Chapter 24

The First Beast Who Laments for the Moon -a piece of cake- 1. The First You wanna be a Brave, izzit? He remembered his master’s face when he first brought up the topic with him. It was a complex expression, one that seemed both happy and sad, both interested and annoyed. Now that he thought back on it…Willem could understand about half of how he felt. The intricate web of feelings that crossed his heart when Falco at the orphanage said to him, I’m gonna be a Brave, too! was probably the same as that. He was happy that the boy aspired to be like him, the father figure, and wanted to follow in his steps. He was sad that the bright and shining icon of a hero that existed in his mind would soon be dirtied and shattered. He was angry because there were so many other paths Falco could take in life— Why did he have to pick the hardest one? But he was also touched by the purity of a young boy chasing his dreams. You wanna protect the orphanage, izzit? You an idiot? There are plenty of other ways to keep us safe. Why’d you pick the world’s most grueling work? But in the end, he felt like something was different. He had a hunch that how his master felt back then was degrees different from how Willem felt now. Fine, fine. I’ll teach you. I’ll be your master. But listen—I ain’t got no faith in your talent. I’ll be going at full speed from the get-go tryin’ to shake you off, so you better hold on tight. It was tragic how accurate his master’s words were. Willem Kmetsch had no talent, and he barely acquired any of the sword techniques that the former Legal Brave, Nils D. Foreigner, taught him. And the only Carillon he could awaken were the mass-produced ones of the lowest ranks. And the insolent girl who barged in after him to become another pupil of his had everything he didn’t. She mastered all the blade techniques unique to Braves, said to blast away unfairness by force, and even easily awakened the oldest holy sword, said to be the one hardest to please. You can give up, y’know? Quit what doesn’t suit you and go back to the orphanage. His master hadn’t been overjoyed or angry back then. He wasn’t sad, nor did he pity him. An emotion Willem didn’t recognize brimmed in his eyes as he smiled a gentle, wry smile. There was a little walking path that stretched along the canals that flowed through the city. During the day, it was a place for relaxation for the townspeople. There were people taking leisurely walks, people jogging, people touring the canals on little boats, people playing bright melodies on the violin for money, artists with their easels set up trying to capture the sights in a painting— But when the sun set, every last one of them went home. Now, where the stars shone brightly above, there was a lone man sitting on a bench gazing up at the moon, taking small sips of his liquor. “—Been looking for you, Navrutri,” Willem called out, and the man slowly looked toward him. “Hey, Will… Funny place to see you.” “You’re the one in a funny place,” he casually replied, sitting next to Navrutri. “Never seen you drunk like this before.” “Man, I just can’t bring myself to like Imperial liquor. No matter how much I drink, I’m never a happy drunk.” “You think that’s the alcohol’s fault?” “It might all be because of me, but it’s still the same. This liquor and I never made a connection, that’s all.” As he spoke, he took the half-empty glass bottle and tossed it. There came a quiet splash from the darkness in the direction of the canal. “Littering’ll cost you a fine, y’know.” “I’ll pay when city hall opens. Men should never be frugal when it comes to partings.” “Then you better apologize to, like, half of mankind.” He sighed. But of course, that wasn’t what he came here to talk about. “I looked up a bunch of stuff on the True World,” Willem began, gazing blankly out over the black surface of the water. “Putting it roughly, religion is a group of people who share a common sense that has been transformed into culture. No one could trust anyone who doesn’t share common knowledge with them. That’s why it’s easy for people of different faiths to look at one another as absurdities, and the fighting never stops. So to prevent that from happening, all the nations take a shot at establishing a national religion to unify the country’s common sense.” “Sure.” Navrutri nodded slightly, his expression vacant. “…The followers of the True World all share the common sense that This world is not what it should be. That’s pretty nonsensical, if you ask me. Someone who thoroughly believes that wouldn’t listen to anything else. That’s why they’re at odds with the people around them. The only ones who understand are the people who share the same teachings. So their ties within the group strengthen. As time goes on, discord with the outside gets worse. Then finally, they start thinking that it’s time to rid the world of all the disbelievers and reveal the true world…” Willem sighed briefly. “But that’s the wrong idea.” The light in Navrutri’s eyes wavered a bit. “Go on.” “To people on the outside, they just look like one big group of weirdos, but from the inside, everyone’s different. The True World’s not a monolith. “The idea they share is that This world is not what it should be. Beyond that, their schools of thought are split into two: There’re people who want to return the world to its original form and people who want to somehow preserve the fake world as it is now. And ninety-seven years ago when the group was first established, the founder supported the latter idea. Basically, the original True World wasn’t the kind of organization to carry out any major alterations. Right?” “It doesn’t contradict the information I have, at least. Is that it?” “Nope. I was just confirming my assumption that there were two groups within their organization. My real question is next.” Willem inhaled deeply, then exhaled. His eyes trained on the water’s surface, he asked his question breezily. “I’m asking what side you’re on, Navrutri.” A long silence. “How did you notice I was a part of the True World?” “Aw, you really are? It was just a question to get you to confess.” “…Will?” “I’m only half joking. Don’t make that face. Those guys trying to make off with people in comas had timing that was too perfect. I looked real carefully at the flow of information passing through the Guild. There, I found a record of someone who obtained information through suspicious channels. After following that, your name came up. And that’s not all. You said you were suspicious of other Quasi Braves, but there was only you and me here in Gomag, and you weren’t showing any signs of leaving. So I thought that meant you knew you didn’t need to investigate or be careful of the double-crossing Quasi Brave as of now.” “So you were just a little suspicious. You came to your conclusion based on so little information?” “That’s why I said I was half joking. Half of me was really asking you a leading question.” They heard a quiet splash. A fish or something must have leaped from the water. “And? You didn’t think I’d come to seal your lips after I told you what I really was? I think you’re aware, but I’m pretty good at assassinations.” “And I think you’re aware that I’m pretty good at foiling assassins, too.” Willem cackled. “And you said it yourself: It’s not my job to doubt my coworkers. Then that means it’s not my job to doubt you, True World or not. I highly doubt you’re gonna resort to assassination over this.” “That doesn’t make any sense.” “That’s fine. It makes sense to me.” “And the way you’ve turned on me is awful.” Navrutri shrugged. “…I’m on the side of keeping the world as it is now. We’re in sort of an antagonistic relationship behind the scenes with what you call the group that wants major alterations. I can’t say much more than that, but do you have any questions?” He asked, and Willem thought. There was a lot he wanted to know, of course. But among that, there wasn’t much he could ask Navrutri that could be meaningful. “When you guys say The world as it should be, are you talking about the empty gray wasteland with the weird beasts roaming around it?” “Correct. It’s called the landscape of the original world.” “What do the guys who want to alter everything want so badly?” “Oh, plenty of stuff. Some want to control the beasts and to change everything into barren wastes for the purpose of war, and some just believe that everything should be the way it’s supposed to be, unconditionally. To borrow your own words, that’s common sense for them.” “Do you think you could stop them?” “Well…” Navrutri was about to say something, but he made gestures indicating that he was thinking and closed his mouth. “Hello?” “…There’s no need. Their main forces were crushed two years ago. The only ones left were underlings of underlings who command few resources. They can’t make any actual progress now.” What the hell is he talking about? Willem thought. They can’t make any actual progress? Of course they can. They’re causing people to fall into comas right now. “They can plot all they want; ruin is on the horizon,” Navrutri said lightly, the meaning of which was somewhat unclear. “What the emnetwiht race needs now are fragments of the Visitors’ souls. Preparations to replace these are underway. We’ll make it before the day comes.” “Uh, I don’t really get what you’re saying. If you’re gonna use jargon, then at least explain what it is.” “…Well, it just means we’re managing to put up a good fight. I can’t say any more than that.” He was brushing him off with a vague smirk. “Can I trust you?” “It’s not your job to doubt your friends, right?” When Navrutri said that, Willem somehow found it hard to press the question any further. “What can I do?” “The best thing for you would be to just trust me and wait. I know how strong you are, but this isn’t something that can be dealt with on strength alone— Oh no, wait.” Navrutri suddenly shook his head, as though he’d remembered something important. “There was one thing I wanted to ask you. Do you know where Mr. Nils is?” “My damn teacher?” That was a strange and sudden thing to ask. “Last I heard of him, he went to the capital a while back. He’ll probably pop back in at the worst time, though. What about him?” “Nah, that’s fine if you