Chapter 12

The Immutable Past, the Vanishing Future -no news was good news- 1. Soul Chaser—A Let’s turn back the clock a little. Five days ago. Island No. 15, before the crash. A cry that surpassed all reason, that could rip apart an iron sphere with force alone. In the face of its 178th death, Timere’s husk collapsed firmly to the ground. Of course, a crack appeared on its back barely a moment later as its 179th life began to hatch. It changed form every time it was reborn, and it looked like it chose the form of a plant this time. Visible within the husk of body number 178 was a writhing green mass from which countless vines were emerging as it twisted. “Cssserulean warrior, pull back! The artillery troopss ssshall begin ssaturation fire to cover your retreat!” Limeskin’s orders flew across the battlefield. But the cerulean warrior, Chtholly Nota Seniorious, was not happy with that. The Carillon Seniorious that she held in her hand was completely in tune with the Beast before her. This Carillon, whose power increased in response to the enemy it resonated with, could essentially display its greatest power of destruction right at this very moment. In that case, she needed to shoulder this battle for as long as possible. “Let me kill it just one more time!” “No!” A sharp reproach. For a split second, she hesitated, wondering if she should disobey him and stay. Overwhelming power was at her fingertips. She was contributing much more than she ever had on the battlefield before. After correctly drawing out the dug weapon’s—no, the Carillon’s—power, she displayed the true abilities of the Braves, something that had been lost with the emnetwiht. They couldn’t win without her or Seniorious. Surely, they wouldn’t mind if she just pushed a little more— Red Water. —Huh? Gray Wind. The Laughing Titan. A Scarred Brow. —What is…this? She reeled. There was no sign or logical connection. All of a sudden, strange images appeared in her mind’s eye. She thought she was distracted. It had been more than 120 hours since the battle began, after all. It would not be odd for her concentration to slip while she was unaware. And it was a matter of course that her sense of reality would lapse after spending such a long time in a place that felt so surreal. She thought that maybe she was doing something as clever as dreaming with her eyes open. She had to concentrate. She could not lose this battle. And she could not die here. To go home. To return to him. That was why— Fish that swim in the night. A tower of sand that pierces the heavens. A sun that crumbles into sea green. The sweet throes of death. An armful of cubes. A red grimoire, locked. A fox’s neck overflowing with tall trees. A silver nail. Bakers who work together to paint the entire rainbow yellow and delete every ambiguous color. A headless clown at the bottom of a shipwreck caught in a midnight storm, who laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs and laughs— “—Wha—?” Even when she did concentrate. Even when she wanted to. She couldn’t keep it at bay. They kept growing. Something. Chaotic images. Disjointed delusions. Self-asserting daydreams. Shadows of the past she shouldn’t have been able to recall. Stains on her soul she should have wiped away. The murmurings of someone who stood back to back against her. A reality outside of dreams. Overwhelming turmoil that pushed relentlessly toward her. “Okay, that’s enough.” A familiar voice pierced through her jumbled thoughts. “Ith…Ithea?” “I made the suggestion we switch. Here’s where you obey and pull back.” “But just a little—” “If your encroachment advances even a little more, it’ll probably be too late.” Encroachment. A word she’d heard before. Where was it? Oh, right, they told her about it when she became a faerie soldier. What were they, exactly—what were faeries? How fleeting were their lives? What other ways could they die, besides injury? Faeries were the souls of those who died young and were unable to leave this world. Their existence could not properly be called alive. It was merely a natural phenomenon, born as a result of the confusion of ignorant souls. That was why, one day, she would fully remember what she was. “Is that…what this is…?” “I thought it wasn’t going to happen for a while, considering your age. But statistics aren’t really reliable, are they? It could be that Seniorious’s venenum has forced it along, suddenly exacerbating the condition.” “My age…? A-ah!” Ithea gripped the back of Chtholly’s collar and forced her to withdraw from the battlefield. The bombardment began behind her. The stalwart lizardfolk soldiers, covered head to toe in armor, stood in a row, lighting their cannons. There was a skull-shattering roar, followed by the shaking of the ground beneath them. The cannonballs, shot without any venenum, mowed down the trees and shaved off the ground, shattering Timere’s rebirthing body into a thousand pieces. It of course would not result in a fatal wound—they had to use dug-weapon or Carillon-class enchantments to take its life—but it was useful enough to temporarily halt its regeneration. Chtholly dangled in Ithea’s grip, her golden wings spread above them, flying them to the recess tent 1,200 marmer away from the battlefield. “Hup.” She practically tossed her onto the floor. “…Owww.” “Hold on to that while you can. You see a mirror there?” Still lying on her stomach, Chtholly lifted her head. On the floor, right beside the mountain of crates filled with rations, was a small hand mirror. “What about it?” “You’ll see.” After listening to what Ithea said to her, Chtholly reached out to it. She grasped the handle, pulled it closer, and peered into it. Someone with crimson eyes stared back. “…What is this?” Chtholly Nota Seniorious’s eyes were a deep azure. She wasn’t too fond of the color, but Willem once complimented them, saying they were like the color of the ocean, and her opinion of them had changed a little recently. The problem was that she didn’t know what the ocean was and whether or not she should take those words as a compliment. But that was a different issue. No matter how much she stared at them, no matter how many times she blinked, the eyes of the girl in the mirror were a flaming red. “Those are the initial symptoms. They should subside after two hours of rest, but you absolutely can’t use any venenum until then. And think about yourself as much as you can. You can’t let someone else’s memories take you over. Cling to your own memories.” —Loneliness in a white darkness. Echoing prayers in a small place. A room full of books. Unidentifiable images swirled and raged in her mind as they had been. She tried covering her eyes with her hands and shaking her head, but they didn’t disappear so easily. “These…are…memories? Memories of the person who died when they were little, before I became myself?” “Someone else. Someone who has nothing to do with you, Chtholly. A complete stranger, with no point of contact with you. The second you forget or misunderstand that, it’ll swallow you whole.” “You said something about my age earlier, so is this…?” “Yup. There aren’t many faeries who live very long in the first place, and apparently encroachment from a previous life is such a rare case anyway that most of the time, it can just be ignored. The trends we know from these very few cases apparently show that faeries, fully matured in body and mind, will slowly start to remember as they near twenty years. “Right now, you’re an irregular in an already rare case. Like I said before, it looks like your condition has progressed so far because you kept in contact with a force of venenum beyond your stature for a long time. At the rate you were going, you would’ve died before the day was over, never mind the end of the battle.” “I don’t want that…” Chtholly rolled over onto her back. “It’ll go away after two hours of rest?” “Only your current symptoms. You won’t be able to push yourself in a fight after this, either, you know.” “…Sheesh.” She covered her eyes with her arm, laughing emptily. It had been her fate to die in this battle. She was supposed to deliberately push her venenum into overdrive and, by inducing a massive explosion, burn the enemy to a crisp. But because she didn’t—couldn’t—accept that ending, she learned from him how to use a Carillon. She learned how to fight as a Brave. And yet— How could it be that now, of all times, a death she had never imagined was looming over her? “It’s okay. On the other hand, as long as you don’t push yourself, it shouldn’t advance too much. Even if it did worsen a little now, you still have a child’s body. If you keep to a moderate lifestyle, then you shouldn’t have any more incidents of encroachment. It’s not gonna cause you any problems in your daily life. I know a precedent for this pretty well, so I’m fairly confident.” She tapped her slim chest. “…Butter cake, I guess.” “Hmm?” “I’m thinking about why I can’t die, along with an important promise of mine. It’s important to cling to my own memories, right?” “True, but what a selfish memory, eh?” “Needs deeply rooted in instinct are strong—or probably something like that.” “Sure.” Ithea laughed. Chtholly felt like it was the first time she saw her smile in a long time. When she thought calmly about it, that didn’t sound right. Ithea was always cheerful in a not very refined way, always smiling and grinning and beaming and smirking, to the point that it was hard to remember any other expression but that. “Well, I’m off.” “…To where?” “The front line. Ren’s next, and she should be hard at work right about now, so I’m her support. We’ll buy a lot of time for you, so stay calm and keep still.” “Okay… Thanks.” “As you say.” Ithea’s eyes narrowed into slits, and she nodded with a smile. She had a question. Why was Ithea this knowledgeable about past-life encroachment? How did Ithea see through Chtholly’s changes so accurately? But she couldn’t ask. There was no reason to. “Here we go!” Ithea activated her venenum, spread her wings, and flew into the sky. She saw a shimmer of crimson in those golden eyes. Quarreling adults. A big, big puddle. Chicken feet. “What weird memories.” A murmur. A warped lake. An endless orange-colored road. Shimmering silver fabric. “Souls that died when they were babies become faeries, huh? It really seems like they recognize a lot for babies. Where in the world was this child born?” Or maybe… Maybe she just didn’t know, since she was “born” as a faerie who was already somewhat aged, and that was how the world looked in the eyes of young children. Take a small lizard dashing through the forest. To them, it might be a dragon spewing flames, or it might be a guide beckoning them to another world, or it might be the handle of someone’s bag that had come off and was rolling around in the wind in their eyes. That was why the world that spread before a child’s eyes—to the eyes of someone not a child themselves—was filled with mysteries and absurdities. Maybe that was what she was seeing now. “…Tsch.” She lay on her back, gazing at the inside of the tent. So her tears rolled down her temples and toward her ears. They say faeries come into existence when young souls who cannot fully understand death go astray. And as far as she knew, there were no faeries who lived long enough to be called adults. She’d always thought it was because of the fighting. Starting from the oldest faeries, they’d each get hurt in the intense fights with the Beasts, or they went into overdrive and scattered to the wind. Or could it be that she was wrong? Could it be that, in the first place, faeries were beings who could never become adults? The shadows of the souls that never comprehend death grow up and, in the end, understand death. Then everything comes undone, and they return to nature. This was probably what fate would feel like if it existed. No matter how hard she wished, how hard she prayed, she could not overturn what had been decided at the beginning. “I was planning on pushing him, though, ‘If I live long enough to be an adult, then you have no reason to complain, so marry me.’” She’d heard it from Willem. Once, in the emnetwiht world, one of the qualities necessary in a Brave