Playing As The Hero King At The End

He was currently playing the role of Xiang Yu, the Conqueror. But why was he being rewarded with Yggdrasil, the World Tree? Xiang Yu doesn't seem to have any connection to Yggdrasil. If it were a reward for playing the role of the First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang, it would make more sense. In the Fate series, the First Emperor had contact with Yggdrasil. Through its analysis, he discovered the method of ascension, ultimately creating artificial immortals.

However, in reality, although Xiang Yu is one of the roles he's playing, the rewards for this role don't include Yggdrasil. The two rewards he received are the "Huiji Zero-Type Blueprint" and the skill "Future Vision." Yggdrasil was actually a reward from the previous role he played before taking on Xiang Yu—the role of the First Emperor.

This raises the question of whether the First Emperor and Xiang Yu were contemporaries. Historically, the First Emperor lived from 259 BC to 210 BC, while Xiang Yu lived from 232 BC to 202 BC. Their lifespans overlapped by more than twenty years. So, how is it possible that they didn't coexist in this world? Did Xiang Yu not exist until after the First Emperor's death?

No, they were indeed contemporaries. This discrepancy is because he is currently controlling two characters simultaneously. Before his role as the First Emperor ended, the system assigned him a second character, Xiang Yu. This means he has to control two bodies simultaneously, splitting his focus. It's quite a challenge.

Shortly after ascending the throne, he acted as the First Emperor and quickly consolidated his power. He could have launched his campaigns against the six states—Han, Zhao, Wei, Chu, Yan, and Qi—much earlier than 230 BC. He believed it unnecessary to spend nearly a decade on these conquests and could have completed them much sooner.

The reason he didn't was to avoid disrupting the role-playing progress bar. He thought that if he acted too quickly, the progress bar might regress. The main reason he followed history to some extent was to buy time. He needed time because he had unexpectedly discovered the entrance to the Immortal Realm and obtained Yggdrasil as a reward.

Using the Immortal Realm as a catalyst, he cultivated a seed of the World Tree, which gave birth to a new space—a universe untouched by the Akashic Records of the main universe. This newborn universe was tiny, consisting of only one sun and one Earth. However, this new Earth was similar to the central universe's Earth, complete with animals but devoid of humans. He had adjusted to this new Earth using his own Akashic Records.

The relationship between the two universes was akin to that of microorganisms living in the human body. While humans know they have microorganisms on them, they can't pinpoint every single one unless the organisms cause a significant disturbance. Similarly, he used this parallel Earth to buy time, secretly relocating a portion of humanity under the guise of war, much like the ancient immortals who once migrated.

But with the gods of the Immortal Realm gone, was it still necessary to be so secretive? Absolutely. While the gods of the Immortal Realm had left, the gods of other mythologies were still around. He needed to ensure they didn't notice the anomalies in this world. During the Shang Dynasty, when the gods of the Immortal Realm intervened, they also alarmed the gods of other pantheons. However, any external gods who crossed into their territory were mercilessly slaughtered by the Immortal Realm's gods, who warned that any trespassing deity would be turned to cosmic dust. This warning has kept other pantheons at bay ever since.

But would the gods of other mythologies still adhere to this ancient agreement? Could some of them be tempted to cross the boundary? This was what Bai Yue, the protagonist, was worried about.

He relocated approximately three million people after conquering the six states and unifying China. Once the Qin Dynasty was officially established, and he took on the title of Emperor, the progress bar for his role reached the threshold for the second reward. This reward was similar to Solomon's development of magecraft—it allowed him to understand how to use immortal techniques to advance electronic technology. He accelerated the Qin Dynasty's industrial revolution using these techniques, pushing it toward a machine age.

Of course, he didn't want the Qin Dynasty in the main universe to fully enter the industrial age, as that would surely alert the gods of other mythologies. Instead, he planned to develop this technology in his parallel world. However, the parallel world's productivity was far behind that of the main universe, so he would first create the technology in the main universe before gradually transferring it to the parallel world.