don’t know. Tell me right away if he comes back,” Navrutri said, standing up, as though telling him that was all they had time to talk about. “He should know a way to save the world from its end.” 2. The Adventurers from the Guild Rumor spread through the Gomag City Hospital. People apparently heard singing at night in the special ward. Some said it was a male voice, others said female; some said it was a child’s voice and some an elder; some said it was a love song, and some said it was one that longs for home—every night, this indeterminate sound echoed from out of nowhere. There were, of course, some who thought it was one of the inpatients singing. But the only ones staying in the special ward at the moment were five men and women who had fallen into comas, cause unknown. And since there was an unknown armed group targeting them, there was strict security day and night. There was no room for outsiders to sneak in. In that case, there was only one possibility. The slumbering patients, seduced by dreams of the gray world, were the ones singing. Through their nostalgic yet nauseating melody, they were trying to drag those around them into the same dreamworld… “Will you stop with that?!” Luzie shivered lightly. “I’m supposed to help with security tonight, you know! What am I supposed to do if I see something I’m not supposed to see?!” “Oh, I just had to, because I really wanted to see how you’d react.” Ted beamed, and then he flipped over when a clenched fist made contact with the tip of his nose. “You’re gonna be in a world of hurt one day if you keep teasing girls so tastelessly like that.” “…And you didn’t count that as a world of hurt, so I really don’t know what to think of you as a girl.” A sharp glare. “Just kidding.” Sure, hospitals always came with ghost stories. The day after a strong wind, the outpatients somehow concocted a tale of an ill-fated girl who died as she dreamed of her betrothed, and they whispered among themselves as if it were true. The day after the curtains on the second floor were changed to white, the legend of a mystery man in a white cape who hated the living was born, and it captured the hearts of the children. That’s why they probably didn’t need to think so hard about it. The song might actually have just been the sound of the wind blowing through the windows, or the meowing of a stray cat in the area, or they just happened to hear the humming of someone who was in such a good mood, they couldn’t help humming from a house far away. There was nothing odd about it at all. And yet, scary things were still scary. “Ohhh… Maybe I should bring some earplugs…” “You’re supposed to be on guard, so you really should be keeping a sharp ear out.” “And who do you think’s putting me on edge like this?!” In the corner of the Adventurers Guild, the two sat at a table, throwing back glasses of cheap cider. The investigation on the comas hadn’t advanced much since then. The number of people succumbing to it was increasing bit by bit. There was no common thread between age or sex, and they didn’t find any particular clue among their personal histories and daily habits. There was still no information on the True World’s base of operations. Gomag was a small town of only about three thousand people—where would they hide? Or maybe their base wasn’t here in the first place. And the group that attacked first had stayed silent. The use of arcane arts related to torture was outlawed by international charter, so as long as they kept their mouths shut, there was nothing they could do. Ever since the first attack, everyone was ready for the possibility that similar attacks would keep happening as long as people kept falling comatose. The fact that their caution amounted to nothing in the end should probably be a good clue for what was to come. It didn’t seem too dangerous for Adventurers to handle anymore… So they hadn’t worked with that Quasi Brave boy in a while. He seemed pretty busy carrying out his own personal investigation, and the number of times he even popped into the Guild was less and less. They hadn’t seen him in a while. “…Hey, can I ask about Willem?” “Sure.” “He’s not married, is he?” “Well, he’s like the orphanage manager in practice, so it’s sort of like he has a bunch of children.” Hmm. Kids, Luzie thought as she swallowed a mouthful of the cider. She didn’t like children much. “Oh, but it does seem he’s close with many other women. There are so many incredible names on that list.” “Huh, like who?” “The Legal Brave Lillia Asplay is like his younger co-apprentice.” She choked. The cider entered her windpipe. “And if we’re talking about names we Adventurers are familiar with, there’s Emissa Hodwin and Kaya Kaltran, who he’s fought alongside several times in the past on the same battlegrounds.” “Whoa, all of them are people over level 30?!” Adventurers had a grasp on one another’s rough fighting prowess through numbers they called levels. So those whose levels were absurdly high were also naturally famous. “I’ve heard Willem’s own level was over 30 when he had it measured.” “…Oof.” Sure, that made sense. The one time she saw him fight, it was, to put it simply, overwhelming. “…So what does he himself think of this? Who’s the winner, then?!” “I hear he found someone really great a little while ago and proposed to her.” Bummer. Luzie’s forehead smacked the table. “I didn’t ask who it was exactly, but it sounded like it was someone I don’t know.” “Huh… I better give up, then…” “Personally, I can’t really advise you to go after him. If word got out you had a man, this Guild would become a bloodbath, Ms. Luzie.” Ted whirled around. At the same time, there were about ten men listening in on the conversation who all sat back in their seats and opened their books or threw back another drink or pretended to look out the window. “I don’t mind, since my heart is after Allie’s, but you know there are a lot of people pursuing you, right? What would happen if they all ended up in tears?” Why do I care? she thought. If they weren’t taking any strategies to approach the women they were pining for, then it was hard to say they were after her in the first place. At that point, it was nothing more than a longing. They had no plans of trying to get her in reality and only dreamed about how nice it would be. So sooner or later, they would all cry. The only difference was if that was going to be a year from now or right now. “Then what are you telling me to do about how badly I wanna cry?” “Go all in during work and forget about it. I think that’d be best.” “Work…” The cuckoo clock on the wall made a cartoonish-sounding cuck-oo, cuck-oo. The time of the guard shift change at the city hospital was drawing near. “…Waaaaah!” Luzie buried her head in the table. “It’s all right. Ghosts aren’t real.” “If something happens to me, the first thing I’m gonna do is curse you…!” “Nothing will happen! What I told you was just a rumor. Come on— get up and go to work!” “Noooooo, I hate scary thiiiiiings; I’m going hoooooome!” 3. For Someone’s Sake Almaria got sick. “…I need to get dinner ready.” “Go to bed.” The girl got up and tried to start her housework, but Willem pushed her back onto the bed. “Nanette’s in the kitchen taking care of dinner right now.” “I’m worried about her on her own.” “She’s always helping you out with your work, right? She’ll be fine. Ren’s with her, so there’s no worry about fire or sharp objects.” He, of course, couldn’t say I’m more worried about how it’ll taste. He stayed silent. “But—” “You need to rest sometimes. Your body’s not that tough in the first place, remember?” “Yeah… I know.” It didn’t seem like she was really conceding the fact, but Almaria still swallowed what she was going to say and obediently placed her head on the pillow. “This brings back memories.” “Of what?” “When I was sick and you stayed by my side.” “Yeah?” He went back through his memories. He sure didn’t remember doing this recently. “Hey, could you spoil me from time to time?” “Hmm?” “If I tell you not to go again, will you hold my hand?” That’s an unusual thing to ask, Willem thought. Almaria was generally strong of heart. She never whined, never showed her suffering, and never revealed herself to others when she was in low spirits. So for her to say something like that caught him by surprise. “You want me to?” “Yeah. It just feels like I should now.” Almaria’s hand rustled and peeked out from under the covers. He sighed lightly and grasped it with one hand. “We can’t show the other kids this.” “Ah-ha-ha-ha, Falco would probably start copying you right away.” “Man… I really wish I could figure out if he’s just putting on a front or simply wants attention.” “He’s working hard in his own way, you know. Whenever you’re not around, he yells, I’m gonna be a Brave, too! and does his very best.” “I see.” The Braves in stories splendidly carried out brilliant actions on a dressed-up battlefield. They defeated the strong and evil enemy and ended up betrothed to beautiful princesses. Any little boy—no, even the little girls dreamed of their way of life. And he thought those dreams were important. Because he believed that dreams should stay just that—dreams—and never enter reality. Willem himself was no exception as an innocent young lad. He had dreamed of being a Brave from a young age and chosen that path. Then, it was only just after he made his dreams a reality that he realized it—it wasn’t exactly the same. “—Are you afraid to fall asleep?” A bitter smile. Her hands were trembling slightly. “When I think about how I might not wake up anymore, of course.” Rumors of the gray dreams had slowly spread since he first heard of them. Those who repeatedly dreamed it would eventually be caught in the dreamworld and never wake up. That unnecessary embellishment had eventually attached itself to the rumor. “But it’s a lose-lose situation if that keeps you up, then makes you even sicker.” “That’s true. Things like that never go according to plan.” “You’re driving yourself mad because you’re thinking too much. Forget about it and get some rest.” “Okaaay.” She chuckled softly. “Dad?” “What?” “Every day since you came home has been so much fun.” “Yeah?” “Little Miss Nephren’s a cutie, too. She’s a good kid.” “Yeah.” “We can’t