was tragedy. Those who shouldered pasts and destinies that anyone would grieve over were much more suited to be Braves, individuals who wielded tremendous power, than those who didn’t. That’s apparently how it was. And Seniorious, the oldest and mightiest of Carillon, especially favored those with such tendencies. Only those burdened with fates of death and destruction could wield the virtuous white blade. “—I get it… That’s why you’re letting me, of all people, use you.” She glared at Seniorious, which lay on the floor. Faeries were intrinsically flippant about their lives, perhaps because they were made from souls of the dead. They didn’t really fear death. In that sense, Chtholly was now in a situation that was not very faerielike. She had a reason she couldn’t die. She had a place she had to go home to alive. “Butter cake.” She balled her hand into a fist and murmured those words. —All right, all right. Okay. I’ll make you eat so much cake, you’ll get heartburn. —You understand, yeah? So you have to come back. What came to mind was the promise she made with him that brilliant, starry night. Her determination solidified. She didn’t care anymore if she would never be allowed to live long. She didn’t care if she never matured into an adult by his side. She hated to admit it, but she would give up on that. It was her fault for being born as a faerie, of all things. That just meant she was unlucky enough to be liked by some tragedy-loving Carillon. But. Because of that, at the very least. She wanted to live just a little longer in this ephemeral dream. Even if the world would end one day, it would still continue to exist until the moment it ended. That was where she lived. So— “Okay, let’s go!” She mustered up a show of bravado and raised her fist into the air. And the fight continued. The sun set, rose, set again, rose again. Over and over. There was despair. Despair took the form of a giant faceless being, made of black ivy that twisted around itself. That was the Hidden Beast Number Six born from Timere’s 216th death, its husk in the face of its 217th death, the pupa birthing from its 218th life— —and the cradle for something else birthing from it. “Another Timere…?” The lizardfolk soldier murmured, forgetting about his bombardment. “No,” Nephren, exhausted to the point of collapse, denied under her ragged breath. “The tactical sensors didn’t say multiple Timere would attack. The sensors are absolute when it comes to Timere’s attacks. This is something else.” “But the artillery isss not working! Isss that not Timere?!” “By process of elimination, it is a Beast besides Timere that no one knows…?” “Why’d this thing have to pop up now?!” Ithea cried, half in tears and half in laughter. Everyone was exhausted due to the long battle. They kept on killing Timere, telling themselves that this would be the last time, that this would be the finishing blow. In the end, this was the situation they arrived at. The cannonballs and the gunpowder for the cannons the lizardfolk were using had almost emptied out, as had their physical energy. And a never-ending battle otherwise was draining their morale. The fact that the number of enemies had actually increased, not even to mention whether or not they could kill them, was enough for everyone there to pray for their spirits. They couldn’t win. Everyone was thinking it, yet no one could put it into words. “—We sshall retreat.” It was Limeskin who announced that, his voice hard. “In twenty minutess, we sshall lift the ressstraintss covering thiss island. At the ssame time, sssend a warning to all neighboring islandss. We have failed in our removal of the alien enemy on Island No. 15, and the island sshall hencsseforth become a threat to all life asss we cssede territory to the Beasstss.” “Wait, wait, wait, wait!! That’s really, really bad! Regule Aire is still floating because none of the Beasts can fly at will! We can just start the countdown to annihilation if we let them build a nest so close!!” “That iss exactly right. That iss why we musst sssink thiss island asss quickly asss possssible. However, thiss island isss big. If we hope to drop the island, then our ussual firepower is not enough. We musst focusss off all Regule Aire’s collective firepower. It will be a racsse against the Beassstsss’ ssspeed.” “…Let me just ask to make sure, but what will happen if we lose the race?” “Do you really want to know?” “Uhh, nah, I’m good. Thanks.” She covered her ears and shook her head. “—It’s my fault,” Chtholly muttered, her face recognizably pale from even a mile away. “Had I gone into meltdown alone like I was supposed to, then it would have easily gone down. Only because I said I wanted to live, this—” “No,” Nephren interjected, crouching firmly on the ground, beyond her line of exhaustion. “The tactical sensors can only calculate Timere’s enemy’s strength. Even if you did self-destruct, Chtholly, it would only just barely defeat Timere. That other Beast would have stayed behind. Then we would have ended up fighting this unknown Beast without you. That is a situation infinitely worse than this one now.” “Man… So rational… This predicament is bad enough as is, but, well, it’s just a bit better than the worst of worst-case scenarios, so you could say you saved us a bit.” Ithea’s mouth twitched. “You…think so?” Chtholly wore an expression of disbelief. “Yes,” Nephren declared strongly. “They were not enemies we could win against to begin with. Once we decide to consider that so, then we should now think about how we will sink the island.” “That, too, iss logical.” Limeskin nodded. “Ssshould we gather all the artillery under the Winged Guard’ss dissspossal, then no matter how much we hurry, it would likely take ten nightsss. But if there isss no damage to other islandss in the meantime, then we may begin to ssee the ssseedss of victory.” “…It sounds like we’d be walking on really thin ice by then, but how certain are you that all that firepower could sink the island?” “About twenty percssent.” “Wa-ha-ha, that’s way too realistic; I can’t laugh at that.” “Absssolutely.” The lizardfolk general laughed, a sound like a pebble rattling round in his throat. Oh, right, Chtholly thought. It was surprising how easily her heart accepted that this world might end. Nothing felt unusual about that statement. She felt no need to reject it. It felt like something that had shadowed her for her entire life had suddenly come to rest on her shoulders, in her hands. This world was ending from the beginning. Now it was simply reaching that point. The end, which had been continually put off, was finally here. That was all. There was no need to mourn. Everyone would die. Nothing would be left behind. Not a single person would feel sad or lonely. So the best option would be to face the time with mind at ease when it came. Panic and fury would bring nothing good. (—But I can’t let that happen!) She unconsciously gripped the brooch at her breast. She hadn’t forgotten. She had a reason she had to return home alive. She could not die until she stuffed herself full of victory butter cake. She had to live until that blockhead accepted her proposal, even if that meant subsisting off mud. Yep, it looked like she had no choice but to live a long life. And to do that, she couldn’t let the world destroy her. Of course, Willem couldn’t die on her, either, and she didn’t want to think about exposing the little ones, who couldn’t fight yet, to danger. So— A rocking boat. —Ugh, that encroachment again. She let her mind slip for a fraction of a moment, and it came bubbling out from the gaps in her consciousness. It was after her own life. How annoying. She, as an unstable being who was a faerie, might have been in the weaker position, but what did she care? She was alive. She was alive and in the pursuit of happiness. She would never let some person who’d died ages ago take that right away from her. The moment she decided that, a thought came to mind. That was not the smart way to do it by any means. If she thought more carefully about it, she could probably think of much better ways. But now, right at this moment, she was limited in thinking time, and she felt like the plan she came up with was already the best plan. What she needed to put her plan into action was just a bit of resolve. —Resssignation and resssolve are, in essssencsse, the sssame thing. —Both indicate the abandonment of sssomething important for the ssake of one’sss goalss. Right. She would resign, proudly and with confidence. She would abandon what was important to her for her goal. That was what she needed now. Slowly, she took in a deep breath. And slowly, she took the time to exhale. “Chtholly?” Ren called to her, probably thinking she was acting strange. She did not respond. “I thought of something. First Officer, begin the retreat immediately,” Chtholly quietly advised, staring straight at the squirming Beast. “Ren, Ithea. Help me out. You can fly on your own, and you can get to the airship even if your escape is delayed, right?” “What are you talking about?” “I’m going to break this island.” She announced, swinging Seniorious in her right hand. The countless cracks in the blade widened. The faint light indicating the agitation of magic poured from those gaps. The Carillon were made for weaklings to stand up against overwhelmingly powerful opponents. That was made possible by the mechanism that used the power of whatever came in contact with the blade. The stronger the opponent, the more powerful the Carillon became to confront it. And now, before them, was a terribly mighty opponent that could destroy the entire world that was Regule Aire. “Well, then.” There were only a few seconds left until Timere’s 218th life would finish birthing. Chtholly kicked off from the ground. The awakened venenum in her body heightened her concentration and stretched out the flow of time. She pushed aside the walls of air that surrounded her in this gray world, now devoid of color, and closed the distance in a single breath. The vines coiled, ready to attack. Chtholly deliberately studied the tangle of eighty-seven vines. Though there were many of them, most of them were bluffs meant as a threat. Sixty-five of them would uselessly smash to the ground if she left them alone, and she would not need to worry about evading them. The problem was the remaining twenty-two. Eight were aiming at her legs to take away her mobility, five were aiming at her arms and Carillon to reduce her offensive ability, and the remaining nine were aiming for her head and chest to end her life. Looking carefully at each one showed they weren’t moving particularly accurately, but since there were so many of them, it would be impossible to avoid them all. If this was a suicide attack, then she would just have to endure the fatal wounds and think about moving forward, but she couldn’t rely on such easy-to-read methods. So— (First!) She cut away at the vines aiming for her legs and, at the same time, had Seniorious learn the magic flowing inside the vines that touched the blade. The light pouring from the cracks grew stronger. Chtholly’s thoughts and physical speed quickened. The increase in speed bought her a little more time. Pushing into that gap in time, she brandished her sword. The five vines aiming for her arms scattered into the air in pieces. (Next!) The seven-eyed frog. The encroachment quickened, too. She couldn’t be bothered about it now, so she ignored it. The magic within Seniorious grew even more excited from the five freshly cut vines. The lion that swallowed the snake. A mountain of coins. The same thing happened again. She concentrated on mowing them down with her blade, as though she was satisfied as long as she could make contact, starting with the ones closest to her. The power she gained every time she did so was enough to give her time for her next flash and next step. A mountain rising from the sky. A hazy, rain-drenched rural town. Candy in a small bowl. The distance between them became zero. She stabbed the Carillon into the entangled mass of vines before her from above. The sword sliced through several of the vines, penetrated the mass itself, and pierced straight