It was about time.

  I think it's about time I ask myself the question, "Am I the bad guy?"

  Are we?

  Sure, I've never been a very decent person. A good reason is good enough for me to do horrible things, but evilnesss aside, it was very much about time that I asked myself questions about myself.

  About us.

  About all of this.

  As I battled the lone invader, I felt a range of emotions that I've long since last felt: excitement, amusement, and perhaps a hint of frenzy. But as the battle came to an end, I finally realized that what I had just done was kill someone.

  Yeah, kill someone. Of course, I won't pretend that I'm innocent enough to say that "killing is bad," but I'm the kind of person to say "but" after that kind of deed, only to feel completely okay with it thereafter. And that's exactly what I felt at that moment.

  I've fended off plenty of invaders as a dungeon core. Well, technically, the deed was that of my spawns, but any reasonable mind, including myself, would think that I'm also guilty. But up until now, the defeat, or, if you really want to stress things out, the death of an invader, was represented as a red dot disappearing from the map's interface, only to reappear as an asset in the "resource management" of the interface to be either harvested and turned into G.P. or not.

  I don't know how anyone else would feel about it, but the way it was presented to me very much makes it feel easy to forget that dealing with lives. I'm not trying to shoo the responsibility away from me, but, given the level of intelligence you must have to enter my domain, you can't really blame me, blame your stupidity.

  It was only as I battled, or, to be exact, as I finished the lone invader off, as in the battle I didn't really feel anything else than exhilaration, as I saw a human fall down, that I realized that, given the number of red dots I've seen extinguish, I was, up until now, at least responsible for a little genocide.

  I had a very exact number in mind, so yes, the amount of red dots I've seen extinguished qualified what happened thus far to a genocide.

  Did I feel bad about it?

  When I took a peek at my acquired G.P., I heard my heart—or whatever was acting as one—murmur to me, and this wasn’t just a metaphorical experience; I quite literally heard myself whisper, "You did great."

  At this point, I think I really lost what little made me human.

  I did plenty of bad things in the past, but as I did those bad things, there's always been some sort of logic going on in my head and heart to justify those bad things. Here, well, it's the same, but I think it's easier, if not utterly effortless. Back then, if one could say I lacked humanity here, it was fair to say that I was simply devoid of it.

  "Damn, that’s crazy."

  Now I think the right thing to do is ask myself, "Am I really okay with this?"

  To which a voice in my nonexistent head replied, "Yeah, we should be."

  To which another voice replied, "You think?"

  "Yeah. I mean, we're a dungeon core, and from what we understand of this world, we're an entity that administers a dungeon as a dungeon master. Should we be fine without humanity? In fact, we're even better without it, don't you guys think?"

  "Yeah, I guess you're right."

  "Of course I am."

  "Of course you are, huh? May I ask you another question?"

  "Go ahead."

  The question had been going back and forth in mind, it was time I asked it. "Who the fuck are you?"

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you. Who else could I be talking to?"

  "I don't know."

  "Yeah? So who are you?"

  "Me, I'm the voice in your mind."

  "No, you're not. I'm the voice in my mind."

  "What?"

  "What?"

  In that moment, if I had a body, I would be there accusatoringly pointing at the one pretending to be the voice in my mind, but they I was what I was—a dungeon core, an entity without a proper body to speak of; all I had was the voice in my mind, and right now there were two of us.

  ***

  "So, who are you?"

  "I already gave you the answer to that question. I am the mind, or perhaps, the way you might hear it, the voice behind this dungeon."

  "No, you're not; that's me."

  "Well, I'm not lying."

  “I” needed a moment to recollect myself. Had “I” had a proper body, I'm sure “I” would've properly confronted the source of my confusion, but once again, things were what they were; as a dungeon core, “I” was nothing more than a voice floating somewhere. Well, actually, from his words, it's more like floating voices now, for the voice speaking to me was exactly how mine sounded—floating out there and sounding exactly like the voice I make when voicing my thoughts.

  "Assuming what you're saying is true."

  "And assuming what you're saying is also true."

  "How do you explain what's happening?" “I” asked, having a vague idea of what could be behind this.

