I'm an Infinite Regressor, But I've Got Stories to Tell-Chapter 412

‘What is life?’

Thousands, tens of thousands — perhaps hundreds of thousands.

Or even millions of lives had been lived.

More than anyone, they had repeated countless lives. Born once as a child with total paralysis, another time as the descendant of royalty.

And yet, life — to a reincarnator such as themselves — was always a riddle.

‘Why am I... forced to keep suffering in a world already doomed to destruction?’

‘Could it be.’

‘That this place isn’t reality at all, but rather... my own personal hell from the very beginning?’

Their own existence. Every time they reincarnated, the family who had once cherished them bore new wounds — carved into their hearts.

A void opened.

A □ was pierced through.

‘…Maybe. My very existence does nothing but wound others.’

So.

They tried running away — on purpose, until the very end.

By now, they had long since reached a realm unimaginable to any ordinary human.

With all their knowledge, experience, power, and wealth, it was not difficult to protect at least one family even after the apocalypse.

Whether the world ended or not.

They built a shelter, a bunker in the safest zone on Earth — ignoring the survival of humankind — and lived there for decades with their family.

“Thank you, my child. Thanks to you……”

“Dad will always love you.”

Indeed.

Living like this, their family didn’t get hurt much.

No □ appeared.

In most cases, they survived longer than their family — so rather than causing loss, they received it instead.

It wasn’t a happy ending.

A normal ending.

In this world stained by the venom of the Void, achieving even a normal ending was a tremendous feat.

For a while, the reincarnator sought only normal endings.

They couldn’t help it. Living for an impossible goal was simply too exhausting.

‘Ah.’

There was a side effect.

‘I can’t... awaken, huh.’

A natural consequence.

The reincarnator bit their lip tightly.

‘Those who lost me in their past lives carry emptiness in their next. And thanks to that void... they awaken.’

‘But those who suffered no loss... remain ordinary, in their next life and the one after that.’

In other words—

‘When the Void descends and monsters surge forth, they will die much, much more easily than the Awakened— mere ordinary people.’

‘People who can’t even scream or cry out before they die. Just... ordinary humans.’

That was the price of a normal ending.

The result of wanting only to spend precious time with loved ones, abandoning both humanity’s destruction and salvation alike.

People were slaughtered mercilessly by monsters. They couldn’t even resist. The families who had smiled softly through thousands of farewells in previous lives—

“……”

In the ruins of a collapsed city.

They had hurried as much as possible, but their father from a past life was already dead, crushed under a building.

The reincarnator clasped the corpse’s hand tightly and closed their eyes.

‘How cruel. Truly.’

This world hated humankind.

And among all, it hated them the most.

‘…I must nurture the Awakened.’

The reincarnator opened their eyes.

‘I must become someone precious. To each of them. To the point where losing me will shatter their hearts.’

‘Because the more tragically I die... the higher the chance they’ll awaken strong abilities in their next life.’

The hesitation was brief.

Even as they hesitated, people were dying.

‘They need the strength to fight back against monsters.’

‘In this world, they need hope to survive.’

It was simple. The more powerful the Awakened that appeared, the higher humanity’s chance of victory.

Even now, compared to their ‘first life,’ humanity’s odds had become far more favorable.

Once, the score had been [100:0]. Now, barely... [100:1].

‘Everything is statistics.’

‘I must become someone precious. So precious that losing me would be more fatal than their own death.’

‘And then…….’

‘I must die as miserably as possible.’

They acted immediately.

They imagined a small button in their head and lightly pressed it.

Time passed.

“AAAAAAAH! AH! AAAAAH!”

Someone was screaming in front of them.

It was their ‘brother’ in this life.

“S-someone— please! Please help! My sister— my sister’s trapped! Help us!”

His name was Lee Baek.

He had been a bit wayward as a child, but had grown diligent over time.

After their parents passed away early, he’d worked countless part-time jobs to support his younger sister — themself.

Now, that sister. His only remaining family. Was dying under the debris of a collapsed building in Seoul.

“Oppa…….”

“D-don’t talk! Don’t! Hey! Hey! Is anyone there?! Please! Help! Someone’s here!”

What is a person?

Even now — her lower body crushed beneath concrete, her shoulder pierced through by rebar, her flesh more red than skin-colored — was she still human?

“I’m... sorry, oppa……”

“No! Soa! No! Aaaah! Don’t! Don’t close your eyes! Don’t close your eyes! H-help! Here! Please! Someone! Someone’s—!”

I’m sorry.

She died. Was reborn. Lived a new life. Then, after settling down a little, she went to the outskirts of Seoul.

To check on Lee Baek’s ability.

‘A power that... amplifies the voice?’

So-called “Lion’s Roar.”

‘Ah, I see. He must have thought he couldn’t save his sister because his cries didn’t reach anyone. That can’t be right, though.’

