TFCG 2

Chapter 2

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Let me summarize the information I know.

In the game, the protagonist at first doesn’t know why this airship crashed.

That’s because he had dozed off in his seat, and just after waking up, an explosion went off at the bow. With the cockpit destroyed, the airship plunged into the sea.

Later, through investigation, he learns the cause.

But unlike the protagonist, I already know the truth—because I’ve played the game.

It was a terrorist attack carried out by followers of the Demon God Phoneros. That was the truth.

Phoneros, eternal enemy of the Goddess Hagionia, always summoned monsters to torment humans. His worshippers carried out the attack.

Their target was to kill the one bearing the “Mark of the Goddess” before he could join the Hagion Warrior Order—the warrior chosen by the goddess.

In other words, the game’s protagonist. Me. The one with the wing-shaped tattoo on his hand.

They bombed the airship because of the protagonist, and yet the protagonist survived. Ironic.

That’s why I had to stop it. If children were to die because of me… I don’t think I could stay sane.

So, the first piece of information: the terrorists’ target is me.

Second: their plan.

They disguise themselves as crew members, head to the cockpit, kill the pilots, and detonate a hidden bomb to blow up the cockpit.

Which means—if I can just prevent a “crew member” from reaching the cockpit, the attack can be stopped.

But how?

I recalled what I had seen on my status window earlier.

Level 1 Shooter, Combat Power 10. Pathetically weak body.

And no weapon, either.

‘Wait… that’s weird. I should have a weapon.’

A rusty training pistol, Attack +10.

After the crash, there was an event where you had to swim to an uninhabited island and fight monsters. Of course, the weapon was there from the start. A gun wouldn’t just pop out of nowhere.

In the real world you couldn’t carry weapons onto a plane, but this was a fantasy world. Carrying something for self-defense was practically a given.

Strange, wasn’t it? I was aboard this airship to join the Hagion Warrior Order on Mid Isle.

Yet I had no luggage. Impossible.

I searched my pockets, but found nothing.

No way…?

“Inventory!”

I called it out in my head, just like when I summoned the status window.

And sure enough, a popup appeared. The familiar inventory screen from the game.

Inside were the pistol, the Warrior Order’s invitation, even money—everything neatly shown as cute item icons.

How do I take them out?

Carefully, I tapped the pistol’s icon. To my surprise—

From the popup, the rusty pistol in its holster slipped out into my hand.

I buckled the holster belt around my waist.

At least now I had a weapon. But with just Combat Power 20, I still wasn’t confident I could take on a terrorist alone.

I needed help.

But from whom?

I already knew the answer.

That familiar flight attendant who had just asked me about my meal choice.

I remembered her.

She was the attendant I rescued during the tutorial—another survivor.

Investigation revealed she had no ties to the terrorists. Which meant she was the only person on this airship I could trust.

I had to ask for her help. And just as I resolved to do so, she approached, pushing a service cart with my meal on it.

“Your meal is ready. Shall I set it here for you?”

She pulled out a roasted chicken that looked far too delicious for an in-flight meal.

I nearly drooled—it looked nothing like the bland meals I’d imagined. But I shook my head quickly.

This wasn’t the time to get distracted by chicken. People were going to die.

“N-no, actually… I have something to tell you.”

But what should I say?

If I told her a terrorist in disguise was about to crash the airship, she’d naturally ask how I knew. What excuse could I give?

Without a convincing reason, she’d just think I was suspicious.

‘Ugh… I need a good excuse…’

I fidgeted with my fingers, staring at my hand—a habit whenever I was deep in thought.

And then I saw it. The tattoo on the back of my hand. The Goddess’s Mark. Proof I was chosen.

This could be the perfect excuse.

“I received a revelation from the Goddess! A terror attack is coming—many lives will be lost unless we stop it!”

That’s how I’d frame it.

It felt like exploiting faith, but so what?

It was the goddess herself who shoved the role of “Chosen Hero” onto the protagonist to save this world. Surely she’d forgive me for this much.

“…Could we speak somewhere private?”

I showed her the mark on my hand as I asked.

I felt a bit embarrassed—like I was bragging “Hey, look who I am.” Not really my style. But to stop the crash, I could endure a little awkwardness.

The point of moving somewhere quiet was to avoid panic. In such an open space, even whispered words might be overheard, which could throw passengers into chaos.

“Ah, yes!”

Seeing the mark, she looked startled, then quickly led me to the crew lounge at the end of the corridor.

I remembered—back in the game, when I rescued her from the wreck, she had been deeply moved after seeing the mark.

She was one of the few with strong faith these days.

In recent peaceful times, when monsters rarely appeared, people’s devotion to Goddess Hagionia had waned.

But she had kept hers. She even thanked the goddess, believing that sending the Chosen Hero to her was why she survived the terror.

‘Though really, it was me—my character—who saved her.’

At the time, I’d grumbled that her gratitude was misplaced.

But right now, her faith was a huge advantage.

If she had been skeptical, she might have brushed me off with: “So you’re the goddess’s warrior. And? What do you want me to do about it?”

Instead—

“Wh-what is it, Hero?”

Her face flushed as she spoke reverently. Just moments ago she had called me “sir passenger,” but now it was “Hero.”

“Well, I… I dozed off earlier, and in my dream the goddess appeared to me.”

I stammered, my voice shrinking with embarrassment. I’d planned to speak with confidence, but when it came down to it, shame nearly choked me.

“Oh! Truly? Did the goddess grant you a revelation?”

She looked thrilled.

“Yes, she did, um…”

In as quiet a voice as I could manage, I told her about the impending terror.

She gasped sharply.

“A t-terror attack…?”

“Shh!”

I hushed her quickly.

“Ah—sorry. I was just so shocked… Did the goddess say which crew member was the terrorist?”

“N-no, unfortunately not…”

I bowed my head, wearing a regretful expression.

“Then… how can you trust me with this? What if I’m the terrorist?”

Her hesitant question struck me.

I hadn’t expected that.

From my perspective as a player, she was trustworthy. But from hers, why would I trust her so easily?

I thought fast and blurted out:

“The goddess told me. That this crew member is her faithful believer—and can be trusted.”

Sorry, goddess. Just borrowing your name one more time.

“Ah… of course! The goddess truly knows my heart!”

Her eyes shone with emotion. And my guilt doubled. It felt like tricking a pure soul.

Her expression soon turned serious.

“Then… what should we do now? We can’t exactly ask the other attendants for help…”

True. It was just the two of us, and the task felt daunting.

I told her my plan anyway.

“We need to guard the cockpit…”

“Then we can stop the terrorist! B-but how do we fight someone armed, just the two of us? Ah, but you’re strong, Hero—so it should be fine!”

“A-actually, I only just began my journey… I’m not that strong yet…”

I confessed awkwardly. The truth was, I couldn’t handle a dangerous terrorist alone.

My class was Shooter—using my own mana to charge bullets and fire through a gun as a medium.

But in reality? I was just a civilian who had never fired even a regular firearm, let alone a magic one.

“Oh, I see. Then… please wait here for a moment. I know someone who can help.”

I expected disappointment, but she still looked at me with shining respect.

“Someone to help? If it’s another attendant, though…”

In a situation where any crew member might be a disguised terrorist, trusting another seemed risky.

But she grinned confidently.

 

“No. Not an attendant. He’s a retired air marshal.”