  "Well, I have a suspect here, but I'm not sure if it's really that yet,” “I” replied, having a vague idea of what could be behind this.

  At that moment, our attention went to the interface that was seemingly presented to both of us.

  _____________________________

  [ ???'s Interface ]

  Name: ???

  Entity: Dungeon Core

  Designation: Dungeon Master

  Status: Idle

  [ Authorities ]

  - Authority Gathering

  - Ethereal Echo

   - Otherworldly Synergy

  『Expand』

  _____________________________

  There, wedged between Otherworldly Synergy—the ability I’d finally, finally gotten the hang of—and Ethereal Echo, an authority whose specialty still eluded me, was the one “I” had a hunch was responsible for my current predicament.

  The voices in my mind continued their peculiar conversation.

  "Well, isn't this a twist?"

  "Yeah, no kidding."

  “I” found myself contemplating the options before me.

  "What do you guys think?" “I” asked, swiftly realizing the irony of seeking counsel from myself. Cough cough, excuse me, “I” meant a clone of myself.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why are you asking us that?”

  “Mh?”

  “Is it because you think we’re the clone—the split, while you’re the original?”

  “You think that as the splits we have at least the final say about our fate? Is it that?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me, buddy.”

  “No, it’s you who tells me. Wouldn't you be the clone, and as such, you’re trying to pass as the original one to take everything that is mine. Let me warn you, it's not going to work out like that. Buddy.”

  “I like that spirit but unfortunately I have no doubt regarding what and who I am—I am ‘me.’”

  “And so am I.”

  “Then, on that much we agree?”

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “On that much we agree.”

  In that very moment, a metaphorical handshake was shaken.

  “You are you.”

  “And you are you.”

  “Indeed but I doubt it won’t be long before I will be annoyed to have to call you, “you,” so I suggest I call you, Erm, let’s say Has—. Actually, no. Won’t do, that was my name.”

  “Then what about a code name.”

  “Nice idea, you. What do you think of the Code name, Dungeon Master 01?”

  “For you?”

  “No, for you.”

  “I have nothing against except that I have the feeling that you’re about to tell me that you’re—”

  “I’ll be Dungeon Master 00.”

  “Hm.”

  “What?”

  “Why do you get to be Dungeon Master 00, wouldn’t that simply put to question my authenticity.”

  “I don’t know, would such a simple thing as a codename, question your authenticity?”

  At that moment, “I” guess “I” finally felt what Andy felt upon being given the codename Cola Coco. “I” wanted to complain about it but, stubborn as “I” was, “I” knew very well that the opponent on the other side was me. “I” knew very well that there was simply no winning this argument, just escalating it.

  After a moment of silence, “I” stepped forth, declaring, “you know what, fine, I’ll be Dungeon Master 01 while you’ll be Dungeon Master 00, but only because you got to declare it before me.”

  “Then have terms?”

  “We have terms.”

  “Since you guys have terms about taking over “Dungeon Master 00” and “Dungeon Master 01,” can I take Dungeon Master 02?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why not?”

  “Wait—”

  “What the hell?!”

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Putting aside all the clone/split shenanigans I’d unfortunately gotten myself tangled in, I finally had the chance to step back and properly reflect on the situation. I took my time, carefully dissecting everything that had happened.

  At the start of the invasion—the moment I first laid eyes on the anomaly that was Tusko Vagar—I witnessed his first class change. Then his second. And as I watched, I noticed something: his fatigue kept piling up. At the time, I found it strange and just associated it with the power of an authority—one that was somehow allowing him to have multiple classes—one that he was capable of seamlessly shifting between, yet now that I understood what the authority did, I finally understood how it worked.

  I was sure of that because I had proof of it.

  _____________________________

  [ ???'s Interface ]

  _____________________________

  From the interface before me, I could discern two crucial details.

  First, the GP attributed to Tusko Vagar in his Knight class—his primary class, as I had correctly assessed mid-battle—was exactly what one would expect from a normal level 35 Highbreed Knight. Admittedly, it was slightly higher due to the title he bore, but still, nothing out of the ordinary.