stay like this forever, can we?” …Of course they couldn’t. They couldn’t stay in this world forever. They had to escape somehow, before they were killed by the Beasts who were to appear. And when that happened, they would have no choice but to leave all the people who lived here behind. Almaria. Ted. Luzie. Falco. Nanette. Wendel, Maurice, Mineh, Detrov, Horace… Everyone close to him—and everyone not. He would abandon them all. “Well, I’ll have to go far away again soon.” He lightly gripped Almaria’s hand. “But I’ll be back. I promise.” That was a lie. “And next time, I’ll bring my other junior Braves. I think you’ll really get along with some of them.” That was also a lie. “Don’t worry. I’ve never broken any of my promises, have I?” It went without saying—it was such an audacious, unbelievably big lie, it almost made him laugh. He had never come home after being sent off to do battle with the Visitors. Maybe, in this world, that history had been overwritten and erased. And yet, Willem remembered—he had been unable to keep his promise. “…Yeah, you’re right.” Like a saint absolving a criminal of his sins, Almaria smiled gently. “Then, don’t get your head wrapped up in weird stuff. Get some rest.” “Okay.” This time, Almaria nodded earnestly and closed her eyes. He slowly released the hand he held in his. “Dad?” “What?” “See you tomorrow.” “—Yeah, good night.” He left the room and closed the door behind him. In an unexpected turn of events, a delicious scent wafted from the kitchen. A tasty-looking soup bubbled in the pot. “I decided to do something simple instead,” Nanette said suddenly. She was standing on a kitchen step stool meant for shorter people. It’s all right—it’s great how dependable you are. He patted her on the head. Then Nephren, who was skillfully cutting the hunks of mutton, turned around. “How was she?” “She didn’t seem that bad, but I put her to bed just in case.” “…Are you worried?” “Of course I am.” “Even if this is just a dream?” “Even if this’s just a dream,” he answered readily. “Okay.” Nephren turned back to the mutton. “I think that’s fine, too. It’s not like you to look for reasons not to help her. But…” “…But what?” “I’m sorry if I made you fret.” “Idiot.” He laughed contemptuously, waved his hand lightly, then left the kitchen. “Lovers’ quarrel?” he heard Nanette ask him. Who on earth taught her that term? “When it’s finished, go bring some to Al. She’s probably hungry.” “Okaaay!” Her tone was childlike, her response energetic. Even when the soup was finished, Almaria didn’t wake. She seemed to be sleeping well, so they let her sleep. The next morning arrived. Even when it was time for breakfast, Almaria didn’t wake. Even when they called for her. Even when they shook her. Even when they tapped her cheeks. Even when they called her name. Her eyes never opened again. 4. A Nostalgic Song “Oh yeah, have you heard the rumors about that singing voice?” Gomag City Hospital, the night watch room. A doctor wearing a worn-out lab coat roughly shuffled the cards in his hands as he tilted his head. “I’ve heard a bit of it. There was something real nostalgic about that song. It felt like I was hearing something that was really popular a long time ago for the first time in a while.” “Then it’s definitely someone from the neighborhood humming. Lot of ’em are the same generation as you.” The other doctor flung a card onto the table. “I’m not a big fan of how ghost stories are so common around patients who are alive but don’t wake up… Chariot on top.” “It’s not really a ghost story yet. I’ll put two Cavalry on top of that.” “Yet means it’s only a matter of time before it is. A Noble and an Attendant.” The stack of cards on the table was growing. One doctor grimaced and grumbled “Damn” as he tossed out a coin. “You think the patients’ll ever get better?” “Can’t really say. There’s a lot about this whole situation that’s strange. Comatose patients typically become enervated after a few days, and they get dirtied with grime and whatnot. But none of these patients are showing any signs of that.” Something suddenly came to mind. “…The Adventurers for the patrol are real late, aren’t they?” This ward was under heavy security in anticipation of attacks by the armed group. The Adventurers periodically made their rounds of the area and popped into this night watch room about every thirty minutes or so. He glanced at the clock. The last time the Adventurers had popped in was almost an hour ago. “Who cares? They probably shat themselves. Come on, next game.” “Well if they have diarrhea, then we at least have some medici—” “Just hurry up and deal already. I’m not gonna let you get away with that win!” Just as one of the doctors was about to get out of his chair, he sat back down with a sigh. Meanwhile: A handful of Adventurers, including one woman clad in red-leather armor, were collapsed facedown in the darkness, where the light of the moon or any fire could not reach. None were visibly injured. And yet, they all were knocked out cold. Elsewhere: The intruders, wearing dark cloaks to blend in with the darkness, silently snuck into the ward. Wait. Using lip movements and hand signals, without making a single sound, one of the intruders stopped the others. It’s possible there might be several people hiding here. What makes you think that? I can hear singing. The men strained to listen. I hear it. But I doubt this will hinder our mission. Agreed. We don’t have much time; let’s hurry. The first man thought for a brief moment, then nodded shortly. They rushed in the darkness, undid the lock on one of the patient room’s doors, slipped inside, neared the bed, and identified the face of the sleeping middle-aged man. This is it—our first target, Odle N. Gracis. He pulled out a large black body bag and spread it out. They lifted the man, who could not struggle against them, and just as they were about to shove him into the bag— Odle opened his eyes. “Huh?” A sudden sound of bewilderment. There was a loud clatter as Odle was thrown onto the floor. What are you doing?! Perceiving the occurrence of an unusual situation, the men assumed defensive stances. The man who had tried to pick Odle up crumpled to the floor before their eyes. In the darkness, they could see a black-red liquid spreading across the floor. Moments later, the smell of rust began to fill the air. “……” Odle stood from the floor. His eyes were bloodshot. His mouth was open as wide as it could go, wringing out a voiceless noise from his throat. Is he…singing? Odle’s body slowly rocked side to side. This was an unexpected development, but the intruders did not move. Noises intertwined with what was supposed to be a silent mission. But that didn’t mean anyone had noticed yet. Their target, who was supposed to be in a coma, had put up a little resistance, but that didn’t mean what they were supposed to do had changed. They would just have to take slightly rougher measures. That was all. But— “……” The attackers saw it. Without any context, a strange sight appeared in their minds’ eyes—no, it spread before them and blanketed their entire vision. It was the gray desert. A world without any people, without any man-made structures—just the passage of day and night, a constant cycle of the sun and the moon. And they felt an indescribable longing for what should have been an uncanny sight. A terrible homesickness clenched around their hearts. They couldn’t understand why. “Wha…?” In their confusion, they were too late to notice. They couldn’t move. Their legs stayed still. Their arms were frozen. Their tongues stuck in place. They couldn’t even brush Odle’s arms away as he drew closer to them, much less pin him down. They couldn’t even scream. Odle sang a voiceless song. With quiet thuds, the intruders collapsed to the floor. The black-red substance spread, soiling the sanitized floors. 5. The Night of the End, the Night of the Beginning I’ll go see Navrutri, Willem thought. He’d ask if they really managed to prevent destruction. If they could really keep the world as it was. If they found a way to wake up the comatose victims. He went out into town, and as he took the path toward the Guild, he remembered he didn’t know where Navrutri was staying in the first place. He could probably find him if he looked, but that would take time. Willem wasn’t relaxed enough now to take his time doing something like that. Was he based at the True World laboratory? If he was, then finding him would be hard. Gomag wasn’t a big city, but the Adventurers hadn’t found anything that could be it in their investigations up to that point. Either it was cleverly camouflaged, or it was hidden deep underground. Underground. Oh, right. He’d totally forgotten. There was a place like that, wasn’t there? There was a mysterious underground facility that sprawled beneath the feet of the people of Gomag, who were none the wiser. He knew about it and its general location. That didn’t mean the facility and the True World were 100 percent connected, but that was all. It should be worth pursuing. …This wasn’t reality. This was a prison for his spirit. An arbitrary dreamworld. The fact that it looked like reality—and the fact that things that looked like people from the real world were there and breathing—was all so it could carry out its role as a prison. So everything here was worthless. No—he shouldn’t try to find worth in them. All that would do was essentially lessen his will to return to reality and create the risk that he would be trapped in this prison forever. When they escaped back to reality, this world would disappear anyway. So what should he care what happens to this world? (I thought I’d accepted all this from the start, though.) None of the children at the orphanage were real. He would have to abandon them all soon anyway. So it didn’t matter when or where they would die. It was all so insignificant, he could just laugh it off. He’d told himself that over and over. But he couldn’t. Real or not, what did it matter? That was Almaria. She called me “Dad.” She asked me to stay with her. She smiled at me. Cried to me. Got mad at me, annoyed with me. Pouted to me. Leaned on me. I got to see her face again, hear her voice again, and I never thought I would get the chance. Of course, he didn’t want to lose her. “Willem.” He heard his name and snapped back to reality. He looked down and noticed for the first time that Nephren was right by his side. He had been so concentrated on one thing, he noticed her only now. He thought it was exceptionally cold when he noticed sparse flurries falling from the sky. “…Sorry. Did I have a scary look on my face?” He breathed in deeply, then breathed out. “You did, but that’s not it.” That was an odd thing for her to say. “Something’s strange.” When she mentioned it, he looked around them. Everything seemed to be in order. They were on a street on a gentle slope, and various narrow staircases connected to the street. He could smell the faint scent of spice, characteristic of the town in the evening. Not many people were out, and those who should’ve been rushing home— For some reason, several of these people were stopped on the roadside, stock-still. They were all looking in different directions—some to the sky, some to the ground, some straight ahead. But they all looked on with unfocused eyes. “…No.” He rushed to one person near them, a young woman who seemed to have been on her way home from shopping. She stood in place, her shopping basket filled with meat and vegetables still hanging from her arm. It didn’t quite seem like she was unconscious. It was almost as if she was just spaced out, lost in thought. He called to her. He waved his hand in front of her face. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Nothing produced a reaction. Her lips were moving slightly, like she was whispering. Or like she was singing. But even when he stood still to listen, he didn’t hear anything. “Ren.” “Okay.” He only briefly called out her name, and Nephren, understanding his orders, was already on the move. She neared the few people they could see and checked on them one by one. As she did that, Willem quickly activated his venenum. Leaving a deep footprint in the firm ground, he leaped high up into the air. He reached a height several times higher than the houses around them, looked over the area, then came back down. (This…) He saw fires in several parts of the city. He could faintly hear the voices of confusion and chaos carried on the wind. “No, don’t tell me… It’s started already?” This was a very bad situation. The state of things had already spread far. And it seemed like the incident was progressing at the same rate everywhere. “Willem.” Nephren rushed back to him. “Everyone who’s frozen still is the same. They don’t respond to anything. The people moving are normal, but they’re starting to notice.” From what they could see, just under a fifth of the people around them were in a trance. But the peculiarity of that fifth suddenly coming to a halt was beginning to rob the calm from the remaining four-fifths— “Is this like a rapidly spreading poison or something?” (No. This runs far deeper than that.) The one faction within the True World, the one that Navrutri was opposing, had probably just completed the technology that could broadcast an enchantment over a wide area… It was likely, but something was off. It was hard to explain, but it felt abrupt, like the sight before him was unnatural. It was almost like a day that was supposed to continue uneventfully as normal had suddenly been overwritten by the happening before him— “Let’s get back to the orphanage for now. I’m worried about Almaria—” There was a pained cry, one that sounded like all the air was being squeezed out of someone’s lungs. He turned around. The woman from earlier was moving. A man had approached her, probably her family, and she had bitten deep into his shoulder. Blood flowed from the wound. Her natural teeth couldn’t withstand the strength of her jaw muscles as she tried to rip into his flesh. One by one, her teeth fell from her mouth. Desperate, the man shoved the woman backward. She staggered and lost her balance, crumpling to the ground. Then, slowly, she stood. In the gaps where her teeth had fallen from her red-soaked mouth, something else was starting to grow in. They gleamed slimily and a blue-purple, like tentacles— “—Make sure everyone’s still normal, okay, then head for the orphanage!” Willem yelled and dashed off. As the woman—or what used to be the woman—tried to cover the man’s body again, Willem pressed his hands together and pummeled her in the pit of the stomach from head-on. He put the Bear’s Paw, a move he learned directly from Hilgram, to use. The blow was meant to be powerful enough to blast his opponent backward while keeping their body intact. “Gah!” There was something strange about the resistance he felt on his hand. It was heavy and hard, like he had hit a lump of lead. “Are you okay?!” Not minding the pain in his wrist, Willem turned back to the man. Blood was flowing gratuitously from the wound in his shoulder, as if a large artery had been severed. He wouldn’t make it if he didn’t quickly stop the blood. Willem ripped off a piece of his sleeve, and just as he leaned in to sit the man up— “The song…” He heard the man murmur. “I hear…the song…” His eyes lost their focus, and he gazed into space. Willem saw that something was off. He leaped away from him. “I miss…the gray…world…” This was bad. The blood from the man’s shoulder was beginning to bubble. Something blue-purple was also trying to grow from inside him. This person was giving up on being a person. (This can’t be.) He wasn’t panicked at all. With surprising calm, Willem accepted what was happening before him. People were changing into something that wasn’t people. And that was, more than likely, also due to the True World’s handiwork. Definitive proof of the theory he never wanted to believe was right before his eyes. “…No.” He could hear Nephren’s quiet murmur. “This can’t…be.” It sounded like she had come to the same conclusion as Willem on her own. But of course she would. She had spent her whole life fighting its cousins up in the sky. Her whole life was meant to be spent in those battles. Her eyes would never have been wrong. She realized what it was right away, and half in disbelief, she called its name. “—The Piercing One, Beast Number Two, Aurora—?” Desperatio was a Carillon that specialized in killing kin. Nopht Keh Desperatio fought with the Seventeen Beasts using a sword that existed solely for emnetwiht to kill other emnetwiht. And that fact led to one hypothesis: Were the Seventeen Beasts altered emnetwiht themselves? And now, in a dream that resembled the past, that hypothesis was proven correct. All that would be left after this was how it was in the future. The people. The emnetwiht. Just as it was told in the legends, they birthed the Beasts, became them, and would destroy the world. Its whole body was like a string. If it had to be likened to anything, it would be like a giant serpent. But it wasn’t a snake, of course. It didn’t have a head or a tail, and its skin was covered in countless dully gleaming thorns instead of scales. They grew and shrank freely, sometimes softening to act like cilia and sometimes sharpening like spears to pierce its prey. It was one of the Seventeen Beasts who roamed the surface. Of all the frequently encountered Beasts, it was the most often sighted by far, and its danger level was considered to be low. And that reason was clear: It could kill only one person at a time. If a group of three encountered it, it was practically guaranteed that one or two would escape alive… There was no other Beast as tepid as this. It was Beast Number Two—the Piercing One, Aurora. On the way, they gathered as many people who seemed unharmed as possible. It went reasonably well at first; people came to them straightaway when called. Some tried to attack, but their movements lagged, so it wasn’t too hard to stop them without getting hurt. Just as their group reached about twenty, the plan fell apart. One of the yet unharmed ones, a very young boy, grabbed at the person next to him. Though he had suddenly changed, his physique and strength were still that of a child. They managed to subdue the boy without anyone getting injured. The problem came after that: People feared that the person beside them might suddenly attack, and thus, the group fell apart. They ignored Willem as he tried to keep them in check, and all twenty people scattered to the wind. When they finally arrived back at the orphanage, no one was there. Not even Almaria, who should have been sleeping soundly in her bed. Not even the children, who should have been kept in their rooms. He called out, but there came no answer; he opened the doors but found no one inside. In just the short time that Willem had been away, they had all vanished. He touched the mattresses but felt no warmth. It was almost as if no one had been here to begin with. He recalled the feeling of unease he had earlier, the illogical changes to reality, like reality was being directly overwritten. “…Ha-ha.” The energy was sapped from his legs, and it felt like he would collapse on the spot. He placed his hand on the wall and managed to steady himself. The grounded feeling of reality quickly vanished. Oh, right. This was always a dream. This was never reality to begin with. “I hate this dream.” The words tumbled from his throat. “I knew it. The one who created this dream was a demon after all. Probably an aeshma or a bufas, one of those. They arrange reality in impossible ways to try to break us.” “Willem.” There was Nephren’s voice, reproving him. “…I know. I won’t look away from reality.” They checked the windows and doors. None looked like it’d been opened. Almaria and the children hadn’t left on their own, nor had they suddenly been carried off by intruders. It would be a different story if someone with a skilled hand carefully erased all their traces, but as long as they weren’t hiding a kidnapping, there was no reason to go out of their way to do this. This was, without question, an abnormal situation. The creator of this dreamworld, who had put its heart and soul into re-creating reality thus far, had finally come to intervene. The enemy’s goal was for them to totally become a part of this world. So before both were killed by the Beasts who appeared, as it happened in history, it would try to overwrite history somehow… His judgment