Though the rift wasn’t originally part of the game, I didn’t find it all that surprising or unsettling.
Even if I don’t know how others feel, I’ve always been the type to play a game thoroughly, down to the last detail, eagerly awaiting and accounting for new updates.
And I had occasionally considered the possibility of a new kind of rift like this one.
“Even if it’s new, it’s just a rehash of existing content.”
No matter how fresh the update, as long as it comes from the same game, there’s bound to be a sense of repetition.
And this wasn’t even entirely new—it was just a mix of what already existed.
With my prior knowledge and complete understanding of the original map structures, I could figure out a strategy soon enough. Even if several elements were combined, they wouldn’t stray entirely from the pre-existing rules.
Of course, that didn’t mean the strategy would be easy.
No matter how much of a rehash it was, it was still new content. For now, it was true that I was completely in the dark.
And… that’s where Grain comes in.
Despite my claims of sufficient prior knowledge, I was ultimately asking for help. How unsightly.
Ah, well. Isn’t that what life is about—helping each other out?
I asked Grain, who had approached me, to use her special ability.
Something… a bit excessive, to be honest.
“…What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Scan this direction thoroughly and figure out what structures are in which locations. Let’s aim for about 100 objects.”
“Do you even understand what my ability is?”
“Of course I do.”
Her reaction of disbelief was entirely normal.
If someone truly understood her ability, they would never make such a request.
Grain’s special ability, [Observer of All That Exists], is nicknamed “The Eye of Sauron.”
As the grandiose name and nickname suggest, it wasn’t just some simple exploration tool.
However, using her ability to its fullest extent would open up a corruption route for Grain, so realistically, anything beyond a certain level of utilization was virtually impossible.
The term “exploration-specialized” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Setting aside the risk, her ability was so objectively powerful that even calling it “broken” would be an understatement.
Basically, if Grain couldn’t detect, identify, or analyze something, it might as well not exist.
Not just tangible materials, but also invisible energies like magic.
She could even discern the composition of air or liquid, things most wouldn’t bother noticing.
She essentially lived in a hyper-scientific world—one so incomprehensible that a liberal arts guy like me could barely fathom it.
So as long as she was around, I figured I’d never fall victim to anything unknown. Her eyes could see everything in existence.
The only thing she seemed unable to perceive was dodges or parries from my techniques, but I could let that slide.
Additionally, her ability allowed her to vaguely understand anything outside her existing knowledge just by observing it.
I don’t fully grasp how that feels, but from what I’ve read in the description, it functions like a pseudo-cheat sheet.
Thanks to this, her practical scores were likely very high.
At its most extreme, her ability could let her grasp and manipulate everything in her surroundings just by activating it.
However, using it to such a degree would push her into corruption, and her brain would melt and kill her after just a few seconds, so it’s not even worth considering.
Of course, even regular usage of her ability wasn’t without strain. Didn’t she already collapse earlier from Seria’s magic?
The human brain is designed to handle only as much information as it can process, to avoid overload.
But Grain’s ability forcibly overrides that limit, cramming in excessive information. Naturally, it would cause her severe headaches.
As such, she always exercised caution and vigilance when encountering new people.
She couldn’t predict what kind of abilities they might have or whether the information would be manageable for her.
This was why she initially opposed my joining the student council—it was all because of her concerns.
Anyway, to sum it all up:
What I was asking of her would place an immense burden on her brain, making it impossible to execute.
Yeah, I knew that.
Scanning a hundred scattered objects would require observing a vast area.
Even in an empty space, cramming such a broad scope into her brain would make her faint on the spot.
In the rift, where the unknown lurked, bad luck could lead to her losing her sanity altogether.
What I had said to her was essentially equivalent to saying, “Just shove a bomb into your head and blow it up.”
But there’s always a way around things.
“Actually, you already know there’s a way to do it, don’t you, senior?”
“…How do you know that…?”
“If utilizing the ability puts a strain on your brain, wouldn’t it make sense to simply stop using your brain in the first place?
Your ability isn’t operating at full power anyway, so just offload more of the burden onto it, like using a CPU.”
That method was indeed possible.