into the earth of Island No. 15. A burning guidepost. A round rainbow. Castanets playing haphazard noises. A cat of gold-and-silver-streaked fur. A wheel rolling upward. A double-edged knife without a grip. Gloves as large as mountains. A man hanging from a tower— (—How do—) Seniorious bellowed in response to Chtholly’s will. The venenum, brimming with overpowering heat, ignored her enemy Beast, releasing all its power into the tip of the blade that stuck into the ground. “—you like—” The blade of the Carillon itself dazzled brightly. Starting from the hilt, the shine gathered its way toward the tip. “—thiiiiiiiis?!” All the light vanished into the earth. There was a short breath of silence. Fwoom. There was a low, dull sound that reverberated in her stomach. Cracks appeared in the ground. They spread out like a spider’s web, enveloping the entire island. Light poured from the cracks. The light widened the cracks from within the ground. The ground split. The island sank. The Beast spread its vines wide, haphazardly clinging to the bedrock around it. But the rock it clung to itself was collapsing, so it would not help support it no matter how much it struggled. As though being buried in the heap of collapsing rubble, the Beast faced the surface and began its fall. “” Chtholly thought she heard the Beasts yelling something as they fell. But of course, she knew it was nothing but her imagination. “Are—are you out of your miiiiiiind?!” Ithea flew with her illusory wings, raising her voice in a cry. In the end, she picked Chtholly up, who lay almost clinging to the Beast as she was all out of power. Nephren, who’d followed her, beat back a hit from the vines that attacked them from behind. “I can’t believe how reckless…” They flew to an altitude that was just out of the vines’ reach. Before them, Island No. 15 was beginning to fall. Though the island had only a 20 percent chance of falling after gathering the entirety of the Winged Guard’s arsenal, it easily collapsed from the power of a single Carillon. “Chtholly, can you hear me?” Ithea asked, carrying the cerulean faerie. “Mm… I’m fine; I can hear you…” “Do you know what you just did?” “I’m fine… I remember…” “You’re not fine! Do you remember what kind of situation you’re in? Didn’t I say that pushing yourself will only advance your encroachment quicker?! Something like this means way more than just shortening your life a little bit, you know?!” “I said… I’m fine; I’m fine…” Chtholly lifted her head and smiled. She narrowed her bright crimson eyes and grinned weakly. “I promised I would go home. Right?” A fleeting smile, on the verge of vanishing. “I’ll go home proudly and tell Willem. That because of him, I’m still alive. But we don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so please teach me all you can while I’m by your side.” There was spirit in her laugh. “…Oh, but I guess I have to keep the encroachment a secret, huh? I’m sure if he heard about it, he’d get really worried. I want him to stay how he always is: a little lazy but sort of cool and dependable.” “Oh, geez, you’re not very attractive with your feelings leaking everywhere!” Ithea embraced her precious friend’s thin frame as hard as she could. “That hurts, Ithea.” “It’s proof you’re alive. Deal with it.” “Oh well,” Chtholly murmured and relaxed. She promised she would return home. She could live because of how she clung to that promise. That was fine. The problem was what came after. Once she fulfilled her promise, once the promise was no more, what would become of her life? Ithea asked nothing of this natural question. Chtholly gave no answer. Because she did not want to know the answer. Because until the day she could no longer run from it, she didn’t want to look. 2. The Protectors of the Azure Sky There also happened to be an old man here. Few knew his name, but on the other hand, he himself was very famous. The people referred to him as a distinguished wise man—the Great Sage. His history was that of Regule Aire. Let’s say one turned the Grand Senato Library, prided as one of the greatest collections on the island cluster, inside out and found the oldest history book it had to offer. Since it was from a time without papermaking and printing technology like today, it would probably be of thick parchment and handwritten in pen. Flipping through the pages would show the record of the founding of Regule Aire. A time when the surface began to face its destruction, wrought by the Seventeen Beasts released by the emnetwiht. A time when the few remaining survivors had gathered on the summit of The Holy Peaks of Fistirus, unable to do anything in the face of rapidly advancing death. That was when a single man created a road into the sky with powerful venenum and led those still alive onto land in the heavens. That single man was, in other words, this old man here. Even the history books, whose duty was to speak of the past, could not tell of an era older than the wrinkles on the old man’s face. That was how long he had lived with the land and led the people. “A man who can adjust dug weapons?” His sharp, wide stare cut across the corridor. The female prima officer, who brought the news, went pale and shivered in fright. “Oh—no, I’m not reprimanding you. I was born with this expression in my eyes; no need to be afraid. Never mind that. Was the one who brought this absurd story Baroni Makish again?” The officer nodded vigorously. “I swear, that man. Can he not see the simple difference between truth and lies? It is impossible to adjust dug weapons. That would be like the sun rising in the west, or midsummer snow, or the emnetwiht brought back to the land.” The officer’s head tilted, as though she had a question. “What?” He turned his gaze to her, and she gave a little yelp and shrank again. “—I’m not reprimanding you. If you have doubts, then ask.” “U-um! It is nothing but captious wordplay! Please, forgive me!” “Captious… Ahh, were an emnetwiht to be revived, he could adjust emnetwiht weapons, you mean.” The officer responded, “Yes,” in a faint voice. “I am telling you not to be so afraid. There is nothing wrong with wordplay; a heart that enjoys fun is precious, especially for those who live a long time. And that doubt is reasonable. Even I, were I in a position where I did not know anything, might think the same. However, it’s wrong.” The old man shook his head. “Dug weapons, or Carillon, are made up of countless talismans and linked together with enchantments—it sounds simple enough when put into words. Discovering new powers through the mutual interference of differing talismans, much less the word refined itself, was a miracle established on a lukewarm balance. Of course, the technology needed for that adjustment was beyond proper course. Would you understand if I likened it to stacking natural stones that were not quarried one on top of the other to reach the heavens?” “Uh…” She stared blankly at him. “Even among the Braves, who carried these into battle, there were barely even a handful who could look after their own swords. That was normal. If someone wanted to repair their Carillon, then they had no choice but to gather a team of specialist engineers and spend time doing so at a fully equipped workshop. “And despite all that, what was this report? He adjusted it by itself? And it was the strongest blade, Seniorious? And the same man even adjusted the other swords? Ha-ha!” He spat it out, almost enjoying it. “It is probably an exaggeration to sell himself, but this is too much. Such a monster that managed such skill did not exist even in the emnetwiht world. This isn’t the rebirth of a miracle; it’s just some big talk way beyond that.” “A monster…? I recall you using those words before. It was the Black Agate Swordmaster…yes?” “Ah—right.” The old man’s mood improved slightly as the officer led to the next topic. This corridor was needlessly long, and there wasn’t much to look at. He wouldn’t be able to stand all the walking without even the most meager of small talk. “That man may have been able to make that big talk into reality.” The Great Sage spoke of him, his eyes gazing into the distance in nostalgia. “It was terrifying how much of a mystery he was. He didn’t really have any talents that could be called a talent. The venenum he could produce was below average. He could not even produce simple thaumaturgy. Even on the path of swordsmanship that he chose, he could use nothing greater than the moves he learned at his public training hall.” “Was he…a normal person, perhaps?” “Quite. The most normal of normal. At the very least, that is what he should have been in the beginning. “However, he wished to become a Legal Brave. And no matter how many times he was presented with the reality that he was talentless, he never gave up on that path. He did all he could to take on as many things as possible in order to bury what he lacked. And he did all he could to cultivate the few things that he made his own. In the end, what happened? Born was a monster, who, in a battle outside the emnetwiht realm that was crawling with beings who held legendary swords and could unleash legendary techniques, brought and fought techniques that were no greater than what one could find at the average training hall, achieved the greatest military results, and came home safely.” It was dread, or respect, or perhaps something else. The Great Sage’s body shivered slightly. “Even I, who was still immature at the time, was a few steps ahead of him in regards to the power I could wield and the breadth of the things I could accomplish with that power. And yet, even now, after I have gained even more power, I cannot imagine being victorious over him if we fought.” “Imagine?” The officer hung her head and smiled conservatively. “We do not know what sort of things these legendary swords and techniques might have been. To say that he was more of a man of valor than you are, Great Sage, then I cannot even begin to imagine as such.” “—Perhaps that is a good thing. Things that are lost will never return. Memories of that time, recollections of those from that era, are all nothing but my nostalgia. You, who live now, should live carrying this era on your shoulders.” With an audible step, they stopped walking. “This room?” “Yes. Are you ready?” “Well, I’ve been brought all this way, so I have no choice. At least let me look upon the face of the swindler—” The knob turned, and the door opened. A young man with black hair sat with his knee resting on the reception desk, yawning in boredom. “…Hmm?” The young man looked at him. “Hey, Suowong. Nice to see you—man, you really changed your look, huh?” The Great Sage’s jaw dropped to the floor. “You got real tall, didn’t you? I almost didn’t recognize you, since you’re not wearing your cape.” “The Black Agate…Swordmaster…?” With a hoarse voice, the Great Sage—Suowong—called the young man’s name. “Been a long time since I’ve been called that, Magus of the Polar Star. Glad to see we’re both doing well.” Suowong Kandel. Like Willem, he was a member of the band of Braves assembled more than five hundred years ago to defeat the Visitor Elq Hrqstn. Suowong was the favored disciple in the Imperial Tower of Sages, a thaumaturgist who hid in himself rare abilities. His power, which could crack the ground and pierce the heavens, was on the level of Quasi Braves wielding Carillons on the battlefield. Though he had fatal flaws in his naming and fashion sense, and though he was a little shorter than other boys his age, and though he was a little too confident in his own abilities, he more or less lived up to his legendary reputation. He most certainly had enough talent that he took pride in himself and enough diligence that he did not let that get to his head, which allowed him to work hard, and he had enough humility to recognize the skills of the people around him, and he had enough cooperativeness to unify these people and powers for the sake of one goal—he had it all. To Willem, he was a companion whom he could rely on without a doubt—and one he could confide in. Of course, that was not something he could tell the man himself. And naturally, he thought Willem died fighting five