had been on the money. “If Al here turned into Aurora, too…I don’t think I would’ve minded getting killed by her…” When they returned to the real world, they would die anyway. But on the other hand, he didn’t like the idea of staying trapped in this dreamworld forever. Then at least this “dad,” who never kept any single promise he made, could fulfill just one—the one he had made at the very beginning… He wouldn’t mind dying for a reason like that. It was the perfect way to throw away this cheap life. “Oh, sorry, Ren. If that happens, then I’d end up leaving you alone, huh?” “Don’t worry. If it did, I would die with you.” Nephren wrapped her fingers lightly around Willem’s. “…And you sound like you’re gonna live forever.” He reached out as he always did and ruffled her hair. And the girl, as she always did, wriggled around with a pout. Now, let us solve a mystery. Let us think about what it means for Almaria and the others to disappear when they did. The answer was certainly connected to the final enemy they would have to face. Just after Almaria collapsed, the disaster engulfed the city. The people of Gomag turned into Twos, Auroras. In reality, it was Sixes, Timeres, who dominated the ruins of Gomag. This world more than likely contained the memories of most—if not all—of the people of Gomag. The creator of this world was re-creating history on the basis of these memories. Willem and Nephren were foreign substances to this re-created world. And right now, it was working to make both of them total residents of this world. Hypothesis. Assumption. Conjecture. Intuition. Everything he’d seen, everything he’d heard, everything he’d felt, everything he’d thought— He threw it all into the pot in his mind, brought it to a boil, and stirred it. “—No—” Just as some kind of answer started to take shape— The doorbell rang. Right after, there was a loud pounding on the front door. “Allie! Everyone! Are you all okay?!” There came a loud, pained voice. “Ted…?” His thoughts were interrupted. He looked up and murmured the name. (He’s okay?) A feeling that was too hollow to be called joy welled up inside him. “Falco! Wendel! Horace!” As he aggressively rang the doorbell, almost breaking it, and slammed his hands on the door, Ted called out the names of the children. “…We probably shouldn’t just ignore him, huh?” “Yes.” The two left the room, smiling bitterly. “Mineh! Detrov! Maurice! Nanette!” …Is he planning on leaving my name for last? Willem wondered that as he undid the lock and opened the door. Ted, who had been putting nearly all his weight on the door as he knocked, fell forward a bit. “…Willem! I’m glad to see you’re all right!” “Yeah, I am. As of right now, I’m fine.” He probably had to go through hell to get here. Ted’s face was so pale, he looked like he would faint any second. “Where are Allie and the others? Things haven’t gotten weird here, have they?” “—Nah. They haven’t gone crazy or anything, at least.” He nodded vaguely. “What a relief…” Ted wavered and almost fell to the floor, but Willem caught his arm and held him up. “We can’t stand here and chat. You look tired. Come in—I’ll make tea or something.” “Oh, I’m sorry. I have some things for you first.” Even though he looked like he could barely stand on his own, Ted forced a smile as he held out a large package he had been carrying on his back. It was a massive two-handed sword, kept inside a large leather scabbard. “A Carillon…?” “This is a lower-ranking one that people even without Brave aptitude can use. I just borrowed one of the ones the Guild had in their safekeeping. I thought you could make good use of this.” That meant he went all the way to the Guild once before running all the way to the orphanage. “Is the Guild—are the Adventurers okay? What about Luzie?!” Willem couldn’t stop asking questions. “…And one more thing. Well, person.” Ted didn’t answer, glancing back over his shoulder. There was a girl. She seemed to be fifteen or sixteen. Judging by the traveling clothes she wore, she was probably just passing through. Her long vivid-crimson hair was braided loosely and spilled down her back. Her eyes, the same color as her hair, showed she was somehow uncomfortable, and she gazed down at her feet. Zzzt. A strange sense of déjà vu tickled a deep part of his consciousness. It felt like he’d seen her…no, like he’d met her somewhere before. But he couldn’t remember exactly where that could’ve been. “I saw her on the street over there. There were plenty of others, but I only managed to bring one person this far.” “Bring this far? You—” “Please help her. This is the only safe place I can think of anymore.” Ted bowed his head. “…Fine, fine. I get it. Come inside. I dunno if you’re aware, but you look like you’re about to pass out cold.” “No. This is good-bye for me.” He smiled. “Wait, what are you—?” “I’ve been hearing singing deep in my ear for a while now.” His forced smile still plastered on his face, his voice began to waver behind tears. “Someone in my head’s been saying I want to go home; I want to go home, over and over. And everything I see is being overlapped by some kind of gray scenery. I don’t have much time left.” “Ted…” “That’s why I can’t come in. Allie always thought the kind of man I wanted to be was dangerous, didn’t she? I decided I’d bear through it until I got her dad’s permission. I can’t stand the thought of my choices being crushed by some stupid dream or song or whatever.” “…Ted, you…” “And that’s how it is, so I’m sorry.” He pushed himself up. Ted put all his strength into his knees to stand, then waved to Willem. “Good luck with everything else.” Then he ran off. He was swallowed up by the twilight and vanished. The image of Ted leaving was burned into Willem’s eyes. He’s important, he thought, but it was too late now. Ted chose to go far away and disappear all alone in order to keep Almaria and some girl he didn’t know safe. He must’ve felt hopeless, tired, scared, pained. But his final decision was to uphold his dignity as a man to the very end. Please help her, Ted had pleaded. Willem thought that was an unreasonable thing to ask. How and what was he supposed to do to truly help someone in a dying world? Good luck with what? The guy was only level 8, and there he went, trying to act all tough. The redheaded girl stared intently at her coffee cup. More precisely, she was gazing at its contents—the thick brown liquid inside. “Hmm? Not a fan of coffee, are you?” Willem asked, but she shook her head. Then she returned to staring at the inside of the cup. She seemed hesitant when it came to drinking it. “Then should I put milk and sugar in for you after all?” She shook her head again, then steeled herself. With the face of a soldier who had decided to march into the jaws of death, she lifted the cup, put it to her lips, then tilted it back. “……………?!” Her face went bright red. After she put the cup back on the table, she pressed both her hands onto her mouth and gave a silent scream. Hah, hah, hah. Like a fish dragged on land, she opened and closed her mouth. “Looks like it was hot.” Nephren poured cool milk into a different, smaller cup and held it out to the girl. She hesitated for a moment, weighing pride and reality, before tearing the cup away from Nephren and emptying the contents inside her mouth. Heee, haaah. She spent a few moments adjusting her breathing. “…It was hot.” Yeah, I know. “It was bitter.” Yeah, I know that, too. That’s why I told you to put milk in it. “You want another cup, then?” “…With milk, please.” It looked like she’d totally given up on putting up a front. Embarrassed, the girl hesitantly held out her cup. She was a weird girl. She looked to be around fifteen, which meant she was the same age as Chtholly. But just judging by the way she spoke and her movements, she seemed much younger. At most, he could probably even say that Nephren looked older. She wore traveling clothes, but she didn’t have anyone with her. Either she’d been traveling alone, or she got separated from whoever she was with. When he considered the worst possibility of whoever that was turning into a Beast, he figured he shouldn’t be so careless in asking. And her gaze. When she looked away from her coffee cup, the girl would look up at Willem with big, round, inquiring eyes. Then, when Willem made it obvious he noticed her doing that, she would hurriedly look away. It wasn’t exactly a friendly look. That being said, he didn’t feel any malice from it, either. If he was to analyze it, he’d say it felt like a mix of six parts curiosity, four parts caution. “Is there something on my face?” He directed the question to Nephren, but she shook her head. (…We have met somewhere before, then…) He recalled all his activities as a Quasi Brave on the surface, but he didn’t remember her. He would never forget such a vivid crimson if he saw it before. (……) Crimson hair. He remembered Chtholly. As she lost bits of her memory, her natural hair color had almost corroded into a bright-red hue. Though it might’ve just been the unreliable light from the stove, he thought Chtholly’s red hair and the bright scarlet on the girl in front of him seemed very similar. Maybe that’s why he got that sense of déjà vu. “…U-um—” The girl looked up and bravely began to speak. “Willie… You’re the real Willem, aren’t you?” “Hmm? Uh, yeah, guess I am,” he answered, perplexed when she suddenly called his name. “Well, I’m not famous enough to have an impostor walking around… You know me from before, right?” The girl nodded. “Ahhh, you heard about me from Ted, didn’t you?” The girl shook her head. “I saw you in a dream. It was a little short, but it was…I guess a sweet and sugary dream.” “…Uh?” The heck is that? Some kind of new pickup line? He always heard that love was born between two people in extreme situations of life and death. And the situation right now was the most extreme of them all. But this girl seemed way too young, so Willem didn’t feel like he could manage those kinds of feelings even if he tried. “Can I ask you something?” “What is it?” “Do you remember Lillia?” Of course—Lillia Asplay, the Legal Brave, was much more famous than Willem. It wasn’t particularly odd for everyone to know her name. But for her name to be brought up now, along with