Lee Baek’s life had crumbled.

It had always been a rough life. After his parents’ death, he’d turned to crime, spreading the rot that had consumed him to others.

He asked no one for forgiveness.

Because when his own life fell apart, no one had asked him for it either.

‘Not a particularly useful ability... but hmm. No. On the battlefield, it could be decent for commanding large groups.’

‘Next.’

Like a gacha game.

‘Next.’

The reincarnator treated Earth as a vast laboratory, granting □ to people with scientific precision.

Naturally, higher and lower grades of Awakened appeared. The latter weren’t worth a glance.

‘Next.’

The high-rank Awakened — they required special management.

‘Next.’

When she thought about it, there were many ways to become precious to someone. It didn’t have to be as family.

A friend. A confidant. A companion.

‘Next.’

Later, the woman known by the title [Saintess], Jung Yeji, was one of those special cases.

After dying as Jung Yeji’s family, and checking in a later life, what did she find? To her shock — Jung Yeji had awakened [Telepathy].

The reincarnator clenched her fist in her heart. My god — telepathy!

A jackpot. Like finally pulling an S-rank after pouring millions into a gacha game.

Her unnie was such a fool.

When her family was dying, her phone had gone missing — so she couldn’t send an SOS to anyone. That wasn’t her fault.

‘Next.’

In the next life, the reincarnator moved near Jung Yeji, deliberately becoming her childhood friend.

Winning her favor was easy. People with □ in their hearts were naturally drawn to the reincarnator — because it was like reuniting with a departed loved one.

‘Next.’

Jung Yeji’s childhood friend died. The friend she read books and shared thoughts with died. The only friend who sometimes met with her and laughed together died. Jung Yeji’s, Jung Yeji’s, Jung Yeji’s…

The results were astounding.

‘Excellent.’

Telepathy. Clairvoyance. Time stop.

‘The wish to be able to call for help without tools when a loved one is dying.’

‘The wish to see everything, because a friend had been kidnapped and tortured to death without her knowing.’

‘The wish that time itself would stop, because it was too painful to go on.’

SSS-rank. Confirmed.

‘The more they suffer.’

‘The more they cherish someone.’

‘The more talented they are... at enduring the pain of loss.’

The stronger their awakening.

‘Fascinating.’

But even awakenings had limits.

In Jung Yeji’s case, she couldn’t go beyond “stopping time.” She didn’t know any way to fight the wounds in her heart.

She had tested it dozens of times.

‘Then maybe... someone like me, a reincarnator, could be created someday.’

A faint heartbeat.

A long-lost ember of hope — the feeling she’d discarded ages ago when she abandoned her humanity — flickered like a candle.

‘If time can be stopped, it can be repeated. Yes, surely.’

‘Wanting to turn back the past. To start over. That’s a universal human desire, isn’t it?’

‘Someone will reach that point. Somewhere. It would be strange if not.’

Next.

‘Where are you—?’

Next.

‘Won’t someone drift through this shattered world with me—?’

Next.

‘No, no! Don’t overcome your pain so easily! Why try to move on from the wound that is me? No talent at all.’

Next.

‘No... But you can’t collapse completely, either. That won’t do.’

Next.

‘Please, feel pain.’

Next.

‘But don’t fall apart.’

Next.

‘Feel agony deep in your bones. So much that you wish for death. Curse the world for taking your loved ones—’

‘And yet, live. Live earnestly. Still resolve to save the world.’

Next.

‘Don’t be satisfied with saving one precious person. Think of the world. Of humanity. Isn’t there anyone like that?’

Next.

‘Truly no one? No one like that?’

Next.

‘Why?’

Next.

‘When I’m doing it.’

Next.

‘Ahaha.’

Next.

“……”

I granted your wishes.

You all said it yourselves.

Let me be rich in my next life. Let my voice reach others next time. Let time just stop.

I granted your wishes! I did!

Yes, scars remain. Indelible stains in your hearts. The venom of the Void lingers. I admit it.

But— how could wishes be granted without a price?

Of course there’s a price. And you don’t even remember paying it. You don’t remember what happened in your past lives, how much you suffered. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

I granted your wishes.

I didn’t leave wounds.

I didn’t!

“……”

A natural truth.

“Mm… Every time I leave a little void in others, a grave of the same size forms inside me.”

I lost my parents.

I lost my family. My precious ones. My childhood friends. My friends. All of them — precious.

□. □. □. □. □. □.

□. □. □. □. □. □.

□. □. □. □. □. □.

□. □. □. □. □. □.

Now, when I look inside myself—

“Nothing but holes.”

Billions of graves, dug by billions of people — all piled inside my heart.

“This can hardly be called human anymore.”

What is life?

“……”

What is humanity?

“Am I... human?”