  The second detail, however, was harder to ignore. Much like with the first lone invader—Christian—the absurdly high GP reward I had been promised did not come from harvesting him directly, but rather from the authorities he wielded. In Tusko Vagar’s case, those were Authority Gathering and Ethereal Echo, which together netted me a staggering 26,678 GP—a sum I wasted no time in acquiring and adding to my collection.

  Returning to the first detail, I had to admit—I found it strange. I had half-expected that, upon opening the harvesting section, I would be presented with all the classes I had witnessed him display during his invasion. Yet, to my surprise, there was nothing. Not even an option to harvest them for GP.

  Having experienced Ethereal Echo firsthand, I realized my initial assumption—that I could harvest each of his many classes—was flawed. He hadn’t been seamlessly shifting between multiple classes in the way I had imagined. Instead, he had likely housed multiple distinct entities within himself, much like I currently did. Each entity had its own set of classes, skills, abilities, HP, SP, and MP, all coexisting within the same body. This would explain the stacking fatigue percentage, representing the strain of managing so many entities at once.

  As I mulled over the bizarre nature of the lone invader’s former existence, I found myself engaged in an equally peculiar conversation—with myself. Or rather, with the other voices—Dungeon Masters, as we had agreed to call each other.

  "So, how many 'hims' were there in the lone invader?" “I” inquired, amused by the absurdity of the situation.

  "Well, considering the number of times he shifted classes," "I" responded, "it could’ve been quite the crowd in there. Each 'him' with its own set of stats, skills, abilities—maybe even thoughts—all crammed into a single body."

  "I" chuckled internally. "So you're saying he basically had a Tusko Convention going on inside him? Must've been quite the party."

  Another voice chimed in, joining the humor. "Yeah, I wonder if they argued over who got control—or fought over the mirror in the morning."

  As “I” bantered about the sheer absurdity of the lone invader’s internal dynamics, “I” couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of it all. Here we were, dissecting the complexities of another being’s existence, all while dealing with the exact same enigma within ourselves.

  "So, Dungeon Masters," I said, simultaneously speaking alongside three other voices. "Any theories on what we do next?"

  "Hm, I think we should—wait, who just asked that question? That was one too many voices. Identify yourselves."

  "Dungeon Master 00."

  "Dungeon Master 01."

  "Dungeon Master 02."

  "Dungeon Master 03."

  "Dungeon Master 04."

  "Wait, since we do, we have a "Dungeon Master 04."

  "We didn't even have a Dungeon Master 03 earlier."

  "When did you guys spawn out?!"

  "Welp, guys, I'm telling you this thing; it's spiraling out of control, I'm telling you."

  In the midst of our collective musings, confusion emerged as the voices within my—or our—mind multiplied, each claiming a thought, a thought that, while each different, was also a thought that I shared. It was strangely similar to multitasking, but the tasks weren't done by yourself. It was both fascinating and frustrating at the same time.

  Annoyed by all the voices speaking simultaneously, I found myself barking, "Shut the fuck up, you all!?"

  "Yeah, shut the f—"

  "I said, shut the fuck up."

  "Okay, okay, I was about to."

  "I said, shut the fuck up!"

  "I heard that, dammit, I'm not dea—"

  "Just shut the fuck up already, dude."

  "Tch!"

  With the abrupt yet peaceful silence that followed, I took a moment to reflect on the bizarre situation I found myself in. Conversing with multiple iterations of my own consciousness was an experience both intriguing and disorienting. The thought occurred to me that perhaps I was going through something as maddening as what the lone invader might have gone through, if not more so.

  "Gentlemen, Dungeon Master 00 reporting here. I initially assumed that giving each a ‘unique’ denomination to go by will fix our current predicament, but all it did was snoot. It's about time we face reality as it is; there are too many of us."

  The chorus of voices flowed forth, each one chiming in agreement.

  "Since we agree, I'll continue by adding that it can't keep going like this. We can't let this escalate beyond this point, that this must be put to an end; do we agree?"

  "Yeah."

  "Absolutely."

  "Of course."