the verb remember, certainly brought a feeling of unease. “Well, um,” he answered vaguely. “Why d’you ask?” “Because she’s important to me,” she answered idly. “I’ve always wanted to be like Lillia. She’s so strong—a good head on her shoulders—and so amazing.” That painted a rather exaggerated image. He held back his urge to laugh. The Legal Brave, the strongest soldier of all the emnetwiht, was like an emblem on the front lines in the wars with other races. So the Church did nothing but romanticize and beautify her when they reported on her. She was so overwhelmingly powerful, she could defeat a dragon in one hit. She was so kind and virtuous that she could never leave the weak behind. The way she looked in full armor was so beautiful, boggards groveled before her the moment they were exposed to her power. And on and on… It was all just silly. It took her almost half a day after all was said and done to defeat a rust dragon; she wasn’t so weak-willed to forget about the priority order for situation assessment when there was a weakened individual before her; when she tried on the full-plate armor the Church sent her, she yelled, “It’s too tight!” and sent it right back. Lillia, as Willem knew her, was broad-minded and wild and did things her own way and, above all, was always free. “And in the true sense of the word, she was brave.” As Willem went back through his memories, the girl continued to sing praises of Lillia. “She had someone she loved very much, but she hid her feelings. She gave up on making herself happy in order to make him happy. She knew she would go in battle, but she went off to fight without hesitation. So this is what the emnetwiht are like… That’s what I learned from watching Lillia.” “That’s a wonderful lesson.” There was a strange way of wording things mixed in there. Had she met Lillia herself somewhere, then had fun talking about romance or something? Talking about romance with Lillia? Oh man. That image did not fit her at all, and it almost made him burst out into laughter. “I wanted to be like her. That was my final dream. I think after I die and scatter to pieces, my feelings will still remain, just a little—” “What are you talking about?” “Oh—” As though she’d suddenly been brought back to earth, the girl lifted her drooping head. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing, so please forget about it. But remember just a bit of it.” What? Which was it supposed to be? “…Who are you?” Nephren asked quietly. “For some reason, I feel restless when I look at you. It’s a weird feeling.” “…You’re probably imagining it. Please don’t think too hard about it.” She gulped down her drink, which was 70 percent milk and practically a latte at that point, and sighed. “Calm now?” “Yeah.” She nodded honestly. “All right. Sorry, but can you watch the place for me for a little while?” “Huh?” She looked at him blankly. “We’ve gotta go out for a bit.” He exchanged a brief glance with Nephren. “In the meantime, I wanna leave this run-down orphanage in your hands. Can I count on you for that?” “Where are you going?” “There’s someone I gotta see. I’m gonna bust right in and flip his whole playground inside out while I’m at it.” “Then I’m going, too.” “You can’t—it’s dangerous. It’s safe here— Well, I can’t guarantee that, but it’s better than anywhere else. That damn kid asked me to take care of you, so I can’t put you in harm’s way.” The girl groaned quietly. “Will you come back? Can you promise?” —That’s… After this, they were going to confront the very one who created this world. As a result, this world would either break or be torn apart by battle—either way, they probably wouldn’t come back here. So even if he made the promise, he would never be able to keep it. “Sorry. I can’t.” It was only his word anyway—he should just say he would… But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t repeat the same lie in this orphanage again. He grabbed the Carillon leaning against the wall by the hilt and tossed it to Nephren—Dindrane, a mass-produced Carillon. It was much lower in class than her compatible blade, Insania, but it boasted high, well-rounded abilities. It was rated favorably among the average Quasi Braves who couldn’t wield swords of higher status—the masterpiece of the Imperial Workshop. “Should I take this?” “I can fight a little without any weapons, but you need something to fight with, yeah?” He nodded lightly when Nephren looked up to him to ask. “We’re off.” They turned their backs to the girl. “—There was plenty more you wanted to talk about, no?” The sky fish appeared out of thin air, curling around the crimson girl. “You finally got to meet him. Weren’t you going to coax him or court him?” “No.” The girl shook her head. “I’m not the one who likes Willie. I don’t like people who are that unattractive.” “You’re so stubborn… Well, I suppose we’ll set that aside for now.” The sky fish twirled around the girl. “Shouldn’t you have gone along with them, even if that meant revealing who you are? Our goal is essentially the same as theirs. I believe our chances of success will increase if we work together honestly.” “……” “Even if you insist that he hates you. He’s not the type to forget his priorities, no? I believe we had plenty of chances to create a united front.” “I think you’re right.” “Then why?” “I…don’t know.” As she spoke, the girl turned to the window and looked to where Willem and Nephren ran off to. “Because when he told me I couldn’t go with him, I felt almost…happy, a little.” “Sigh… I see what you mean.” “What? …Did you learn something?” “No. I simply thought how much that sounded like you,” the sky fish spoke, as though somewhat vexed, before a thought came to it. “Oh, right. How was your first black coffee?” it asked. “It was hot” was her answer. Nephren sprouted her phantasmal wings and flew through the sky. Willem used his venenum to strengthen his legs and leaped from roof to roof. The two dashed through the city as they gazed down at the hordes of Aurora milling about the streets below. “It wasn’t a demon who created this world. It was a Beast.” With every step Willem made, pieces of roof tile went flying. “And that Beast didn’t exist in this world until just a little while ago. It was living as a person here before it turned into a Beast. That’s why it never played with the world to approach us directly, and that’s why we never found it after all that looking. But the day’s come in this world, too. The broadcasted curses birthed the Beasts. The creator started functioning. That’s why, at that moment, the creator started manipulating this world. Almaria was moved because the creator deemed that necessary.” From all parts of the city below them, he could hear cries both loud and quiet. There were people still alive. Soon, there would be no one. “…I don’t really understand.” I don’t blame you, he thought. Because even Willem himself didn’t completely comprehend the situation. All he did was put what he thought sounded right into words. It wasn’t logical, and he wasn’t certain. “Well, don’t worry too much about it. What’s more important is that this world is reenacting what happened in our world five hundred years ago relatively faithfully. At the very end of the line, that’s where our world will be. There should be something in this world that’s stuck around for five hundred years that’s in our world, too.” Willem reached the top of the church steeple and leaped up to it to look down at the central square. He stopped and asked, “Here?” Nephren landed beside him. “Yeah. The coordinates should be around here.” “I don’t see anything that stands out.” They could see a few deformed monsters like ants in the square below. “It wouldn’t be in those Twos down there, would it?” “Of course not,” he replied casually, clenching his fist…and just as he did, he noticed something off. His body was creaking slightly. He knew this pain well. (…Guess the dream’s almost over.) In reality, his body was not much more than a corpse that wasn’t entirely dead yet. His bones were littered with cracks and his tendons were weak and his organs often didn’t work right and his flesh was broken. Just by kindling all the venenum he could, his whole life force would be sapped dry. His body was now beginning to catch up to reality. (But for now, I think I can still move for a while.) He adjusted his breathing and clenched his fist again. “Come with me.” That was all he said to Nephren before taking the leap. On the way down, he kicked off the church’s bell tower to pick up speed. He raced downward—much quicker than he would be if he was falling naturally—straight toward the middle of the square. Nearby was a small fountain that had been out of service for a while due to lack of maintenance. He struck his fist into the earth. It arbitrarily brought together the flow of every power, from rotation and spin and flow and pause to the inevitable reactionary forces that returned to the fist upon impact. It was not counted as a technique to be used against other people yet not even treated as a proper fist technique—a most wicked siege dance. Dragon festering. It was an absurd technique, only ever used to split the earth or shatter waterfalls, a display of such destructive forces. That was the very kind of might he needed at the moment. Kala-kalaaang. From the impact of the kick, the bell rang wildly. And just moments after that, the flagstone in the spacious square cracked and shattered, collapsing below. Of course it did. Five hundred years in the future, they’d found a large and mysterious facility that sprawled beneath the ground of what was once the city of Gomag. The very place that Glick had led him and Chtholly to. No one knew of it until the investigation team from Regule Aire had discovered it, which meant it had always escaped the eye of the Adventurers Guild—Gomag’s last uncharted territory. (…Rgh—) Dragon festering in an undeveloped body couldn’t completely control the tempestuous flow of energy, and recoil stayed in his fist. Skin violently ripped from his right hand. His bones were in a terrible state as well. But he could still move. “This way!” Leaving to Nephren the Auroras that closed in on them, Willem leaped into the darkness below. There were several problems that