hundred years ago. However, since that wasn’t the case—and since he had been acting as a prominent authority figure since the birth of Regule Aire, there were some things that fell into place. It had always struck him as odd. Many things in this island cluster were based on the emnetwiht and their culture. It was not natural in the first place that a great many races escaping to the sky after the surface was destroyed led directly to their building towns and thriving. Normally speaking, suddenly gathering all these races, which had lived separately on the surface, would have immediately sparked sectarian conflicts, leaving only the strongest at the top of society. Additionally, it was also strange how all the architecture bore a striking resemblance to the things that emnetwiht once built. Back on the surface, the semifer lived in the treetops and in the cracks between stones. Orcs piled up dirt and made their dwellings in things that looked like trenches. Lizardfolk lived in tentlike houses, made of braided grass. Ballmen and prima and similar races had no concept of housing. These kinds of people were all gathered in one place, everyone on their best behavior, building towns that were a striking copy of emnetwiht settlements, and beginning to live there—that was not something that happened naturally. There were countless other things Willem could point out. Food culture, the coin system, garment manufacturing techniques, social systems, paper manufacturing and bookbinding systems, and so on and so forth. The skies where everyone but emnetwiht lived bore an unbelievable resemblance to the world the emnetwiht did live in; it was almost impossible to find exceptions. Now, he could easily point to a solution in regards to all this unnaturalness. It was Suowong’s doing. In the creation of Regule Aire, he was the one who had come up with the plan of the skyward civilization itself by demonstrating intense leadership. He was from the Empire, and he was knowledgeable in history. And the Empire’s history was a repetition of invasion and annexation, so it was a treasure trove of precedent and an example of those born in different cultures gathered together in one place. That was why he didn’t find it odd that Suowong pulled off creating and leading a singular world culture. After all, he was a universally acknowledged genius. “You were petrified on the surface?!” The stern-faced old man raised his voice in hysteria. “No matter how hard we searched with the heart-rate detector back then, we found no responses, so we were certain you’d died—” “Well, I was petrified, so my heart wasn’t moving. That heart-rate detector of yours tracks inherent venenum before it’s activated, right? You would’ve never found me.” “—Give back the tears I cried that day.” “Huh? You cried for me?” “N-n-no! I’d never do anything like that for you. I knew you were like a cockroach; ooh, I knew it!” He floundered about in frustration, and it didn’t suit him at all. “You say that, but it’s been pretty rough on my end. I never heard people could be revived after being turned into stone until that happened to me. Back then, I didn’t think any help would come, so I assumed I was dead. The doctor’s bill was pretty high just for treating everything besides the petrification. It took a lot of time and money to release the multiple curses and spells that bound me. So thanks to that, I’ve been living life in debt since the moment I woke up.” “This is ridiculous…” Willem thought he heard Suowong grumble, “That’s why I don’t like you,” as the old man gazed at the ceiling. It wasn’t like he turned to stone because he wanted to, and he wasn’t revived because he wanted to be. He had things he sort of wanted to say back, but he understood how he felt, so he kept silent. “Forget about me—what about you? I heard the emnetwiht all died out? Well, even if they didn’t, it’s been a long time since then. Looks like you’ve aged a lot, but how are you still alive? Don’t tell me there are others still running about, too?” “Don’t ask so much all at once. You’re too excitable. Well, one answer can explain those three questions,” Suowong said, removing his coat and exposing his chest. There was a large cavity in the place where his heart should have been. “That’s…” “I was killed in the battle five hundred years ago, too. I was fighting Jade Nail. One of three Poteau guarding the Visitors. It was Emissa and I who fought against it, and the two of us were easily killed. But before I lost consciousness, I improvised and cast some thaumaturgy on myself. I can’t explain to you the detailed theory behind it, but it interfered with how my life works and fundamentally changed it so that I cannot die via conventional means. So now, I will not die of wounds or old age. And of course, now I’m—not an emnetwiht anymore.” “Oh…” “Let me just say this beforehand, but don’t pity me. I am rather fond of myself now, and to have you sympathize with me sends shivers down my spine.” “No, not you. I’m more shocked to hear Emissa was killed.” “Hey!” But you seem on top of it no matter how I look at you, he thought but decided not to say. “That explosive devil is gone, huh? I thought I had enough of being sad, but man, does it hurt to hear it again. So I guess the others died in the battle, too, huh?” “No—not everyone. Lillia and Navrutri lived.” Suowong hadn’t survived beyond time like Willem, who had turned into stone. He had lived for five hundred years until now, his eyes open, moving around. So he should know everything that happened while Willem slept as a dumb rock. “Hey—” He had a mountain of things he wanted to know. He was about to ask. Where did the master go while we couldn’t get ahold of him? What happened to the army of monsters marching on the capital? Did the princess and king, who had always supported us, survive? “Just tell me one thing. What are the Seventeen Beasts? What happened, and where, to draw those things out while we were off fighting the Visitors?” He swallowed most of what he wanted to know and asked just one thing. The outcome of Lillia’s fight. The safety of his companions. There was no point in checking on that now. His race had died out a long time ago, and he already knew the answer. What he should at least know now were things that were worth knowing. “—Do you remember the True World?” He nodded. It was one of the armed cults that revolted against the Empire’s governance at the time, five hundred years ago. At the request of the royal family, Willem and the others under Brave Lillia crushed them. “The remnants of their organization…apparently set up a base in a small town outside of the Empire and began research on biological weapons or such. Those Beasts were the results of their research.” “I see. That’s why they say the emnetwiht destroyed the world.” Though the people directly responsible were just an extremely small portion of the emnetwiht, it was all the same to the other races, who were on the verge of extinction. And no one wanted to bring back the honor of a race that died out long ago. “…According to the military police report, you’re now working as an enchantments officer, correct?” It wasn’t a topic he really wanted to talk about, but Suowong had clearly changed the subject. There were still things about the past he wanted to know, but he decided not to go against him. “Just on paper, so I feel bad for the real enchantments officer.” “What are you talking about? You think there’s a second enchantments officer besides the one on paper?” “Huh?” Suowong looked irritated when he saw Willem staring at him blankly. “The second officer has different qualities than those of the first or third and below. That is to say, it’s a fictional position for internal and external appearances, to show that enchantment research, which we all know is not making any progress, is being conducted anyway. The only thing in the job requirements is to exist, and nothing else is expected. Because the real work is research that is already being conducted under the presupposition that it will never make any headway. Even progress reports would be a waste of time and paper. “I will say, however, that it isn’t as though there is no precedent for a warm body to fill the position of second officer. But that’s when we politically demote a troublesome officer. They receive nothing more than the minimal power and pay, and it is rather useful as a final useless post… In the end, it’s a job that isn’t much more than what’s on paper.” There, he sighed deeply. “What represented our discontinued research was investigating the laws of the Carillon. So you being the second officer might shake up the very reason the second officer exists.” “That’s fine; no one’s gonna worry about it. I’m glad I can relax at a useless post. I’m not gonna ask for any more power or pay than I already have.” “—Aaaargh!!” Suowong put his elbows on the desk and grasped his head. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know if I should call you the right man for the job or if I should liken you to a battle-ax splitting walnuts. You’re the only one who can pull off the feat of maintaining the Carillon, and that would be the best choice militarily, but to keep you there for the rest of your life would be such a disservice to all of Regule Aire…” He was muttering about something, but the second half he spoke in such a quiet voice, he couldn’t hear. “Oh yeah, that military police officer said I should ask the Great Sage about what I should do with my treatment. Sorry to ask while you’re distressed, but can you decide quickly, please? I promised ’em I’d go home right away.” “Go home?” Suowong lifted his head. “Go home to that faerie warehouse?” “I have no other home, do I? I don’t think my house on the surface is still around. Sure, since it’s our first time meeting after a long while, I guess we could renew our old friendship or whatever. We both are fortunately doing pretty well. Let’s just reschedule for another day.” “No… Wait—” He faltered. “…Before that, there’s someone I want you to meet.” “What, again? It’s been two days since I got here. There are kids at home who’ll go hungry if I don’t get back soon.” “He’ll want to meet you once he knows you’re alive. And you— Well, you probably never wanted to see him again. But you can’t ignore him. You can’t.” That was a strange way of putting it. “What? Someone I know? And since you’re a mutual—an old acquaintance?” Suowong didn’t respond. “Don’t be so pompous. Who is it? I’m a regular emnetwiht; I don’t know a single other person besides you who could’ve lived for hundreds of years—” His words stopped in their tracks. Someone he met in the old world. Someone both he and Suowong knew. A timeless, undying being. He realized he could think of one such entity. “—No way.” “We’ll finish our talk while we walk.” Suowong spoke bluntly, getting to his feet. “Wait, I didn’t say I’d go yet.” “Then will you say you won’t go?” His words caught in his throat. Suowong must have taken that response as his answer. He flung open the door, faced the officer who stood waiting there quietly, and announced with a loud voice: “We are going to Island No. 2. Prepare the airship immediately! …Oh, no, no need to be afraid. It’s not your fault. It is mine for raising my voice. I should have opened the door calmly. You don’t need to shrink down so much, really.” Island No. 2. Also known as “The Pith of the World Tree.” Looking at Regule Aire from directly above, it was almost right in the center. So of course, it sounded like it would be an important place of trade. However, not a single one of the presently active airship routes came to this island. There were three reasons. One was that there were no settlements of any race on this island, so there was no value in traveling to it for trade. Another reason was that it was not only floating much higher than the other islands, it was also constantly surrounded by storm clouds, so regular ships could not even get close. And the final reason was that it served as a sanctuary. Fundamentally, all things fall down. Despite that immutable rule, more than a hundred islands were floating in the sky. This mysterious secret that was the premise