes beyond a bend—it's like cheating with the rules of the world itself."
The projection shifted again, displaying reports from the other floors.
Niflheim's elemental biologists confirmed that frost flora still grew under controlled mana, though at slightly slower rates.
Muspelheim's demon engineers reported stable thermal energy production.
Vanaheim's dryads succeeded in regrowing alchemical plants even without mana infusion.
Nidavellir's automatons tried to make low level autinatons with no reliance on system scripts.
In short, everything still worked.
Just… differently.
"All functions remain operational," HIME summarized. "However, environmental factors now appear to influence ability performance. This world provides its own mana and physical substrate. The line between digital construct and physical existence no longer applies."
"So…" I leaned against the dais. "We're no longer bound by Yggdrasil's mechanics. We're inside a system that behaves like a world—with all the freedom and danger that implies."
"Affirmative."
There was a brief pause before she added, her voice softer:
"I have also confirmed emotional and cognitive stability among all NPCs. They are adapting well to their new circumstances. Most have begun to act independently—researching, experimenting, and improving their own methods, as instructed."
That made me smile faintly. "They're… learning."
"Yes, Ren-sama. Your creations are no longer static. They're growing."
I took a slow breath, letting the enormity of it sink in.
The Aeternum Sanctum wasn't just surviving—it was evolving.
The NPCs I'd written, the AI routines HIME had optimized—they weren't obeying simple lines of code anymore. They were acting on instinct, adapting to a living world.
It was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
"I want every floor to continue their experiments," I said finally. "Not just summoning. Everything—alchemy, forging, magic, biological synthesis, illusion. I want to know how far the limits have changed."
HIME inclined her head. "Already done, Ren-sama. Orders have been distributed. Each division will continue testing and report directly to central command. The first consolidated results should be available within seventy-two hours."
"Good."
I hesitated a moment, then added quietly, "And tell Valter Mortis and Sevra to continue observing their undead. I want daily reports on their stability. If they truly last indefinitely… we'll need to rethink how we define death in this world."
"Understood," HIME replied, her tone thoughtful. "They will be pleased to hear of your personal interest."
"Let's just say I'm curious," I said with a small grin. "If necromancy itself can evolve, then everything else can too."
The projection dimmed, fading into soft blue light once more. The hall was quiet again, filled only with the hum of distant energy flows.
I looked up toward the crystalline ceiling, where the exotic shine shimmered faintly—replicas of a sky that didn't belong to Yggdrasil anymore.
I folded my arms, watching the light play across her metallic features. "We came here expecting rules, logic, systems. But this place… it doesn't care about that. It's rewriting itself, and we're just trying to understand what it's becoming."
HIME tilted her head, her eyes glowing brighter for a moment. "If that is true, then you, too, are part of its rewriting. Your curiosity is a constant, Ren-sama. Perhaps the world responds to that."
I laughed softly under my breath. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just doing what I've always done—looking for patterns that aren't there."
"Either way," she said gently, "you're still learning. And so are we."
I looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.
"Then let's keep learning."
As I turned to leave the hall, HIME's voice followed me, calm and certain.
"Ren-sama, would you like me to inform the guardians of your directive personally?"
"Yes," I said without turning. "Tell them: the world has changed. And so must we."
The doors of the Central Hall closed behind me with a soft hum.
For the first time in years, I felt that same thrill I'd known when I first logged into Yggdrasil as a child—the same spark of curiosity, now reborn in a world that might never have limits again.
End of Chapter 48 – Residual Code and Living Death