My Record of Being in Charge of the Final Boss
Chapter 21
The entity that had been bombarding me with messages.
Yet I couldn’t see it clearly. It was blurry, like wearing glasses with an absurdly strong prescription.
“Did I die again, by any chance?”
A laugh echoed, and the hazy outline shifted.
[No. I’ve merely moved you somewhere safe for the moment. I’ll send you back shortly.]
The outline began to sharpen, as if a lens were finally focusing.
A tall man with broad shoulders. I couldn’t see his face clearly yet, but he had to be young. His voice and overall presence suggested as much.
After waiting a bit, his figure became more distinct. I could make out the frame of his glasses. Behind them, his eyes came into view.
He was wearing a light gray suit. He reminded me of a gentleman thief from old comics. I liked that. I’d always liked gentleman thieves—stealing from the greedy elite at the top of an absurdly unequal society and inflicting upon them the greatest sorrow imaginable. A noble profession, really.
I looked back out the window. We were still running along the coastline. I wanted to stay here like this, but since things had quieted down, it was a good chance to organize my thoughts. There were no rampaging mad birds or lunatic eyes here—perfect for concentration.
In the novel, it never described what Irix did after going to the Order.
The process of getting there wasn’t shown either. It merely said that he disappeared on the day the Order seized the train and arrested the cultists.
Irix had gone with Telekus voluntarily that day.
It wasn’t written explicitly, but it had to be that way. Otherwise, what happened afterward wouldn’t make sense.
If you have to pile on explanations and excuses, that isn’t the truth.
The truth is simply the truth. It needs no explanation. It happens, and that’s the end of it.
First of all, Telekus appeared too quickly. That meant he already knew where Irix was and had been waiting.
Because Telekus had excellent information-gathering skills?
No way.
It was because Duke Verkart— Irix’s father—had been feeding information to Telekus. And the reason the duke chose him was simple: Telekus was the sort of man who would never doubt his own good fortune.
From that, it’s clear the duke intended to send Irix into the Order. There must have been agents loyal to the duke inside the Order as well, keeping watch over Irix. As for why—no one knows. There’s no record of it.
Before boarding this train, Irix must have received an order from his father.
Meet the Telekus he had already prepared, and go to the Order.
But in truth, the duke wasn’t the only one trying to send Irix to the Order.
Irix himself wanted to go.
How do I know?
Because if you look at Irix, you just know. He’s not the kind of kid who obediently follows his father’s orders. If he hadn’t wanted something, he would’ve ignored him completely—taken a different train or postponed the trip altogether.
So what did Irix want?
The answer lies in what Irix obtained at the Order.
There is one thing the Order has in abundance.
Like bread in a bakery, meat in a butcher’s shop—
the Order has this.
That thing is—
Gods.
Every time Irix fought those who opposed him, gods were always summoned.
Apostles like Telekus wielded power bestowed upon them through divine blessings—but Irix was different.
He summoned gods themselves and used their power freely. Many gods were called to him, and at times, he even absorbed their power directly into himself.
How did that even become possible?
That was the true function of Aether.
If Aether is taken by a god, the body follows—leading to possession through descent.
But conversely, that same Aether can be used to dominate a god.
Irix wielded that power effortlessly, ruling over gods themselves.
Did he learn how to use it within the Order?
But he stayed there for only two months. It didn’t seem plausible that he could learn so much in such a short time.
A far more convincing theory was that he already knew how—
and merely needed a proper training ground and suitable materials.
If Irix already knew how to handle Aether, then there was no place better than the Order to test and realize that power.
I looked at the man.
While I’d been lost in thought, he had patiently waited for me to speak.
This man had told me not to send Irix to the academy.
And this man knew the story of this world.
The story in which Irix brings about the end of the world.
“I have a question.”
[Go ahead.]
“In the original story… Irix goes to the Order. And the one who takes him there—Telekus—dies.”
And so does Meimon.
[That is correct.]
“Do you know how Telekus died?”
