The truth of the game

So-called gods were nothing but a bunch of born lunatics.

They had all sorts of bizarre ideas-of course, humans had all sorts of bizarre ideas too.

But humans always had the line of morality restraining their behavior. Anyone who crossed it would be purged as an aberration, banished by society, punished by law, and rejected by their own kind.

Unfortunately, gods had no such boundary.

To certain beings, a "boundary" was itself a toy to be broken, and "rules" were nothing more than draft paper waiting to be rewritten.

In this "space," which could not be described by any dimension, two beings were conversing.

For the time being, let us call them Deity A and Deity B.

Deity A was the master of this place.

His daily amusement was observing the lives of the individuals he had "marked."

Watching them walk along their prescribed paths, then giving them a gentle push at some unguarded moment.

Watching ripples disturb their peaceful days, watching predetermined destinies veer off course.

It pleased him.

Like a child crouching beside an anthill, diverting the ants' paths with a twig.

Today, another deity-Deity B-had made a rare visit.

A naturally took on the responsibility of hosting, showing his guest around his "collection."

It was a boundless void, with countless flickering screens floating within it.

On every screen, a life was unfolding.

Some showed ordinary daily life, some fierce battles, some warm families, and some desperate struggles.

Deity B floated before one screen, watching with interest.

In the image, a middle-aged man was sweating profusely on a construction site. His skin was tanned dark, and his hands were covered in calluses.

But whenever he took a break, he would pull a crumpled photograph from inside his clothes. Looking at the little girl beaming in the picture, a gentle smile would appear on his weary face.

"Oh~" Deity B made an admiring sound. His form resembled a mass of flowing starlight, and his voice echoed directly through the void.

"This looks rather interesting. Is this your latest work?"

"Right? Right?~" Deity A's voice carried unmistakable pride.

His form was even more indistinct, like a cloud of mist constantly changing colors. "This father has been working for eighteen hours straight to raise enough money for his daughter's surgery."

In the image, the man wiped away his sweat, put his hard hat back on, and walked toward the unfinished building.

His silhouette stretched long in the sunset, weary but resolute.

Deity B fell silent for a moment, then said, "As I recall, there's a limit to how many times you can use cross-dimensional reincarnation privileges, isn't there? Just a handful per epoch. Once you've used them up, you have to wait for the next epoch's reset.

"How have you managed it so many times? There are at least a hundred specimens in this 'collection' alone."

Deity A's mist churned violently, giving off a tremor resembling laughter.

"There is indeed a limit," A said, his voice carrying the delight of a successful prank.

"But, you see, I never said-all the people here were genuine 'reincarnators'~"

Deity B's starlight visibly froze for an instant.

"...Hmm?" A trace of confusion entered B's voice. "What do you mean?"

"Let me ask you something first." Deity A did not answer directly, his mist drifting before another screen.

On that screen, a boy was buried in his studies in a library late at night. Reference books were piled beside him on the table, and his eyes were bloodshot, yet his gaze was exceptionally bright.

"What do you think drives humans to keep moving forward?"

Deity B paused.

"Uh... why did the subject suddenly jump to that?"

"Just answer me first." A's voice brooked no argument.

B thought for a few seconds, his starlight flickering faintly.

"Responsibility... perhaps?" B ventured. "Responsibility toward family, toward companions, toward themselves... humans are always driven to act by all kinds of 'responsibilities.'

"Even the most selfish person has some impulse deep inside to 'do something they must.'"

"Exactly!" A's mist spun cheerfully.

"I think it's responsibility too! No matter whom that responsibility is toward-family, relatives, friends, enemies, strangers, or even themselves.

"Those responsibilities are like countless invisible threads, pulling them to make choices, take steps, live on, or choose death."

B's starlight hovered quietly, waiting for A to continue.

"Then where do you think," A lowered his voice slightly, as though sharing an earth-shattering secret.

"Something like 'responsibility' comes from?"

"Hmm?" B seemed not to have expected the question. "That's... instinct, isn't it? Something etched into their genes. Social animals need to care for one another to survive, so they evolved the instinct to 'take responsibility for the group.'

"Humans have merely made that instinct more complicated and abstract."

"Exactly, exactly!" A's mist almost scattered, then swiftly gathered again.

"You really do understand~ So, based on that understanding, let me teach you-"

The mist drifted before the first screen, pointing at the man carrying bags of cement on the construction site.

"-how to 'awaken' that human instinct for responsibility."

B's starlight drew closer, displaying obvious interest.

"Oh~? Then I'll have to listen carefully."