inevitably came with underground structures. One was lighting, and the other was ventilation. Fire was necessary for people to do things underground, where they couldn’t use the sunlight. However, it became harder to breathe the more fire they used. Large ventilation windows were necessary in order to take in fresh air. And so, hidden underground facilities were usually not very practical. (Things would’ve been just a little better if this was Regule Aire, because of illumination crystals…) Even inconsequential thoughts like that crossed his mind. To put it simply, it was dark. Willem didn’t know any useful skills like Dark Vision or lighting thaumaturgy. He didn’t even have the know-how of exploring these underground mazes. He got this far by breaking in through sheer force, but shamefully, he couldn’t go any farther than that. Nephren lightly kindled her venenum and used the force to wake Dindrane. Cracks appeared on the blade, a faint light pouring out from it. “Should I make it stronger?” “No, that’s good enough.” They were using the Carillon, a beacon of hope for mankind’s salvation, as a torch. They should’ve brought a real torch, but he hadn’t paid any mind to details like that. If Glick were here, he would most certainly be laughing at him. In the darkness, they opened a nearby door and looked through it as the faint light illuminated the space. It was a dirty room. The desk and shelves and floor were filled with haphazard stacks of paper. They had an overwhelming presence, as though these studies and reports and scribbled notes were all proudly stating that they were the rulers of this space. Some kind of resource room, eh? Willem wondered as he looked for another door for them to keep going. Nothing. It was times like these when he thought about forcing their way forward by just punching through the walls or the floor. An Aurora could attack them from the darkness from anywhere at any time anyhow. Though it was risky to force a shortcut, since his right hand hurt so much, it was worth trying. “…Is this,” Nephren murmured, picking up a sheet of notes, “research material?” “Probably how to put together the curse to change emnetwiht into Beasts.” “Hmm, that doesn’t seem right.” Nephren’s response sounded doubtful, so he peeked at the notes in her hand. Wow, the writing was terrible. “…What are the Visitors?” What? The Visitors were the Visitors, of course. The ones who created this world in the first place. They were the ones who created the world out of nothing a long time ago. They filled the planet with nature, poured water into the oceans, birthed the emnetwiht and other beings, and gave the world its shape. In the process of it all, they shared their souls with the emnetwiht, and they then disappeared. Just the other day, one of the last living Visitors awoke and, along with its underlings, the Poteau, for some reason turned against the emnetwiht race. Though it came with the heavy cost of many sacrificed lives, they somehow managed to fight them back, and here they were now. “They didn’t create the world. They just remade it.” Huh. That so? Of course a religious organization would write something like that. He didn’t think they were developing theological arguments like that, even in the notes being thrown out by research organizations. “The world was already here before they visited, and lives that could not be called life existed here. They were not what the Visitors wished for, however. That’s why they cursed the world and everything on it—” Wait, hold on a second. I’ve never heard of this before. “…Willem?” “Never mind.” He tossed away the notes. “A theologist might be able to pick out some interesting stuff if we showed this to one, but it doesn’t have anything to do with us now.” He once again turned his gaze to the paper-filled room— —and heard the sounds of clashing swords. “Willem.” “Yeah, I heard it.” It wasn’t that far from them. He could tell exactly where it was coming from. Someone would be there, at least. Or something. In the darkness, they fled the room and ran. Nephren spread her wings out wide, giving them just enough light to run down the hall. Signs that read NO GRAFFITI! were plastered here and there along the walls. And weaving through the gaps of these signs were scribbles of mathematical and spell formulas and sentences filling the white walls. The emnetwiht have multiplied too much! The first spell approaches its limit! They should never have brought the emnetwiht race into existence. The production of the emnetwiht was the Visitors’ first and greatest sin. They raced down the corridor, the words passing into their vision. O Visitors, why did you create us emnetwiht? What has your homesickness wrought on us; what has it taken from us?! Sprawling, messy writing cried out along the walls. There was a mountain of Aurora corpses, all cut up into tiny pieces. And sitting beside that, leaning against the wall, was Navrutri. “…Hey.” He must’ve noticed the approaching light. He weakly lifted his head. His usual cheery grin had lost its spirit. “I wondered who was coming this way, and it was you, Will. How’d you find this place?” His body from the chest down was stained a bright red. Almost half the flesh on his stomach was mixed with countless needles and had become a messy red mass. No matter how Willem looked at it, he didn’t have much time left. It was probably the work of his Carillon, Lapidemsibilus, that was keeping him conscious. Among the high-ranking Carillon, each manifested its own unique talents. This sword created a phenomenon that forcibly regulated the user’s mental and physical conditions while it was active. But that didn’t mean it would close open wounds or stop outpouring blood. Lapidemsibilus’s power could not prevent the inevitable arrival of death. “The old curse was fading. We had to curse the people again. But we couldn’t. Even when we obtained the corpse of the gods, even when we shattered its soul into thousands of tiny pieces, we couldn’t re-create the Visitors’ curse.” “Hey… Navrutri…?” The light from Lapidemsibilus faded. Navrutri’s kindled venenum was starting to disappear. “We can’t do it… We need a Foreigner’s wisdom…” His eyes weren’t looking at Willem anymore. They were fixed in place, gazing off far into the distance. “But…we don’t…have tim…” His outstretched hand abruptly fell. His bearded visage, which always wore a teasing grin, was frozen, contorted in pain and anguish. “Sheesh. The hell are you talking about all of a sudden? I don’t get it.” Unable to control his emotions, insults began hurling from Willem’s mouth. “Why’d you die? Why’d you fail? If you’re gonna save us, then carry through with it, damn it! You’re a Brave! That’s your job; that’s your duty!” “Willem.” He clenched his fist. He was seriously thinking about giving him one good punch. But he didn’t. What he did next couldn’t be described exactly as instead of, but he picked up Lapidemsibilus, which lay on the ground near them. “It doesn’t matter anymore how your fight turned out. That ended a long time ago, and it’s not like we can overturn that outcome. But—” He activated his venenum. A high-ranking Carillon like Lapidemsibilus would never accept Willem. Faint cracks appeared on the blade, and light poured from the inside, but that was all. Right now, it was nothing more than a big, glowing knife. It could not demonstrate its true value as a Carillon, created to stand up against enemies who were beyond the emnetwiht. “Should I take it?” Nephren asked, but Willem shook his head. “This is fine,” he answered as he turned to look down the hall. There he could see light faintly pouring from deep within the darkened facility. 6. Before This World Ends—C It was a large, plain room. Standing in the center was a faintly glowing crystal pillar. Countless faces were pressed against the outside of the pillar. Each one wore a different expression—a smile, sorrow, joy, sadness, surprise, calm, bewilderment, anger, fright—as they sang. And then, suspended about halfway up at the center of the pillar, like the elaborate figurehead of a ship, was a crystal sculpture of the upper half of a girl— “…Chanteur?” Nephren uttered its name. Willem had heard of it before. It was the very first of the Seventeen Beasts, one that remained shrouded in mystery for over five hundred years since its appearance to the present, and one whose menace was rarely ever spoken about. …Someone who was once emnetwiht, who was the first in the world to be corrupted into a Beast. “Damn it.” He took a step toward it. Pain that felt like he would be torn apart shot through his body. In reality, though, his skin had actually been ripped off in places. And now that he thought about it, he had been covered in blood just before he had been trapped in this dreamworld. This was the end of a happy dream. She must have turned into a beast here—and not at the orphanage in the real world. That’s why she’d vanished from her bed. And if he were to confront her now, he would have to emulate what happened to himself in the real world. “…Stay back, Ren. If you get closer, your venenum will go into overdrive, and you’ll die.” He didn’t wait for a response before taking another step forward. Wham. Something in his gut burst. He forcibly pushed the lump of blood that bubbled in his throat back down into his stomach. Just a single drop dribbled from the edge of his lips. He was fine. Actually, he wasn’t fine at all, but he could at least still walk. He drew closer to it. He should have noticed it earlier. Had he thought about it just a little more, he would have identified what was causing his unease. Ever since he’d woken in this world, up until this very moment— The girl he’d made his promise with never brought it up once. Not a single time did the girl say to him Welcome home. “Hey…Almaria.” He called to her, but there was no response. Instead, he took another step forward. Every single bone in his body cracked. He used Lapidemsibilus as a cane to somehow support his collapsing carcass. “Neither of us brought up the butter cake once.” Willem had never brought up the promise because he’d thought the world was a fake. He hadn’t come home; he was just trapped. It was because of that train of thought that he never mentioned