of this world called Regule Aire lay within this Island No. 2. And so it was taboo to brazenly enter and violate its hallowed ground, as it might send Regule Aire plummeting straight to the earth. And yet, sometimes, failed salvagers announced, “I’ll expose the truth covered by this so-called faith!” and they went up carelessly. Most of them got thrown off course by the thick clouds enveloping the island, sudden turbulence, and storm clouds, and without ever catching a glimpse of their goal, they ended up returning in tatters to the island they came from. There were times when salvagers claiming to have seen beyond the clouds appeared. According to the stories they told while battered and covered in injuries, the island wasn’t a naturally floating rock like the other islands but a lump of polished black crystal, and there were countless plants growing naturally on it but the seasons were all off, with both spring and autumn flowers blooming everywhere at the same time, like a chaotic daydream. Of course, there were very few people who believed such idle gossip, and the mystery that was Island No. 2 continued to fly high in the azure sky, shrouded by the veil of the unknown. “…That’s a huge black crystal—no, wait, a flowerpot?” “Yes.” Suowong nodded casually. “To be more precise, it’s apparently something like a giant talisman, but I don’t know exactly how it works. I don’t feel the need to analyze something that big, either.” “Look, the inside of the pot is full of all sorts of trees.” “Yes. The island is apparently covered with a small weather-control barrier, completing the seasons inside only. The storm clouds around it are a by-product of it. I’m not exactly sure why it does that. I did hear that it’s a sympathetic model meant to control a larger barrier, though.” “You don’t know very much, do you, Great Sage?” That remark must have gotten to Suowong, as the wrinkles between his brows deepened. “A sage is what someone who knows what they are supposed to know is called. Someone who knows nothing says he must know everything.” “Whoa, that was a bug, a bug! This place is full of things that don’t know what season it is!” “Listen to me when I talk to you!” Island No. 2 was rather small for an island. There didn’t seem to be any place that could be an aire-port. He wondered how they would dock without a place to lock in the anchor arms, but the small airship the Great Sage had prepared easily landed on a flat, open plane. “Wow, this is great. Let me have one. It looks useful for shopping.” There was quite a distance between the faerie warehouse and the aire-port. That made it a little inconvenient to go shopping on other islands. “Don’t be absurd. It is priceless.” “That’s too bad.” They stepped onto the island. It wasn’t a big island; however, it was much bigger standing on it in person. He took a look around, and the unsettling view of plants from all different seasons jumbled together filled his vision. “The hell is this? Apples and peaches growing together?” “Go ahead and have one if you’re hungry. They’re not poisoned.” “Nah, I don’t think so…” The thought that they might be using some sort of questionable fertilizer crossed his mind. He would hesitate to touch it, much less put it in his mouth. “And? Is that where we’re going?” In the center of the island stood something that looked like a black crystal tower, probably made from the same material as the island’s base. As far as he could tell now, it looked like it was the only building there. “It’s black, covered in thorns, feels just like an evil temple, so it must be it.” “Correct… I’ve known him for a long time, but I still don’t understand his taste.” “I’m not so sure if you’re saying that.” He chuckled. “Did you ever get cured of your love for that white cape after five hundred years?” “Don’t say it like it’s a disease. This is policy and my very soul itself; I will not be tossing it away even after a thousand years,” he huffed. He could feel the tears welling in the backs of his eyes at how nostalgic their conversation felt. He was with a companion he thought he’d never see again, having a sort of chat he thought he’d never have again. That was enough to make him feel so comfortable right in this moment. “Hey.” “What?” “Thanks.” “…Why must you thank me now? I do not understand.” “Just felt like it. Don’t worry about it.” Suowong was the Great Sage, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the Great Sage was Suowong. He had been on his own for five hundred years. He’d gained new things during that time, and he himself must have changed. The way he referred to himself and his manner of speaking couldn’t stay the same as it had been when he was a boy. That being said, Suowong now was acting and speaking just like the Suowong from long ago. Why? Probably because Willem was with him. Losing one’s companions, loved ones, home, and everything else—Suowong had already experienced this pain once in the past. And he knew that now Willem was in the same situation. So he was deliberately acting the way he used to in the past, in order to help his retrospection, even just a little bit. That was probably it. “Why are you grinning? It’s making me uncomfortable.” …And it wasn’t entirely impossible that he was just reliving his own childish innocence. He didn’t want to think that after he’d voiced his thanks. The tower was empty. They pushed open the heavy double doors, headed up the spiral staircase that exuded such an air, and entered something that looked just like a throne room, but it was completely empty. “What is the meaning of this?” “It is not unusual. The weather is nice today, so he must be out for a walk.” “Wha…?” “Look, as you can see, there is nothing else on this island besides plants. There is almost nothing to do in one’s free time, so he wanders about outside on nice days.” Suowong neared the window as he spoke. “See, just as I thought.” He motioned downward with his eyes. He could see a lone girl wearing a maid’s outfit pushing a cart. “…What about her?” As he thought absently of how it wasn’t a deserted island, he observed the girl. The angle was too sharp, so he couldn’t see her face, but upon seeing the triangular ears popping out of the top of her head, he could tell she was a semifer…probably an ailuranthrope. Considering how she kept her form despite how heavy the cart looked, he thought she must be proficient enough in cargo transport. “Not her. Over there.” He directed his gaze the way Suowong was wagging his finger, and there, riding on the cart the girl was pushing, was an armful’s worth of a black something. It must be a weight stone, he thought. But something wasn’t right. It was hard to say what that was right away, but it was the texture, or the mass, or something like it— “Hey, you piece of trash! We let ourselves in!” Suowong called down with a thunderous voice. “—Oh, it’s you, Great Sage! Perfect timing—I was just enjoying a bit of free time!” The black thing moved. It was a skull. That was the shape it was in, at the very least. It was pitch-black, big enough to fit comfortably in the arms of an adult. It looked up at them and moved without anyone touching it and even spoke in a deep, elderly male voice, but even if he ignored all the other things, it was, without a doubt, a skull. So, yep. At the very least, it was not just any skull. “We couldn’t finish our game last time. This time, we shall put a clear divide between black and white!” What gave Willem a headache was how he recognized that voice. Only two years ago—just to Willem, though, for time had passed hundreds of times longer than that—he had, without a doubt, met the owner of that voice. And that moment was carved into Willem as an intense memory, one he would never be able to forget. “My apologies, but I did not come today to make merry or soothe your boredom! I have someone I want you to see, Ebon Candle!” Between the top and bottom of the tower, the two elderly men exchanged threatening—yet familiar—words in loud voices. “What… We have a guest?! You fool, you mention that first!” “I was going to, but you are the one out of your seat! Keep a communication crystal nearby if you’re going to complain! Then I can leave a message before visiting you!” “What nonsense! You know communications don’t work around the barrier!” “Then you should do something about a problem like that! An immortal pillar of a god should be able to figure out at least that much!” “Well, your mouth has certainly gotten bigger after just five hundred years of life, hasn’t it! Wait there—I’ll give you a beating on the board!” “I already told you that’s not why I’ve come today!” “Oh, right! Kaya, my apologies, but quickly!” Ebon Candle called her name, and the maid girl nodded slightly, setting off into a run as she pushed the cart. It made a loud rattling noise as they came around to the front of the black crystal tower and ran up the spiral staircase. “—By the way, Suowong.” Willem groaned, pressing his fingers hard on his temples. “I’m having a bad dream right now, right?” “I understand how you feel, but face reality. If you want, I can hit you.” Suowong brought his tightly balled fist before Willem’s eyes. “No, thanks. If you punched me now, I think my head would explode before I woke up.” “Well, that’s disappointing.” The turbulent rattling was quickly nearing the throne room. “Ha, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” It felt like a strong gust of wind came from the throne. The pressure of venenum was so overwhelming he could feel it on his skin without any Sight. Willem knew of only one being that could produce such a thing. Only one. “What a long time it has been, Brave of the people! To think the time has come round for us to meet again after so many years; it truly is a coincidence!” It was one of the three pillars, a Poteau. They protected the Visitor Elq Hrqstn, enemy of the emnetwiht race, and stood before the group of Braves who tried to attack it, making them the strongest and final barriers. “But how unfortunate, in the end, we are beings destined to battle each other! This reunion gave us a miracle, but alas, it cannot escape the path paved with blood!” This being had many names. Such as, “The One Who Dozes in Death.” “The Weaver of Worlds.” “The Father of the Great Earth.” “The One Who Burns the Flame of Darkness in the Garden of Light”—Ebon Candle. It was an old enemy that none other than Quasi Brave Willem Kmetsch defeated in exchange for his own life in battle long ago. However, just as he mentioned on the verge of his own death, he was now reborn in this world after a long slumber— “—Nah, I think I’ll pass on that.” Willem’s expression twisted in annoyance, and he waved a hand. “Hmm, I see. How unfortunate.” The skull—Ebon Candle—quickly and easily withdrew its venenum. The overwhelming presence that filled the throne room withered and vanished in an instant. “I assumed you had pent-up hatred for me, so I played the role to play on that.” “How you show your consideration is fatally ridiculous, you know.” “Hmm? Are you saying you feel no hate?” “Even if I did, you think I’d bother with a rematch? The last time I fought, I had things I wanted to protect behind me, and you were the thing that was going to destroy it. Now’s different. So I have no need to fight. Right?” “To keep no grudges while fighting to the point of throwing your life away… You are a more openhearted man than I thought.” “Well, I wasn’t planning on that. But even if I did have a reason to fight, what’s up with you? The Ebon Candle I fought before actually had flesh and bone and a body below the neck. So why are you only a head sunbathing in a cart?!” “What do you mean? It was you who burned my body!” “Yeah, I know that! But you said you’d wake up after sleeping for a hundred years! You’d usually think that means you would get restored completely! Why’s there barely even half of you?!” “Like I said, it was your fault. You destroyed me so thoroughly that my body wasn’t quick enough to regenerate in a hundred years. Do you understand my shock when I woke up? Though I don’t have any tear ducts, as you can see, I wanted to cry!” “Like I care!” “Since then, however, I’ve continually