The eventual fall of the Qin Dynasty was part of his plan, orchestrated through his second role—Xiang Yu. On the surface, Xiang Yu appeared to be overthrowing the Qin Dynasty. Still, in reality, he was erasing traces of technology that shouldn't exist in this era.

Throughout the rise and fall of the Qin Dynasty, Bai Yue's main concern was the possibility of gods from other mythologies crossing into his territory. He could handle one or two gods, but if too many came, it would be problematic. If too many gods disappeared, it might alert the other pantheons, who could then use the Akashic Records to investigate. This was another headache for Bai Yue—the Akashic Records of this world.

Couldn't he ask the 72 Demon Pillars for help? To avoid unnecessary complications, he decided against it. Moreover, he didn't want the 72 Demon Pillars or even Beelzebub to learn his secrets. If his plans were exposed, the entire human history might be closely monitored to root him out.

These two problems were finally resolved when Brynhildr came to him. He had been confident that she would come.

What problem would Brynhildr's arrival solve? He planned to use her to infiltrate the main world's Akashic system and disguise the Qin Dynasty. But how could he access the Akashic system? Using the Akashic system of his parallel world to infiltrate the main one. This was why he needed Brynhildr.

Brynhildr would act as a network cable, connecting his parallel world's physically isolated Akashic system to the main world's system. But why had he let Brynhildr leave now? Had he secretly infiltrated the central Akashic system through her without her knowledge? No, he hadn't. To manipulate the Akashic system of his parallel world, he needed the authority of the First Emperor. Currently, Xiang Yu doesn't have that authority.

Had he lost the identity of the First Emperor? Yes, the role-playing time for the First Emperor had ended, as historically, the First Emperor had a precise end date. Once that time passed, the role-playing for that character concluded, and he could no longer act as the First Emperor.

As Xiang Yu, his current authority was limited to marking Brynhildr, giving her recognition in this world. This mark would prevent the World Tree from identifying her as a threat and attacking her when she entered the main world's capital, Xianyang. Without this mark, Brynhildr would be instantly detected by the World Tree and turned into fertilizer.

But why had Brynhildr, who was supposed to use the Akashic system in 221 BC, suddenly been transported to the time of Xiang Yu's defeat at the Wujiang River in 202 BC? It seemed someone had tampered with the Akashic system, setting a trigger that redirected Brynhildr to 202 BC when she tried to go to 221 BC.

Who had set this trigger? Had he asked one of the Four Great Demon Kings to do it? No. The person who had tampered with the Akashic system and planted the trigger was none other than himself. But how? Had his future self secretly infiltrated the system? Not exactly. The infiltration occurred in 221 BC when Brynhildr first attempted to use the Akashic system. At that time, he had used her as a network cable to plant the hidden program.

For the current him, this was already a done deal. He had successfully disguised the Qin Dynasty from 259 BC to 210 BC in the Akashic Records. Now, anyone accessing the Akashic Records to investigate Xianyang would find nothing amiss, and the World Tree wouldn't attack them.

So, why not just let Brynhildr proceed to 221 BC? Why keep her in this timeline? Because of the time paradox. If he had let Brynhildr proceed normally, she might have ended up as fertilizer for the World Tree, and the events of him infiltrating the Akashic system and disguising the Qin Dynasty would never have happened.

Now, in Bai Yue's vision, a countdown appeared:

『Entering the following role in 5...』

His current role was about to end. He wondered if his consciousness could connect to the artificial bodies he had created after switching roles. He had two bodies: the current Xiang Yu and the other, the more advanced mechanical body of the First Emperor, which wasn't yet ready.

He decided to ask the system if this was possible. Surprisingly, the system responded, though not directly. It gave a series of technical terms from which he deduced that it was possible.

If this was the case, he could control two bodies simultaneously in his next role: the body of the new character he would play and the artificial body of Xiang Yu. He could continue upgrading the First Emperor's mechanical body through Xiang Yu's body while also purging some internal threats.

