MTLNOVEL Chapter 2
༺ 𓆩 Chapter 2 — I Will Carry On The Family Name 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃
“So what you’re telling me is, this muscular macho man is an illusion conjured by your magic, Master?”
“Yeah. Technically, it’s linked to your psyche, Canaria, but that’s the gist of it.”
“So… the muscular macho man is your type, then?”
“If you don’t want to see a Gigachad doing the Zero Two dance, shut up.”
“Actually, I was referring to my preferences.”
— Oh, it seems you’ve fallen for the muscles of this fucking lion-like Gigachad? Then starting today, Kapippi will also undergo hard training.
As every variety of profanity stormed through her mind, I flicked her a gold coin; like a scrappy mutt catching a treat mid-air, she bit down on the coin and fell silent, listening intently.
“To put it simply, the goal is to create the illusions so refined you genuinely believe it represents your ‘inner self.’”
“Then wouldn’t it be more convincing to have it look like me, instead of this… absurdly muscular macho man?”
Her question wasn’t without merit.
The Gigachad illusion was supposed to reflect one’s “inner self,” but its exaggerated masculinity and idealized physique felt so far removed from a genuine projection that it bordered on surreal.
And yet—
That very incongruity was the source of its persuasive power.
“Canaria.”
“Yes?”
“What do you think happens when a short, overweight guy starts preaching the importance of fitness and self-discipline?”
“Hmm…”
After a moment of thought, Canaria nodded, as if the answer had dawned on her.
“I see now. The purpose isn’t deception—it’s to convey a message through an extreme embodiment of physical perfection.”
“You’re sharp, aren’t you?”
“Thank you, Master.”
The Giga Chad was the embodiment of the ideal self—
The concretization of the superego.
The superego was masculine, rational, change-oriented through action, and firmly rooted in self-control — which meant that, in order to stand above the conscious self, the Gigachad had to be overwhelming in every conceivable way.
“Think of the Gigachad as a kind of teacher. A drill sergeant, here to guide your psychological growth.”
“Understood, Master.”
“This Gigachad will act with one purpose—to lead your mind in a positive direction. It’ll push you toward your deepest aspirations, your secret desires, your fears—all for your personal development.”
“Just imagining it is exhausting.”
“Change is always exhausting.”
“Well… so are gold coins.”
Canaria fiddled with the gold coin I’d tossed her earlier, a sly grin curling at her lips.
“Leave it to me. For the sake of your magic studies, Master, I shall break bone and spill blood.”
It was an awfully greedy little smile.
But strangely enough—
It made her seem reliable.
.
.
.
Canaria was the perfect lab rat.
Adequately worldly enough to stay grounded, but bold enough to not shy away; sharp-minded, too — she always cut right to the heart of things.
"I get startled whenever I see Gigachad in the corner of my vision each time I wake up."
“I’ll adjust the spell so it doesn’t manifest during sleep. And?”
“He has a tendency to speak only in overly positive terms. If you added a bit of shock therapy, it might be even more effective.”
“Good point. A proper teacher should know how to lay down some tough love.”
“The muscles twitch too much. It’s… unnerving.”
“Endure it.”
“Yes, Master.”
What made Canaria particularly reliable, however—
Was the fact that even while cooperating in this utterly insane experiment, she never once asked about the purpose or intended use of the spell.
If gold coins were on the table, I was pretty sure she’d look the other way even if I summoned a demon.
“His vocabulary’s too limited. Try using some motivational metaphors or historical references for better effect.”
“Canaria.”
“Yes?”
“Aren’t you curious about why I’m developing this magic?”
“I am.”
“Then why haven’t you asked?”
“…Didn’t you tell me at the start to just follow orders?”
“Oh, right.”
I had, hadn’t I?
Add unwavering loyalty to her list of merits.
Which meant—
It was probably fine to explain the true purpose of this magic now.
“The truth is, I developed this spell to stop the world from coming to ruin.”
“I see.”
“This world will be destroyed within the next few years.”
“A terrible shame.”
“I also know that you're not just a maid, but an assassin infiltrating the duke’s estate to kill Duke Nosferatu.”
Even before the words fully left my mouth, I felt a sharp sting at my throat.
Canaria had pressed a dagger against my neck; a single drop of blood trailed down the edge of the blade.
As expected.
The loyal-maid-who’s-actually-an-assassin was a classic trope for a reason.
“How did you know?”
“I know the future.”
Her expression twisted in disbelief.
She thought I was mocking her.
But I had only spoken the truth. How unfair.
“You won’t stab me. If you kill me, your revenge against the Duke dies with me. That’s not something you’re willing to give up, is it?”
“..................”
She wouldn’t stab me.
Because I had been feeding her a steady stream of hesitation through telepathy—subtle emotional interference to buy just a few precious seconds.
“But if you promise to help me—”
Before that flicker of doubt in her eyes vanished, I made the offer.
A deal too sweet to refuse.
“I’ll help you kill Duke Nosferatu.”
“…How?”
“You already know.”
In that instant, hundreds of Gigachads surrounded Canaria.
A hallucination—suffocating in its realism—right down to the humid heat radiating from their writhing muscles.
She had experienced this same magic firsthand over the past few weeks, and she knew what it could do.
“Isn’t this enough to break someone completely?”
“Why would you…?”
“Let’s start with the Duke. Then we can sit down and talk things through, calmly.”