been in a state where I must use my power, so I haven’t had the chance to recuperate. And so, as you can see, after four hundred long years, I am living in disgrace.” As it spoke, the black skull tilted deftly on the throne. While he was uncertain if it was “living” in disgrace with a form like that, it didn’t matter right now. “—Okay, enough. Suowong. You didn’t bring me here just to say hello, did you? Hurry up and get to the point.” “The point?” “All right.” With two pairs of eyes on him, Suowong nodded. “This is a terrible man, whose personality, character, temperament, disposition are all rotten, down to his core, but his skills are top-class and reliable. He would be a talent who would be sufficient—no, indispensable for implementing our plan.” “Hmm…” “Hey, c’mon, Suowong, what are you talking so casually about?” “Don’t you want to take back the surface, Willem?” “I know when you change the subject like that you’re— The surface?” There was a word Willem could not overlook. “The surface is devastated, and isn’t it a danger zone where the Beasts run amok? What are you talking about?” “We will attack… But of course, the surface is much too big to take it back all at once. First, we attack and conquer the closest point to Regule Aire, the summit of The Holy Peaks of Fistirus, and make it the base of our counterattack. What we need is a way to fight against the Beasts. And a way to continue the fight. Until recently, we’ve lacked the latter. But now that you are here, we are much closer to solving that problem. The Carillon, now in bad condition and unstable, will once again thrust into the battlefield. This is a huge step forward.” “Huh,” Willem responded absently, nodding slightly. “That’s a grand plan.” “Isn’t it? Of course, it’s a very long-term plan and will require all the cities of Regule Aire to come together and fight. There are big risks, and we may not get results right away. However, the final chance of victory is big enough.” As Suowong spoke, his speech became more and more worked up in excitement. “We can create as many faeries as we want, so our only problem has been the number of Carillon.” “Huh?” Again, he responded absently, nodding slightly. The color in Suowong’s face changed when he noticed his loss of words. “No, wait, that was—” “No need to patch things up, Suowong. I had a vague idea. Ebon Candle used necromancy in our battle together. The feat of coming back to life after a hundred years has to be an extension of that. And the thaumaturgic spell you cast on yourself as you were holding on has to be in the same category as necromancy. And you two are protecting Regule Aire. Right, I’ve got the gist of it.” According to Willem’s research, faeries were lost souls of young children who didn’t understand their own death. They were originally unstable and ambiguous beings, natural phenomena that took the form of will-o’-the-wisps and gnomes. And apparently, there was a technique in necromancy that could create them artificially and put them to work. Furthermore, the leprechauns Willem knew weren’t will-o’-the-wisps or gnomes. They might be unstable. They might be ambiguous. But they most certainly had hearts like those of emnetwiht girls. Without a doubt, they experienced hope, fear, love, dreams, attachment, and despair in those hearts of theirs. And on top of that, the girls fought with their lives on the line to protect Regule Aire. “Anyone could figure it out with all this information.” Indeed. And he could make a guess with firm conviction. Willem, driven forth by a strange feeling he could not grasp that trapped him between tears and laughter, put into words the conclusion he came to. “You’re the ones producing leprechauns, aren’t you?” 3. The Flow of Time Since Then He’d heard that the end of the hallway on the second floor was leaking recently. When he went to go see for himself, he saw how it might require a little handiwork. Since they’d have to call in someone from town later for proper repairs, all he had to do now was some emergency fixing up. He needed some wooden boards and— “—Hey, you know where the hammer is?” Willem turned around. (It’s in the closet downstairs. You used it before! Did you forget already?) Chtholly put her hands on her hips and responded in annoyance. (Honestly, I don’t know if you’re just forgetful or if your memory’s bad…) Her lips pouted, but her complaints made it sound like she was having a bit of fun. But before she could finish complaining, she noticed something off. Willem wasn’t looking at her. (What are you looking at?) She turned around. But there was the hallway, as always. No one was there. Nothing was there. “Where’s Chtholly?” That was an odd question. Willem voiced the strangest thing as he looked around. (What kind of joke is this? I’m right here.) She complained in a stronger tone than she had before, but Willem just said, “Weird, I thought she was right here,” tilting his head, and didn’t look to her at all. (Come on, I’m right—) She wanted to reach out. She couldn’t. The hand she reached out with was nowhere to be seen. When she looked down at her body, she realized it was not there. “Chtholly? Where’re you hiding?” Willem walked off. He wandered all over the faerie warehouse, searching for the girl he could no longer see. He couldn’t find her. He left the warehouse and made rounds on the island. He couldn’t find her. He called over anyone he could find to the side of the road and asked the whereabouts of Chtholly Nota Seniorious. No answers. (Hey, where are you going?) (Where are you searching?) (I’m here.) (I’m right by your side.) (Hey.) (Hey!) (Listen!) No matter how hard she tried to talk to him, she had no voice. Her voiceless words reached no one. Willem finally tired of walking and stood still, puzzled. Someone placed a hand on his shoulder. “You need to accept it already.” Nygglatho said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Those girls are dead.” —With a start, she threw back the covers and sat up straight. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She covered her thudding chest with her hand and took deep breaths. Just when she calmed a little, she shivered. The cool winter morning air relentlessly stole away her body heat through her pajamas. She got down from her bed, scooped up the blanket, balled it up, and hugged it tightly. “A dream?” Chtholly was murmuring to herself. “That was…a dream.” She lifted her head and looked to the window. Dawn broke later in the winter. The world beyond the curtains was still enveloped in darkness. Her body felt heavy. She wanted to roll herself up in the covers and lie down again. But she didn’t feel like it. She couldn’t close her eyes, since she might see what came next in that dream. It had been two whole days. Two whole days since the battle on Island No. 15 ended. Since Chtholly and the others came back to the faerie warehouse. Willem still hadn’t come home. The rain that poured raging billows at dawn abruptly stopped like a dream just before noon. With the energy of bounding jewelweed, the little girls raced onto the field under the bright azure sky. A white ball flew high in the sky and, before long, became covered in mud. The girls who chased happily after it, too, were quickly covered in mud. In the corner of the reading room, Nephren slept. She used her arms, folded on top of the table, as a pillow, her expression calm, her breaths quiet. “Aw, geez, it’s not every day that Ren throws books on the ground,” Ithea said as though comforting a child as she picked up a book from beneath the table. “For her, it looks like she’s just physically worn out, rather than being fatigued due to overuse of her magic. It’s not been that long since she matured, so her strength hasn’t caught up yet.” She stroked the hairs on Nephren’s forehead, murmuring praise of how well she’d fought in such a long battle. “…By the way, are you doing okay, Ithea?” “Me? I’m so okay my nose could bleed. Right now, the only thing I’m confident in is living a long and lazy life.” She chuckled and puffed out her slim chest. Chtholly wasn’t so sure. This golden faerie always, always said important things in a way that made it hard to tell if she was serious or joking. And so when anything important came out of that mouth, she was never sure if she should believe it or not. “And how about you, Chtholly?” she asked in return, her tone nonchalant. “Me? I’m, well…” Totally fine, of course, is how she almost responded. She wanted to say it. She couldn’t. Behind her lightweight words, Ithea’s gaze was so sharp it pierced straight into Chtholly’s eyes. “…I guess things are a bit tough. I feel like I’ll be turning down missions for a little while.” She shrugged, smiling weakly. “If it’s really bad, then, I know we were just there, but you could petition them to let you go back to Island No. 11? You are crucial firepower right now anyway, so they’ll probably accept, and if you let the doctor know what’s up, he might give you some advice to ease your mind?” “I’m fine. It’s just a little tough.” She waved her hand. “I’m happy enough to just get advice from you. I trust you, miss.” “…I’m happy to hear that, I guess.” “And can you imagine how awful it would be if I left, and he and I switched places? I want to see him as soon as possible, so waiting at home after he tells me to go back first was the right answer.” “Sigh… You really are a girl in love.” “So what?” “You’re not hiding it or lying about it anymore?” “Well, he’d avoid it even if he knew how I felt. I’d never get ahold of him if I hid it while approaching him boldly. So I don’t think I have a choice now but to stay open and break through head-on. He looks aloof, but he’s actually surprisingly delicate if you break his pace, you know.” “Yeah, true.” “And so when he gets home, I plan to keep pushing and pushing him. I’m of course going to be asking for your help then, so are you ready?” “Okay, leave ’im to me!” Ithea gave her a thumbs-up. Chtholly gave one back. There was nothing false in her words. Once he got home, she was going to push and push him. Indeed. If he came home. He hadn’t always been around. So the way things were now without him was how the faerie warehouse was originally meant to be. “He might not come home.” The moment she grew just slightly discouraged, those kinds of thoughts crossed her mind. “I mean, he doesn’t look very bright, but he’s such a rare talent. Rather, the fact that he stayed in a place like this all this time was weird. He’s supposed to be someone who all of Regule Aire would go to see, put in a suitable position, and beg for lost wisdom and stuff like that. So the right choice for him is probably to never come back.” When she said that in front of everyone, there came various responses. Tiat and the other little ones made a ruckus: “We’ll never allow that!” “I don’t wanna be sad.” “I’m the one who’ll defeat the officer!” “What’s a wisdom?” It was hard to tell if they understood what she meant or not. Nygglatho reasoned with her: “You should perhaps be a little more honest.” Shut up, I know that already. Nephren just lowered her gaze slightly and showed no other reaction. Well, it was very much like her. And Ithea responded with her own question through a mischievous grin: “If that’s true, then what are you gonna do?” If he never came home, then what would she do? She thought about it, but she couldn’t come up with any particular answer. “Nothing, probably.” She responded with a vague expression, and Ithea sighed a deep, deliberate sigh. He was never here in the first place. So the life she was living apart from him now was the one she was meant to live. “Yaaaaah!” There came a sharp yet adorable-sounding battle cry, and her body reflexively slipped out of the way. Missing their mark, Pannibal and Collon came flying from behind her and fell straight onto the hallway floor. “…What on earth are you doing?” She helped the two up, her voice annoyed. “I told you so!” Tiat came running after them and lightly flicked each of their swollen red noses. There were two small yelps of pain. “You guys are no match for the older kids, not in ten years,” Tiat hummed, her chest for some reason puffed out in pride. “But I