I went to the nearest space gate. Standard model. Empire-issued.
It looked like the kind of gate you'd see in any dungeon manhwa—just a little more upgraded. Controlled by both The Althea Empire and the guilds. Nothing flashy. Just a simple metal archway with a faint hum and a couple of blinking lights that seemed entirely pointless. The usual.
I wasn't impressed. I had been excited about using it once, back when I first came to this world. It seemed like a cool concept, but now, standing in front of it, it just felt... underwhelming.
Security was routine. Document scan. ID check.
"Hello, sir. Where would you like to go?" the attendant asked. Her voice? Corporate velvet. Sweet enough to rot your ears.
I blinked. Once.
"Tenshiyama."
That earned a flinch. Just a tiny twitch. But her training kicked in. The smile stayed firmly in place, like a well-glued mask.
"I'm sorry, sir. That location is off-limits."
Expected.
I slid my ID across the counter. Didn't say anything else. Words are expensive. Silence, oddly enough, is cheaper—and more powerful.
---
Academy of Fate.
A world academy where cadets from every domain come to study. It's an international academy, so every race on this planet gets to send their future heroes—except the demons. Those lovely folks are natural enemies of everyone else.
Graduating from the Academy of Fate? It's like getting your fate pre-approved by the gods. You walk out with more titles than you can count—and less self-awareness than a rock. Your name will scream aura, whether you want it to or not.
She saw the name on my ID. Flip. Instant personality shift.
"Ah, of course, sir. Apologies for the delay. Please proceed. And… have a good day."
"Yeah," I muttered. "Sure."
You learn a lot about people by how fast they switch sides. It's not even betrayal. It's just customer service.
---
Khkh—khaah.
Coming out of a space gate is like being reassembled by someone who failed a jigsaw puzzle as a child.
I vomited. Because of course I did. A fitting entrance. The ground didn't even bother to greet me.
I wiped my mouth and started walking.
The mountain loomed in the distance. Imagine Mount Fuji, then make it more dramatic. More poetic. More obviously copy-pasted from a Japanese mythology-themed coffee table book.
Tenshiyama.
The setting was painfully familiar—like déjà vu scripted by a second-rate screenwriter. Japanese aesthetics, cultural pastiche, and that overbearing this place is important vibe.
Which, supposedly, it was.
A protected zone.
Also a tourist hotspot.
People from the human domain flock here to pray—to the moon god.
I pulled out the map. Already memorized it, but pretending to check it makes you look less suspicious. Helps when you're just an extra.
Right. The Sharin of the Heavenly Demon.
Tied to the Murim Crossover Event. Mentioned once at a fan meeting, but never officially confirmed. The original author died before the event ever took place. So who knows if this place was something she designed herself in preparation—or just a half-formed idea.
---
I started walking again.
Eventually, I reached the stairs.
They looked ordinary. Which, of course, meant they weren't.
Everyone visits this shrine. Tourists. Pilgrims. The devout and the bored. But they all take the convenient route—the Hermetica Guild's transport service. Air-conditioned, soul-drained, mana-infused.
The Hermetica Guild runs most of the infrastructure here. Space gates. Markets. Underworld connections. If capitalism had a religion, they'd be the clergy.
But here's the twist:
To get the Easter egg artifact—the one from No Happy Ending in the 999th Regression—you don't need money or influence.
You need compliance.
Specifically, you need to play along with a ritual.
To the moon god.
Yes, really.
Constellation: The Fallen Prince of the Lunar Throne.
Also known as Tsukuyomi.
The ritual itself is deceptively simple. Which, of course, usually means it's stupidly dangerous.
Climb the shrine stairs. No mana. No assistance. Like a normal person. Already cruel enough.
Then, under the moonlight, you dance.
And sacrifice a part of your body.
As an offering.
All for a divine artifact that shouldn't exist. One that was probably retconned in during a low-rating arc.
I know what you're thinking.
"That sounds excessive."
Yeah. Because it is.
---
I started climbing at 8:00 PM. No mana. No enhancements. Just me and my slightly suicidal curiosity. The moon was already out—big, pale, judging. Typical.
Four hours in, and the stairs still hadn't ended. Each step felt like a personal insult. The air got heavier. Not metaphorically—like, actually heavier. As if gravity itself had decided to take a personal interest in keeping me down.
Progress was... unkind.
By 3:00 AM, the moon was full overhead. Bright. Unbothered.
I, on the other hand, was reasonably convinced I'd either pass out or start hallucinating about talking staircases.
And then it hit me.
Ah. Right.
This was impossible. Not figuratively. Literally.
You can't climb this staircase thinking about the ritual. That's the joke. That's the catch.
Clever. Sadistic. Very on-brand for the original author.
I stopped. Thought about quitting. Thought about turning around.
Thought about why I was even doing this in the first place.
Spoiler: I didn't have a good answer.
But quitting wasn't an option either. Not when I was this far.
Not when the artifact at the top could—maybe—shift the situation in my favor.
Not when he existed.
Cale Ashblood.
Even his name sounds like it was pulled out of a parody novel. A protagonist with divine-level mental fortitude, currently grinding through his 999th regression, with enough mental breakdowns to kill a god.
Which honestly feels like a flex at this point.
I hated that I was thinking about him.
Hated that he made this look easy.
That even now, with my legs trembling and my vision blurring, some part of me still saw him as a benchmark.
I'm not like him.
I don't have divine fortitude.
But the Sharin was in sight now. Just a little more. A little closer.
And this artifact?
Really important for me, because as an extra, what else do you expect? I'm too weak to do anything else. So I must climb.
For my plan.
For survival.
So I kept walking.
One more step.
Then another.
---
I made it. Barely, but I did.
The air feels too thick in my lungs, as though it's mocking me, making every breath heavier than the last. I reach for my water bottle—not to drink, but to cool my head. Not that it helps.
A classic move, really. But I can't use any mana until I finish this stupid ritual, so it's not like I have much choice.
> [[Constellation: The Fallen Prince of the Lunar Throne is watching you.]]
Great. Just great.
> [[Constellation: The Fallen Prince of the Lunar Throne is interested in you.]]
Why? Really, why?
> [[Constellation: The Fallen Prince of the Lunar Throne is excited about the ritual.]]
Well, isn't that just a treat?
I forgot about it. That constant reminder. That stupid constellation still watching me.
It's getting ridiculous now. I can almost feel how Cale must have felt—constantly monitored by entities with no real interest in anything beyond their own entertainment.
Just another day in the life of an extra.
And then there's Tsukuyomi. A god from Japanese mythology. Apparently, he's impressed by me.
Not that I care.
It's like getting a random thumbs-up from a stranger on the street.
A god's approval.
Sure, why not?
It's just... annoying, that's all.