Why would he need to purge people? Switching roles would mean a time skip, and during that period, he wouldn't be able to monitor his parallel Qin Empire. Over time, some people might grow ambitious and try to uncover his secrets, challenge his authority, and eventually attempt to usurp the empire. When he returned, he would need to use the Huiji Zero-Type to eliminate these threats and stabilize the empire, pushing it further toward the Industrial Revolution.

As for the other nation he had established, he wasn't worried. He had contracted with the Demon King Beelzebub, who would oversee the country as long as the agreement wasn't violated. The contract would last until the modern era, and Beelzebub couldn't break it then.

But how long would the next role span?

Meanwhile, Brynhildr finally arrived in the Qin Dynasty era.

Brynhildr didn't know what the Conqueror had done to her. Still, her vision suddenly distorted, and the surroundings became a chaotic blur. It felt like countless film reels were being fast-forwarded and rewound simultaneously, making it impossible to follow any coherent sequence. The speed was so fast that she couldn't remember any faces as they flashed by instantly.

The sensation felt like it lasted an eternity, yet it was over in the blink of an eye. When she opened her eyes again, the chaotic scenery vanished, and she stood on a wide road. In the distance, she saw a massive city wall and gate guarded by ancient soldiers.

Through the open gate, she saw a grand palace complex radiating an aura of imperial authority. She recognized it immediately—this was the Xianyang Palace, the seat of the First Emperor.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on her location. Something more pressing was on her mind. To avoid being detained by Xiang Yu, her gentle and beautiful sister, Randgríðr, volunteered to stay behind. This thought filled Brynhildr with anxiety.

"Randgríðr?" she called out.

"Yes, sister!" came the immediate reply.

Brynhildr was startled. Randgríðr was standing beside her, looking just as confused.

"I wasn't left behind?" Randgríðr murmured, puzzled.

Brynhildr quickly embraced her sister, confirming her presence. "You're really here?"

"I thought I was supposed to stay…" Randgríðr trailed off.

Brynhildr's expression darkened as she felt a mark within her body. She remembered seeing a similar mark on Randgríðr when they were sent away.

"Randgríðr, do you feel a mark inside you?" Brynhildr asked.

"Yes, I do," Randgríðr replied, her voice tinged with unease.

"What is it for?" Randgríðr wondered aloud.

『Do not remove the mark. It is your identification for this era. Without it, you will be marked as enemies, and the consequences…』

The voice of Xiang Yu echoed in their minds. Was he still watching them? No, it was a message left within the mark.

Before the message could finish, the sisters were startled by a sudden change. Two golden lights descended from the sky into Xianyang. Gods? Eastern gods? No, they seemed to be gods from a distant island nation.

In the next moment, the two gods were attacked. Branches, like vines, emerged from the void, wrapping around them before they could react. Their divine energy and life force were rapidly drained, and they were pulled into the void, disappearing without a trace.

『The consequences would be like this,』 the message concluded.

Brynhildr and Randgríðr exchanged horrified glances. Without the mark, they would have suffered the same fate. They had glimpsed a massive tree in the void—Yggdrasil, the World Tree.

"Sister, was that…?" Randgríðr began.

"The World Tree," Brynhildr confirmed.

The sisters were shaken. This mysterious tree was guarding Xianyang, and it was no ordinary tree. It was a divine entity, likely placed there by the gods of the Immortal Realm. Brynhildr knew that during this era, the gods of the Immortal Realm were in a state of isolation, and any foreign gods who crossed into their territory would be mercilessly dealt with.

But why had Xiang Yu let Randgríðr go? Had he simply been toying with them? The thought infuriated Brynhildr.

"That bastard!" she cursed.

Randgríðr, understanding her sister's frustration, couldn't help but smile. She, too, believed that Xiang Yu had merely been teasing them.

As the sisters composed themselves, they noticed Xianyang's solemn yet excited atmosphere. The streets, usually bustling with vendors and activity, were eerily quiet. Instead, the roads were lined with people, all gazing anxiously at the palace.

"Sister, look at the ground," Randgríðr said suddenly.