Probably not.

“Then I should separate the two. Acknowledge the void in my heart — and isolate it.”

“Oh my. Like self-confinement, isn’t it?”

“But how do you isolate it? It’s my heart. You can cut off an arm, but you can’t cut away your heart.”

“Because the moment you do—”

“You truly become a monster.”

“Ahaha. But I already am one.”

“I know full well that people will suffer.”

“And yet I approach them, just for that pain.”

“I die.”

“I kill.”

“And now, when I walk down the street, everyone’s a family member from a past life. The whole world is my graveyard.”

“Congratulations.”

“This is the scenery you wanted, isn’t it?”

“You reap what you sow.”

“Wait.”

“This conversation — it’s been repeated too long. Too habitually. It’s meaningless.”

“A remnant of something that believes digging into its own wounds is proof of humanity. How pitiful.”

“Pity itself — part of the template.”

“What splendid self-awareness. So—”

“There’s a way.”

“Ah.” “Ah.” “Ah.” “Ah.”

“Not all hearts are the same. You know the concept of the unconscious, don’t you? You don’t even need Freud for that.”

“Conscious.” “Unconscious.”

“Conscious me.” “Unconscious me.”

“There’s potential here.”

“Now then.”

“Carl Jung once proposed the collective unconscious.”

“That humans never exist alone, but always as a collective. That memories themselves are stored collectively through the human brain.”

“Like DNA.”

“Existing within individuals, but each merely a node—”

“Fascinating.”

“Now then……”

“The voids inside my heart have reached a level where they could be called humanity’s collective unconscious. Because my wounds are humanity’s wounds.”

“How fascinating.”

“Then what if I keep reincarnating, leaving wounds in all of humanity’s hearts, and stacking their voids within my own?”

“Ahhh. A graveyard for all humankind!”

“Let’s make it.”

“Shall we?”

“Let’s make it.”

“Let’s isolate it.”

“It hurts.”

“……” “……” “……” “……”

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“How is this... saving the world? It’s strange. Even if they died to monsters... Mom, Dad, everyone... they still died as humans.”

“What are Awakened? What are Transcendents? Ascendants? Whatever you call them…”

“They’re monsters.”

“I claim to fight monsters, but I’m making them.”

“Enchanting people, pretending to be someone precious.”

“Joining the march of corpses, like a ghost leading the dead.”

“I want to die.”

“……” “……” “……” “……”

“Everyone came to hate the world.”

“They all despise it. Because.”

“It took from them. Their precious ones. It took me. How could they ever love such a world?”

“The world doesn’t hate humanity.”

“Humanity hates the world.”

“Because of me.”

“……” “……” “……” “……”

“I should never have been born. I should have died the moment I was conceived.”

“A miscarriage. Yes, that would’ve been sad, but better than the wounds I left behind.”

“I’m tired.”

“I hate this. I don’t want this anymore.”

“I don’t want to be born again.”

“Please. Save me. I’m sorry, oppa. I’m sorry. Mom. Dad. I’m sorry... I’m sorry. Sorry.”

“Please. Someone.”

“Kill me.”

“……” “……” “……” “……”

“No particular issue.”

“Yes. This cycle has always existed.”

“Humans have a carnivorous instinct — a drive to feel alive by tearing into flesh that bleeds.”

“But as hunting dwindled and violence was forbidden, people lost the chance to tear into others’ flesh. So, instead—”

“They turned to their own.”

“They devour their own flesh, and call that life.”

“A contradiction — self-destruction as self-preservation.”

“Fascinating.”

“A civilized cannibalism.”

“Whether you’re human or not doesn’t matter.”

“The only question is—”

“Can they be saved?”

“Can they be redeemed?”

“That alone matters.”

“Because—”

“What humanity seeks is not humanity, but godhood.”

“Gods do not weep.”

“Gods do not regret.”

“Gods are not human.”

“Therefore.”

“In the next life.”

“Yes.”

“The next reincarnation.”

“Next.” “Next.” “Next.” “Next.”

The reincarnator was born.

The reincarnator was always born.

“Ah.”

And every time, they saw the same thing — someone looking down at them.

The first memory.

This time, the one looking down was a man.

“Abub— abubu— bweee—”

“……”

The boy scrunched up his face, trying to make the newborn laugh.

The gesture was familiar.

The face was familiar.

‘Captain of the recon squad.’

Even after countless reincarnations, he was always there — fighting to the end, without any power, holding the final defense line.

She smiled.

“Huh? Huh? She smiled! She smiled!”

The boy shouted. Of course he did — the reincarnator’s smile was crafted to charm anyone.

‘This time, it’s you.’

A childhood friend from the first life, perhaps.

‘What kind of wound will you receive?’

And—

What kind of wound will I receive this time?

Once more, she lived.

A life already destined for death.