It was even an officially acknowledged mechanic in the game, with its principles explicitly explained.
Grain, too, would have learned how to use it as soon as she acquired the ability, according to the game’s lore, so there was no need for me to explain or convince her of anything.
“From now on, just offload all the strain of using your ability onto the ability itself.”
“…How much do you actually know about my ability? I never told you anything.”
“There are ways to know everything.”
“You’re kind of scary. Well, I always knew you had your secrets.”
Despite her words, she hesitated.
It was only natural—this method had a significant problem.
If you forcibly used the ability like a CPU, it would be perceived as a connection to reality, thereby “opening a door.”
And if the ability tried to escape through that door… if she failed to stop it, Grain would be devoured by her ability and fall into corruption.
Think of it as a “living ability.” That’s probably the best way to describe it.
Since Grain didn’t have a dedicated storyline, nothing was certain, but she likely attempted this method when she first acquired her ability and almost got devoured by it.
That’s probably why she hadn’t dared to use it again since then.
“I know exactly what you’re worried about. But just this once, trust me and try it.”
Of course, I wouldn’t have suggested it if it were purely dangerous.
“Can I really trust you?”
“Of course. Don’t worry and just do as I said—focus on identifying the structures.”
“What do you mean, don’t worry? Can I really trust you?”
She still seemed doubtful, asking the same question repeatedly. Left with no choice, I decided to up the ante.
“Geez, have you been lied to your whole life? If things really go wrong, I’ll give you my entire fortune, along with Seria’s fortune, all combined.”
“…Wait a minute. Rudion? Why are you suddenly putting my fortune on the line too?”
“Alright, fine. If you’re that insistent, I’ll trust you.”
Seria tried to object to my one-sided gamble, but I ignored her protest and brushed it aside, riding the momentum of the moment.
Anyway, seeing how far I was willing to go, Grain reluctantly agreed.
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
“Yes, thank you. I’m counting on you.”
Her eyes close. But that was only her physical eyes; her true eyes, the ones she possessed, could never be hidden, not even by her eyelids.
In the next moment, I was overwhelmed by the illusion that something was watching me.
From the front, the sides, the back—even from above my head and below my feet.
A shiver ran through my body as if I was being scanned from head to toe.
It seemed Seria felt the same thing, as she approached me with a startled expression.
“R-Rudion? This is…?”
“It’s Grain-senpai’s ‘serious mode.’”
This was Grain at her peak—offloading all calculations to her ability instead of her brain, enabling her to perceive absolutely everything.
Of course, not without its side effects.
Grrrk-
Squelch-
A hole suddenly tore open in the empty air, and from it, a grotesque octopus-like creature began crawling out. It looked like something straight out of the Cthulhu Mythos.
Well, it wasn’t actually related to Cthulhu or anything; just think of it as the manifestation of her ability taking on that form.
The creature slowly emerged further, inching toward Grain, who had her eyes shut.
“…This is really fine, right? You’re sure I should keep this up?”
“Yes, don’t worry. Just focus on the task I asked of you.”
Naturally, I had no intention of letting it reach her.
Without hesitation, I drew my sword and struck at the writhing tentacle attempting to coil around Grain.
Boom!
The tentacle exploded on the spot.
Exactly. This was the very reason I had confidently told her to use her ability.
This octopus… If you parry its tentacles, they simply get destroyed. Turns out, it’s just another parry mechanic.
Maybe because its very existence was tied to the ability? Simply making contact was enough to trigger a parry success, so there wasn’t even a need to time it.
Its sole objective was Grain, so it posed no threat to me. I only needed to keep pushing it back whenever it got close, so there wasn’t much real danger involved.
Wriggle-wriggle-wriggle.
“Ugh, that’s disgusting.”
Still, the visual horror was on another level.
A three-meter-tall mass covered in tentacles of all shapes and sizes—it was grotesque, to say the least.
In the game, it was just something you could watch without much thought, but seeing it like this… it was truly revolting.
But hey, what can you do? This was the method I chose.
“At least it doesn’t have a stench or anything.”
Trying to think positively, I faced the endless barrage of handshake requests from the monstrous tentacle creature.