Brynhildr glanced down and noticed the perfectly paved stone road. The precision was astounding, especially for a road built over two thousand years ago. The stones were cut and arranged with modern-like precision.

As they observed the palace walls, they noticed the same level of craftsmanship. Suddenly, the crowd fell silent as black-armoured soldiers emerged from the palace gates. At the center of the procession was a lavish carriage carrying a figure clad in a black robe adorned with golden embroidery.

The figure exuded an overwhelming presence, making it impossible to look directly at him. This was undoubtedly the First Emperor of Qin, Ying Zheng.

As if sensing their gaze, the Emperor's eyes turned toward them, filled with a palpable killing intent. The sisters froze, feeling like prey caught in the gaze of a predator.

Brynhildr and Randgríðr tensed up. Was the Emperor's gaze a coincidence, or had he honestly noticed them? They couldn't see his eyes clearly through the beaded curtain, but they felt his attention.

Brynhildr and Randgríðr tensed up. Was the Emperor's gaze a coincidence, or had he honestly noticed them? They couldn't see his eyes clearly through the beaded curtain, but they felt his attention.

No, it wasn't just a passing glance. The First Emperor had seen them—indeed, seen them. If even Xiang Yu, the Conqueror of Western Chu, had sensed their presence, then the man who had subjugated Xiang Yu must be far more formidable. The Emperor's aura was not merely one of brute force, like Xiang Yu's, but of a calculated, omnipotent dominance that made Brynhildr feel like she were a rabbit caught in the gaze of a lion. It was a sensation akin to standing before Odin himself, and it forced her to lower her head, nearly driving her to her knees.

Beside her, Randgríðr was equally shaken. Her pale face glistened with cold sweat, and her breath caught in her throat. Brynhildr, forcing herself to move, grabbed Randgríðr's arm and pulled her to the side of the road. They had been standing in the middle of the path, invisible to the black-armoured soldiers who marched past. Still, the First Emperor's piercing gaze had seen through their concealment. To remain in his way would be an unforgivable affront.

As they stepped aside, the imperial procession rolled past. The First Emperor's carriage, drawn by six majestic horses, was adorned with gold, silver, and jade. Its sides were carved with dragons and phoenixes—a symbol of his unparalleled authority. The man who had unified the warring states of the East sat within, his presence radiating an almost divine majesty.

Yet, as the carriage passed, the First Emperor's gaze did not linger on them. It was as if he had dismissed them entirely. This left Brynhildr with a troubling question: had he honestly noticed them or deemed them insignificant? For two Valkyries, beings who transcended time and space, to be so easily disregarded was humiliating and unsettling.

Perhaps the First Emperor believed they posed no threat. After all, his actual adversaries were not mortals but gods. Brynhildr's eyes narrowed as she observed the black-armoured soldiers escorting the Emperor. Their movements were unnaturally heavy, as if their armour bore more than just the weight of steel. It was as if they were not entirely human.

Her thoughts turned to Xiang Yu, and a chilling realization dawned on her. Could these soldiers be something more—or less—than human? How had such beings been created in this era? The interference of the Eastern gods in the mortal realm seemed far more extensive than she had imagined.

As the procession moved toward the city gates, Brynhildr and Randgríðr followed, blending into the crowd of onlookers. The streets of Xianyang were packed with citizens, merchants, and nobles from across the empire. Yet, amidst the throng, Brynhildr noticed something amiss. Specific individuals stood out, their tension palpable. These were not ordinary spectators but agents of the fallen six states, their sleeves concealing hidden blades.

"Sister," Randgríðr whispered, her voice barely audible over the crowd's din.

"I see them," Brynhildr replied, her eyes narrowing. These were likely remnants of the six states' nobility sent to disrupt the ceremony. Their intentions were clear: to sow chaos and strike at the heart of the Qin Empire.

As the crowd surged forward, one of the conspirators was jostled, revealing the glint of a blade hidden within his sleeve. He quickly covered it, glancing around nervously. Brynhildr's lips curled into a faint smirk. These fools thought they could challenge the First Emperor? They were nothing more than insects before a dragon.