The man stared at me for a moment.
[I do.]
How could he possibly know?
My curiosity about his identity deepened.
Was he a reader, like me?
No—that was impossible.
I was the only one who had shown Room 301 the novel. And there was no way another adult would voluntarily spend time deciphering it. Besides, what I had just asked wasn’t written in the text at all. Which meant this man knew things that weren’t in the story.
So how?
“Tell me how he dies.”
[Why do you want to know?]
“Because Peregion keeps appearing even after Telekus is dead.”
If my theory was correct, Peregion was the first god Irix ever obtained.
Compared to the gods he acquired later, Peregion wasn’t particularly high-ranking and wasn’t used often.
But what mattered was that Peregion was the first.
To understand how Peregion was obtained was to understand when—and to what extent—Irix had learned to control Aether.
The eyes behind the glasses turned toward me.
They weren’t clear enough for me to read his thoughts.
[See it for yourself.]
…Huh?
A strange sound reached my ears.
Scratch, scratch—
Like the sound of a pencil writing.
The surroundings gradually darkened, then brightened again.
Not fully bright—more like dusk, just after sunset.
I looked around.
I was no longer inside the train.
I was in a completely unfamiliar place.
A space enclosed by black walls.
Symbols were drawn on the floor—triangles, circles, triangles again—
This was a summoning circle, obviously.
And judging by the blood pooled everywhere, a great deal had been offered as sacrifice.
At the center of the blood-soaked floor stood Irix and Telekus.
The moment I saw them, I understood.
The man was truly showing me directly—recreating the past before my eyes.
I silently watched the scene unfold.
Now, I would finally know exactly what had happened.
‘Lord Peregion is arriving!’
Telekus shouted in excitement.
No—he was always excited. This was his usual state.
The candle flames burned upright in the stillness.
Between the surging light, a massive black void opened.
Something writhed within it, emerging slowly. Countless eyeballs embedded across its surface glittered.
Peregion.
They were attempting to summon Peregion and make him descend into Irix.
Had Irix agreed? Or had he suggested it himself?
Judging by the atmosphere, it felt like Irix had been the one to propose it. He looked relaxed. Telekus, on the other hand, was tense.
I stepped closer and studied Irix’s face—though he couldn’t see me.
His features were buried in shadow, his eyes and expression indistinct.
But I could tell—he was full of anticipation.
What are you thinking, Irix?
That face felt unfamiliar.
Telekus kept rambling on.
‘At last, you have arrived!’
The black, wavering god floated in midair.
Gradually, its form took shape—head, shoulders… arms, legs.
A giant.
‘An immensely powerful being. Noble iron, god of battle, the hammer that blesses those who charge forward…’
Telekus spoke with reverence and awe.
‘Lord Peregion.’
Irix raised his head to face the darkness.
Peregion leaned toward him.
Its massive, rounded head drew closer.
‘If you’re so great, why is this the first time I’ve heard your name?’
At Irix’s question, Telekus hurriedly replied.
‘Because you were forgotten. Forgotten, and thus recorded in the Book of Solei. And that very page of Solei became fate and appeared before me!’
‘Ah, yes. The Book of Solei. A conceptual book that records forgotten gods.’
Even Irix’s voice felt strange.
Had he always spoken like that?
He could be cold, sometimes irritable—but never like this.
Never so metallic, so alien.
His eyes were different too.
Not the gray-green I knew—but flickering red, like a sunset.
Irix looked up at the black god and spoke.
‘Peregion.’
The god’s body went rigid, unmoving.
‘Forgotten god.’
The giant’s face was turned toward Irix.
Irix smiled.
‘You came here to descend into me, didn’t you? Then come on—enter.’
Irix spread his arms and stepped toward the god.
But Peregion only stared at him.
It didn’t move.
‘Why won’t you? Is there something you don’t like?’
Peregion still didn’t budge.
Like a starving creature rushing toward food—
only to hesitate upon realizing something forbidden was mixed in.
Why… was it acting like that?