  "Since we again agree, then we know what is to be done; we already know who is the culprit. In case one of us somehow didn't follow, it's the authority: Ethereal Echo. We already know that all that's left for us to do is figure out how to put a stop to what it's doing to us. It'll take brain power, but I'm pretty sure that's not something we're short of."

  As I declared, that voice began chiming in, agreeing with what'd been said. In fact, it was taken with great optimism, with most of them ready to delve into the problem right away. But slowly, the chiming turned into noise, and the noise began to sound annoying. As it did get annoying, I began to realize that having us all work on the same problem wasn't a good idea.

  "Gentlemen, please, I need your attention again. I have something to add."

  It took me a few moments to finally get the silence I wanted, but I got it. "It has come to my attention that this isn't going to work. We're us. We're not born for teamwork, or at least not one that includes so many people; even these people in question are 'us.' So I propose that instead of having all of us go after our single current problem, we split up the task."

  There was a collective murmur of agreement, so I continued, "To split the task, I'll have to know how many of us there are exactly. So, let's start by introducing ourselves. I am Dungeon Master 00."

  "I'm Dungeon Master 01."

  "Dungeon Master 02."

  "Dungeon Master 03."

  "Dungeon Master 04."

  "So there are five of us?" I mused out.

  Then another voice spoke, "Actually, 6 if you count me."

  "Wait, who are—oh god! Another one. Fine, we're six, and you're Dungeon 05."

  "’Kay."

  "Is there another one who still hasn't introduced himself?" There was no answer, so "So six it is. I would've preferred it to be an uneven number like five or even seven, but fine; there are six of us."

  As I began to consider how we could split the tasks among ourselves, one of the Dungeon Masters voiced my exact thoughts. "Dungeon Master 02, checking in. Since we come to this can we at least establish a hierarchy or some sort of leadership to avoid further confusion?"

  "Dungeon Master 03—I mean, 04, reporting. Agreed. We need a clear chain of command. But who takes the lead?"

  The moment these words were uttered, we were all back at it. At that moment, I began asking myself, am I really these people? And also at that moment, I got the answer to that question: yes. By the time I sobered up from this war to be the leader of this assembly of "me," several dozen insults had been thrown out randomly at the other Dungeon Masters.

  "Gentlemen, please, let's calm down. This isn't going anywhere. None of this is."

  Having come to pretty much the same realization, 'we,' as a weird collective, all calmed down.

  "Let's get back to what we left off. I've been thinking about how we could split tasks between each other. Dungeon Master 01, you're going to focus on our cloning/splitting problem."

  "Roger that."

  "You'll go with Dungeon Master 02. I know teamwork isn't our forte, but two brain powers here are better than one, considering the gravity of this problem. Together, dive deep into its nature, see if there's a loophole, a way to counter its effects. Once done, report back with your findings."

  "Alright."

  "Dungeon Master 03, I want you to focus on our other acquired Authority: Authority Gathering. That name is promising. Look into it, find out what's there to find, and just like Dungeon Master 01 and 02, report your findings for us all to hear."

  "Alright, will do that."

  "Dungeon Master 04, I want you to focus on what you, as a dungeon master, should focus on—making sure that any bastard that enters our domain regrets it. I'll leave the skimming of the acquirable spawn and spawn leveling up to you."

  "Leave this one to me."

  "Dungeon Master 05, just like with Dungeon Master 4, I want you to figure out a nice way to make this domain hell for any invader. I leave the domain management to you. After Tusko Vagar’s massacre, we definitely need to update our domain game."

  "It'll be done."

  "Alright, that's about it all."

  "Yeah, but what about you?"

  "What, what about me?"

  "What are you gonna do?"

  In that moment, it finally dawned on me that as I thought of how to put them to work, I'd forgotten about myself. "Well, I guess—" Then just as that one thought passed my mind, one of them voiced that very thought out in an accusatory way.

  "Wait, guys. Isn't this what's actually happening to us? All these missions given to each one of us, a form of 'hierarchy?'"

  "Don't get this started, you little shit." It was there, as the pot was once again stirred up, that a voice chimed in.

  "Guys, I think you've forgotten about me. What should I do?"

  "Who the fu—Oh dear Goddess, another one! Someone put an end to this madness."