But their goal was not merely to assassinate the Emperor. No, their true aim was to incite panic, to turn the grand parade into a bloodbath. By slaughtering innocent bystanders, they hoped to destabilize the empire and tarnish the Emperor's reputation. It was a desperate, cowardly plan born of hatred and despair.

Brynhildr's gaze shifted back to the First Emperor. He sat calmly in his carriage, seemingly oblivious to the danger lurking in the crowd. Or perhaps he was simply unconcerned. After all, what could a handful of assassins do against a man who had conquered nations and bent gods to his will?

The sight of the densely packed, orderly ranks of soldiers sent a chill down Brynhildr's spine. These were the tyrant Ying Zheng, the First Emperor, killing machines. Since the start of his campaign to unify the six states, these soldiers had taken countless lives, their hands stained with the blood of the innocent.

As Brynhildr observed the crowd, she noticed the hidden agents of the six states, their faces pale with fear. If they were to cause a disturbance, could they truly escape unscathed? There was a growing sense that, should they act, the Emperor's ruthless army would not hesitate to slaughter everyone in their path—innocent or not.

The conspirators justified their actions in their minds. The people of Qin were complicit in the destruction of the six states. They had provided the resources and manpower for the Emperor's wars. In their eyes, the Qin people were no better than the Emperor himself—they were all guilty.

But as Brynhildr watched, she noticed something strange. The crowd's reaction to the Emperor's presence was unnaturally synchronized. When he raised his hand, the entire crowd instantly fell silent as if controlled by some unseen force. It was as if they were puppets, their strings pulled by the Emperor.

"Sister, do you feel it too?" Randgríðr whispered, her voice trembling.

Brynhildr nodded. "It's as if they're being controlled."

The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Could the Emperor have somehow manipulated the souls of his people, turning them into mindless puppets? It was a horrifying possibility that spoke of a power far beyond mortal comprehension.

As the Emperor stepped onto the platform to review his troops, the tension in the air grew palpable. The assassins hidden in the crowd prepared to strike, their blades glinting in the sunlight. But as they moved to attack, they found their targets unyielding. The people they struck did not bleed, did not fall. They continued to sing, their voices rising in unison.

The assassins froze, their hearts filled with dread. These were not living people—they were the living dead, puppets of the Emperor's will. The realization struck them like a thunderbolt: they were not the hunters but the prey.

What were the living dead? As the name suggested, they were beings that appeared alive but were, in truth, nothing more than walking corpses. They felt no pain and no fear and would continue to fight even after sustaining fatal injuries.

Rumours had long circulated that the First Emperor commanded an army of such creatures. It was said that entire cities had been slaughtered, and their inhabitants transformed into mindless soldiers. Brynhildr had dismissed these tales as exaggerations, but now, faced with the evidence before her, she could no longer deny their truth.

The assassins in the crowd were paralyzed with fear. The people they had struck did not bleed, did not fall. They continued to sing, their voices echoing through the square. It was as if they were no longer human but shells controlled by the Emperor's will.

Brynhildr's mind raced. How had the Emperor achieved such a feat? Was it through some dark sorcery, or had he tapped into powers beyond mortal understanding? The implications were staggering. If the Emperor could control the living dead, his power would be limitless.

As the drums of war began to beat, the Emperor's army marched in perfect formation; their movements synchronized to the rhythm of the drums. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. These were not mere soldiers but instruments of the Emperor's will, extensions of his boundless ambition.

The assassins, realizing the futility of their mission, began to retreat. But it was too late. The living dead turned their gaze upon them, their eyes empty yet filled with an unspoken menace. The assassins were trapped, surrounded by an army that knew no fear, no mercy.

Brynhildr and Randgríðr watched silently, their hearts heavy with what they had witnessed. The First Emperor was no mere tyrant—he was a force of nature, a being who had transcended the boundaries of life and death. And as war drums echoed through the square, they knew the world would never be the same.