.
.
.
The House of Duke Nosferatu was the Empire’s most infamous lineage of assassins.
There were more people who bore grudges against the Duke than could be counted — and even those without personal vendettas remained on guard. Most nobles feared the name Nosferatu.
And the same held true even among the Duke’s own retainers.
His surroundings were crawling with jackals—loyal in name only, ever-waiting for the moment they could sink their fangs into his back.
So, I created the opportunity.
The moment Duke Nosferatu lost his grip on sanity and descended into madness, I made my move. With the loyalists at my back, I seized the reins of the house and proclaimed, “I am merely continuing the family legacy, Father.”
As a bonus, I even used my telepathy to read the minds of his retainers, filtering out the few who could be deemed somewhat trustworthy.
“Congratulations on your ascension to Duke.”
“Spare me. I’m just lending them the name. The retainers will be the ones running the territory anyway.”
“I never imagined that scum would collapse so easily. How did you do it?”
“Every night, I fed him a hallucination where dozens of Gigachads took turns violating him.”
“…Wow. Suddenly, I almost feel bad for him.”
“Oh?”
“Lies, of course. That was deeply satisfying.”
Biologically speaking, yes, he was my father.
But that didn’t mean I felt any sympathy upon his death.
Duke Nosferatu was a tyrant with rivers of blood on his hands. Even in Endless, there were countless characters whose families had been destroyed by his cruelty.
Canaria’s family, too, had been wiped out by his savagery.
“It’s a bit disappointing that the bastard died so quickly. If anything, I wish his end had been even more grotesque.”
“More grotesque than being gang-raped by muscle-bound men, robbed of his title by his possessed son, and betrayed by the retainers he trusted most? If there’s a worse way to go, I’d be curious to hear it.”
“…Now that I think about it, that’s more than sufficient.”
I chuckled and tossed a gold coin to Canaria.
She caught it in her mouth.
Since her family’s downfall and her parents' death, she’d lived a life of poverty; her obsession with money wasn’t hard to understand. Having once been a noble herself, the fall from grace must have made it all the more unbearable.
She tucked the coin into her pouch and straightened her posture, suddenly all formal as she asked her next question.
“Then… in the end, Master—no, my Lord Duke—why did you choose to help me?”
“Oh, right. I did say I’d tell you everything once my father was dead.”
Now then—where should I start?
There was no need to reveal that this world was actually a game. She wouldn’t understand it anyway.
“I know the future.”
“................”
“And this world will be destroyed in a few decades.”
“Destroyed…?”
I didn’t answer with words.
Instead, I smiled.
And activated High-Performance Telepathy.—at maximum intensity.
The world around us melted away like bursting bubbles.
Each glimmering orb carried with it a voice—anguished and raw, cursing the world—as though the universe itself were mourning.
— “I want to live… I don’t want to die…”
— “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do…”
— “Today was a lucky day.”
— “If I don’t hesitate to kill the wicked… to right what is wrong… to help those in need… then maybe… just maybe, a better world will come.”
They were echoes from dozens of endings—each one a memory of despair.
One where a witch’s poison reduced every sentient being to a lifeless husk.
Another where a celestial god descended and shattered the world into ruin.
Sometimes poetic in their emptiness. Sometimes absurd in their cruelty. Each the world’s ruin.
And now, those inescapable futures were unfolding before Canaria’s eyes, fueled by the strength of my telepathy.
I stood at the heart of it all, the calamities painted behind me like a mural of ruin.
I smiled—softly, almost sweetly.
And like some villainous mastermind who had labored tirelessly to engineer these ends, I whispered; the whisper was faint, but with telepathy’s touch, it rang as clear as the breaking of glass.
The world’s ruin’s bubbles began to sing in harmony:
“The world ends if you kill the root of ruin.”
A witch destroyed the world.
Pop—!!! A bubble vanished into nothing.
“The world ends if you don’t kill the root of ruin.”
A Hero destroyed the world.
Pop—!!! Another bubble dissolved into mist.
“For showing mercy, for withholding it.”
A saint who prayed for salvation.
“For turning away from injustice, for confronting it.”
A girl hated by all.
“The world ends.”
Bubbles burst one by one, fading into the dissolving scenery.
“There’s only one way to stop the end.”
The whisper—once resounding—softened.
It now flowed gently, like the brush of a lover’s voice.
Its content, however, was absurd. Fittingly absurd.
“We must redeem the roots of ruin… using the power of Gigachad.”
Yes.
The fate of the world now rested in the hands of an absurdly muscular, cartoonishly macho man.
Ridiculous? Perhaps.
But then again, this world was destined to end for the most ridiculous reasons imaginable.
So why shouldn’t the method to save it be equally foolish?
“To save this world, we need Gigachad. I want you to become a helper—an ally in stopping the end.”
“…But I don’t know what I could possibly do to help. Am I really someone who could be of use in something that grand?”
“Ahh…”
You could. You absolutely could.
You would be invaluable.
“Women understand other women best, don’t they?”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“A lot of the roots of ruin are girls.”
Yes.
It was a tragic truth.
In my past life… I had died a virgin!
“…What does that have to do with anything—?”
“One gold coin for a premium answer.”
“…In truth, I’m an expert in the female psyche. Other maids at the manor come to my room every night for advice. It’s become quite the burden, really.”
Transparent. So transparent.
END σϝ CHAPTER