it. But what did Almaria think? She knew nothing, so for her, Willem’s return was real, and the promise he made should have been fulfilled. And yet, ever since he’d woken up until this very moment, she hadn’t mentioned the promise once. There was just one thing that could explain the inconsistency. She herself might not have been aware, but she still knew somehow—Almaria Duffner had never been able to welcome her dad home. Da…d The crystal girl called out to him with a voiceless voice. And Willem heard it clear as day. “You’re such an idiot. How long’ve you been waiting?” A bitter smile spread across his face. “You were the first one to turn into a Beast. You trapped thousands of people in a dream. You saved Gomag as it was just before the end inside of you. And you clung to it, waiting all these five hundred years?” Another step. Something else somewhere in his body probably broke. His entire body was in pain, so he couldn’t tell exactly where. “Were you waiting…for me to come back to that world of yours…this whole time?” That wish never could’ve come true. It was a desire that never could’ve gone anywhere, not after five hundred years and not after an eternity. And yet, she clung to it, singing all alone. Like a broken music box, in a small pocket garden intricately decorated with the dreams of three thousand, after all this time. “I’m really…really sorry, Almaria.” He took another step. He was close enough to touch her. He knew. If he said I’m home now, her wish would come true. He would fulfill his promise of coming home in her little pocket garden. Then, on his next birthday, she would bake him her scrumptious butter cake. She would make him eat it until he cried from the heartburn. Such a blissful fantasy was right before his eyes. Willem raised the Carillon he held in his right hand high above his head. “Initialize…adjustment…!” The thirty-five talismans that made up the Carillon Lapidemsibilus were freed from the restrictive veins of enchantment and scattered in the air around Willem in a burst. With his left hand, he grasped the language comprehension talisman that hung down to his chest like a pendant and ripped it from its bonds. He had never been able to take it off through the entirety of the dream, but now in Willem’s palm, it flashed brightly— And he shoved it into Lapidemsibilus as the thirty-sixth part. “…Ngh…” Carillon were a phenomenon born as a result of the complicated interlocking and interference of a number of talismans’ powers. If the balance was just a little off, everything would fall apart. And so, their adjustments were originally supposed to be possible only when done by the hands of a group of skilled technicians in a well-equipped workshop. The spinal root fissured. Almost half the veins ruptured. Venenum, now with nowhere to go, froze most of the functions that the Lapidemsibilus form originally had. He didn’t care. He forcibly connected the remaining veins, preserving the minimum amount of function. That was enough. He struck the core crystal fragment, exiting adjustment mode. The thirty-five talismans attempted to return to their original position, creating an ugly-looking club. He took up the sword. The sword that protected the heart, a rough mixture of talismans to connect hearts. And plunged it straight in. Straight into the crystal sculpture’s chest. a The singing stopped. Willem smiled. “I’m sorry.” He murmured quietly into her ear. “I couldn’t keep my promise.” That much was all he could convey. A large crack ripped through the crystal statue. It spread throughout the entire crystal pillar right before their eyes—and with the sound of thousands of ringing bells, Chanteur was destroyed. In the split second just before it collapsed into nothing, the lips on the crystal girl were smiling faintly. Like a saint absolving a criminal of his sins, like a daughter spoiled by her father, she smiled. The ground shook. The ceiling, the walls, the floor were all starting to collapse at the same time. Willem didn’t even have the strength to stand anymore. He was swallowed up by the crash and fell even farther down the strata. A floating sensation enveloped him. At the same time, he went numb. A loud singing voice echoed directly into his consciousness. His entire field of vision was dyed gray. (No…!) It was completely unexpected. But he knew exactly what that meant right away: This was the song the people of Gomag had heard and the sight they had dreamed of. It was the impulse that echoed at the root of the emnetwiht race that turned them into Beasts. It was a mass of remorse, like a raging tempest. In its excessive longing for the lost past, it cut off its recollections from the real world—it created its own daydream and locked itself inside. That power and spiritual body of obsession was the very essence of Chanteur itself, the First Beast Who Laments for the Moon. And now that it had lost Almaria as a vessel, it was forcing its way into the other person there—and the last emnetwiht left on the surface. “Oh…right…” Emnetwiht could turn into Beasts. “I guess I’m not any exception, huh…?” It wasn’t anything to be surprised about. It was the inevitable conclusion, one that was just all too delayed. What sort of Beast would he become? Of the seventeen of them that demolished the world, which form would he take? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t a problem. Nephren was right there with her Carillon. Even if Willem turned into a Beast, even if he became a thing that would bare its fangs toward Regule Aire and all who lived there, he would quickly be killed. That was why he could smile and accept his fa “Willem…!!” Something warm embraced him. He opened his eyes. He brushed away the gray. It was Nephren, hugging his bloodied figure. “Wha…? Ren, what are you—?!” The thing spilling from Chanteur’s carcass was pouring into Willem through all his open wounds. And the same was happening to Nephren. “You…can’t… Wha…?” He couldn’t string his words together properly, but it seemed he’d conveyed his intention of a question. Nephren’s eyes were squeezed shut, but she opened them slightly and looked to him. “Almaria asked me to!” she shouted in response. “She said, You know how he is, because he’ll definitely leave and go someplace else again! She said she would put you in my hands when that happens!” The singing reverberating within Willem weakened her vigor. That meant the song was now pouring into Nephren. “She said I’d have to do something about her miserable piece-of-junk dad!” What the hell? When did you two hit it off? “So that’s…why…!” The song echoed around them. Nephren squeezed her eyes shut again. Sheesh. What am I supposed to do? How did I end up with such kind, such strong daughters? (Ithea. Tiat. Rhantolk. Nopht…) His thoughts raced up beyond the sky. (And Collon and Pannibal and Lakhesh, guess it’s almost your turn, too…) He recalled the faces of all the faerie girls in order. The nostalgia bubbling up inside him twisted his lips. (Might be a big pain for you, but… Our demise is in your hands now…) He tightly gripped the warmth in his heart with all the strength he had left. And Willem quietly closed his eyes. 7. The Girl with Crimson Hair A lone young girl was encased in an enormous mass of ice. She had long crimson hair. Her expression was calm and peaceful. And on her chest was a large, deep gash from a sword. The corpse, with what could only be a fatal wound on nothing more than a child, slept soundly, a soft smile on her face. “…I found it.” A girl with the same crimson hair approached her from the darkness. “Eep! That was a close one!” The sky fish, floating before the girl, gave a slight shake of its pectoral fins to demonstrate its fear. “We just barely made it in time. Had it taken any longer, we wouldn’t have made it.” “But we did, so it’s not a problem.” “There’s not enough time in this situation for us to say that all’s well that ends well at this point yet.” “I know.” The girl touched the mass. Ripples spread across the surface of what was supposed to be a solid block of ice. With a loud splash, what used to be an ice block transformed just a moment later into regular old water and scattered around them. “Wah!” The girl, now soaked from head to toe, closed her eyes, and her body shivered. The child’s corpse lay haphazardly on the floor before her. “Oh my, oh my… What a terrible wound this is. What does she make of a woman’s skin, I wonder?” “She’s dead, so you don’t need to worry about her skin.” “That line of thinking is meant for those with mortal life spans. Beauty isn’t something you can simply disregard when it comes to little things like death. How can you be an immortal woman with such a weak point of view?” “I don’t really know, and I don’t really care.” With the water splashing beneath her feet, the girl approached the corpse. She reached out and lifted the body. “She’s cold.” “Of course. She’s been in the ice this whole time.” She trailed her finger along the wound on her chest. “…There’s a really complicated enchantment cast on the wound.” “Of course there is. That wound was created by the Godslayer, the oldest holy sword Seniorious, you know. The greatest force the emnetwiht ever obtained, one that could even kill an immortal. It can turn anyone into the dead, and no one can escape from it—incarnated Visitors are no exception.” “But can I still come back to life?” “First, we’ll have to undo this curse to try anything. Such a delicately woven enchantment might be too much for me. Once we get outside, we’ll search for Ebon Candle and have him do something about this.” The girl lightly brushed away the bangs on the corpse’s face. “…She’s smiling.” “She is. She’s having nice dreams, perhaps.” “Yeah, lots of them. There were happy dreams and sad dreams, too. They were all short but so precious.” “Lillia, was it? Do you think she ever grew to be like the girl of her dreams?” “I dunno. I’m not sure.” Like the wind sweeping away the sand, the darkness around them began to crumble and disappear. Her long dream was coming to an end. “Do not let go of her hand. It’s all over if you sever the connection.” “I know.” She tightly embraced the corpse. “—It’s been a long time, me,” she whispered gently into her ear. “It’s almost time to wake up.”