can’t practice without Willie around, and my techniques will get weaker!” Collon protested, tears welling up in her eyes. “What techniques are you talking about?” “Techniques to take over the world!” Pannibal balled her hand into a tight fist. “What world are you talking about?” Tiat rolled her eyes, and beside her Lakhesh apologized profusely, pitifully shrinking in on herself. “…By the way, Tiat?” “Yes? What is it, miss?” “Your aptitude for maturity has been checked, right? Did they finish the compatibility confirmation for a dug weapon yet?” “Oh, not yet. Nygglatho said we’d look for a partner once Willem came back.” “…I see.” She ruffled the little girl’s hair. “M-miss?” “I hope you get a good sword,” she said gently and pulled back her hand. “What’s wrong, miss? You look pale.” “Really? I guess I’m still tired.” Chtholly smiled vaguely and escaped the younger girls’ gazes. When she returned to her room, she immediately closed the door and leaned against it. And just like that, she slid down until she sat on the floor. Her head drooped, her arms cradling both that and her knees. “You liar…” Chtholly’s voice was quiet, so that no one besides herself could hear. “I kept my promise. So why didn’t you…?” After a while, she lifted her head and stood. With both the door and the curtains shut, the room was as dark as night. But she knew her way around her own room, so by the faintest of light, Chtholly reached out to the mirror lying facedown on her desk. “…” Within the darkness that spread on the other side of the mirror— —sat a person with red eyes. A flat spider. “Who are you?” Her voice shook as she questioned the one opposite her in the mirror. What should have been there was a face she knew well. A face she saw every morning when she washed. A face she saw smile, cry, grow angry, and everything else her entire life should have been there. So, why? Why was the person in the mirror staring blankly back at her? Why, when she saw that face, did she think it was a stranger? If that was the face of someone she didn’t know, then whose face was it on this side of the mirror, in the place she could not look at directly? A half-eaten cookie. A candle stub and a burned envelope. A metal bird and a rainbow-colored arrowhead. Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. She couldn’t help the memories. They came out on their own. The battle was long over. She hadn’t used any magic since. Was she not okay, then? Was it not supposed to interfere with her daily life, as long as it stayed moderate? Was what Ithea said a lie, then? No. It was her fault. During the battle, she’d tossed away what was important to her in the name of her resolve. She traded almost all the remaining time she could stay herself for the miracle of Island No. 15’s collapse. She had no regrets. No, she couldn’t have any. Regule Aire was on the verge of destruction. The life of one faerie soldier, meant to be disposable anyway, had just shortened a little, so it was supposed to be a good bargain. What she should regret was how she showed off to Willem after that. Because she didn’t want him to worry. Because she wanted to go home to the Willem who was simply thinking about their future together before she left. And so she would stay completely silent about her past-life encroachment, even forcing Ithea and Nephren to stay quiet about it, but by the time she realized it, she was already in her current state. She at least wanted to tell him here, I’m home. And— “I wanted…butter cake…” She murmured, the tears in her throat. The girl in the mirror moved her lips, as though she said the same thing. A single tear rolled down her cheek. A cracking world. Fish swimming among the stars. Dad. A yellow stuffed animal. A strange girl with cerulean eyes. A twisted tree. A cat that keeps meowing and meowing and meowing. A pebble wrapped in paper. A bright, cloudy sky. The world beyond the mirror. And. And. The mirror slipped from her hand. It shattered on the floor, and the pieces scattered. The girl slumped over on the spot. 4. Once That War Is Over “You’re the ones producing leprechauns, aren’t you?” The two accepted this conjecture without a word of denial. “We are not producing each and every one individually, actually. We simply performed a rite to the giant soul that acts as the base material so that they would be naturally born with physiques and characteristics similar to those of emnetwiht.” Suowong’s expression stiffened as he explained with a creaking voice. “And we also revised the miniascape barrier that surrounds Regule Aire so that the souls would not fall to the surface. Now, hearing this explanation, what will you do?” Meanwhile, Ebon Candle’s expression showed no signs of changing (of course, that’s assuming a black skull could have different expressions). There were no significant changes in his tone, and rather, it felt like he was carefully observing Willem’s response. Willem wordlessly grabbed Suowong by the chest. He held up a balled fist with his other hand and aimed for the side of Suowong’s face. They stayed like that for several seconds. “Beating you up…wouldn’t accomplish anything.” Denouncing the faerie system itself would help nothing. The powers of the Carillon were necessary in protecting Regule Aire, and emnetwiht Braves were required to use the Carillon’s powers, but since they were nowhere to be found, leprechauns were produced in their place. Disrupting any part of that flow would lead directly to Regule Aire’s destruction. Not only were there no other alternatives, this was the best possible solution. There was no room there for ethics or humanity. The girls’ battle was not the product of someone’s ill will. Even Willem himself, who claimed he couldn’t fight, was on the other side, pushing Chtholly and everyone else onto the battlefield. No matter how unsatisfied he was with that, no matter how much it pissed him off, he couldn’t blame either Suowong or Ebon Candle. “—But that’s just to maintain the line of defense. The Braves fight to protect all the towns they and the people hold precious. They’re not meant for expeditions for increasing territory. Don’t waste them on a fight they don’t need to fight.” Willem groaned as he let go of Suowong. “It’s not a fight they don’t need to fight. They will have to someday. You understand, don’t you? Regule Aire isn’t eternal. We’ve somehow managed the past five hundred years, but that does not mean the next hundred are guaranteed. We will one day have to return to the surface.” “It’s only you and me who think that, though.” “—What do you mean?” “There are only so many people who’ve seen the world as it was five hundred years ago, before what it is now. To those who haven’t, the surface has been a faraway land their entire lives. It might be a treasure island of dreams and adventure, but it’s nothing more than that. Their precious homeland is the sky they live in now, the islands they live in now, the cities they live in now. There is nowhere else but that.” He looked at Suowong, expecting agreement. “Yeah, but…aren’t you…upset?! Don’t you want to go home?! I’ve lived here for five hundred years! Far longer than I did on the surface! The sky is without a doubt my second home! But still! My first home is the Imperial Capital! You feel the same, right?! No, you should feel so much stronger about this than I do, since you just got here! You can’t have forgotten!” “Even if we did devote all of Regule Aire’s power to reclaiming the surface…” Willem responded ever so quietly in contrast to Suowong’s outburst. “Who is there? Would there be any family there to welcome us home?” “That’s…” Suowong faltered. He opened his mouth to say something once, but he quickly closed it. “Will you not tell him?” “No.” He shook his head, and his expression tensed. “So that is your will, Willem Kmetsch.” His voice changed. Willem’s old friend Suowong Kandel was already gone. Standing there in his place was the five-hundred-year-old Great Sage, who shouldered Regule Aire’s future. His soft blond hair had faded; his once apple-smooth skin had withered, covered in wrinkles; his doll-like stature had grown into that of a giant; and… The young genius with a promising future was now risking the present and the future to seize the past. “Sorry, Great Sage.” He forcefully plastered a strained smile on his face to keep it from twisting in sadness. “Looks like I’m not cut out for fighting for the world’s distant future anymore.” “…I thought you were more of a Brave than that.” “Yeah, me too.” He nodded. There was a time once when Willem possessed ambition and the title of Quasi Brave, but he eventually reached a stage where he could go no further. He thought it was the fault of his talent. He thought it was the fault of his circumstances. But maybe, just maybe, he was wrong all along. Perhaps somewhere deep inside him hid a more fatal defect. “I thought so, too. I truly believed I could become a Brave. But I couldn’t. That’s why I’m here now, living in disgrace.” “Hmm. Let me ask you another question.” The skull’s voice came from beside him. It skillfully rolled from the throne and fell into the cushioned cart. Without a word, the maid waiting by its side pushed the cart, bringing it to Willem. “This is what you said when I was provoking you earlier: You have no reason to fight. And even if you did, why has the great being that was Ebon Candle, who could pierce the heavens, fallen into such an unassuming form, though being as charming and dignified as he is?” Willem had no recollection of saying any of that. At least, that last part. “You so cleverly changed the subject, but it does not seem entirely fair that only I tell you the truth, no? Even if you had a reason to fight, is there any other reason why you cannot?” “What?” The Great Sage raised his eyebrows slightly. “Sure.” Willem nodded generously. “I sure don’t have it as bad as a skull, I know, but my body has barely recovered from the battle with this guy. The petrification is gone and so are the enchantments, but there are tiny wounds left all over my body, leaving me little more than a worn and tattered rag. A troll I know said to me, ‘I wouldn’t even have to pull out a knife to pick off your meat; it’s so full of tears that I could just rip into it with my teeth alone.’” “I see. So now, that is to say, you do not have the fighting power as you once did. Even if you did wish to fight, you cannot. So—for example, if we were to forcefully subdue you right now, you would have no way to fight back. Is that correct?” “Oh, I get it now.” Willem scratched his head. “Honestly, I wish you wouldn’t. I know this sounds cliché, but I’ve got people waiting for me at home.” “Your life is precious to you, is it?” “Nah. I just have no way of getting home after beating you to a pulp.” He shrugged. “I don’t know how to fly an airship, do I?” “…That doesn’t seem like sound logic. How nostalgic; you haven’t changed a bit since then, have you?” With a somehow delighted tone, the skull rolled to face the Great Sage. “Great Sage. Give up for now. This man holds steady. Rather…he seems like stubbornness incarnate. He holds only one purpose within him. He sees no value in anything that has nothing to do with that goal. So he will not bend. He will not stop. He will persist. “Once he has decided he will protect those faeries, that becomes his entire world. He will protect them, even if it means sacrificing anything and everything else. I do not wish to be struck again by those incorporeal incantations.” Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Incantations weren’t that easy to wield. Most of the ones Willem used back then no longer had their activation conditions fulfilled. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any he couldn’t use anymore, but if he did use them, the price he’d pay would be his life or, if he was supremely lucky, then become stone again, which might be his end anyway. Either way, he couldn’t go home to the faerie warehouse. …And he wouldn’t bother kindly explaining all that. It sounded like he was being overestimated, and he felt like it would be best to let Ebon Candle keep believing that. “But—” “If you wish to say something, then you must tell him everything. The man’s attitude may change if you expose one or two secrets of the surface that you’ve kept hidden.” “That’s—!” The Great Sage raised his voice, his expression flustered. “…Secrets of the surface?” On the other hand, Willem furrowed his brow, sinking his teeth into a phrase he couldn’t let go. “What is it? What are you hiding?” “…It has nothing to do with you.” “You’re such a liar. From the way he’s talking, sounds like it’s important enough to change my mind. And?” “I shall say nothing.” “Okay. Well, Great Sage?” “I shall say nothing as well. This is about the future of this world. It’s something I can only tell to those who are concerned for the future.” You bastard, this is some first-class revenge for earlier, huh? Now aggravated, Willem was about to argue back, but— There was the sound of footsteps coming up the spiral staircase. “Lot of guests today, I see.” Ebon Candle murmured, irritated, and everyone turned their gazes toward the door. What appeared there was— “Pardon me.” —the rabbitfolk first officer. “This is a sanctuary. I told you never to come here without good reason!” The Great Sage reprimanded him, his voice low and thunderous. The rabbitfolk nodded slightly and bowed. “I came prepared to be scolded, but something happened that requires an urgent report.” “—What is it?” Unlike his previous tone, the Great Sage urged him on in a calm voice. The rabbitfolk’s gaze darted toward Willem for a brief moment before he leaned in to the Sage’s ear, relaying some sort of information. “…And you made the judgment that this required urgent passage into the sanctuary to report?” “Yes.” He nodded earnestly at the Great Sage’s odd question. “Very well. I shall tell this man myself.” He slowly shook his head and took one step toward Willem. “…What now? Does this have to do with me?” “Indeed it does, Second Enchantments Officer Willem Kmetsch,” the Great Sage announced with solemnity. “There has been contact from a partner of the Orlandry Merchants Alliance. The user compatible with dug weapon Seniorious has begun to lose personality due to past-life encroachment. While physical dissipation has not yet begun, it is only a matter of time.” The pale-faced Willem left the sanctuary on the officer’s ship. The remaining two watched the sea of clouds he vanished into, a heavy silence over them. “Why did you not tell him everything?” Ebon Candle asked, breaking the silence. “If he knew what was on the surface, what remains on the surface, then his response may have been different.” “Probably.” The Great Sage replied, his face looking as though he had swallowed something bitter. “But as a result, it would most certainly shatter his spirit. Such a fellow who can keep fighting on a singular conviction can do nothing when his heart is broken. While a rusted halberd can still be used, a destroyed spearhead cannot.” “Success depends on how you convey it. Are you not skilled at controlling people by manipulating information?” “Sure. He is a simple man, and I could easily control him now, but…” He shrugged lightly. “Go ahead, laugh. It’s nothing but personal sentiment. I once secretly looked up to him as an older brother, and it seems I do not wish to lie to him.” “Such consideration is all well and good, as long as it does not go to waste.” Despite the lack of lungs, Ebon Candle gave something that sounded like a sigh. “A faerie broken once never returns. If that man is unlucky, then he will soon crumble.” 5. What Happened to the Promise He had no recollection of how he managed to get home. That military police ship should have taken him back to Island No. 68 from Island No. 2. Barring course adjustments for replenishment stops and avoiding dragon stones, they should have taken the shortest route in the shortest time. And yet, no matter how he hurried, as a matter of course— —Willem didn’t make it. A girl with cerulean hair lay on the bed. She looked as if she was sleeping peacefully, as though she would open her eyes and begin moving at any moment. But she didn’t. The girl would never wake again. “She kept her promise.” Ithea stood in the doorway, informing him in a quiet voice. “She came home alive. She came home with a sliver of life left after leaving a battlefield she should not have survived, thinking only of the hope that she would see you again—lean on you again.” “Ithea.” Nephren, standing beside her, shook her head quietly. “Don’t blame Willem. We were the ones who didn’t tell him about Chtholly.” “True. I’m not planning on blaming him for that. But—” “…Right. You should blame me for not keeping my promise,” Willem murmured. “She did what I asked her to. But I couldn’t even greet her properly. That’s what this is about.” Death was perpetually a part of daily routine for a faerie soldier. They were aware of how little value their lives had. And so once they lost a companion of theirs, they were not terribly sad about it. They did not wear their hearts out by doing such things. And so, their capabilities as weapons did not suffer. “Um, um, guys, do you know where Nygglatho went?” Lakhesh entered the playroom, looking around every which way. “No. Do you need her?” Collon asked in turn, practicing her attacks on the joints of a blue stuffed animal. “Yeah. I wanted to ask her what to do about shopping on the weekend. It’s almost blizzard season, and I think we probably need to do some stocking up.” “Yeah, we can’t fight on an empty stomach!” “…Nygglatho should be in the mountains,” Pannibal answered, kicking a white ball against the wall on the carpet. “That’s where she always goes when someone doesn’t come home. This is probably the same.” “Oh…okay.” Lakhesh understood. “Are you going to look for her?” After a moment of thinking, she shook her head. “No. If she’s gone, then that means she can’t show her face to us, right? If I go all the way to see her, she would probably eat me.” “Likely.” Collon nodded gravely. “A valid judgment.” Pannibal agreed honestly. “…Tiat?” Lakhesh called the name of the last of them, who wasn’t participating in the conversation. “Huh? What? Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” Tiat had thrown herself onto the carpet and lay there, staring at the ceiling. She hurriedly sat herself up. “What’s wrong, Tiat? You’ve been distracted lately.” “Er—” Tiat was aware of that. So when she searched for a response, her words briefly caught. “…I dunno. My head feels empty.” “Because Miss Chtholly’s broken?” When she heard that, something in Tiat’s chest stung. But she didn’t know exactly why that happened, so she brushed it off as her imagination. “Maybe. I dunno.” She tilted her head, misjudging Lakhesh’s question. Slowly, ever so slowly, time passed. One day went. Another day. And another day. Time flowed like a river eroding away stone. No matter how much he concentrated, the magic inside Chtholly was doing nothing but flowing calmly, and he found no abnormalities. Enduring the headache that came with using Sight, Willem took Chtholly’s hand. It was pale, small, cold. He gently massaged several points by her knuckles on her palm. “—Long ago, there was a guy who lost consciousness from sudden-onset venenum poisoning, and he never woke up. This technique brought him back. It’s very non-stimulating, and slowly, confidently, you use it to fix the flow starting from the body’s extremities—” He knew it would do nothing. Unlike that time long ago when his companion barely made it out with his life, there were no abnormalities in the venenum in Chtholly’s body. That meant there was nothing to heal. This wasn’t the cause of her disorder. No matter how many external tricks he tried, not a single one set things on a good course. But he couldn’t do nothing. There might be some sort of tiny effect somewhere. He clung to that hope, so faint he couldn’t call it a possibility. He had to do something to keep himself occupied from how he could do nothing. He never welcomed her home. He never heard her say she had come back home. That amassed regret made him cling to the illusion that there was a way for him to make amends now. “Willem.” He heard a voice from behind him and turned around. “Hey… Haven’t seen you in a while, Nygglatho.” “Yes. I’m sorry—I was away for a bit. My heart breaks whenever someone dies here. I always feel like I’m strange for being sad, yet I don’t want to feel that way, and my head just goes in circles. So I went into the wilderness and took it out on some trees and some bears.” He felt bad for the trees and bears. “How strange this is. Once this happens, I lose my appetite. Even though there’s such a soft and delicious-looking piece of meat before me—” “I don’t think you’re allowed to be a troll anymore.” “I know. Do you think I could change into something different now?” The troll in her apron dress smiled weakly. “I’m tired of crying, yelling, and being angry on my own.” Nygglatho’s profile was, just as she said herself, colored with the deep hue of exhaustion. “How terrible this all is. I’m a bit happy right now. That you’re crying for her. It makes me feel like I’m not alone.” “That really is terrible, but I feel the same.” When Nygglatho appeared here, he felt a little like he’d been saved. He would admit that. “—I do have something I need to talk to you about. I want to change rooms, so will you come with me?” “We can’t talk here?” “I don’t think I could. And I think it would be hard for you, too.” Oh, he got it. That was the kind of talk she wanted to have. “Can I run away?” “I won’t stop you if you did.” Ah, damn it. He couldn’t run anymore once she said that. Nygglatho’s room was dark. Only now did Willem finally notice several things: that it was night somehow. And that it was apparently raining outside. “I’m sorry—this is the only lamp I have with oil left in it.” She placed a small oil lamp for reading onto the table. The dim light lit the room with a faint glow. “Would you like something alcoholic to drink?” “That’s new. You never offer anything but tea in this room.” “I have no fire, so we have no choice. And…” It would be easier to talk drunk. Words weren’t necessary to finish that sentence. Willem blew the awkward atmosphere away with a single sigh, and he asked, “—What do you want to talk about?” “Right.” Nygglatho paused slightly in hesitation. “It’s about the test to see which sword would be compatible for Tiat.” “Oh…” He nodded vaguely. “Seniorious?” “You know it well.” “It makes a big difference in combat power depending on whether the user is ready to use the sword or not. Thinking normally, once the first person’s broken down, it starts looking for the second… I’m not thinking normally… I can’t believe I said that without a second thought. I’m gonna barf.” “I’ll rub your back if you throw up. Because I empathize with you. But don’t forget that you have to think about getting used to this. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the last.” “And every time it happens, you interrupt the bears while they’re busy hibernating?” “How rude. I at least bring home the parts I’ve won to turn them into a stew.” She wasn’t arguing with him at all, but that sounded important to her. “Well—I understand the logic behind the combat power and stuff, but Seniorious is a completely perverted blade. I don’t think it’ll sync up with the next person just because it’s convenient for us.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the oldest of all holy blades. It completely outclasses all the other swords. And its class translates directly to how selfish it is when it chooses a user. Seniorious is very picky about who wields it.” “Can you do something about it with your strength?” “Of course not. If I could, I’d use it myself.” Willem smiled bitterly, recalling an event in the past. “When I first saw Seniorious, my master was using it. I don’t really remember very much about the fight then. Actually, I don’t think I saw much of it at all. That’s how strong my master and Seniorious were—” Slowly, he began to tell his tale. In that dim, dark room. So that they would be able to accept the girl’s death. So that they would be able to take the next step. So that they would be able to survive their new life without Chtholly.