"There's really no technical sophistication to it. It's very simple to do." A's voice grew light.

"Look at this man. He's a single parent, raising his daughter alone. In everyone's understanding-including his own-he is that little girl's biological father, willing to give everything so his daughter can live."

The mist lightly touched the screen, and the image rippled faintly.

"But the truth is, this child isn't his at all. There is no blood relation between them. In fact...

"Many of the moments involving his 'daughter' in this man's memory-her first steps, the first time she called him Daddy, staying beside her bed all night when she was sick-those warm, precious memories actually belong to someone else."

B's starlight flickered violently.

"Do you mean...?!"

"Exactly~" A's mist unfurled happily.

"On top of his original memories, I 'transplanted' a set of memories belonging to someone else. Those memories contained the same daughter, the same love, the same responsibility.

"When the two sets of memories collide and merge deep within his consciousness, this man becomes utterly convinced, on a cognitive level-that he is that little girl's father, that he must take responsibility for her, must live for her, must give everything for her."

A paused. Two tiny, spinning points of light appeared at the center of his mist, like a pair of excited eyes.

"And then comes the most interesting part-"

"Even though the memories are false, the blood relationship nonexistent, the emotions 'implanted'... they produce a real, weighty 'responsibility,' enough to change the course of a person's life."

A's voice brimmed with childlike joy.

"Isn't that very, very interesting? It's like building a castle out of sand. You know it will collapse as soon as a wave comes, but you still carefully add windows to every tower and carve patterns into every wall. Because 'building' is itself a pleasure."

B remained silent for a long time.

His starlight flowed slowly, as though digesting this information. Then B gave a tremor of sudden realization.

"Interesting... so interesting!" B's voice carried an excitement similar to A's.

"So most of your 'specimens' here are actually just 'natives' of those worlds, rather than genuine 'reincarnators'?

"You simply implanted memories of 'I'm a reincarnator' into them, making them think they carried memories and a mission from a previous life?"

"Most of them~" A's mist drifted lazily.

"After all, genuine cross-dimensional reincarnation privileges are limited, and they don't accumulate-every use leaves one fewer, and not using them is a waste.

"But 'memory transplantation' is different. As long as you're precise enough and don't touch the essence of the soul, you can play as many times as you like.

"Like painting over a canvas, you can keep painting until the pigments run out."

B's starlight drifted before another screen.

On that screen, a black-haired boy stood on a training ground, his blood-red eyes gazing calmly ahead, a faint blue glow surrounding him.

"But," B suddenly spoke, a trace of caution entering his voice, "aren't you afraid?"

"Hmm?" A's mist tilted, as though cocking his head.

"If you're discovered," B said slowly.

"You'll probably be hunted down, won't you? After all, this is a serious violation, interfering with the natural evolution of lower worlds.

"And even if they're only 'natives,' if any of them grow strong enough to perceive the truth... wouldn't they pose a certain threat to you too?"

A's mist went still for a moment.

Then he let out a low, delighted laugh.

"What does it matter?" A's voice was airy.

"Even if we're 'destroyed' and enter the cycle of reincarnation, after a few thousand or tens of thousands of years, we'll awaken again and gather our consciousness anew.

"In that case, isn't finding some amusement in this long eternity perfectly normal?"

The mist drifted before the screen showing Madara and lightly touched the boy's face in the image.

"As long as it's fun, isn't that enough?"

B's starlight circled that screen once, then floated back to A's side.

"All right, all right~" B's tone grew relaxed. "Then I'll learn to do it too. Next time I visit my observation zone, I'll try implanting some interesting memories into a few 'specimens' myself...

"For instance, making them think they're chosen 'saviors,' or 'avengers' bearing a blood feud?"

"Good choices~" A said approvingly. "But remember, the implanted memories mustn't be too jarring. They need to fit their original personalities and experiences.

"Like grafting plants, the scion and rootstock have to match for beautiful fruit to grow."

The two beings floated in the void like this, watching the joys and sorrows, partings and reunions unfolding across countless screens.

All while discussing in casual tones how to toy with the lives on those screens in more "interesting" ways.

To them, this was only a game.

An eternal game that had lasted countless epochs and would continue on.

And on one of those screens, a figure seemed to notice something and suddenly raised his head, his blood-red eyes looking toward the sky, his brow furrowing slightly.

But a second later, he shook his head and returned his attention to the training before him.

As though that momentary sense that something was amiss had been nothing but an illusion.

In the void, Deity A's mist rippled gently, and he gave a satisfied sigh.

"Look, how fun~"